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falling flat | s.r.
in which you call Spencer for help with a flat tire, and he comes to help with you car troubles - and then some
margovember
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: allusions to the reaper, car trouble, blood, tetanus vaccine, kindergarten teacher!reader, flirting, protective!spencer, takes place following 5x22 "the internet is forever", hastily edited word count: 1.87k a/n: rahhhh an old prompt from may 2024 that ended up working for a margovember request rahhh.
The absolute last place you wanted to be was on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere Virginia, with a flat tire. You werenât entirely helpless until your tire jack broke, sending metal flying everywhere and cutting your hand open.
You slumped down next to your car, pulling your phone from your pocket before calling the first people you could think of. Every single one of them ended up going to voicemail. Some of them didnât even let it get past the first ring before declining your callâtraitors.
With your thumb hovering over the call button, you thought of Spencer. He had a PhD in engineering, but you werenât entirely sure that would come in handy in this instance. It was late, almost midnight, and you werenât even sure heâd answer.
At this point, what choice did you have?
As the phone rang, part of you hoped he wouldnât answer. When he asked you about it the next time you saw him, youâd wave it off as a butt dial and heâd be none the wiser.
âHello,â he said through the phone, leaving your plans quashed.
This was awkward, you had been on four dates with the guy over the span of two months, and now you were calling him in the middle of the night. âThis isnât a booty call,â You blurted, cringing inwardly and banging your head back on the passenger door of your car.
Spencer laughed lightly, âI didnât think it was, whatâs going on?â
âI didnât wake you up, did I?â You asked, his job had a lot of long hours, and you didnât want to bother him if he was catching up on sleep. If he was even home, âWait, where are you?â
There was a rustling on his end of the call, âNo, I wasnât asleep, Iâm at work. We just got off of a case.â
You let out a sigh of relief, at least you werenât being a total nuisance. âSorry, I donât mean to bother you. I just⊠my tire blew out on the highway and my jack broke and no one else is answering their phone,â you told him, verging on rambling.
âYouâre kind of cutting out, where are you?â He asked, he sounded concerned, and if there was a moment where you werenât sure you still had feelings for him, it was fleeting.
Looking to either side of you for a mile marker, you stood up, looking at the ground so you didnât step on any metal, âI donât really know. There arenât any signs, Iâm somewhere on 28, I think?â
Spencer cleared his throat, âDo you have your location on your phone?â
âYeah, but I donât think I have enough service to check it,â you said, all you could see were trees.
You could hear him talking to someone, holding the receiver away from his mouth, âThatâs fine, Iâll have someone look, just stay on the phone.â
It would seem that dating someone in the FBI does have its perks, âOh, cool.â You overheard Spencer explaining your situation to someone, hearing the other person in the room say something about Reidâs girlfriend and you couldnât help but smile. The two of you were very unofficially official.
âHey, Iâll be there in half an hour,â An elevator dinged in the background. âIs that alright?â
You hummed, leaning your hip against the front of your car. âI mean, Iâm not planning on going anywhere.â
Another ding of the elevator, âWill you do me a favor?â
In exchange for this? Youâd do just about anything within the realm of legality, âName it.â
âGet in your car and lock the doors,â he responded. âTurn your hazards on because right now youâre a sitting duck. If someone doesnât see your car, they could hit you.â
As a favor, he was asking you to make sure youâre safe, âOkay, Iâm getting in now, should I leave the car running?â
You heard the sound of a car lock disengaging through the phone, âAs long as the cooling system on your car is in good shape, it shouldnât be a problem to leave it running while you wait. Just remember what I told you about the hazards.â
Nodding despite the fact that he canât see you, you got in the car, turning the key in the ignition before pushing the button for your hazard lights, âOkay, Iâm in the car.â
âI canât drive and be on the phone at the same time, but Iâll be there soon. Donât unlock the doors for anyone except for me,â he told you, and you thanked him for his help before hanging up and settling yourself in your driverâs seat.
You pulled the hoodie you kept stashed in your car over your head, your school mascotâa pantherâproudly displayed in the front, and made sure your car doors were locked. If you said you werenât a little unnerved, youâd be lying to yourself.
Spencer had a worrisome job; it was something you were aware of before he ever asked you on that first date. It became alarmingly obvious to you when he revealed that heâd been shot a few months prior, which was an appropriate second-date conversation with an FBI agent. It made sense to you that heâd be concerned about you, in your idle car, on the side of the road, but you wondered if there was a case that he was thinking of. Someone with a flat tire who had met an untimely demise.
Shuddering, you turned up the heat in your car, flipping through radio stations until someone knocked on your window. You jumped at the noise, hitting your head against the roof of the car before looking outside to see Spencer. Sighing in relief, you unlocked your car door, and he opened it for you, âSorry, I didnât mean to scare you. Is your head alright?â
You peered up at him, casually leaning over your car door. âYou cut your hair,â you observed. Youâd seen him just last week, where his hair still touched his shoulders, and now it was considerably shorter.
Self-consciously, he reached up a hand and thumbed one of the tendrils, âYeah, it just got too longâand heavy.â
Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, your head bobbed, âI like it. Did you do it yourself?â
âYou can tell?â He asked, following you around the back of your car to your busted tire. Spencer sets his tire jack down before looking back at you, putting his hands on his hips.
Grinning at him, you shrugged, âI teach kindergarten, Iâm basically a professional at noticing DIY haircuts.â
On a towel that you had previously set out, the two of you sat along the side of your car, and you tried to ignore the fact that Spencer still had his weapon holstered. It made sense, heâd come straight from work, but you wondered if there was a reason he didnât leave it in his car. âWhereâs your lug wrench?â
âI can change it myself,â you insisted, âI just needed a different car jack.â You gestured to the pieces of yours that were now all over the side of the road.
Alarm flashed on Spencerâs face, âNothing fell on you, right?â
You shook your head, âNo, just a cut from the metal.â
Holding out your hand, you let Spencer take a look at the cut on your palm. âWhen was your last tetanus shot?â
Blinking rapidly, you frowned at him, âUh, when I was in college?â
âThat might need stitches,â he responded, letting you take your hand back. âIâll change your tire, I donât want you using that hand for anything,â he informed you, pushing the hydraulic jack beneath your car.
Butterflies swarmed in your stomach as you watched him take your old tire off, muttering under his breath about how your old jack was practically an artifact, seeing how it literally fell apart under pressure. âHow was your case?â You asked softly, fully aware that you were likely opening a can of worms by asking about work.
Spencerâs movements faltered slightly at your question, âItâs closed. We were in Boise,â he answered tactfully, leaving out any case details and cluing you into the fact that he didnât want to talk about it. âWhat are you doing out here?â
You sighed, leaning back on your hands and watching him work, âI had a meeting with the other schools in our conference. Itâs annual, and this year they happened to pick the school furthest away from mine.â
âWell, I suppose it worked out well that your tire blew out so close to me, then,â Spencer said, swapping out the busted tire for the donut and looking over at you. There was something nervous in his eyes, and you didnât know if it was related to work or you.
Humming, you tried to watch the tire rather than just watching him, âIs there something bothering you?â
He was tightening the lug nuts on the spare tire, âAre you driving home after this?â
You furrowed your brows, âYeah, where else could I be going?â
âItâs almost a two-hour drive to your place from here,â he reminded you, his tone laced with concern. âYou wonât get home until almost one in the morning,â the displeasure in his voice was plain, but you donât have anywhere else to go. âPlus, you really shouldnât travel that far on a spare tire, theyâre not made to travel far distances.â
Crossing your arms in front of your stomach, you let your shoulders slump forward, âSo, what do you suggest I do? Get a hotel?â
Spencer mumbled something inaudibly, trying to finish tightening the bolts on the tire before sighing, âYou can stay with me,â he blushes, a swipe of pink across his cheeks.
Your lips parted in surprise, âUh, I donât⊠Iâm notâŠâ you faltered. Utterly failing to come up with a good enough reason to tell him no, âI donât want you to feel inclined. This isnât what I was looking for when I called you for help.â
He let the car down, staying quiet while the two of you cleaned up, and Spencer swatted your hand away when you tried to pick things up. âSo, you can come back to my place tonight. My work-issued first-aid kit has your name all over it,â he told you, eyes flickering down to the cut on your hand.
âOkay,â you breathed, unable to conjure a reason to refuse his hospitality.
He was grinning at you, hair just barely brushing his eyebrows, âSo tomorrow, maybe we can get coffee and drop your car off to get a new tire?â
You smiled back at him, âThat sounds great, date number five.â
âYou know where youâre going, right?â
âYeah,â youâd been to his place once to pick him up, âHey, Spence?â
He turned around, fishing his car keys from his pocket. He looked ready to respond to you, but you pressed your lips to his before he had a chance to speak.
You kissed him softly, whispering against his mouth, âThank you for coming.â
He chuckled lightly, gently resting a hand on your waist, âThank you for calling.âÂ
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#margovember#kindergarten teacher!reader
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Tink
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator
A/N:Â This is so many days late but I promise that it is worth it. I hope you enjoy a broken heart.
Summary:Â You leave a Halloween party to go see Joel but it turns into a horror show when conversation between you takes a poor turn.
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)
Tags: +18 smut, secret relationship, dadâs best friend, possessiveness, daddy kink, lots of pet names, alcohol consumption, dirty and dark Tinkerbell roleplay, dirty talk, ass smacks!!!, clit stim, fingering, squirting, doggy style, overstim, tears, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, angst, fighting, no happy ending.
Word count:Â 9.9k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60461590
Tink
Youâre readjusting the straps on your pale gold stilettos as Joel slips into your childhood bedroom. He has gone unnoticed by the rest of the people in the house like he always does, having mastered the art of sneaking around since the beginning of your little fling. This is even as he has gotten far bolder over the summer, especially over the last month when you told him you loved him. It fills him with a carefreeness that he hasnât felt in years, a feeling unlocked from his teenage days that he was so sure his body had forgotten by now. However, it doesnât mean that he is careful not to disturb the noise downstairs as he clicks the door shut.Â
Youâre standing in front of the full-body mirror just opposite the door, bent over as you undo your shoe strap to tighten it slightly. Joel feels like a damn dog as he lets his eyes skim up your beautiful legs, letting his gaze wander over the body he has come to know so well before it eventually settles on your strutting ass.Â
You are wearing a Tinkerbell costume, its green satin fabric hugging your curves like it has been specially tailored to your body. You have chosen a version of the fae that he doesnât quite remember from the movie he used to watch with Sarah; the neckline dips way low, the straps are tucked away into the top to expose your chest and shoulders, and the hemline of the skirt barely reaches your mid-thigh which he is sure that a twirl will reveal your underwear to the world, something that makes his jaw tighten when you should be for his eyes only. And then there are the wings; pale, translucent and with tiny flecks of gold in them. You may be demanding attention from people other than him but despite being sexy and driving him wild, you mostly look cute. It makes him smile affectionately as he takes a moment to gather himself instead of being completely overtaken by the need to possess.Â
You are lost in your own world, clearly not expecting anyone to come in, so it takes you by surprise when he pads across the room to lay his hands on your hips without announcing his presence. He swallows hard as he sees the two of you in the mirror, imitating something far more explicit than what he is actually doing.Â
His touch startles you, eliciting a small gasp from you as you feel him caress on top of the fabric of your dress. He curls his fingers into it, fighting the urge to lift it and see what kind of panties youâre wearing underneath.Â
âYou frightened me,â you say but thereâs no accusation in your tone. Instead, he can hear that youâre happy to see him and his hands stay on your body, only going up to your waist, as you straighten, âWhere does Dad think you are this time?â
âRestroom,â he answers simply and lets his palms move to lay on your tummy. He leans his head over your shoulder, looking at you in the mirror with a soft smile. When he speaks, it is with paternity lacing his voice, âYa goinâ out like that?â
âHe might think you have bladder issues soon, old man. You canât just barge in each time you want some sugar,â you tease him, eyes sparkling in competition with the glitter on your blush-covered cheeks. Joel leans in to kiss your neck. He nibbles along your pulse point, inhaling deeply to breathe you in as he reaches where youâve applied your sweet perfume.
âYou smell so good, little fae,â he says instead of acknowledging your jab at his age, the tip of his nose skimming along the delicate column of your throat. Shamelessly, he grabs the hem of your dress and lifts it just enough to start something between the two of you that he cannot finish, âWhatâve you got under here?âÂ
âJoel,â you say with fake outrage and tut disapprovingly. The both of you know that heâll fuck you at some point tonight. Still, you make a statement out of grabbing his much bigger hands and removing them from your dress. You stretch his arms out in front of you both to keep him out of reach but he is so much stronger than you, manhandling you easily until he catches you in an embrace from behind. Being caged against his broad chest makes you giggle so goddamn heavenly, his body responding with interest in getting you on your back.
âYou didnât answer my question, Princess,â he whispers into your ear, letting his breath tickle your skin until you shiver.Â
âAbout?â You light up the room when you smile innocently at him in the mirror and God, if it doesnât make his heart nearly leap out of his chest. Your eyes are wide, your grin mischievous.Â
âIf youâre goinâ out like that,â he tightens his arms around you, focusing on the softness of your palms in his rough ones. He isnât letting you go before you give him an answer.
âI am,â you lean back into his chest, turning your head away from the mirror to glance up at him through your lashes. You are in the mood to dare tease even further, âDonât you like it?â
âYou know I do. Too much actually,â he murmurs back at you as he takes in your costume once more in the mirror. He notices that you bite your lip as he ogles you, tilting back and forth on your feet while you let him eat you with his eyes. When he finds that you arenât looking at yourself but rather still batting your eyes up at him, he reaches up to cup your jaw. He turns your face to the mirror, âIâd like it much more behind these walls.â
âIâm not staying here,â you say. Joel lets out an annoyed sigh and shakes his head as if to argue but his head isnât in it. He feels somewhat secure when your voice sounds a little out of breath, âBesides, you know Iâll always come back home to you. No one makes me feel like you do.â
âYou better, sweetheart,â he can almost imagine you shrinking down and flying around in his close proximity just to tease him. He finally moves you around in his arms until you are face-to-face with him and then, still holding you by your chin, he leans in to capture your mouth in a kiss thatâs slower and deeper than usual. He brushes your soft tongue with his own, kissing you like he is claiming you and hopefully reminding you of what awaits back home.Â
When he pulls back, youâve gone dumb. Thereâs a vacancy in your eyes, a dazed look that tells you just how ready you are to melt into him and forget about everything else. Joel would love to keep you home but heâll settle for the satisfaction he feels from looking at you blink rapidly, âStill with us, little fae?â
âBarely,â you admit with an embarrassed smile.Â
âGo have fun,â he encourages with a little smirk and, albeit reluctantly, lets you go but not before giving your ass a playful smack and causing you to yelp quietly, âBefore I change my mind.â
âBye, Daddy,â you whisper to taunt him as you leave out the door, and Joel has to stay behind for several minutes to get his aching cock to flag down. It doesnât take long since he is an expert now, has learned to join the party downstairs without any trace of what he has been doing to his best friendâs daughter.Â
â
The party has been going on for a few hours now, with costumes ranging from elaborate to barely there. The crowd of people crammed into the tiny house is buzzing with exciting fun, resulting in happy bursts of laughter bouncing off the walls along with the music, both of which get louder as drinks are consumed. Yet no matter how many times your friends cause you to throw your head back to laugh along and no matter the three drinks you already have in your system, your mind plays tricks on you and continuously goes back to Joel. The way he had kissed you goodbye earlier still feels imprinted on your lips, haunting you like a ghost and causing your skin to buzz, your thighs to press together. Nothing seems to get you out of this trance, not even the lingering eyes caused by the dangerous hemline of your Tinkerbell costume. The attention feels good, sure, but it is nothing compared to the way Joel makes you feel when he looks at you.Â
You take a sip from your fourth drink. Youâre supposed to be out having fun, dancing and drinking, but you can think of nothing else than leaving this place and going to his, only so you can slip back into that familiar embrace where you belong, only so you can feel his calloused hands grab your hips as he drags you down onto hisâ
âWho is he?â You look up to find your best friend staring at you with a knowing smirk. Hannah awaits an answer, quite a few more drinks in than you. She is dressed as a Poison Ivy, complete with green painted skin (which has been smudged off on every surface sheâs touched) and her red hair decorated with plastic leaves she has cut off from a fake plant.Â
âWhat are you talking about?â You ask innocently but you betray yourself by not being able to maintain eye contact with her. Your cheeks are warm but if she asks, youâll say it is due to the alcohol.Â
âYouâre staring off again,â she notes and her eyes grow more devious. She points the straw from her drink at you and tiny splashes of homemade daiquiri fly in your direction, âI didnât fly home and go to this party with you to not hear about who you are having sex with.âÂ
âWho says I am having sex?â You ask with comical indifference which accidentally reveals you in your lie. You rub off a spot of red liquid from your arm, âIâm not.â
âPlease,â she dismisses your statement by waving a hand and moving closer to you on the couch. She talks loudly over the music, âYouâre either getting continuously laid by some great secret boyfriend or I need to take notice of your skincare routine since youâre practically glowing.â
âHey, keep it down. I donât need anyone but you to know,â you shush her with a finger pressed to your lips. Thereâs no way youâre telling her that your secret boyfriend is Joel Miller⊠but right now, with alcohol in your bloodstream, it is tempting to let someone else in on the secret thatâs been eating at you since June. Perhaps even to brag a little bit.
âYouâre acting like seeing a guy is some forbidden romance,â Hannah sighs dramatically but when you smile and shrug, she narrows her eyes just a second before they go wide, âWait, it is?â
âItâs a secret⊠because heâs a lot older,â you lean in to make the conversation more private, taking Hannahâs drink out of her hand in case the excitement that looms underneath her surface will make her spill the red liquid onto you.Â
Her eyes are nearly bulging out of her skull, âLike how much older are we talking? Silver fox?â
âOld enough to remember dial-up internet and hate my music?â You test the waters and watch her process your words, not sure if her reaction is going to be one of shock or enthusiasm. However, with the amount of questionable things Hannah has gotten herself into over the years, you are more certain that itâll be the latter. One can never know though. After all, right now you are keeping out the earth-shaking detail that the guy you give your nights to is your fatherâs very best friend.
A satisfied smile spreads on her face, slowly because sheâs intoxicated, âSo youâre telling me that you - the girl with a history of pissant boyfriends - have a mature, well-seasoned man in your grasp?âÂ
You giggle, happiness bubbling up at Hannahâs silly wording but your heartbeat thrums underneath your ribs because how Joel makes you feel is nowhere near previous flirtations; itâs intense, itâs all-consuming, and has you tossing and turning whenever. You can feel your cheeks ache from smiling. With a groan, you lean forward to bump your forehead against her shoulder.Â
You earn an embrace in return, squeezed by the arm around your shoulder, âOr maybe he has you in his grasp?â
âI think itâs serious, Hannah, I love him,â you whisper in the crook of her neck just loud enough for her to hear you over the noise around you. Thereâs a gentle vulnerability in being nearly four drinks in and confessing your love - even if itâs words tumbling out of your mouth - for a boy to your person, the one who came through and gave you her approval without hesitation despite the scandal.Â
Hannah pulls back a little, excitement on her face instead of shock. She has always had a tendency to live vicariously through you whenever something exciting happens, and it comes across when she urges you away, âThen what are you doing sitting here with me?âÂ
âUhh, spending time with my best friend?â You straighten and raise a brow, stifling a grin.
She rolls her eyes playfully, âWeâve known each other since middle school. Iâm sure I can survive a night without you if it means you getting with your mystery man. Heâs apparently the love of your life judging by the amount of smiling youâve done since we started talking about him. Who is it anyway?â
From her tone, you can hear she tries to sound nonchalant about the question at the end. However, the relief of talking to her about your affair with someone off-limits makes you a little too bold, too nonchalant yourself.
âI am seriously putting my life on the line here, so you have to promise not to tell anyone,â you stress, leaning in as far as you can while still looking at her. Your heart races in your chest, your eyes locked onto her widened ones.Â
âOf course, of course! Cross my heart and all that,â Hannah sits up a little, almost imitating the way a catâs ears perk up, âSpill!â
âJoel Miller,â you confess to your sins but much to your surprise, you donât burst into flames and there is no sound of a record scratch before everyone looks at you in horror. In fact, it feels surprisingly easy and light to tell her.Â
Hannah processes the name for a moment before her eyes widen just the tiniest bit more, âWait what?! Joel Miller as in your dadâs buddy?!â
âKeep it down,â you hiss and shush, âI think someone upstairs didnât hear you.â
âSorry,â she is flustered, lowering her voice theatrically, âBut this is huge. I mean⊠Does your dad know?â
You furrow your brow, âOf course, he doesnât. Heâd murder Joel if he found out. Lifetime imprisonment because of manslaughter style.â
Hannah nods in understanding. However, she still seems deep in thought, âBut how does that even happen? Youâre like⊠seriously off-limits, arenât you? Thatâs bro-code even for boomers.â
âI donât know,â you murmur as you recall, your voice taking on a dreamy note, âJust kinda happened. I was having a really difficult time at college and he justâ he told me all the right things, then one thing led to another⊠He makes me feel things that I didnât even know I needed. I know itâs wrong butââ
âWrong? Youâre a grown woman,â Hannah tuts, âGo see him. Whatâs the worst thing that could happen? That you probably end up having mind-blowing sex with an experienced man?âÂ
âYouâre really sure itâs okay?â You ask but you are already getting out of your seat next to her. You start absentmindedly fixing your clothes to make sure you look like something out of Joelâs deepest fantasy, straightening out a squashed fairy wing and curling your hair around a finger to make it bounce into place.Â
âJesus, look at you,â she laughs at the way you fuss, âIt would be classified as torture if I didnât let you go, so go! See your silver fox, but just text me when youâre there.â
âI will, thank you, Hannah,â you beam.Â
You leave her with giddiness and make excuses to your other friends about a âfamily thingâ when they appear bummed out that you are heading home. The air outside in Texas is still hot in October but you canât feel warm without Joelâs arms around you.Â
You're so sure that your heart says his name as it beats in your chest when you leave for him.Â
Joel, Joel, Joel.
â
You stand by his front door not half an hour later, having checked that your parentsâ car is not parked in his driveway. The house is quiet except for the soft glow of the floor lamp in his living room and the TVâs light flickering through the curtains. You take it as evidence that he is still awake.Â
Just before you knock, you shoot Hannah a text, telling her that youâre here with five exclamation points and she types a barely coherent message back at you. She also wishes you good luck which you know you wonât need because the man opening his front door is so whipped for you.Â
Joel says your name in surprise, quickly checking to see if anyone is watching as you twirl on his doorstep in your little green dress. The booze in your blood is making you more courageous than normal even if you arenât anywhere near plastered. You step inside his house without permission but he doesnât seem bothered as you saunter into his living room, your heels clicking as you step over the doorstep. He has turned off the TV, almost as if he knew that it was you behind his front door and therefore there would be no more time for lounging.Â
âHow much has Tink had to drink tonight?â He asks when closing the door. You donât give him much time to do anything else as you enter his personal space again, caging him hungrily against the door to kiss him with all the heat in your body.Â
âNot nearly enough for you to stop touching her, Peter,â you let him know as you take a quick breath, too excited for what he can give you if he allows himself remember to inhale through your nose. You rush back into making out with him but he holds you just out of reach, fingers digging into your shoulders.Â
âPeter? I donât think so, Tink,â he grumbles, large hands sliding down the length of your arms until he can rest them on your hips. His touch makes your cunt clench, desire stirring even further inside of you as you make a mess in your panties.Â
âButâŠâ You press your thighs together without any shame.Â
Joel holds your waist firmly but then goes further down to cup the tops of your thighs underneath the satin skirt. His hands squeeze obscenely, denting your jiggling skin while his eyes have gone dark to indicate his lust. His fingers are calloused and warm as they graze upon where your panties hug your ass, âPeter ainât never had the guts to get his hands on Tinkerbell like this. Lemme show ya what a man does to his own, personal little fae.â
He then drags your body against himself to let you feel every inch of him, the outline of his already hardening cock underneath his usual jeans. Thereâs no way he fucked you silly just a few days ago because your pussy reacts like itâs been craving him for days.Â
âThis is what good fairies get stuffed with. If they can handle the stretch,â he chuckles darkly. You moan longingly, brows furrowing to make you look slightly dumb as you suddenly become aware of how empty you feel, how much you need him to fill you out and stretch you to the brim. You had marched over here to be alluring to the point of control over him but he touches you and your mind blanks. He wonât fuck you here, told you last time that he prefers his bed so he can take his time.Â
âBedroom. Now, please,â you whine pathetically and reluctantly take a step back. He nods, allowing you to lead him upstairs. You take his hand before it falls to his side from your hip, dragging him through the house and earning a smack to your ass with the hand you arenât holding. You yelp a little, gush a little more.
By the time you reach his bed, your head is spinning with how horny you are and your belly is swirling with heat. You drop down onto it, bouncing slightly on the mattress and he stands between your legs with delicious authority.Â
âLay back and let Daddy take care of his baby,â he commands but his voice is somehow both soft, harsh, and dirty. He watches you lower yourself onto your back, the glittering wings of your costume spread out beneath you and fluttering slightly as you wiggle your hips when tugging up your dress.Â
Joel smiles with pride. He lays a warm hand on your knee, slowly gliding it up until his palm rests against your core, and touches you carefully through the fabric.Â
âYou gotta tell me somethinâ,â he whispers with his eyes focused on yours, not needing to see what he is doing because he knows your body so well. He feels how damp your underwear has become, the sensation pulling a low moan from the back of his throat. You nod, words embarrassingly failing you when you are so overcome by your bodyâs need to have him where you need him the most. However, he is expertly avoiding your clit for now, clearly wanting to get his sentence out before your attention is lost.Â
âA little birdie told me that when a man keeps his fae excited and happy, she produces a little extra magic down there, sparklinâ so prettily for him,â he tightens his grip between your legs when your hips start moving on their own accord. He holds you down, rubbing you closer to properly now but itâs still not enough to build anything to a crescendo. However, thereâs an urgency to the way he touches you, a mix of frustration and relief now that youâre back here with him,Â
âOnly for those who know how to bring it out of her,â you finally manage a coherent sentence, a teasing one even, but your breath stutters through it. Your clit pulses in time with your heartbeat by now and as if he has heard your prayers, his thumb finally presses down on the hard little nub before going in mind-altering circles.Â
âThen I just gotta make sure I show ya that I am the only one who can make enough magic spill from you to light up this whole damn house,â he growls, using his fingers expertly until you are on the brink of coming, âAnd every bit of that magic, honey? Itâs mine. I ainât stoppinâ until youâre glowing, little fae.â
You come so hard that your mind blocks out all other senses for a split second, your pussy going off into spasms that have you arching your back like you might actually float off the bed. You whimper at the oversensitivity that he teases out of you with featherlight touches.Â
He pushes your pelvis down when it lifts itself up and snaps without anger in his voice. Instead, his voice is laced with lust, an octave deeper and threatening, âNo moving away or Iâll pluck your pretty little wings off.â
The threat makes you moan, eyes widening as you stare at his face like a trapped animal. You can see how much Joelâs eyes darken at your reaction, unable to understand how he hasnât ripped your panties yet to screw your brains out.Â
âWouldnât want that, would ya? Unable to fly away?â He smirks deviously and draws back to undo your golden stilettos, his hand that isnât working the lock holding your calf firmly. He presses kisses to your ankle too and is so delicate with your shoes even as he drops them onto the floor.Â
âNo,â you whimper and shake your head. You canât bear telling him the truth which is that you want nothing more than being a wingless little fae, completely at his mercy. You imagine being tied to the bed with nothing to keep him from using you how he pleases and your chest feels alight.Â
Teasingly, you slide your foot up along his arm until you can rest it comfortably on his shoulder. He allows it and turns his head to kiss just below your ankle in response.
âThen be a good girl and stay right where Daddy put you,â he rasps, letting his strong hands glide up the length of your legs. He squeezes your thighs gently as he passes over them, a part of your body that he would categorize as his favorite if you asked him to choose. When he inches his fingertips up under your skirt, the anticipation in the air nearly makes your body want to crawl away because what you will get from him will be too much. You shiver when he starts tugging your panties down, the white lace impossibly damp right at where your pussy has sat.Â
When he drags them all the way off, lifting the leg on his shoulder briefly, his eyes settle right between your thighs. You clench involuntarily at being watched, slick dripping onto his bed sheets as you pulse for his gaze. He lets out a low groan, his hands gripping your hips as he stares without shame, taking in every inch of you as you are laid bare for him. The sight of the heat heâll slide into has his jaw tightening, his breathing growing irregular. When he is satisfied with his inspection, his eyes lift and he gives you a look that could melt you right into the bed.Â
âLook at this little pussy. Itâs glisteninâ fâme, the magicâs pouring from it,â he says while he slides his fingers through your folds with slow and tantalizing strokes, the leftovers of your last orgasm still lingering as he taps your clit and causes you to squeak.Â
âYeah? Does it look pretty for you?â You ask deliriously and catch your bottom lip between your teeth to whine, lifting your hips up despite the rules and basically presenting your cunt like a gift.Â
âSo goddamn pretty, little fae. Do you want me to touch it properly this time? Inside to make those wings flutter?â Joelâs threat is apparently less serious now that heâs got a glimpse between your legs. He turns his wrist so he can hook his fingers upward, rubbing your cunt teasingly around where you want him to sink into. He enters you to the first knuckle, applying the slightest pressure inside of you, only to draw back and make you lose your mind.Â
âYouâre teasing me,â you state the obvious, breathless and squirming underneath his ministrations. You push your hips to meet his hand, âPlease, Daddy, I need it so badly. Donât you wanna slip inside and feel how tight I am?â
âThen spread those legs for me,â he orders you in a gruff voice, clearly affected by your words. He reaches with his free hand to lift your leg off his shoulder and plants your foot firmly on the bed. You mirror it with your other leg until you can let both of them fall out to the sides.Â
âYou want me to get a towel, baby? We havenât done that in a while,â he smirks at you knowingly, a certain glint in his eye as he asks. You know exactly what he is referring to and he chuckles when you answer by nodding eagerly with wide eyes, looking like a kid in a candy store being offered their favorite sweet.Â
âThatâs my girl, so eager to feel good,â he praises with a warm smile and rises from his position. He peels off his t-shirt, throwing it in your face - a fairly new habit of his - so you can drown in his smell before exiting the room to head for the bathroom, stepping out of his jeans on the way there. You curl your fingers into the fabric, bringing it to your nose to inhale deeply. Joelâs shirt smells of cotton and faded aftershave, mixed with something unmistakably him; a hint of sweat from being in the Texas sun, his wood-scented deodorant that still lingers. Itâs enough to make you even wetter.
He comes back a moment later, towel in hand. He watches you clutching his shirt, having smeared the golden glitter on your face onto it, your pretty eyes nearly rolling back and your hips wiggling to no avail.Â
âAinât you worked up, sweetheart? Iâve barely gotten started with you. Are all faes so greedy between their legs?â He taunts as he slides the towel beneath your hips, flattening it out neatly while you hold your breath in his proximity. He yanks the shirt out of your grip and stares down at you. Your costume is so messy by now, the green dress sitting around your hips to obscenely make you look like a thing used for shoving oneâs dick in, and the translucent wings are slightly crumpled by your impatient wiggling around, your cuntâs search for pleasure.Â
âPlease, Daddy, need you to make me come,â you whimper and earn a look of pity. Joel moves to kneel on the floor by the bed, leaning over the edge of the bed until his upper body is between your thighs. He doesnât hesitate to slip his ring- and middle finger into you, rewarding your desperation by curling his digits upward just in the right way.
âOh,â you let out a slow, breathy moan when he finds the right spot inside you in just a few seconds, the one that has a direct line to your clit. Joel smiles at his immediate success, watching you with the pride of someone who knows exactly what heâs doing in his quest to undo you.Â
âRight there, huh? God, youâre so sensitive, baby,â he murmurs lowly, his tone affectionate and aroused. He pushes his fingers deeper into you until his index finger and pinky brush your ass and then makes a come-hither motion inside of you. You can feel a lump form in your throat, the flesh of your ass and thighs jiggling from the effort he puts into fucking you with his thick digits.
âYouâre so good at that, mmm⊠Daddy,â you only just manage to say before you choke on a whine as he creates electricity within you, your voice breaking and trembling with desperation. You are well aware of how pathetic you sound, how needy, but you donât care because you can feel the tension building with each stroke inside of you. With his thumb, he reaches out and swirls it around your clit, and you know he can feel how hard it has gotten in its aroused state; a little bump underneath the tip of his finger. It is so sensitive now too, making you wetter with each little push against it.Â
You throw your head back and draw in a desperate breath, wanting so badly to swear at the sensation of him fucking you open like he has been thinking about it all day. Yet it doesnât feel worth it to break the rules of using foul language, resulting in having him halt his doings. Instead, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and reach for your chest to relieve some of the tension in your body.Â
You cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them to add another dimension to the way Joel is touching you. He swears below you at the way you clench around his fingers when you catch your nipples between two fingers, tugging to intensify the sensation between your thighs.Â
âYou are so sexy like that, Tink,â Joel murmurs softly in praise. He leans down to kiss your belly, kiss your inner thigh, and all the way up to your knee too. He keeps the relentless rhythm of his fingers but then also rests his free hand on your stomach just below your belly button, knowing that this is how he made you squirt the first time. He pushes down on your belly to add that final touch, and it is almost too much, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.Â
Your legs start to tremble in Joelâs peripheral vision, in need of being held down by Joelâs strong arm so he doesnât lose his grip on the intense orgasm he has built up inside of you. Your eyes start to roll back and a high-pitched whimper escapes you as he has you teetering on the edge.Â
âThatâs it, sweetheart. You are so goddamn close, ainât you? Glowinâ fâme so prettily. Come on, come for Daddy, baby. He put in so much work,â he talks you over the edge in the next moment, holding your cunt in an iron grip as you suddenly clamp down on his digits and start shuddering violently. He keeps his fingers inside of you, pressing them firmly against your g-spot while simultaneously rubbing your clit in taught little circles. It makes you gush all over his hand, soaking the towel beneath you as wave after wave comes crashing.Â
You have been vocal throughout the whole thing, sure, but it is nothing compared to your cries right now as relieving pleasure wracks through your lower body and makes you sob.Â
âGod, you make Daddy so hard,â you hear Joel say but thereâs a fog wrapped around your mind like a woolen blanket. When you feel yourself gushing again, itâs so intense that tears are spilling down your cheeks and the fabric of your dress clings to your sweat-slicked body. You feel slightly claustrophobic in the moment but you have no control of your body, so you let Joelâs soothing words guide you through an orgasm thatâll be worth bragging about to Hannah.Â
When it finally ebbs out, Joel eases his fingers out and makes you mewl. He wipes his hand on the towel and then soothingly strokes along your thighs as you try to relish in your post-orgasmic bliss.Â
However, you start tugging on your dress instead, desperately trying to escape its confines while you pant in the aftermath. You are still so fucked out that it doesnât come off during your attempt, your hands shaking and a whine making Joel gently chuckle.Â
âStop, stop, lemme help you,â he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, taking your wrists in his hands to stop your desperate effort. You let out a soft plea for him, pouting for show as you follow orders and he guides you to sit, slow as he moves you in case your head is still woozy. He reaches behind you and up under the fairy wings to undo the zipper of the green dress, pausing for a moment before deciding to tug the fabric downward instead of up over your head. The garment slips down until it sits around your waist. He pushes you down onto your back again so he can ease it past your hips and off your legs.Â
He stands there for a moment more before tugging his underwear down his legs, quickly kicking them to the side, and then he just stares. You feel cherished by him when he touches you but itâs different when he just looks; you feel sexy underneath his gaze. You know youâre a sight to behold when he swallows thickly, a disheveled little naked fae with her wings bent from how well sheâs been fucked.Â
Finally, he crawls on top of you. He presses close to you, pulling your leg over his waist as he catches your mouth in a long, drawn-out kiss that perfectly displays the affection and hunger within him. You kiss him back, sighing softly into his mouth and reaching up to run your hands over his broad shoulders, eventually settling them on the back of his head. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug him back to your mouth each time he needs a breath, whispering to him during the mere seconds you are without each other.Â
âNeed you, baby,â you pant softly, lips sensitive from kissing so feverishly until your body feels ready for more without the risk of combusting on the sheets. Joelâs cock is hard against your thigh, and he canât stop murmuring half sentences as he crashes his crotch into your hip with a low moan while telling you just how good it will feel to be inside you.Â
âYeah? This little pussy needs to get fucked?â He cups your face and dives into your mouth anew.Â
âYeah,â you moan breathily with a nod, brushing your tongues together in the new filthy kiss, âNeed you to make me your little fucktoy, Daddy. Thatâs all Iâm good for.â
âThatâs right, Tink,â he growls, his eyes having darkened at your obscene words. With a hint of reluctance, he pulls away from you so he can flip you onto your stomach. With a firm grip on your hips, he helps you up onto your hands and knees.Â
Itâs a struggle to hold yourself up but you stiffen, quickly finding your bearings, as Joel raises his hand a little in the air before giving you a firm smack on your ass. The sting makes you gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets below you. He soothes the pain, speaking as someone put together even if his ragged breathing gives him away, âWho do ya belong to, little fae?â
âY-you,â you stammer, your voice wavering but still holding a tinge of eagerness. He smacks you again, this time harder so the sound bounces off the walls.Â
âAnd who am I?â He demands, not satisfied with your simple answer.Â
âDaddy,â you plead with a feeble cry, clenching around nothing and feeling a bead of slick drip from your clit.Â
âThatâs right,â he gruffs. Even though it is unnecessary with how soaked you are from your arousal and Joelâs impressive generosity tonight, he still spits into his hand and coats his thick length in it. He aligns with your dripping slit and breaches you with the tip of his cock.Â
A whimper tumbles from your mouth and he shushes you gently. He is so big inside of you that everything hurts just enough to make you whine feebly but at the same time, he feels just right inside you as he slips in right to the hilt. Thereâs a looming yet exciting danger of him being in complete control in this position but he is so careful with you as he starts fucking you. Well, as careful as a man can be when he gets to be balls-deep in Tinkerbell.Â
You groan at the feeling of him having his way with you. He has reached the point where he has little patience left from putting his own needs aside for too long, longing to use you to spill into. You are overstimulated by the two highs he has already pulled from you. It intensifies the sensation of him effortlessly slipping in and out of your slick cunt, so much so that you donât last long in this position and end up with your face in the mattress.
âAhâ... ah,â you squeak each time he bottoms out, mercilessly letting you feel the depth of each stroke and keeping you panting under his weight, almost dizzy with how hard he is inside your soft heat.
âYou like that?â He presses you down further into the mattress by planting his hand firmly on the back of your neck as a clear, dominant gesture that holds you in place for him to drive into you even harder.
"Yes, yes, thank you, Daddy," you manage to gasp out, your words muffled by the bedding as your body shudders under the force of his thrusts. Each of your words stutters along with your breathing, each movement of his harsh rhythm makes his hips crash into your ass.
Joel's grip on the back of your neck tightens just a little, his breaths coming out in shallow pants while a growl leaves him, âJust fuckinâ take it, baby. You can do it.â
âYou feel so fuââ you catch yourself in your delirious state of mind, yet again not about to be punished for breaking the rule of swearing. Thatâs only allowed by the real grownups, so you swallow around a little gasp and pretend like it almost didn't happen, âYou feel so good, Daddy.â
Suddenly, he rakes his hand down your spine, through the sweat that is beading there and grabs your hips. He drags you onto your hands and knees, your tits bouncing as he knocks all wind out of you when he begins thrusting again.Â
You make a noise in the very back of your throat, a sudden surge of pleasure through your body at the new angle making you realize how close you are again. You are sweating, you are crying with actual tears spilling down your cheeks, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, and God, you just need a little help getting there.
âHarder,â you plead pathetically, craving his cock right against the spot inside of you that he might as well label as his own, âPlease, I can take it, Daddy.â
It is the truth; youâre practically molded into a sheath for his cock only from how many times he has fucked you since the beginning of the summer. However, at the same time, it feels like you can barely take anymore he has to give, so stuffed that you think youâre about to lose control.Â
âShh,â he soothes your sobs, voice softening in beautiful contrast to his relentless pace, âDaddyâs got ya. Daddyâs happy to give you - shit, baby - to give you whatcha need.â
âAh!â You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the pleasure right around the corner. It makes you able to hear how the bed is squeaking, how the headboard is continuously slamming against the wall.Â
âFuck, I can feel you squeezinâ me. You gonna come on it?â You hear him behind you and in response, you nod frantically when no intelligible words come out. He splays a hand on your back and gives you his all to get you there, âGod, I love to see you act like a cockdrunk little fae.â
âMhm!â Your cries turn to high-pitched keens as your orgasm catches up with you and hits you like a bolt of lightning. You are done for, trembling through the strong pulses between your legs as you come hard enough to wipe your mind. Behind you, Joel groans as your walls try to trap his cock in a grip that has him faltering just for a moment. However, he quickly regains his momentum so he can fuck you through each overwhelming wave.Â
âWell done, baby. Good girl cominâ on my cock,â he praises through gritted teeth and you can imagine the slightly angry face he has on as he feels his own climax speed towards him, âDaddyâs gonna fill you up right now.âÂ
âReally?â You ask dreamily with your eyes closed in the middle of your afterglow, a dazed smile on your face. Bliss is not the right word, too much mind-numbing and brain-quietening exhaustion following it. Behind you, Joel is still pounding into your squelching cunt but you can do nothing more than giggle happily in between sweet moans whenever he hits something just right.Â
The giggles cause you to tighten around his girth, squeezing him just enough for him to swear loudly at the exquisite feeling your body wrapped around him. He lets go because he canât hold back anymore, coming inside of your pussy with controlled, hard thrusts that wipe the little smile off your face because air gets knocked out of you.Â
âYes, please gimme your come, Daddy, please give it to me,â you urge him and furrow your brows, practically drooling down onto the sheets as he abuses your pussy in his blissful state. He is so deep inside of you as he spurts, coating your velvety walls in his thick and generous load. It feels so fucking good. Nothing like anything a good little fairy would ever do. You even start thanking him, panting as you say the words over and over again.
âChrist, baby,â he moans behind you, âSo goddamn dirty for Daddy.â
You whimper when he leaves you empty a moment later, causing you to collapse onto your front with your hands resting underneath your cheek and your fingers curling into the sheets. You want to bite into the bed, your head swimming with how good and fucked out you feel.Â
Joel moves to lie down next to you, his body halfway on its side so he can kiss your sweat-glistening shoulder. He moves upwards when you shiver at the first touch of his lips, dragging his mouth up to your warm cheek. He plants a kiss right by the corner of your mouth, and you absentmindedly reach out to stroke along his jaw.Â
âThat was so good,â you say with a tiny moan.Â
âYou are so perfect,â he praises lovingly. He moves to lie down on top of your limp body, crushing you so heavenly with his weight as his chest sticks to your back. The wings of your costume crumble, flattening from being squashed. His arms envelop you and a large hand brushes a bit of loose hair away from your neck. He dips down to kiss just below the base of your skull and you find yourself automatically stretching your neck for even more. He showers you in kisses, lips trailing up and down your throat until you feel a burning need to breathe him in further, to be even closer.Â
You whine like a child, wiggling underneath the weight of him until he shifts to lie beside you again. He drags you close to his warm chest, planting a broad palm on your back and you respond by scooting forward to climb even further into his arms. Frustration bubbles up in your chest because it doesnât feel like he is close enough, not even when you whimper and bury your face in the crook of his warm neck. He chuckles affectionately above you, cradling you like you are the most precious thing he owns, and rests his lips on your disheveled hair.Â
âJoelâŠâ You whisper and try to tug at him even more, your arms going under his so you can be flush against him and mold together with his much stronger embrace. You grab at his shoulders, had no idea that there could be such a loud and powerful yearning in your chest for someone you already have.
âWhatâs wrong?â He asks, clearly knowing the answer. You feel his hand move gently along your naked back, trying to soothe you as you continuously try to shift yourself even closer in his arms though youâre already as close as you can get.Â
âItâs not close enough,â you complain feebly and shift once more, a bit of embarrassment flowing through you at how needy you come off. Itâs rare that you feel like this but the conversation you had with Hannah earlier has your head in a lovesick spin. The need for Joel is unmatched by anything you have ever felt because this state of mind isnât fuelled by desire anymore - you have already gotten that out of your system - but rather an all-consuming need for love.Â
Joel shushes you gently when you whine once more and squeezes you tightly to relieve your discontent, coaxing your impatient and restless body to calm down. He talks gently and says your name, his voice reverberating through his chest, âLook at me.â
You tilt your head back to meet his gaze, and he smiles one of the smiles that he only reserves for you. He whispers, âI love you.â
And then he reaches up slowly to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He dips down to kiss you softly on the lips, grounding you further and making your mind go quiet. Itâs not rushed, not as passionate as the kisses youâve shared just moments before but itâs sweeter than honey.Â
As you let your guard down fully with a mind completely blank, a sentence slips from your mouth without a second thought. Itâs not something you planned to say but you have no control over your actions when he kisses you like that.
âGuess what?â You giggle, lost in his eyes.Â
âWhat, babydoll?â He smiles down at you.
âI told Hannah about us,â you confess, another wave of giddiness washing over you at the excitement.Â
However, it quickly passes over you as Joelâs face shifts to an expression of something concerned, tingeing on angry but mostly just unpleasant. Immediately, his jaw tightens, âYou did what?â
Your face drops along with your stomach. You try to find the words to calm him but when you open your mouth there are no words that fit. His stare is so intense, laced with frustration and paranoia that makes your throat start tingling with tears.Â
âJoelââ you croak when he pulls back a little, the distance between you feeling unnaturally cold.Â
âDo you have any idea what could possibly happen if she lets this slip?â He doesnât look at you, rolling onto his back to rest the back of his thumbs against his forehead, âYou should have talked to me about this first.âÂ
âJoel, she would neverâ I trust her!â You insist but you mostly just hear yourself sounding like a child. You want to defend your choice even further but he is already interrupting you with a dangerous chuckle.
âThatâs not the damn point, honey. People talk, people slip up. You think weâre goinâ to be in the shadows for much longer now?â He sits up, hands on his bent knees.Â
âYouâre acting insane,â you say bitterly and sit up as well, anger bubbling up in your own chest at his condescending tone and suddenly, you find yourself fighting his lecture. You bite back, âItâs not that big a deal. Itâs not fun for me to hide all the time because youâre scared.â
âNo, donât you dare twist this âround on me when you are out there runnin' your mouth,â he growls, making you flinch when his voice is louder than you have ever heard it before, âI - opposed to you - am tryna protect what we have.â
You can hear your pulse in your ears, âYou know what? Stop pretending like this is for my own good when it feels like you are just protecting yourself. Actually, maybe you should ask yourself if this is what you really want.â
Joel scoffs, suddenly hauntingly calm in his tone once more and you miss the warm tinge that his voice always has when he speaks to you, âMaybe I am some kind of fool for thinkinâ we could ever work. Maybe if we were closer in age, itâd be easier. Maybe if I didnât have a past with your family, and I hadnât known you since you were a kid then this wouldnât feel so goddamn wrong.â
The words hit like a punch. Your anger mingles with hurt. It doesnât feel fair to attack your age like he is because you cannot change it, and thatâs the worst part of it. In a feeble attempt to defend yourself, you go for the killing blow.Â
âYou think youâre the fool here? I let myself fall in love with you,â you falter with a tremble in your voice but then get a hold of yourself, pulling your knees to your chest, âI laughed at your jokes and I let you fuck me because I thought you werenât going to run the second things got hard. Well congratulations; you got to play self-righteous to make yourself feel better. You are the biggest fucking coward, Miller.â
The second you see the glimpse of hurt in his eye, you regret every syllable yet your stupid pride makes you hold onto the image that you meant every one. You realize your wording, that you have talked about him as if you and him are in the past, and you flex the muscles in your throat to stop yourself from bursting into tears even if your face burns.
âIâll make it real easy for ya then, sweetheart,â he says coolly, and suddenly, his weight is gone from the mattress and your heart is screaming for him to stay. You watch him move to pick up his clothes and dress quickly, not bothering to fix the way his shirt sits askew on his torso because the determination on his face tells you that he is desperate to leave.Â
You clutch around your knees when he bolts from the room, listen to the sound of his feet on the stairs as he descends them, and then finally flinch when the front door slams hard enough to make the whole house rattle. You let out a breath you didnât know you had been holding, the air leaving you shakily.
A single tear rolls down your face, followed by another but you swallow down the grief that comes with how final this interaction seems. Something about it tells you that you wonât see him for a while now, and not just because you are going back to school soon.Â
With shame, you slowly rise off the bed. Your body is sore, sensitive, and aching between your thighs, and you are still covered in evidence from having sex with him. Feeling him on you despite his absence is usually a thing you relish in but in this moment, it just feels like a cruel reminder of what you might not get to have in the future.
You sit down on the toilet to pee, your knees falling inwards and your body sagging from the exhaustion of what you have just been through. The heartache is so raw, sitting tightly in your throat as a lump that you can barely swallow around while you do your business and afterward mechanically take a shower and clean yourself up in front of the sink.Â
When you reenter the bedroom, it feels like you are an intruder and this is your crime scene. You scan the room for your things but cruelly, your eyes fall on one of Joelâs shirts hanging on the back of the chair at the desk. It is already worn, hasnât been thrown in the laundry basket yet. Ideally, you shouldnât walk home in the skimpy outfit you arrived in and so, youâre tempted to put it on - if not only to let his familiar scent envelop you - but you cannot risk it. The last thing you need is to walk into your parentsâ house wearing his clothes, walk in with the smell of him lingering on you.Â
So instead, you slip back into your Tinkerbell costume in the emptiness of Joelâs bedroom, not even the ghost of him lingering, trying not to think about how excited you had been about dressing up for him just a few hours ago.Â
â
Your father is in the living room when you quietly enter the house again. You try to sneak past him, hoping that the low hum of the TV will distract him from your footsteps, but as you move past the doorway, he catches you off guard.Â
âYouâre home early?â He says but it is a question as well as a statement. He reaches for the remote to turn down the volume but when he sees your face, he furrows his brows and turns off the television altogether.Â
You force a little smile, âYeah, just wasnât feeling it.â
He doesnât seem convinced, pushing himself to stand in the soft glow of the reading light, âCâmere for a second.â
Reluctantly, you make your way to stand in front of him, your heels clicking on the floorboards. Your shoulders sag as you stop in front of his tall frame, and he studies you for a moment before nudging you with the warmth of his voice, âDid something happen tonight, honey?âÂ
âNo,â you say shakily, avoiding his gaze as your throat feels tight, âNo, it was a great party but I was just too tired.â
âHey, look at me,â he says softly, reaching out to lay his hands on your shoulders. His palms are warm and youâre cold from walking home with a barely dried-off body and no jacket since you bolted out the door. You stare into his eyes, lip trembling as he continues, âI can see youâre not okay. Did something happen?â
You wish that you could say that it is nothing because the reality of it is cruel, ten thousand miles between what he thinks he understands and the truth that you must keep painfully lodged in your chest, taking up too much space for your heart. However, the dam breaks at the gentleness he shows you, the love burning beneath his concern, and suddenly, a sob breaks free.Â
Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close with his hand rubbing your back. You know you donât deserve his reassurance as he coos in your ear, has no clue how complicated things are.Â
You shake in his embrace, your tears wetting the shoulder of his soft shirt. He kisses your hair affectionately, squeezing you while his protective words rumble in his chest, âListen to me. I need you to tell me if someone hurt you, okay? I wonât be mad. I just wanna help.â
âItâs not like that,â you reassure him and in response, you can feel him relax a little bit as he holds you, sighing in relief. You sniffle, resting your cheek against his chest, âI just got close to someone and it got complicated. He said some things thatâ I mean, I did too but it really hurt, Dad.â
âYouâre allowed to make mistakes, to care for people who maybe donât deserve it but donât let anyone make you feel small,â he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, pauses for a moment before continuing, âIf this person donât treat you right⊠maybe itâs time to reconsider how much space they take up in your life.â
âYeah⊠maybe youâre right, thanks, Dad,â you reply with enough conviction that he gives you a smile, proud to have gotten through to you. You donât have the heart to tell him that the person you are talking about is the only person that you cannot avoid either, the only person who can break both of your hearts.
.
.
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Heatstroke | Max Verstappen
WC: 2.6K
Max x Platonic!Driver!reader, Grid x Driver!reader
Summery: When you made the switch to Formula 1, no one told you how bad the Qatar GP can be
Warning: Heatstoke??
Masterlist
Max Masterlist
y/n y/f/n, is a name thatâs been making headlines for months now. When the rumours first started everyone thought they were just, that, rumours. But in F1 rumours donât just come out of thin air, especially ones like this. Red Bull is changing their line up and theyâre bringing in a female? A woman whose already in her mid-20s. A NASCAR driver, a runner up for the driversâ championship three times. Not many switch from other series to Formula, the other way around. Yes. So, itâs a rumour everyone presumed.
But why are there photos of you in Milton Keynes? Why is Max suddenly following you on Instagram? Why is your NASCAR team not posting you on their social media anymore? How come itâs already the winter break and no confirmation on who will be take the empty seat in the Red Bull team?
You ignored your social media, since someone leaked your move from NASCAR to F1. You stopped caring a long time ago, stopped looking a long time ago. A long life in motorsports taught you not to care. The life of a female in motorsports is not easy even now in the 21st century. Female fans have it hard, female presenters have it hard, female mechanics have it hard, and certainly female drivers have it hard. But it only made you stronger and your skin thicker.
When Red Bull finally announced that youâd be the one driving for them in the new season, they were met with both positive and negative response. Youâre an enigma coming into the sport. No oneâs seen you in a Formula 1 car before, or a car in the feeder series. But you did start in karting and your records are still unbroken.
While everyone was enjoying their winter break, you spent it training in the gym, on the sim, and in previous F1 cars. No time to spare, to get you ready for the new season. A season Red Bull has high hopes for.
You were able to meet Max a few times since you joined the team, but he was mostly off enjoying his break. Only by the time the preparations for the new season that heâs actually got to know you. Surprisingly to many, you and Max got on well with each other. Max instantly took a liking to you, you may be not that much younger than him, but he saw you as a younger sister. Max also did his homework while he was on vacation and watched many of your races in NASCAR and he was impressed, he couldnât wait for you to race in F1. Like his team, he thinks your experience will bring in a fresh eye to the sport and to the team.
The pre-season practice was the first time you met the rest of the grid. Everyone has been pleasant and nice; Lewis Hamilton had a long talk with you about your experience in motorsports as a female and he shared some of his challenges being the only black man in the history of the sport. It was such a long and deep talk; the 7 times world champion gave you his number and promised to chat more later.
Max pulled you to the talking circle he was having, he was talking to Lando, Carlos and Charles. You loved how much he tried to include you in on everything, make you feel welcome.
It was the Qatar Grand Prix, a race almost everyone hated, just for the fact that itâs one of, if not the, hottest races on the calendar. You had no idea how hot it could get, but the team tried to pred you as much as they could. FP1-3 were hard when you were doing long runs, it got hot in the cockpit. Youâre thankful they decided to not have a sprint this year. You had no idea how youâll manage in the actual race. Water was your friend since FP1.
âHow do you handle all that heat?â You asked Max, as you laid on a sofa on the side of the debriefing room, he was on a chair as if he wasnât just in the car melting.
âLots of water and eat whatever Iâm given.â Max said sipping on his cold-water bottle. âDidnât you train for the heat after the last race?â
âI did, but itâs still nothing like the real thing.â You mumbled, Max patted your knee in sympathy.
âHey, you did good though, starting P2 tomorrow.â Max tried to cheer you up, you gave a weak smile.
âOkay, everyone here?â You sat up from the sofa and moved to your chair for the meeting.
The race was too long in your opinion, definitely one of the hardest races you had to do in your career. How can it be so hot at night, the humidity was killing you.
âNo one said itâll be this hard before I joined.â You complain through your radio, something you donât usually do, since the media likes to call you whiney and used as an excuse as to why women shouldnât be in Formula 1.
âThought you might change your mind.â Your engineer teased and you sighed.
âI mightâve.â You joked back, knowing you wouldnât, sweat was dripping everywhere. âHow many laps left?â
â16, hang in there and drink water.â
âYou mean tea, itâs so hot, still donât get why you couldnât throw cold water on me.â You had a gap between you and George Russel in P4 behind you and you were closing in on Lando in front of you. You were getting closer lap after lap. He undercut you earlier in the race and now youâre 2 seconds behind him.
âMaybe next time⊠gap to Norris 1.4.â
The next 5 laps were hard, you managed to overtake Lando, but it took so much out of you.
âOkay, just keep your head down.â Your race engineer said, and it took a few seconds for you to register what he was saying and a few more to answer him.
âOkay.â Your voice was breathy and weaker than earlier.
âAlmost there.â He encouraged you; you hummed and did your best to keep the lead you have on Lando now, youâre in clean air, no car in sight in front of you.
âHow many laps?â You asked but stopped talking as you felt like youâd throw up if you talked more.
â2 more, drink water even if itâs hot.â
You didnât respond, there was no more water, it was too hot, but you drank and sweated everything already. The last lap felt so long, your car slowed down just slightly, but not enough for Lando to catch up with you.
âWell done y/n, thatâs P2!â Your engineer cheered and you smiled weakly proud of yourself for finishing the race.
âYay.â That was the weakest yay youâve ever said. The in lap seemed like it took so long. Max and Lando were already parked. You closed your eyes and rested your head back, you had zero energy, moving seemed like torture. You slowly opened your eyes and took out your wheel placing it on the car.
Max after celebrating with the team, turned to look at you, only to see you still in the car. He frowned and moved back to where your car is parked next to his. He could see you moving a little which gave him little comfort.
âHey, you, okay?â Max had removed his helmet already, his face was flushed red.
âToo tired.â You mumbled and Max strained his ears to hear what you said.
âIâll help you out.â Max said he reached into your car and unbuckled your seatbelts. âCan you stand?â
You gave a weak nod and put your hands on the sides of the cockpit and tried to pull yourself up, but your legs were shaky, Max placed his hand on your waist to try and steady you.
âGet her a cold water.â Max told one of the Red Bull mechanics that came for the car, you leaned on the halo pretty heavily, Max put his other hand on your waist as well when you lifted your leg to hop over. You placed on of your hands on Maxâs shoulder and moved your legs over the halo, before you just sat down on the car, placing your feet on the ground, this took more time than it needed to and much harder than it shouldâve. âRaise your head.â
Max leaned down and unbuckled your helmet before he slowly removed it. Your balaclava was next, putting them beside you he could finally see your flushed face, loose hair sticking to your skin. The mechanic opens the bottle for you, and you take it gratefully from him, the cold water is a shock to your skin, but it offered a much-needed reprieve from the heat. You sipped slowly, feeling better now that you drank cold water. Max was watching you with hawk eyes.
âCome on we need to get weighed.â Max told you after you drank most of the water bottle. You nodded, and turned to put the wheel back in but max took it from you and hocks it back up. Your focus isnât really that good at the moment, so you donât notice Max walking behind you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Youâre too tired to run to your team, but while Lando gets interviewed you walk up to them, you get patted on the back softly. Itâs obvious how much this race had taken out of you. Youâre still flushed, and sluggish.
ây/n, welcome to Qatar.â Jensen said once you stood in front of him, you offered him the best smile you could, but it wasnât that big. âFirst season in Formula 1, youâre second in Qatar how would you rank this week amongst the ones youâve done so far?â
âUh, hardest, definitely the hardest.â You answer, all the lights shinning and the screens around arenât helping with the heat.
âBut you did amazing over taking Lando and getting second place, did you expect this coming into the weekend?â Jensen asked feeling sympathetic towards you.
âWell, um, I expected to do well before the race, during the race I wasnât so sure, but I knew I just had to push through it for the team.â You said and the team cheered you on, you felt like they were farther than they were, your hearing coming and going. Jensen asked you his last question before you were free to go. You felt like your body was on auto piolet. Moving away from the cameras and in the direction of the cool down room. Once you were next to a wall you leaned on it, your trainer was by your side in a second.
âYou need to sit down for a moment.â He told you, and in the middle of the hallway he helped you down, you just did as you were told. He unzipped your suit and pulled it down to your waist. Somone handed him a water bottle, he put some on his hand and patted your cheeks to cool you down. âWe need an ice vest.â Someone rushed away, you just closed your eyes head on the wall. âHere, drink more.â
You sat there for a minute, before Max rushed over, he just finished his interview.
âAre you okay? Is she okay?â Max asked you before turning to your trainer, he crouched down to your height to have a closer look. âShe should head to the medics.â
âNo, no, itâs alright, I just needed a moment.â You said opening your eyes to look at your teammate.
ây/n, donât p-â
âIâm fine, Max, I swear.â You say and put your hands on the floor and push yourself up, you lean on the wall for a moment, before you give Max a pleading look, he sighs and gestures for you to move in front of him. You walk into the cooldown room, and Lando is sitting alone.
âWhat? Did you have the debrief or something?â Lando asked jokingly, he had a cold water bottle pressed to his face.
âYeah, talked about how to take you out of the race next time.â You joked and sat on the floor, not even trying to sit in your chair.
You didnât slip your suit back on for the podiums, leaving the top part hanging by your waist. Your movements were still slow, but you managed to smile and celebrate a little with the other two drivers. You were the first person off the stage and instantly a cooling vest was slipped over your head, you were still hot. Max ran down the stairs after you.
He saw you stumble a little, you had to go to the medical centre. Max knew you well enough to know that if he asked you, youâd brush it off. But he got what he wanted one way or another. So, the reigning world champion came up behind you and just scooped you up. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck instantly.
âMax! what are you doing?â
âTaking you to the medical centre, and no youâre not fine.â You looked at your trainer over his shoulder, but one look at him and you saw that he agreed with Max.
Letâs say Max was right, you had a heatstroke and were on the verge of passing out. You missed the debrief much to your displeasure. The doctor gave you a list of things to do and not to do with your trainer by your side. The moment you were in your hotel room, you rushed to the bathroom to shower. The cold water feeling amazing on your skin, the AC was on. You just wore a tank top and a pair of boxer shorts to bed. And sleep you did. You really needed that sleep.
You woke up the next morning to knocking on your door, you groggily got up groaning as you did. Opening the door, you saw Max and Kelly. Theyâre both in casual clothes, smiling at you.
âHey, whatâs up? Itâs too early.â You greeted them opening the door more for them to enter.
âItâs past 12.â Max informed you.
âOh.â
âHow are you feeling?â Kelly asked you and placed her hand on your skin to see if youâre still radiating heat or not. Max had informed her of your state last night, and from the glimpses she managed to see of you she knew you were feeling the heat.
âBetter.â You smiled at her kindness, since you and Max have gotten close, you and Kelly also have formed a friendship.
âWe ordered room service to your room.â Kelly told you; you thanked the couple. You threw on an oversized shirt on top of your clothes before you joined them, they had the small sofa for themselves, so you took the comfy armchair. âYou did amazing yesterday, y/n.â
âThank you, wish I felt as good as I did.â You complained and sighed.
You three talked about everything and nothing in particular. When the food arrived, you knew that Max has spoken to your trainer, because it was all the foods that the doctor suggested for you to eat. You drank to glasses of juice and a bottle of water as well. Keeping hydrated was on the top of the list.
âWho are you going back with to the UK?â Max asked, he wouldâve loved if youâd moved to Monaco, but after joining the team you moved closer to the factory in the UK.
âOscar and Fernando has to go to the factory so weâre taking his jet.â You informed him and he looked satisfied with your answer.
âJust take care of yourself.â
âSure, dad, I will.â
âHey!â
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I've been following this matter for a while now (a quick search of newspaper articles showed it's been floated since mid last year, and I remember having to use my passport to verify my age on my gmail (it's not the account I use for tumblr, the account has my name in the address, so it's already pretty clearly me, so I was begrudgingly okay with it but am still annoyed my other account now can't watch age restricted youtube videos unless I tie it to my identity)). It's a vexed issue.
The first thing I'd like to point out is that the person quoted in the above post ("I am 100 percent etc") is Keith Pitt, a member of the Nationals who was resources and water minister under Morrison. I feel this is important because while he'd definitely be someone who'd vote in support of the measure, he's not a member of the party in power, let alone a Cabinet minister. His opinion is not necessarily that of the Prime Minister â Anthony Albanese â and it makes it seem like what he's talking about is what the government is planning to do.
What is the PM actually saying they'll do?
To be honest, I don't think the government knows yet. From what I can gather, there has been no suggestion by the PM that they would force people's accounts to have their real names. The Age a few days ago reported this:
"Australiaâs eSafety commissioner has instead recommended a âdouble-blind tokenised approachâ, whereby information would be provided to a verifying third party that would certify the userâs age to social media platforms without revealing details about the child. The details of the plan are being worked through by a trial of age-verification technologies."
(the "instead" is in reference to the current practice of social media platforms asking people if they over 13, which I'm sure most people realise would stop pretty much no child)
In that same article though they also said "the government has not unveiled key details, including the technology that would be used to keep children out". So I think there is quite a bit of time before anything is going to be written into law.
While I don't think your name will be "slapped onto your tumblr account" (if that does end up being what they do I would actually delete my tumblr, I really do not want that), there is still the question of privacy being invaded in that the government would (I think? I'm not a tech expert in the slightest) be able to connect you to your account.
Keep in mind that we are close to an election (there's been whispers it could be May next year), and this is an issue that (as the Keith Pitt quote shows) both of the major parties seem to mostly agree on. A cynical view is that the PM is talking tough to neutralise the issue so it can't be attacked by the opposition for not protecting children. The fact that both are talking about it does however suggest it will eventually come to pass (unlike other complicated legislation that was touted as 'essential' but then got shelved after being too hard to get through (naming no names i.e. Scomo's religious discrimination bill).
The other point to discuss is that while I really do enjoy people not knowing who I am on tumblr (and people in my life not being able to know I'm on tumblr), I also don't really think kids should be on social media (or at least not in the way they currently are). I avoided social media (I only had a facebook account I barely touched) until I was an adult (and even then I waited a while) and I'm quite glad, mostly because I think I'm a lot more mature. On the other hand, while I didn't interact with people, I grew up in a time when you could browse most platforms without an account, so it's not like I wasn't exposed to things on the internet. And then there's a bit of a moral panic about the internet, which can be a bit overblown at times. But then I'll hear a 14 year old I know mentioning stuff that makes me think he's kind of obsessed with growing muscles and I wonder if he's seeing these sorts of things online. I mean, there's a lot of garbage on the internet. But there's a lot of really useful things too... it's complicated and I'm not settled on an opinion yet.
Kids really do need to learn better internet practices and behaviours, but there are also kids in primary school with social media accounts. I mean, what does a 12 year old do in their life that they need the world to see? (don't answer that it's rhetorical, I'm sure there are plenty of 12 year olds doing interesting things worth showing off, but I mean, beyond messaging friends, 12 year olds don't really need to be communicating with strangers on the internet). Note too it's specifically social media (the definition is given by OP but it's anything where the main purpose is share content or talk to a wide audience of people. Things like games with chat stuff are also being looked into.
I'm also a bit of a luddite and think kids should read more. I'm not actually trying to convince people the ban is good, I'm just thinking aloud here. The whole thing feels rather heavy-handed, brute-force, and there's every chance kids will still find ways around it. I don't think this is the ideal solution, but I do feel there is a problem to be addressed.
But yeah, do tell your local member that you are concerned and want to make sure your privacy is kept safe. Just be aware of who your member is and their/their party's stance (all Labor MPs vote with the party, Liberals and Nationals can vote against their own party, so they may not all be in agreement). The Greens are opposed to it. I am not sure what the teal independents think of it.
You may also want to contact some senators from your state, not just your MP.
As for the contents of the letter, maybe something like:
Dear Mr/Ms/Dr (whatever title they use) surname MP,
I am a resident of your electorate (electorate name). (Maybe say a little bit about yourself, just what you think is relevant to the letter or your arguments).
I am writing to you to discuss the proposed social media ban for children. I am concerned (explain what/why you are concerned).
(Try to keep it brief, but also try to be personal)
State what you want your MP to do. Ask them to reply to your letter.
Sincerely,
your name.
You may want to mail the letter rather than just emailing. This page from Oxfam I just looked up five minutes ago has some nice tips.
Hey Aussies, do you want your real name and ID slapped on your tumblr account? If the answer is fuck no, our govâs got a upcoming legislation for banning 16 year olds and under from social media even WITH parental consent. And by âSocial MediaââŠ
The code defines social media as electronic services that meet the following conditions:
The sole or primary purpose of the service is to enable online social interaction between two or more end users
The service allows end users to link to, or interact with, some or all other end users
The service allows end users to post material on the service
Such other conditions (if any) as are set out in the legislative rules.
So. You know. Just the entire fucking internet. They even named youtube as banned, god forbid kids out in the bush get access to LGBTQ+ communities online when they could be watching adds for sportsbet.
I am 100 per cent supportive of eliminating bullying and fake information from online platforms. The easiest way to do that is to be able to utilise existing laws, and the easiest way to do that is to ensure there are no fake accounts. Your digital, online life is your real life. If you want to make comments, that's fine, but it should be as you, as a verified account. This means everyone knows who it is that makes those comments, that you can be found and prosecuted under existing laws, just as you would if you express those opinions in a newspaper, for example, or you went on to a television station and said something similar.
Contact an Aussie senator about this shit. Theyâre trying to slide it under all the USpol news.
#australian politics#I am starting to think I should make a sideblog specifically for politics#Also make sure to look things up when you see them being discussed on tumblr#go the ABC at least#people blindly believing things on tumblr is why MPs think these laws need to be introduced#not saying OP is wilfully misleading people just that it is a bit scaremongering#it's not terrible to spur people into action with a bit of fear#but if they think it's going to be one thing which it won't be then the government can just do the less scary but still bad thing#which it was going to do anyway#and it won't have broken any promises#Albo seems rather desperate to be a PM with a legacy#but he's been stymied and is cursed with terrible communication#I think he's decent but I fear the bar has been set very low after the previous three PMs#it reminds me of Sammy J's song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IqKAMMIMd1E#âDecent. adequate. good enough. suitableâ
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I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43
an: guys iâm so sorry for the atrocities iâm about to cause by posting this, iâm especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they donât miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this
summary: for as long as sheâs remembered sheâs loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesnât know.
wc: 4.4k
She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fastâkicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didnât care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.
She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself thatâs just what friends didâwaited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. Sheâd never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasnât familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.
Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what sheâd always knownâthat Franco was going somewhere.
Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldnât quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasnât racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream heâd ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.
But he didnât.
Instead, Franco saw everything she wasnât: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies heâd already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didnât even seem real.
It was this girlâher name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let itâwho went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that heâd already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasnât, but what good would it do?
It was easy to tell herself she was Francoâs friend. His best friend. The one whoâd been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. Sheâd learned to wear it like armourâthe friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.
No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.
The nights she couldnât sleep, sheâd replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film sheâd seen too many times. They were pieces of a person sheâd built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasnât hers. Not really.
Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and sheâd been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadnât seen since they were kids. Heâd been invited to join a Formula 1 teamâa chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.
And sheâd been the first person he told. âIâm in,â Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. âIâm actually in.â
Heâd pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her tooâthat she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.
And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road theyâd grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.
âSo⊠this is it, huh?â she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything sheâd left unsaid.
Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin sheâd fallen in love with a thousand times. âYeah. This is it.â
There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didnât, couldnât. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And thatâs exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.
âYouâll be amazing out there,â she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.
âThanks,â Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didnât see her watching him, didnât notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Because thatâs what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.
His first race was in Monza.
And Franco had made sure sheâd be there.
The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Francoâs first Formula 1 race, the one heâd been chasing since the days theyâd spent on that dusty street back home. Heâd called her a week ago, saying heâd arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldnât feel right without her.
She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if sheâd see him. But instead, she saw herâFrancoâs girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.
She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as sheâd always done. But then Francoâs girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.
âHi! Youâre Francoâs best friend, no?â she said brightly, as if sheâd been waiting for this meeting. âFrancoâs told me all about you.â
She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. âNice to meet you,â she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfectâtoo perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girlâs smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasnât a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.
âYou know,â she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. âFranco always talks about how youâve been there from the start. He says he wouldnât be here without you.â
It was a sentiment sheâd waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. âHeâs worked so hard for this. I just⊠wanted to support him however I could.â
The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. âThatâs really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone whoâs known him for so long.â She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. âI think heâs planning to introduce me to his family soon.â
A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. âThatâs great,â she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. âThat sounds really important to him.â
The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. âYeah⊠he said he wanted to wait until weâd been together for a year. Heâs so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.â She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. âI think he got that from youâfrom seeing how much his family means to you.â
It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldnât. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just⊠nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.
âWell, his family will love you,â she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. âHe deserves to be happy.â
The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knewâif she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.
As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. âThank you,â she said, her voice warm. âFor being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell heâs lucky to have you in his life.â
She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was trueâbut not in the way sheâd once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.
And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stoodâat a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.
The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. Sheâd changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.
The evening had been a whirlwindâFranco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way sheâd only ever dreamed of seeing up close. Sheâd stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.
A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.
âHey,â he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. âI was hoping youâd still be up.â
âYeah, just⊠packing,â she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. âIâve got an early flight back.â
He frowned, like he hadnât expected her to be leaving so soon. âI thought youâd stay a bit longer,â he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. âIt meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. Iâm not sure I could have done it without you.â
She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. âIâm proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.â
He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. âItâs crazy, right? Like, it still doesnât feel real.â
She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.
âOhâand I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, Iâm planning to bring my girlfriendââ he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared roomââback to Argentina. Sheâs going to meet my family. I think theyâll love her.â
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldnât hold it in any longer.
âWhy her?â she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. âWhat do you mean?â
âWhy her, Franco?â She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. âWhy not me? What is it about me that you donât find appealing? Am I too loud? Too⊠different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?â Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. âWhat is it about me that you donât love, that you love about her?â
For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.
âWaitââ he started, his voice halting, uncertain. âI⊠I didnât know you feltââ
She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. âI loved you first, Franco.â
He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.
âWhat?â he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.
âI loved you first,â she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didnât want to cry, not now, not here. âSince we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. Iâve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.â
She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love sheâd imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.
He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. âBut⊠I love her.â
The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope sheâd held on to.
She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. âI know,â she whispered. âI know you do.â She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldnât contain. âBut it doesnât make it hurt any less.â
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could sayânothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasnât her.
âI never meant to⊠I didnât want to hurt you,â he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.
âItâs fine,â she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. âI⊠I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that Iâve always been here. But nowâŠâ She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words sheâd held for so long finally running dry.
She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.
When she noticed he still hadnât left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. âI hope she makes you happy, Franco,â she whispered, her voice barely a breath. âReally. I hope she gives you everything youâve ever dreamed of.â
She looked back down not wanting to catch Francoâs look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.
Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.
It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldnât quite decipher.
âI almost forgot to mention,â her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, âFrancoâs coming back to town soon. Said heâll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.â
She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadnât spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since sheâd finally let herself say all the things sheâd bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like sheâd left a part of herself behind.
âOh,â she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. âThatâs⊠thatâs good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.â
Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughterâs casual words. âI thought maybe youâd be excited too,â her mother ventured, her voice gentle. âItâs been a long time since youâve seen him.â
She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. âActually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with TĂa Blanca. Iâve been meaning to go see her.â
Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. âYou canât keep running from this, mi amor,â she said, her voice tender but firm.
Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didnât know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasnât ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything sheâd been trying so hard to let go of.
âI know I canât keep running,â she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. âBut I can now. And I can cope with that.â
Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. âMi amor, one day, youâre going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. Itâs the only way to truly move forward.â
She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her motherâs eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Francoâs wordsâBut I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.
âMaybe one day,â she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to beâfar from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.
Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. âThen go,â she said, with a small, knowing smile. âBut youâll know when itâs time to come home.â
And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldnât say, she only hoped her mother was right.
A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her auntâs place.
She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted itâFrancoâs car, parked at the edge of the drive.
Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, âNo, no, no⊠please, not now.â She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.
âOye, there you are!â he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadnât heard from him in years. âI was hoping Iâd run into you before you left. Itâs been too long.â
She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. âYeah, well, Iâve got to get on the road. Donât want to get stuck in traffic,â she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasksâclosing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.
He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. âIâve missed you,â he said, his tone softening. âYou⊠you didnât answer my calls after Monza. I didnât know if⊠I just wanted to see you.â
She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. âThatâs great, Franco,â she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. âBut I really should get going.â
âWaitââ He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. âCan we talk? Please?â
But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldnât bear to stay, couldnât bear to let him see her break again. âTake care, Franco,â she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.
Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.
But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of himâtheir childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.
Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images sheâd tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams theyâd both carried.
She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where theyâd been inseparable, a past where she hadnât yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy sheâd known, before life had pulled them down different paths.
By the time she reached her auntâs building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the cityâs pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.
Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.
âÂĄMira! Is that really you?â
She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she rememberedâwarm and solid.
âAngelo!â She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.
He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. âLet me help. Youâre here for a visit?â
âJust two weeks,â she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain sheâd left behind.
âWell, then,â he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, âweâve got time to catch up.â His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.
She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her auntâs door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.
The door opened before they could knock, her auntâs familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. âThere you are, mi niña!â She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. âAnd look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, youâre a sweetheart.â
He grinned, shrugging. âAnything for your family, señora.â
They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if sheâd left more than just a town behindâsheâd left the weight of everything sheâd been carrying.
As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.
Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.
to be continued�
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula one x reader#formula one#formula one x y/n#franco colapinto x yn#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto#fc43#fc43 x reader#fc43 x you#fc43 imagine#williams racing formula one#williams formula 1#williams f1#williams racing#williams#formula one x you#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula 1#ann speaks#ann talks#angsty#angst#franc colapinto angst
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Did not just watch a full episode of Wild Life in which both of Grian's teammates desperately try to get kills and both end up on red despite (and often because of) their effort, for you guys to keep saying Scar and Jimmy are getting eliminated next episode.
Jimmy has five fucking kills man. He's doing GREAT!! I know that people are attached to the canary curse, and this is Wild Life so I understand anything can happen, but come on. I will admit I don't have high hopes for Jimmy, but I really think people are selling him short this season.
Yeah Scar failed like eight traps this session, but he's still doing well. Ya know why? Because he's good at taking advantage of a situation. That man has six kills on Etho alone for a reason. Do none of you remember last season when Gem attacked Scar early on during the boogeyman apocalypse because she thought he would be an easy kill, and she had to RETREAT because he did too much damage on her?!?
The worst part is that no one is even claiming Jimmy and Scar are in danger for reasonable things, like the fact that Grian (who has the HIGHEST kill count in the series) has just declared them his number one enemies. Everyone is acting like they're both just going to throw themselves off cliffs three times next episode. Like yeah they can both be reckless players but they aren't stupid. They know to stay safe on red. Scar especially performs well on red. (He is a LOT like Joel)
Speaking of which! The Bamboozlers have happily made an alliance with the Family. Two of the strongest pvp players on the server. "But Jimmy killed Joel" yeah and Joel congratulated him because he thought it was a good kill. Scar and Lizzie have had alliances with the Family for a while, now that Jimmy's green there's no bad blood between them. And while I don't think Gem or Joel are gonna die saving any Bamboozlers (well, Joel might for Lizzie), having them on their side may slightly deter Grian's posse considering their desperate attempts on the Family's lives this episode.
POINT BEING: The Bamboozlers are ALL in a really good place at the end of this episode. Their whole team is green, they've secured an alliance with the Family, and they're all competent players. Y'all should be really worried about Mumbo right now. I'm worried about Mumbo.
#smooziespeaks#life series#trafficblr#life smp#goodtimeswithscar#bamboozlers#the bamboozlers#jimmy solidarity#solidaritygaming#do I think they'll get through the next episode unscathed? no#no I think Grian will trap one of them successfully at least#and claim it in Skizz or Mumbo's name#but I think he's more likely to kill Lizzie than either of the boys#wild life#wild life smp
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Death Wish 10
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: mob!Bucky Barnes
Part of the mob drabbles au
Summary:Â youâre desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Iâm happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging â€ïž
Photo Inspo
âCome on, doll,â Barnes takes your hand and leads you across the room. You follow as you will for the rest of your life; obediently.Â
His grip is like a vice as he guides you through the hall and down the stairs. Silence meets you at the bottom as your sisters no doubt hear the descent. Yet he doesnât let you go nor make a move to leave. Instead, he brings you into the front room.Â
He squeezes your hand, pressing the large ring into your finger, and releases you. He steps forward as Kitty turns away from the window and Adrienne stands from the sofa. He commands any room he enters and you donât think youâll ever be used to that.Â
âSisters,â he declares brightly, âthat is what I will call you from now on.âÂ
He goes first to Kitty and places a kiss on her cheek, then does the same to Adrienne. Each watch him in confusion. You stare blankly.Â
âAnd you can call me brother and ask for anything and everything you need,â he says.Â
âSir,â Kitty moves towards your younger sister.Â
âI ask discretion for the time being as I tie up a few loose ends,â Barnes explains. âAnd we get you all settled where you need to be.âÂ
Your sisters blink at you then each other. You canât say it out loud. That makes it real.Â
Barnes turns on his heel, âspeaking of loose ends, I should go.âÂ
He comes towards you and takes your hand again. He raises it, certain to show off the glaring diamond, and kisses it. The gesture makes your blood run cold. It is a statement. It isnât the same as when you kiss his ring, it isnât deference, no it is a show of ownership.Â
âHave a good night,â you say at last.Â
He pulls back and lowers your hand. He grins, âitâs already spectacular, doll.âÂ
He lets you go and steps past you. You stand, stuck in place, as he leaves. The door opens and closes, the hinges jarring you into motion. You go to lock it behind him and Kitty calls your name.Â
âWhatâs going on?â She appears in the doorway.Â
You take a breath before you face her. You shrug. Adrienne scrambles around her and snatches your hand.Â
âOh my god, itâs huge.âÂ
âStop,â you try to tug your hand back.Â
âYouâre marrying him?â Kittyâs voice deflates by the last syllable. âWhy?âÂ
You look between them. You can tell one sliver of the truth. âTo keep us safe.âÂ
âUs? Weâll be fine. Barnes says we get an inheritance, we get houses, money--âÂ
âAnd then what? Itâs not enough to last forever,â you argue. âEven if we can find work, weâll never make enough to keep that. How long did you work at the yogurt shop before daddy threatened to burn it down? And I have about a weekâs experience down at the diner.âÂ
âWe can start now--âÂ
âWe can start now and never reach the finish line,â you insist. âKitty, you know who daddy was. You sat there and watched what they did to that man today. This isnât a life you walk away from, even if heâs dead.âÂ
Adrienne sniffles. Sheâs on the edge of tears again.Â
âSo, you do it over? Marry another one? Go through it again?â Kitty challenges.Â
âHe can make sure that neither of you have to--âÂ
âWe donât need you to be our martyr,â Kitty argues.Â
âIâm not--â you seal your lips and sigh. You wish you could tell her. You wish you could say I shot that fuck and he deserved it because you know she would have loved to do the same thing. Yet, saying it out loud means admitting that youâre all trapped for that moment of vengeance. âKitty, how much choice do you think he gave me?âÂ
She stares at you. She knows exactly how it works. There is no asking with these men.Â
âWe could all go. Disappear.âÂ
âAnd they wouldnât find us? How far could we get, really?âÂ
âNot far,â Adrienne pipes in. âKitty, would you rather daddy still be here?âÂ
Your older sister is silent as her jaw squares.Â
âI could marry instead. Maybe not Barnes but someone else. It shouldnât be you. Iâm the oldest--âÂ
âIt is me,â you say, âand it could be any one of us but this is how it is. Itâs... not the worst.âÂ
âItâs not?â Kitty says. âThat man stood and ordered another beaten to death. He didnât flinch.âÂ
âI know,â you say.Â
âNo, you donât know,â Kitty insists, âyou canât be sure that he isnât like daddy.âÂ
Sheâs right. Barnes might have helped vanquish the monster but it canât erase his own misdeeds. Yet, you asked for all of this. You went there in the middle of the night and sold your soul. You could excuse yourself with naivete, but you deserve more to be branded by it.Â
âIf it keeps you two from men like daddy--âÂ
âStop,â Kitty grabs you by the shoulders. âNone of us deserve it.âÂ
âYou stop,â you wrap your fingers calmly around her forearms and peel her hold off of you. âShould I go hand that man his ring back or do you want do it for me?âÂ
She untangles her wrists from your grasp and recoils. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes up against the threat of tears. She stamps her foot in frustration.Â
âYou tell me,â she points her finger at you. Youâre almost stunned by the fire in her voice and face. Kitty is the sweet one, sheâs gentle, but she has your motherâs quiet strength. âYou tell me if he ever puts a bruise on you. You fucking tell me.âÂ
âKitty,â you murmur.Â
Adrienne covers her mouth and watches, swept up in the fraught emotion of it all.Â
âNo, because I spent a lifetime watching you two cry over that beast we called a father,â she snarls. âI will not waste the rest of my life doing the same. I thoughtâI thought we were free. I wanted us to be free.â She curls her lip and exhales heavily. âSo, you will not lie to me again. And I will know. I will see right through him so you donât even try to cover it up. One bruise...â she wags her finger then throw up both her hands with a frustrated growl. âI sound like him.â She turns and drags her feet to the stairs. She sits on one and hangs her head. âI sound like daddy. Iâm just so... tired.âÂ
You look at Adrienne and reach for her. She gives you her hand. You bring her over to Kitty and touch your elder sisterâs shoulder. She looks up through sparkling eyes.Â
âYou will know. We will all know. We are sisters and this doesnât change that,â you say. âWe stick together, no matter what.âÂ
âOh, we will,â Kitty insists, âI will be at your damn house every day and I will look at that man and I will see all the cracks. Trust me you. He will not take you from us.âÂ
âKitty, Ade,â you look from one to the other, âno one can take us from each other. If daddy did one thing, it was making sure of that.âÂ
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#series#drabble#mob au#au#death wish#mcu#marvel#captain america#avengers#winter soldier
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Unaware that Mauve Verlaine did not in fact exist, the orderly sat Theo on the mattress too and then got to work on the worst of the pools of blood on the floor, throwing tissues over it for the time being, not wanting to leave the pair of them alone just yet in case they tried something foolish which he would not have put passed them at that point.
Theo was grateful as Mauve moved over a little and he lay down too, "Thanks," he said for the extra space to do so as he tried to protect his shoulder and watched the mysterious orderly go about his cleaning. He didn't know what to expect in the people apparently coming, he didn't know he was about to be offered a deal that would literally determine the rest of his life but he did feel sleepy as the blood loss brought him headaches and shivers and after a few moments he let sleep take him despite trying to stay awake for Mauve's sake.
The sleep didn't last too long, or at least didn't feel like it as the orderly tapped his feet to wake him up again. The room was clean of blood though the monster was still in the corner, apparently the orderly had been working hard but he was no longer alone. Theo jolted upright as he saw two men stood outside the door talking over files in their hands. He turned to Mauve quickly. "That's the man that arrested me," he warned her, pointing to the man with a moustache, afraid of what was about to happen.
The two young looking men exchanged a few more words before the one with a moustache, stepped into the room as the orderly promptly stepped out and closed the door. He looked them both over seriously and rubbed a hand through his hair just the once before he pulled up Cecil's now clean desk chair to sit in it opposite them both.
"Hello again Mr Beneventi," he greeted Theo and then looked to Violet, "And Miss Verlaine, we haven't met but my name is Inspector Gerald Davidson, you may call me inspector." He said, politely before looking over to the covered monster in the corner. "It is very impressive what you two have managed to do here today, really very extraordinary to have taken down a monster with a kitchen knife and a pizza cutter. I should congratulate you but that hardly seems like it will either be enough nor is it entirely appropriate." He turned back to the two teenagers. "But well done, you two, you should be really very proud of yourselves. There aren't many teenagers who can say they have done the same thing, it's a real badge of honour."
đđđđ & đđđđđđ @multipleoccupancy
Violet doubted that anyone would be letting her go. Delta Green didn't care about her, in fact, they didn't even know who she was. Mauve Verlaine did not exist. Why would Delta Green bother to let her go? And the monster lying on the floor wasn't her ticket out of here, either. It would be hidden and covered up, no doubt, leaving her to be nothing but a delusional girl in the eyes of Dr. Heartland.
But that didn't really matter, because she was not from here. She had never fought a monster while she was camping with her parents. She had never been accused of killing a hiker. The only "person" who could let her go was the Horned One, and she hoped He had been sufficiently entertained.
She couldn't say any of that to Theo, of course. So, she smiled instead -a wobbly little smile. "Yes, me too," she whispered, "I'm sure they'll us both go. We're innocent."
The orderlies' words were confirmation enough: Theo would be given a deal, and if he accepted, he would walk out of there. His record would be cleaned, and he would be able to become an FBI agent. Violet hoped he would accept the deal. It was his ticket out of this dreadful place.
"We'll stay here," she assured the orderly, because where else would they go? She couldn't even walk. "You should lie down too, Theo." She scooted a little bit closer to the wall, so he would have room to lie down.
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hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?
thank youu have a good day đ„°
I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.
LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -
Zayne -
In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.
He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.
So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.
He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait⊠morning� What on earth were you doing up-
He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.
'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.
"I was hungry."
Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.
Sylus -
He's probably just getting up.
So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-
No.
Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.
He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.
"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"
He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.
Rafayel -
He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.
At first, he's worried.
Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.
Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.
He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-
That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.
Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.
Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-
He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.
He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-
Xavier -
He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.
You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.
He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.
If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.
(You're still better than him though.)
Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.
You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.
Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...
#love and deepspace#.writey#lads#lds#x reader#sylus x reader#rafayel x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader
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A New Face Pt.2
pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader
summary: Tara was devastated you didn't text her. That was until you met her at a party.
word count: 2250
Pt.1
a/n: hey guys, first of all thank you all so much for the overwhelming support đ„č I didn't expect this much attention at all especially for my first ever pic I've written. Anyways, I'm always open to feedback and requests if you have any. Take note I'm still getting used to this whole Tumblr thing so it may take a while for me to put up master lists and all that stuff (p.s sorry if there's any mistakes, a part of me feels like this lowkey sucks lolz)
Itâs been 2 weeks since Tara had last seen you. And during those weeks, Taraâs mind had been fogged by you. Her mind kept repeating your interaction and every time a smile grew on her face. The group of friends had been making fun of her ever since they entered the lift after leaving yours and Chadâs apartment, saying she looked like a kid getting a lollipop for breakfast, all giggly and in a daze, but she didnât care.Â
She wanted to see you again badly. She started plotting and thinking about ways your paths can collide again. Like, she could plan walking in school and âcoincidentallyâ cross paths even though her classroom was nowhere near yours and at least 10 minutes away from your building. But she wouldnât do that! âIâm not that crazyâ Tara thought. But would she? (A teeny tiny part of Tara knows sheâs capable of doing so.)
She didnât have the guts to text you and itâs already been two weeks! A part of her was hoping that youâd text her, but a pang of disappointment hit her when you didnât. She usually isnât this hung up on a person like this. Sure, she found some individuals cute from time to time, but she wouldnât go up to this extend. She wouldnât chase for someone, but for you, maybe, just a little bit, she would start jogging a little. There was something so.. alluring and appealing about you that Tara couldnât comprehend. Itâs like her mind glitched and was programmed to think about you 24/7.
 Tara was currently lying on her bed occupied by her mind (thinking of you obviously) when there was aggressive knocks on the front door. âGive me a minute! Jesus..â murmured Tara as she walked towards the threshold. She opened the door which revealed Mindy looking impatient.Â
âDude, are you not dressed yet? We planned to go this party at least a week ago!âÂ
âOh shit, I forgot about this Mindy Iâm sorry! Give me 15 minutes to get readyâ Tara replied apologetically while Mindy rolled her eyes and plopped herself down on the couch, kicking up her feet onto the coffee table and reached for the tv remote. After an excruciatingly long 15 minutes (it was actually 45 minutes), Tara and Mindy were set to leave and make their way to the party that was a few blocks away.
The house reeked of alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. The party-goers were dressed casually, with some wearing revealing and tight clothes to attract attention, no doubt trying to get laid. There was r&b and occasionally hip hop music blaring through the speakers. Mindy met up with Anika, dragging her to get a drink to get the night started which made Tara lose track of them, leaving her all alone. Taraâs stomach churned when she kept seeing couples making out in the hallway as she strolled to the kitchen to get a drink. (She kept this like a dirty secret, but she had imagined as if it was you and her making out)
âHey Tara!â She turned around and saw Chad, with a random girl with his arm around her waist.Â
âChad? I didnât know you were coming to this partyâ Tara explained, ignoring the dirty looks and stink eye given from the girl
âYeah, I didnât want to actually, but Y/N asked me out to this party andâŠ.â Whatever gibberish Chad spewed out was ignored as you occupied Taraâs mind. You were here? Y/N? Chadâs sexy and hot and super cute roommate? Sheâs doomed.Â
âWhy didnât you tell me they were coming?! Oh god! Oh my god, Do I look good? Do I have anything between my teeth, I knew I should have put on a sexier outfitâ
âTara- Tara calm down. You look good, okay? Donât worry about it. If it makes you feel any better, they called you cute after you guys left the other day.â Chad commented, putting a stop onto Taraâs word vomit. You called her cute? Tara felt butterflies in her stomach. But why didnât you text her? All Tara could hope for is that the universe is on her side tonight and let her catch a glimpse of you, and preferably not drunk to make a fool of herself and to earn atleast a decent conversation.Â
She chugged down the alcoholic drink she made and decided to make one in an instant, trying to get rid of her blush since just thinking of you made her stomach do somersaults. She sat down on the couch, hoping she could see you soon. After almost half an hour, her patience was wearing thin, she hadnât seen you yet. How even big is this house? Why couldnât she see you? It was as if this house was alive and kept shifting its walls purposely to block her view of you. She made her way to the kitchen to make a stronger drink. Mindy was probably making out with Anika in a random room anyways so she doesnât really bother, which left Tara looking like a real loser all alone weeping in the kitchen.Â
She chugged down another shot of her drink, before making a new one. As she lifted her head to swallow her drink in one go, she felt a presence behind her. She smelt a scent of a wood, earthy with a reminiscent of smoke notes, along with a subtle smell of sweat.Â
âHey stranger. Whatâre you doing here all alone?â Tara choked on her drink when she heard your voice. Damn it, even your voice is hot. How does that even work? Tara had a coughing fit, while trying to cover up her blush and not make a fool out of herself (she already did). You made it even worse by wincing slightly and putting your hand on her lower back, rubbing it up and down her back and trying to at least comfort her while she was having a crisis.
âYou alright there? Let me get some water for you,â You softly chuckled before proceeding to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water, opening the cap and passing it to Tara which gobbled it down. It took her a few moments to settle down and for her blush to subside.
âThank you, really. I appreciate it.â
âNo problem, I canât debate with you about horror movies if youâre dead, right?â
âHa ha. Very funny. Anyway, I didnât know you were coming to this party. I assumed you were too cool and busy for this type of stuff.â Tara teased. She took this time to take in the sight of you, you were wearing baggy jeans with a fitting t-shirt, revealing your tattoos. There goes the butterflies in her tummy again.
âI didnât call in a shift today and I had nothing to do. Plus, it was an impromptu thing to come here since, well, I had a feeling you were going to be here and..I wanted to see you.â You softly chuckled, with your voice lowering at the end. Now it was your turn to start blushing, and Tara found it adorable.
âWell, Iâm right here in front of you, cutie. What did you want to talk about?â Tara boldly added in the nickname, in hopes of seeing you blush again. You smiled at the term which revealed those dimples AND your blush. Tara gave her a pat on the back for the double victory. You opened your mouth to give a sly reply back, however your response was cut off by someone calling out for you.
âY/N!! You in to play some beer pong?â You looked at Tara apologetically for the disruption and invited her to play along with you as a pair.
You both were up against another pair, which was obviously experienced beer pong players at that. You were willing to drink the cups that your opponent successfully had thrown the ball in, but Tara insisted on drinking it while you focus on throwing the ball. Understandably, both of you lost and while you thanked them for the round and lost gracefully, Tara stomped off like a little kid while mumbling swear words to herself, evidently affected by the amount of alcohol she had to drink. You chased for her and found her in the kitchen, mixing different liquids to create an abomination of a drink.
âTara, you had enough for tonight donât you think? Let me walk you home.â You suggested while taking her cup away as she was right about to sip it, making her whine. Tara turned around and looked at you as if you had said the most ridiculous sentence she had heard in her lifetime.
âNO!!! Please, letâs just stay a lit-little longer. I p-promise Iâll behave. I just want to spend time with you.â Tara begged and slurring her words, while learning against you for your warmth, and looking up at you with those undeniably adorable doe eyes, giving you the best puppy look she could express.
âWe can talk on our way to your apartment, okay? I promise I wonât leave you aloneâ Tara huffed and rolled her eyes, but continued leaning against you for support. You only made it to the threshold of the exit holding her beside you until you couldnât handle it anymore with how Tara kept moving around and losing her balance. You offered to give her a piggyback ride, which she immediately accepted after nodding her head enthusiastically.
âWhy didnât- didnât you text me? I was waiting..waiting for you all along, man, fuckâ Tara slurred, having hiccups in between her sentences.
âIâm sorry Tara, would you feel better if I said I was too nervous to text you?â You replied smugly, which made her wrap her arms around your neck a little tighter. You could feel a sudden warmth on the side of your neck, indicating that Tara was blushing. âCuteâ You thought.
âWhatever..Whatever, dude. I just wanted to ask what horror movie you preferred,â Tara tried to shrug off and tried to act nonchalant as if your silence for the past 2 weeks didnât bother her.
âI loved watching Terrifier 2. Art the clown really is a masterpiece,â You softly commented. Youâve reached the entrance of Taraâs apartment and entered the lift, softly asking what level she lives at before the lift door closes. Youâre surprised you that didnât feel tired of carrying her at all. Even after walking atleast 2 miles from the party. Most of the time carrying her home was in silence, since Tara was falling in and out of sleep.
âMe too!! I-lloved watching him kill random peopleâ You walked her towards her door, slowly getting her on her feet and stabilizing her when she was swaying around clumsily.
âOh yeah? Well, I heard the new Terrifier 3 is coming out. Maybe we could watch it together during the premier? Like, a date?â You suggested, blush slowly creeping up from your neck to your cheeks. You knocked on the door, hoping Sam was awake to bring her in.
âYes.â Tara simply replied while nodding insistently. You chuckled at her boldness.
âItâs a date then. Weâll talk about it when youâre sober and having a massive hangover tomorrow, okay?â Tara nodded her head, her arms snaking around your neck to pull you closer. Your hands landed at her waist, feeling her being overly warm, probably from drinking too much. You decided to lean in and give her a kiss on her cheek, holding it for a little longer just to tease the shorter girl.
When you pulled back, you could see her blushing, probably not expecting the kiss. However, she decided to lean in this time, and now aiming for your lips. Just as both your lips brushed each other, the door opened, revealing Sam looking upset with wide eyes. You both pull back, with you coughing awkwardly under Samâs gaze. Tara entered her apartment after saying her goodbyes, leaving you and Sam. You tried to talk to her, but ended up backfiring after she rolled her eyes and slammed the door on you even before you could utter a syllable. You made your way home and tried to ignore the interaction with Sam by occupying your mind with the younger Carpenter. You know talking to Tara wonât be easy due to her overprotective sister and friends, but youâre always up for a challenge, especially for a girl youâre falling in love with.
On the other side of the door, Sam was relentlessly scolding Tara, since she didnât inform her of the party she was going to attend and that she had been worried sick the whole day. The least she expected was Mindy or Chad sending her home. Not you. Tara ignored Sam and went in her room, and plopped down on her bed with a huff, and fell asleep not even 5 minutes in.
The next day, Tara woke up with the most excruciating throbbing headache, it got worse when Sam continued her nagging about her going to parties without informing her. It took her awhile to adjust herself, with eating breakfast and taking a hot shower. She realized her phone had died since yesterday and decided to charge it. When it turned on, the first notification she saw was from you.
Y/N: Heyy, hope youâre feeling better.
Sent at 11.33am.
Y/N: And Iâm also hoping you didnât forget the date we planned. Looking forward to seeing you soon :)
Sent at 11.36am.
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you could wipe my mind, i'd still be stuck on you
tags: peter parker x fem!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, college/university au, lots of sarcasm, 1k words synopsis: while going out shopping to buy snacks for movie night, your bf, peter parker, tries to convince to you to let him get a new video game. chaos ensues. a/n: wow hey welcome to my first fic posted on here... sorry if this seems rushed haha. tysm @103rafes for helping me with the ending, ily man. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!! title is from stuck on you by grentperez
"alright, i think we've got everything!" your eyes scanned through the various assortment of junk food in the grocery cart. "movie night is gonna be awe-" You turned to face your bf only to find no one standing near you. "ugh... where is that idiot?"
walking around the store, you find your boyfriend of 1 year, peter parker, in the electronics section. of course he was. you thought, he probably even forgot what they were at the store for.
he was staring intently at the newest spider-man video game. Spider-Man 2, it had came out just last month and everyone was going crazy over it. he had a scrunched up look on his face, studying the cover of the game in the clear display case.
as you walked up to him, his senses picked up on your location and he turned his head around, quickly glancing at you before turning his head back towards the display case. "i still can't believe they make video games of me. they really captured my likeness" he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "i am so going to get this."
rolling your eyes, you sighed. "no we're not mister. c'mon its time to go home." you tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, but Peter still didn't move an inch.
"please y/n... ned has the game! so does everyone we know!"
"why don't you just go over to ned's house and play it?" you suggested, rolling your eyes once again. "yeah, keep rolling your eyes. it'll be stuck like that soon enough." he huffed with a pout. "if you let me get it i'll let you pick the movie tonight. i know you love those cheesy hallmark movies..." peter said in a sing-songy voice. he leaned in to give you a small peck on the cheek and looked at you with his chocolate puppy-dog eyes.
"your silly antics don't work on me." you can't help but let out a giggle as buried his face into your neck and kissing every expanse of skin on it. peter wrapped his arms around your waist hugging you close. "but no. out of the both of us, you're the worst at managing your spendings and we need the money."
he hummed. "but mr. stark gave me my paycheck on monday, its more than enough to buy the game and put away some of it in our savings..."
"you mean your allowance?"
"hey! i may not be an avenger, but i still work for one of the richest people in america" he laughed, messing up your hair. "so... can i still get it?"
you hesitated for a moment, doing some calculations in your head. the two of you lived together in a dingy apartment and did extra jobs on the side to keep the both of them afloat. you knew peter worked hard a lot, trying to keep his grades up while maintaining his life as the city's spider-man so maybe he did deserve something nice for himself.
the corners of your mouth lifted in a small smile. "well..."
â
âdid you see that! i beat his ass so hard.â your bf laughed. you watched intently at the screen trying to decipher what was going on but all you could see were bright flashes of colour.
âyou already beat ass in real life. donât understand why you need to buy this game just to play a virtual version of yourself.â you said jokingly while eating from the bowls of chips and candy you bought earlier that day. you grimaced as you peter took a large handful of m&ms and popcorn, shoving them into his mouth.
âtrue, but this is more fun.â he said between mouthfuls. âplus i donât get hurt.â he gave you a dorky little grin.
well there was no denying that, you thought as you smiled back. as much as peter tried to argue, you insisted on paying for the game as a gift. just seeing peter smile over some silly game made you fall in love with him all over again. it was surreal, dating the spider-man. the same one that appeared on the news 24/7. the same one that made you worry for days wondering if he might come back from saving crime.
but he wasnât just spider-man. he was just plain old peter parker. the boy from queens that you met all those years ago. the boy who was practically an academic genius and the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.
interrupting you from your thoughts, peter wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you tightly. he had already finished playing the game but he still grasped the controller in his hand.
âwhat are you thinking about?â he asked quietly, playing with the strands of hair falling on your shoulders. he smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of butter from the popcorn.
âwhat?â
peter chuckled. âyou were staring at me with that look you get when youâre thinking really hard. like your nose scrunches up a bit and you have this wide smile on your faceâ
âoh⊠i wasnât really thinking about anything.â you locked eyes with him, staring into his big, doe brown eyes. you shimmied closer to him and rested your head on shoulder. âjust thinking about how great you are.â
âthanks for feeding my egoâ ow!â you punched him on the arm but there was no anger to it. âim joking, im joking. youâre great too.â the smile lines on his face deepened.
peter leaned his head against yours. âthank you for getting me that game by the way. i love you.â he pressed his lips against your temple, making a line down towards your cheeks, then ending at your lips. they were soft and warm, and he tasted like slightly like chocolate.
âmm, love you too spidey-boy. now play your game, i didnât spend 90 dollars on that for nothing.â you giggled lightly.
unable to pull away from your face, he grumbled. âokay, okay! way to ruin a moment with my lovely girlfriendâŠâ
âdoes this spider-man have a girlfriend too?â you nodded towards the screen.
âyouâre better than any video game girlfriend i could have as spider-manâ. you couldnât help but let out a string of laughs as he pulled you in again, planting kisses all over your face.
fin.
#đïž ââ my works ⶠ.á#spider man fanfic#spider man#spiderman#peter parker spiderman#mcu imagine#mcu fanfiction#marvel mcu#marvel fanfiction#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker x fem!reader#peter parker x y/n#fluff#tooth rotting fluff#fanfiction#fanfic#marvel cinematic universe#video games#spider man 2 ps5
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the music is punk because it challenges the norm. the clothing is punk because it challenges the norm. the politics are punk because they challenge the norm. it's not a sound, or a look, or a book, or a slogan. it's a way of thinking that puts radical acceptance and relentless pursuit of joy, face to face with a world that wants you dead. you can't put a price on it. the disabled woman that says "fuck it people know I can't hold my blatter anyway. I don't care if they can tell I'm wearing the rehab-provided brief. Get me my bright lipstick I'm going to bingo!" is flexing the same muscles as the suburban white boy who steals eyeliner from his conservative mother. they are both people using identity, to create joy and signal comradery in lonely times, reputation be damned.
not to mention, all of the clothes I have been able to afford new when I was in my poorest moments were shit quality anyway. anything you can do to extend the lifespan of a physical object that was made under the modern fast fashion system past "thrown out, unsold at the store" is a win. in the same way that any pressure you can keep against an actively bleeding wound is a win. cloths are a common class of tools we use to help regulate our comfort, with that is with the temperature or our cave-mates. if the clothes make you feel uncomfortable they are already useless. it is already trash. why not try anything to see if it works? there are intelligent capable people across the centuries who died dreaming of what to do with once gorgeous expensive trendy fabric, that will now look dated and trashy outside of "the spring of '32 when i fell in love with jazz." or whatever the kids are into these days. the stupid walmart blazer you took a chance on 2 years ago but now feel "too X to wear" is no different. either you trash it now, or live with that trash in your home until your kids do it for you, while crying about how they always thought you looked good in that color. you might as well see if there's enough fabric to re-make that halter top you loved in college. when it looks homemade you get to boast and explain all about how you're trying to make shit better in little ways. and who cares if it fails? Aren't you deserving of a little petty violence? when the last time you really didn't give a shit about seam Ripping and just went to town? don't you want to be able to yell at something with no moral consequences? so much in this world is complicated and nuanced and requires forethought and responsibility. Wouldn't it feel nice to have a hobby that lets you get reasonably angry at evil fabric for not doing the thing, and then you can just throw it and swear, and then never have to think about it again. because it doesn't matter. it was already cheep plastic made to feed a system that would rather watch the world burn than lose a shareholder. you eat credit cards a year. you can not hurt wasted disposable plastic more than it will hurt you.
and then if it works you have a cute top to wear around places to show you are the kind of person who has cool tops! and help you ease people into the idea that a political movements starts with people deciding what things they inherited they actually want to keep around. and then maybe one day you cut apart and re-make out of nice quality fabric, with the mistakes you learned from the first one. so you can weaponize your ability to present yourself as ""respectable"" when you have to play the politics game in big official ways.
or (imagine this) you can even use your new knowledge of what types of edits you often make to clothing to buy a quality garment that will be more worth investing in. Ones that are made in ways that add value to their communities will feel good on your body from day one, and you can be mened and adapt in ways that may let it outlive you.
or maybe you elevate that shity, guilt ridden- shirt out of the gym lost and found on the last day of freshman year, because "fuck it- I liked that middle-school library fit. and Its a size too small but I'm bound to get thinner eventually. and I don't think its actually stealing if no one else wants it." Maybe if you make it into a statement piece scrap in your favorite "look I'm not happy about it either!" outfit, to show that you want to fuck with the systems in a "hey we should still have A Library tho right?" sort of way. you might run into the middle school girl who gets to break the ice with a fellow "cool garment person" friend. and she gets to laugh about your shirt deadnaming her. and you get to apologize and offer to let her sign something over it. and now you are advertising the formative art of a local queer-punk-artisan who you know is also out there trying her best to make the shitty stuff a little less shitty when they can, even if it means learning how to thread a sewing machine.... eventually.... hopefully.
also, as a person who has spent about a decade trying to figure out ways to keep kids of all ages informed and prepared and enriched on a budget. "Tug of War turned tie-dye Party" would of been a smash hit, my queer and rural in the 90's type parents would have loved it. after growing up with Halloweens filled with pieced-together costumes that made room for sensory issues and accessibility aids. and family "vacations" taken on public land with what's left of the food stamps. i think there is definitely a market for how to teach your children the fundamentals of serving in a world that might find their misery profitable. without like... terrafing them.
imagine how much easier alot of it would have been if someone early in your life had sat you down and said "ok. a lot of times things are going to be bad and unfair and evil. and there's going to be complicated reasons you cant do much about it but feel bad. but if you feel bad all the time it will only get worse. so what you can do is take what is around you, figure out what it is and how it works and why it's there, and then break it in ways that are meaningful and delibrite. and re-shape it to help the actual people who are trying survive."
then they showed you and all of your little friends how to research, what fabric is and understand why you bought supplies, and then get their hands dirty testing how strong it is, and why jeans have rivets even when you want to sew right there. and re-asure them that it's ok you paved the way to make sure they can't hurt anything too bad even if they are really really bad at it. and then let them find joy and pride in making something unique and custom with their own tools for the cost of cleaning out a closet, and some rite dye.
and then the community has a couple new little baby punks making decent folks smile with little bold fashion statements, and turning heads when they experiment with which parts of society they want to bring into the new age. tl;dr: I think we need to start telling the âIâm too poor to dress punkâ crowd that theyâre posers. -polyamorouspunk, November 2024, tumbr.com
I think we need to start telling the âIâm too poor to dress punkâ crowd that theyâre posers.
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not a couples costume | n.h
summary: a mistaken couples costume turns into something more
a/n: so I may have gotten a bit carried away with this đ«Ł I didn't mean for it to get this far. sorry it's late coming out I've had technical difficulties and work. can we also appreciate how hot nico looks in this gif
âOh, weâre not a couple.â You said for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. It was truly a coincidence that you and Nico came to this bar dressed up for Halloween in a couples costume. You didnât even know he would be here tonight let alone wear something that paired well with your costume. The two of you worked in the Devilâs organisation and have only spoken in passing. Whenever you did though, any train of thought would be gone. You wouldnât be able to focus on your work for the rest of the day, his smile imprinted in your head. God you love his smile. Nico was the same. He always hoped to see you when he was walking into the arena, feeling a little deflated when he didnât.Â
âYouâre enjoying this, arenât you?â You playfully glared at him. To be honest, you couldâve walked away from him by now and gone back to your friends, you probably shouldâve, but you didnât. You let your eyes roam his body from head to toe, from the tight shirt that hugged his muscles in the right places to his hand holding the neck of his beer bottle firmly as he took a swig of his drink. You were unabashedly checking him out. Nico wasnât complaining though because he was doing the same thing. He loved the way your ass curved perfectly in your costume.Â
âI donât know what youâre on about.â Nico shrugged, smirking as he took a sip of his drink.Â
âNo one is going to want to hook up with me tonight if the entire bar thinks weâre a couple.â You pointed out. Nicoâs grip tightened and his smirk fell. He hated thinking about a pair of hands roaming your body that werenât his.
âIs that such a bad thing?â He asked. You hadn't realised how close the two of you were sitting until you felt his warm breath against your ear. âI did save you from some sleazy guy earlier.â How could you forget? Thatâs how you ended up in this position in the first place. Some guy wouldnât take no for an answer and Nico swooped in, saving you from the interaction. You still remembered how his fingers felt against the bare skin of your hip, the cold making you shiver slightly. You didnât mind though. In fact you wish it was still there.
You were brought out of this bubble you and Nico were in by a waitress sliding a jug of some colourful cocktail onto your table. âOh we didnât order this.â You told her and she just smiled at you.
âItâs the prize for winning the best coupleâs costume.â Was all she said before walking away, picking up empty glasses from tables.
âI should really get going.â You groaned, thinking about how bad of a combination the cocktail jug is with work tomorrow.
âWe canât let this go to waste.â Nico said, pushing the drink between you, a straw facing you both. âBesides, are you going to tell coach that you left me to drink this all by myself and that's why I'm severely hungover.âÂ
Nico pouted slightly, his warm chocolate brown eyes giving you puppy dog eyes. He didnât want tonight to end. Not yet anyway, afraid that this will be the last time you speak. You werenât particularly close before tonight. âFine.â You agreed, feigning annoyance. You werenât annoyed that much. Sure you wanted to go home so you didnât feel rough the next day at work but Nico wanting you to stay with him made your stomach do flips. âBut this is the last drink.â You said and his pout quickly turned into a grin. It was infectious making your lips twist into a grin.
Nicoâs tongue caught the stray straw, having a sip of the colourful concoction in front of you, the image giving you impure thoughts making you clench your thighs. You wondered what else his tongue could do.Â
The conversation flowed between you as the jug slowly emptied. Nico talked about his summer in Switzerland, coming second in the world championships. You listened intently as he spoke about things he loves, his lips tugged into a smile the whole time. You could sit here all night and just listen to him talk. It felt like you were making up for lost time from all those missed conversations you had before tonight.Â
âCome on.â Nico said, holding his hand out for you once he stood up. You gave him a questioning look as you put your hand into his, wondering where he was taking you. It wasnât until you stopped at the dancefloor that it clicked in your head making you giggle.
âIf you wanted to dance you couldâve just asked.â You shouted into his ear, the halloween playlist filling the bar making it difficult to be heard.Â
âDidnât know if you would have said yes.â Nico admitted, blush creeping onto his cheeks not that you could tell in the dim light.Â
The two of you danced, getting lost in the music. Your bodies were pressed against each other, your ass flush against Nicoâs crotch, his hands gripping your hips not wanting to lose you in the crowd or to keep you against him. You welcomed it though. It felt like it was just the two of you in here. Nico pressed soft kisses along your collarbone up to your neck and along your jaw before reaching your lips. You turned around, your hands moving to caress the stubble on his jaw as you deepened the kiss. You could feel Nicoâs grip loosen, his fingers lightly sliding down to the curve of your ass. It was then that the fog lifted bringing you back to the reality that you were currently in the middle of the bar making out with Nico. Nico who you work with.Â
You moved your head to the side, breaking out of the spell that was cast on you. âWe canât do this.â You sighed, gently pushing Nico away making him frown slightly. âWe work together.â
âTechnically we work for the same organisation, not together. Besides, no one has to find out. This could be our little secret.â He said, his fingers gently tilting your chin so you were looking back at him. âIf you can honestly say you donât want this we can stop now but I think you want this as much as me.â
You bit your lip, looking at him through your eyelashes. You wish you could say that but you couldnât because you did want this. You wanted Nicoâs big hands caressing your thighs as his lips found your sweet spot. âI want this.â You told him. âI want you.â
That was enough for Nico to grab your hand and drag you out of the bar into the cold New Jersey night. The worries from earlier slipping to the back of your mind as you climbed into the Uber, Nicoâs hand resting dangerously high on your thigh.
#nico hischier imagine#nico hischer x reader#nico hischier#new jersey devils imagine#new jersey devils#nhl imagine#nhl
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max verstappen nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)
navigation taglist requests
A = Aftercare (what theyâre like after sex) Max is very understanding after sex. He knows that many times you are very exhausted by your activities. He tries to give you as much warmth as he can and always listens to what you say to him so that each time is even better than the last. He really enjoys hugging you to himself and so does lying on top of you, knowing that you are next to him. B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partnerâs) He likes his body and thinks he is appropriately athletic and tall. He has received many compliments in life because of this, so it has had a strong impact on his self-esteem. But he likes his arms best, especially after a workout, when his veins are strongly visible. In your case, he is a big fan of breasts. He loves to lie on them when he has a bad time. He loves to touch them when you make love. And he loves to look at them at every possible opportunity. C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Max isn't some cum fanatic, but he can't resist the sight of you nimbly swallowing whatever comes out of him after your perfect blowjob. Well normally he goes on his knees himself then (figuratively and not) D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) It may sound unprofessional, but when Max first saw you, he already knew exactly what he wanted your sex to look like. I know it sounds quite perverse - but you had exactly the same thing, and, to my horror, your visions were not at all different from each other E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what theyâre doing?) Max is already 27 years old, of course he is experienced. I would not exaggerate to say that he is very experienced, but he is. He's had partners before you, with whom he's been with longer and shorter, so he's already experienced a lot - that's why he's skilled with his tongue or hitting the right spot every damn time F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Doggy. Max knows what he wants and he's good at it. Taking you from behind gives him a lot of confidence and ability, so this is the best position for you. Oh, he still loves the way your back arches and has the ability to pull you close to kiss you. And you love it, because in this position Max can give you the most pleasure, especially when he's angry and emotional, and this is the easiest way for him to caress you G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He is rather serious when you make love. Sex is not strictly physical for him, and he likes to give a lot of emotion to it, so he is not a fan of emotionless fucking. And as for being moody at such moments, yes, it happens to him, sometimes you laughed or joked, he's not against it, not one bit H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I think Max is cut down to nothing there. He doesn't look like someone who likes himself in a thicket of hair, so he's perfectly coiffed there. As for you, he would probably also prefer it to be either to zero or with some I don't know, maybe a stripe through the middle? I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He loves to whisper romantic words to you and tell you how good you are to him. He hasn't experienced much of this in his life, so he tries to be as warm to you as possible. And he loves taking you out for romantic dinners before that J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) This is a busy man. His stamina is not at all as high as it might seem, due to the fact that he is constantly living under stress and fighting for the championship. When you're not next to him and he doesn't have anyone to have sex with, he doesn't even think about masturbation, preferring to save it for the moment of your return, when you'll be next to each other and he can give it his all
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Max would like to be blindfooled. For once in his life, for it to be someone else who took control and he didn't know what was going on. Oh, until he shivers when he thinks about it. And then there's the realization that you would be the one making him feel good and guiding him to the end while he's blindfolded, how much he would give up for thatâŠ. L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Max is traditional. He's fed up enough with the media world and the hype surrounding his career that he most enjoys making love to you in bed, in your apartment. If it happens otherwise, of course, he doesn't complain, but he likes to be in your quiet surroundings.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Very often he feels like having sex before the race. That's when he gets tugged by higher emotions and is just overstimulated to the point that all he wants is to be in your arms. Or when you're wearing your skimpy pyjamas, oh god. Max purposely bought you more pairs of one and the same pyjamas, just to see you in them every day.
A/N: part two will be here soon! (If anyone wants me to tag them - let me know in the comments)
please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)
#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1 instagram au#formula 1 x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#formula 1 x oc#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#f1 2024#f1 fanfiction#f1 fandom#f1 social media au#mv1 x you#mv1 fic#mv1 imagine#mv1 x reader#mv1
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â Silver's Sinful Sunday â
Week Four: Azriel
Warnings: 18+ [MDNI], enemies with benefits (mates), fem reader, choking, p in v, reader is kinda a brat, dominant Azriel, no use of Y/N, pet names, slight angst at the end, it's my writing â that's a warning within itself (cringe), all actions are with consent ofc
A/Nâ Week four was originally Vox (Hazbin Hotel). Refer to this post for the reason why it's not. Azriel was intended to be week five, but he's been moved to week four. The style for this one is also a little different than the others. . . Oopsies. . . Your honor, they're actually in love with each other but they're idiots. . .
Word Count: 2.8K
âLet me in.â
The words sent a shiver down your spine despite the massive argument the two of you had been in less than an hour ago. It was over something so petty that you didn't even remember what it was about, but you were still heated over it.
The anger simmered just beneath the surface, a feeling only he could evoke. It both drove you wild and pissed you off at the exact same time.Â
âI know you're in there. Let me in.â
After every argument, Azriel found his way to your door. After every argument, it always ended the same way. There were never apologies. Apologies didn't exist between the two of you. The thought of one alone was highly amusing.
You reached the door with a scowl, twisting the brassy colored knob in your firm grasp. The door swung open, revealing the very male you knew it'd be.
His gaze roamed unabashedly over your form. From your hair to the silken midnight blue nightgown that hugged your curves in all the right places, all the way to the soft glow of your skin in the warm light of your bedroom.
âWhat?â You hissed, eyes narrowing.
He hummed approvingly, noting how you were still heated from the argument. âAre you going to let me in, or just glare at me?â His voice was deep and raspy, telling you everything you needed to know. The reason why he'd come, just like the other times.
You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning on your heel to return to your vanity. The door was left wide open; Azriel stepped in, shutting and locking the door behind him, watching closely as you walked away from him.
âDo you have any idea how mad you made me out there?â Azriel asked as he walked towards you, his steps quick, but quiet. His body moved with ease, like a prowling animal, every muscle rippling with every step.
âYou started it. You pissed me off.â You sharply bit back, stopping in front of the mirror to take off the last remnants of the lipstick that Mor had wanted you to try because she thought it would look good on you. She was right, as usual.
He came up behind you, his large frame towering over you in the mirror. Azriel's hands landed on your hips, pinning you against the vanity in front of you. His hard chest pressed against your back, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear. âI may have started it, but you don't know when to shut your little mouth.â
"I thought you liked my mouth wide open." You snapped with a small, barely noticeable rumble of a growl, glaring at him in the mirror as he pressed against you.Â
He chuckled and he slid his large hand up your body, gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, his hand almost covering your entire neck.
"I do. But I also like it when you're a good little princess and shut up and listen. I like it when you're good for me." He moved his other hand, letting it run over your thigh.
He moved his lips over your neck, letting his tongue trail over your sensitive skin, feeling your pulse in his hand. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before you open that pretty mouth of yours to say something you'll know will piss me off, hm?"
His hand on your thigh moved higher, letting his hand slide under the fabric of your nightgown, running his hand over the smooth skin of your hip.
âDon't act like you don't fucking love it.â You growled, fighting the urge to react to his touch. He didn't deserve to see you melt into his touch. Ha. No.
A dark chuckle fell from his lips, his breath warm on your skin. âYou're right. It makes it more fun when I shut you up. . . I like it when you can't hide how much you want me.â His teeth grazed your neck.Â
âGo fuck yourself.â
A low chuckle came from him again, he didn't expect anything different from you. You were stubborn and defiant. But he liked it, loved it even. You were the only one who dared to talk back to him, to fight and argue with him. It drove him crazy.
"Such a filthy little mouth." His hand fell from your throat and he spun you around to face him, lifting you up, sitting you on the vanity and standing in between your thighs.
His hands ran up your thighs, his hands disappearing under the fabric of your nightgown, gripping your hips and tugging you closer against his front. He moved his lips to your ear again, his chest now pressed up against yours as his breathing quickened.
"You know, for someone who was so angry a moment ago, you seem to be enjoying my touch now. Your breathing, the way your heart is racing, the way your legs are opened wide for me.â
You growled at the clear smugness in his tone, your eyes narrowing into a glare once the brief shock from his quick movements wore away.
"You know, your little growl sounds more like a moan to me, love." He grabbed your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stepped forward, pressing his hips against yours so you could feel how hard he already was. His mouth moved down your neck again, gently nipping and sucking your skin.
"You can stay defiant, but your body is telling a different story.â
Your slender fingers gripped the collar of his clothes and forced him to look at you as your legs locked around his waist, pulling him closer. "Stop. Playing. Games. Azriel." You snarled.
He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him as he stared down at you with his darkened gaze. He leaned close, his lips hovering just inches away from yours. "Why don't you just admit you want me, princess?âÂ
"Maybe I should just go ask Cassian if he'd want to ââ
The moment you mention Cassian's name, something snapped inside of him. His grip on you tightened, and he let out a low possessive growl. His hand slid up, wrapping around your neck. "Not. A. Chance. He's not allowed anywhere near you, do you understand me?â
"It seems I've struck a nerve." You spat, a dark grin spreading across your face as you stared up at him.
He let out a low growl, his grip on your throat tightening a bit more. "Cassian won't be able to give you what you need, sweetheart. I know how much you want me right now, and deep down, you know you can't deny it. You're mine."
His hips ground against yours, making you feel the further evidence of how much he wanted you. "You're mine, princess. Say it.â
âChoke.â You muttered darkly.
His hand tightened around your throat, constricting it in a way that had you releasing a soft moan despite the glare set on your face.
He chuckled again, watching that expression on your face. "I can tell how much you want this." His voice was low and gravelly against your ear. His hips continued to grind against yours, putting just the right amount of pressure where you wanted it.
You groaned, which turned into an almost embarrassingly needy moan very quickly. You glared harder, hating the way he reduced you to a writhing mess so easily. . . Knowing what was imminent, you reached down and began unlacing his pants at a tantalizing slow pace.
The fabric came loose in your grasp and he immediately shed them, along with his underwear, tossing them somewhere in the room before he slid a hand back under the hem of your nightgown, expecting to meet the lace fabric of your panties. He let out a low growl when, instead of fabric, his hand immediately met your slick folds.Â
You gasped softly as he ran a finger through them before gently thrusting two fingers into you, while his thumb rubbed gently on your clit, his other hand finding its way back to your throat as if it was magnetic.Â
He moved his hand in a steady rhythm, listening to the sweet sounds you tried and failed to stifle.Â
âYou're so desperate for me, aren't you? You need me, don't you?âÂ
You could only moan softly as his fingers curled deliciously within you.
âSay it. Say you need me. Say you're mine.âÂ
"Yours." You gasped out a moan. "I'm all yours â GODS, I need you, Az. . ."
He loved hearing those words from you, loved hearing you admit how much you needed him. . . Loved seeing you completely surrendering yourself to him. "Good girl. That's it, princess. I'm the only one who can make you feel like this.â
He dipped his head down, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin on your neck, as his hand continued to move in that steady rhythm between your thighs. "You're all mine, princess. No one else gets to touch you, to make you needy and desperate for release like this. Say it. Tell me you're mine.â
"I'm yours." You moaned, your hips bucking slightly, seeking more friction than what he was giving you.Â
You hated how in control he was.
You hated the way his fingers alone made the heat within you build, threatening to snap.
You hated the way you didn't really hate any of it.
He grinned as he continued to leave marks on your neck, moving down to your chest. "Louder, princess. I want you to say it, louder. I want you to admit how much you need me." His hand between your legs moved faster, applying more pressure, knowing it will drive you crazy.
You let out a loud, needy moan. "Need you so bad, Az. . . So bad. . . Please. . !" You gasped.
You needed him. You hated how much you needed him, but at the end of the day, the two of you were mates, destined to be, and maybe, just maybe, the harsh words exchanged could turn into soft, reassuring words. . . Unlikely, but possible. . . Maybe.Â
"Good girl. That's it, princess. I like it when you're needy like this. I love knowing that you're all mine. I love hearing you begging for me." He says against your chest, his mouth moving down to one of your sensitive mounds. He continued to suck and lick, his hand between your legs still moving steadily, but he could feel how eager you were, how impatient you were getting. "Be a good girl for me, princess. Tell me what you want. You need to ask for it.â
âFuck me, Az. . . Please. . .â
He chuckled, a low, possessive growl coming from his chest. There was an intense look on his face as he slowly moved his hands away from their placements â stealing his fingers away from your core before you could come around them â gently grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward off the vanity. With ease, he pushed you up against the wall next to the mirror, pressing himself against you.
He moved his hips forward, letting you feel how hard you made him, letting you feel how much he'd been wanting you. "I'm going to make you remember who you belong to. Who you've always belonged to." He looked into your eyes, his expression full of desire and possession, a hint of a smirk on his face.
You glared slightly but gasped softly as he pressed forward, entering you inch by inch.Â
He let his mouth roam over your neck again, moving down to the top of your chest, gently nipping and sucking on the skin, leaving marks that would be visible in the morning. His hands stayed firmly on your hips, keeping you in place as he slowly moved in and out of you.
"You're mine, princess. You're mine, not only in this room, but out there too. Everyone needs to know who you belong to.â
"Fuck you." You ground out, fighting back a moan at how he was making you feel. But the moan spilled out anyway.
He grinned against your skin, knowing he was getting to you. "That's it, princess. You can try and be defiant, but you'll eventually break. You'll break for me, like you always do. That mouth of yours is always going to end up wide open, just for me, whether you admit it or not." He moved his head up, looking into your eyes, his intense stare holding you captive.
You moaned as he hit a certain spot before growling and capturing his lips in a fiery, lustful kiss. It was new territory, but something within you told you to do it. . . Perhaps it was that taunting golden string tethering your souls together. . . Or maybe you just wanted him to shut the fuck up.
He quickly took control of the kiss, pushing your head up against the wall as he dominated you. His hips moved harder and faster against yours, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the room, combining with the sound of your and his moans.
"You're mine, princess. No one else can make you feel like this.â
You knew without a doubt in your mind that he was right. No one could. No one would.
He couldn't take his eyes off of you, watching your face twist into ecstasy and pleasure, hearing your moans and sounds fill the room. He loved how shamelessly you gave yourself over to him, how you couldn't fight it, no matter how much you'd tried before. He loved how you were his.
He moved his hands from your hips, one gripping your neck again, his fingers lightly closing around your throat, the other moving to your thigh, hitching your leg up over his hip, giving him a deeper angle to work with.
Your eyes rolled back as you moaned louder. Gods, he knew your body far too well. Your desires. Just the right way to push your buttons â just the right angle to thrust mercilessly into you.Â
He loved the sound of your moans, the way your body was responding to him, the way your eyes rolled back when he pushed you right to the edge. He knew you better than anyone else, and he loved that he had this power over you, that you willingly gave into that power, even if you didn't like it a few minutes ago. He knew you needed this, just as much as he needed you.Â
He leaned forward, whispering against your ear, his voice low and gruff. "You're mine... say it. I want to hear you say it, princess.â
"Shut up." You moaned out with a slight groan.
He chuckled against your skin. You could always try to resist him, but you'd never be able to win. He loved how stubborn you were, but he also loved being able to take that stubbornness away from you, to make you completely surrender to him.
"You just can't help defying me, can you, princess? But then again, I know exactly how to set you straight, don't I?" He tightened the grip around your neck, his fingers pressing against your pulse point, knowing how wild it would make you.Â
"Fuck â I'm yours." You moaned pathetically. "I fucking hate you, but I'm yours. . .â
"That's right, princess. You're mine. Now, and always. You can hate me and fight me all you want, but deep down, you know that you belong with me..â He continued to move against you, faster and harder, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.Â
He moved his hand down, his thumb gently tracing slow circles against your clit, adding even more sensation and pleasure.Â
You knew he could tell you were close. He always could. The way your breath caught. The way you subtly met his thrusts. The way you clenched around him so sinfully and your eyes fluttered closed.
"Give in, princess. Let yourself go. Let yourself feel all of this.â
Then pleasure crashed into you as the steadily growing, hot coil snapped and you fell over the edge right into an orgasm, your breathing heavy as you slowly began coming down from the high.
Seeing you completely lose yourself sent him over the edge, his release intense and powerful, his body going taut as he let himself go inside you, his forehead falling against yours as he leaned against you, trying to catch his breath.
He took a few moments to regain his bearings, his body still pressed up against yours as his hands gently held your hips, still holding you in place.
There was some part of you that wanted to ask him to stay, but as he slowly separated the two of you, setting your feet back on the smooth hardwood floor with shaky legs, before going to locate his clothes that he had hastily discarded in the heat of the moment, you knew this was how it was.Â
He dressed, sparing a quick glance back at you before leaving your room. Wordlessly. Leaving you with his cum slowly spilling out of you. . . You also knew that you'd have to start another argument with him tomorrow. . . Just so you could have him close again.
Because even you knew that you didn't truly hate him.
#â silver's sinful sunday â#azriel x reader#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel acotar x reader#azriel x reader acotar#azriel x reader smut#azriel x female!reader#azriel smut#x reader#fem reader#Reader x Azriel acotar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#a court of frost and starlight#a court of silver flames
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Found-Family headcanons for aÂł's coven of chaos, part 4: (because they all deserved more time with each other)
(warning: drinking)
(part 3, here) - (part 2, here) - (part 1, here)
Everyone loves to give Señor Scratchy treats, even when Agatha insists they shouldn't.
Señor Scratchy especially loves Billy, Lilia and Sharon. He does likes to cuddle everyone, though. Except Jen, who he's always trying to bite, (???) because he wouldn't be Agatha's familiar if he didn't.
One day Jen jokes that she will turn him into a purse if he rages against her againâand everyone defensively yells at her at the same time. âOkay! Okay! Jeez! I was joking!â
Sharon cuts fruit for everyone every time they hang out together and forces them to eat it before doing anything else.
Jen usually pays for everything. It's the price of her constantly bragging about her, âreal job.â
Agatha always teases her about it. One time, Lilia felt badâand so she âwent to the bathroomâ and payed for everyone herself.
Billy himself got his first bad alcohol experience at age seventeen at his first big teen party, which Eddie took him to.
He got very fucking wasted very quickly because turns out he's not great at holding his alcohol. Soâhe begged Eddie not to call his parents, because, âthey've bEeN through enOUGH I'M A HORRIBLE SON AND NOT EVEN reALLY THeirS--â
So, Eddie sighed and called Agatha to get him instead. And yes, your girl did drive ALL the way to Eastviewâand spent the whole night sleepless, sobering him up to save him from the hungover. She was just glaring at Rio all night long, telling her to go make coffee and no funny business, while holding his head over the toilet. She was surprisingly gentle and comforting during the experienceâbecause she does have her momentsâlike when Lilia had her traumatic hallucination in Jen's trial and Agatha gently went, âokayâ instead of mocking her. That's the vibe.
BUT he still got the scolding of his life the next day. The whole neighbourhood heard Agatha yelling.
During the argument Agatha yelled that, âI'm not your mother!â and he shot back, âI know that, do YOU know that??â Which caused her to avoid him for a few days.
Later, Rio told him how much it actually affected her and whyâand Billy felt really bad about it. On mother's day, he gave Agatha a gift basket of stuff he made himself, (with his bio-mom's help.) Agatha said it was tacky and unnecessaryâbut she actually teared up a bit. She opened the window and yelled at Wanda's abandoned lot to make an insensitive joke about how, âsuck it, Wanda, you rank last in the mom listââ as to not show too much vulnerability. But Billy is used to her by nowâand he knows that she appreciated it.
Alice always feels sad on mother's day. She visits her mother's grave site and tells her how bad her life is. This year, Billy went with her. And for thr first time, Alice only had goof things to tell her. About how she broke the curseâand she can finally do something with her life now. About how she got a new job, and a coven.
And, to cope, Alice got a gift for Lilia and one for Sharon. They may not be her actual mothersâbut she appreciates them both endlessly and their support means the world to her. She got them both protective crystals.
You know who ELSE got Sharon a gift??
Well, Sharon doesn't either. She just received an anonymous bouquet of Azaleas and she had no idea who sent it to her.
It was Agatha, but she'd die before admitting it. She's the last person you'd suspect, since she still calls her Mrs. Hart despite how triggering it is, or pretends she doesn't remember her existence at all. In reality, she's grown fond of the Westview residents despite her best efforts not to. She doesn't particularly respect them and she does view them as âlesser,â but she doesn't wish them harm. They did take care of her for three yearsâand the Agnes role does have bits and pieces of Agatha in it.
Billy finds out through Rio and accidentally tells Alice. Alice tells Jen, Jen tells Lilia, (because she's not about to hide Agatha's embarrassing secret.) and Lilia tells Sharon.
Sharon is surprised but also extremely moved, considering she doesn't have any living family. She wants to thank Agatha, so she gets the idea to throw her a surprise party. (Since she herself hasn't been to a party since Mr. Davis passed away and she really wants to attend one!!)
She gets help from the coven but also invites all the main Westview residents that we know and love. Rio proposes the idea of writing, 'Agnes of Westview' on the cake, to get back at Agatha for always calling them by their Wanda-branded names. Sharon doesn't want to, but everyone else finds it hilarious, so they do it.
Agatha pretends to be extremely annoyed.
She isn't. She just never expected this to happen to her. For people to want to be thereâand to see her as someone at least capable of goodâsomeone who deserves a second chance.
They eat and drink together, having a blast. Billy isn't allowed to drink, but Agatha sneaks him a glass. Just ONE glass. You know, to teach him responsibility, as if she's the queen of it. âIt's about knowing when to stop, teen.â âoh is it? tell us moreâ
Sharon is the opposite of a light-weight. She chugs down those shots like they're nothingâand if you ask her, she'll dismissively wave and say she's âlived a life.â Still, she doesn't seem to know her limits, and she gets carried away. At least she prepared some bomb ass charcuterie for everyone!!
Jen is a classy drinker, picky with her alcohol. She knows her limits and always drinks just enough to âmake the company tolerable,â since, âno sane person could ever find you idiots amusing without a few shots.â
Lilia becomes incredibly talkative when she drinks and she loses whatever filter she may have otherwise had. Not to say that usually she has too much of a filter, but drunk, she literally becomes Patti Lupone. Jen finds it endearing and listens intently, Alice finds it sort of amusing but also a bit shocking, Rio matches her freak and Agatha just finds it fucking terrifying.
You'd expect Rio to be wilding, but she already does that sober. No, instead, she becomes very clingy and very affectionateâjust whipped over Agatha. And she's kind of a light-weight too, which surprises everyone at first. It's because her real form is literally skeletal and her human form is probably maintained magicallyâso there's less actual real body mass to dilute the alcohol. So, death can tear through the fabric of reality, but metabolising alcohol is just too difficult.
Alice can hold her alcohol very well. She was once the definition of a teenage dirtbag, so she has experience in the field. Now she's pretty sensible. She's also the most clear-headed, even when she's drunk enough to stumble around.
Agatha herself is a slow drinker because she wants to make fun of everyone else for being less sober than her. She's developed a fair bit of tolerance over the years, but when it finally hits it really hits.
During a particularly rough case of drunkenness her and Jen sung karaoke together. Not during Agatha's party, though. Neither of them can quite recall the incident, or so they claim. Unfortunately for them, Alice recorded the whole thing. Rio made it her ringtone, as did Lilia.
Jen forces Lilia to get a skin-care routine. âDoll, I actively choose to look like this because I don't have the time or energy to maintain a youthful appearance. What makes you think I'll spend money on these products that capitaliSe in womeN's InsEcuriTiEsâI'm a divination fraud, you're a beauty guru fraud, we're both senior citizens, I don't care for thisââ
And Jen is like, âokay ouch but nO this is nOt what I've been selling. This is new. We're not talking about just a luxuryâthe skin is the largest organ of the body and is exposed to various environmental stressors like pollution, UV rays, and temperature changes, as well as internal factors like stress and diet. I'm giFting these products to you I mAde them in a cAuLdron.â
Lilia is so flabbergasted by the clarity of Jen's explanation that she agrees. However, she constantly forgets to actually apply it.
Fortunately, Jen never forgets. And Lilia is probably the only person that Jen tolerates to constantly give reminders to.
#agatha all along#agatha harkness#rio vidal#lilia calderu#jennifer kale#agathario#billy maximoff#alice wu gulliver#sharon davis#billy kaplan#found family#agatha all along headcanons
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