#like I'm lucky if I even get one response to something I post in a day so it's not very fun anymore

[blackmesa-researcher]

I kinda hate how dead Half Life/HLVRAI tumblr rp is. :(

Then again I may just not have found those people yet. Wanted to rp Half Life on here, but yeah, couldn't find any active accounts.

Anyway, if you come across this and you'd like to rp Half Life or HLVRAI on discord, you can send me a message, and I'll check you out. :> As long as you're a pretty decent person who won't ask anything illegal of me, I wouldn't be opposed. I'm also A-Okay with OC's.

[littlegrapejuice]

Small Friend? | IH6

Pairing: Isack Hadjar x Reader

Summary: You've seen many drivers get a seat at Racing Bulls, but only one managed to charm you. So thank God that it's not for your knowledge of French that the team hired you, because it almost cost you a relationship.

Author's Note: ok so I'm acc posting later than i had originally planned bc i realised i hadn't proofread the fic nor decided on da pics till an hour ago😭 (+ i gotta edit on tumblr so it takes even more time) anywayyyys i hope you enjoy<3

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

Since working for Racing Bulls, there was one opinion you’ve always had over the last couple years: you had seen way too many different drivers go through one single seat. You also thought they’d had too many name changes but this was a whole other thing.

You had first joined the team during an internship for your first year of university. You were starting the engineering degree you’d always dreamt of, and landing an internship in motorsports had been your main goal when your teachers were asking every student to find something before the end of the first term.

You had been lucky enough to end up at AlphaTauri, which had been employing the iconic duo formed by Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda at the time. You were obviously not working at the track during race weekends, but you had eventually met them after a few months at the factory where you spent every other week. You were over the moon when the team accepted to keep you for your second year of university, glad to have shown them your potential.

You hadn’t expected it, but you were apparently doing good enough of a job that you were one day allowed to assist the team during a grand prix. This wasn’t the first race you attended – having gone to Imola and Monza when you were younger, courtesy of your father who was a big motosports fan – but this was the first race you worked at. It was everything you had expected, but so much more at the same time. The paddock was overwhelming and the garage was even louder than the noise you would hear at the factory, but in a good way. You felt like a kid opening their Christmas presents, and you couldn’t wait to prove to the team that they wouldn’t regret having brought you there.

And it worked. Despite a couple rookie mistakes that were insignificant, you had done your job correctly and you were soon to be rewarded for it.

Having noticed you for your young age, Pierre and Yuki had both wanted to know more about you as they only knew your name from when they had met you at the factory. They asked you questions about your life, your dreams, and how you felt amongst the team. They had both been so nice and welcoming, you were glad that they were the current pairing for AlphaTauri. It seemed that you had also made a good impression on them because several weeks later, you were being called for another grand prix, and another, and another, until you were coming to almost every race for the last half of the season.

The team knew that you had to focus on your studies as well, but they were pulling a few strings that were mysteriously improving your attendance even when you weren’t even present in the classroom. The AlphaTauri duo had eventually let it slip that they had vouched for you to have more responsibilities, and you sometimes wondered if you were really that good at your job or if they just enjoyed your company – both, if someone were to ask them.

So as you spent more time with the drivers, you actually befriended them. They taught you about the spots to hit around certain tracks, recommended you good restaurants – mostly Yuki, and they even forced you to know some basic sentences in their respective native language. Pierre was definitely a better teacher than Yuki, and it also helped that French was easier to learn since you already knew Italian.

The next year, you unfortunately had to say goodbye to Pierre who was joining Alpine and this was the season during which you had seen too many driver changes. From Nyck de Vries starting the year to Daniel Ricciardo who had then replaced him, you had also met Liam Lawson. It was hard for you to actually create a bond with each driver, and you mostly stayed in Yuki’s side of the garage. On the one hand, you wished for Yuki to one day join Red Bull because you knew that he had the potential. On the other hand, you were kind of glad that he was still in AlphaTauri with you.

Eventually you were reaching your fourth year of university, and you still couldn’t believe the fact that you had spent almost the entirety of the first three with the same company. To be honest, it had played in your favour that the F1 seasons and academic years weren’t the same. This meant that every time you were starting a new school year, you were technically still employed for the end of season, and the team didn’t think much about keeping you for the next one.

So here you were, in the last term of your final year, ready to make the 2025 F1 season a success. AlphaTauri had become Racing Bulls the previous year – actually VCARB – and you were still wondering why they needed to change their name so often. Now more than ever, you really hoped that after completing your degree, the team would keep you and offer you a full-time job for the rest of the season. According to Yuki, you were already doing as much of a job as the other employed engineers, but he understood why you wanted the actual validation that came after your years-long internship.

Part of you was still missing Pierre years later, but Yuki having a new French teammate made you think about the Japanese driver attracting them. You hadn’t talked much with Isack since he had been given the RB seat, but from what Yuki told you, he was really nice and always matching his energy.

You had met the F2 vice-champion during the pre-season tests and to say that it was still haunting you was an understatement. You had actually been excited to meet him at first: he was a couple years younger than you, but you were glad that you wouldn’t be the youngest anymore in the garage. You had even practiced your rusty French – which you hadn’t talked much since Pierre left – but when Yuki had introduced you to Isack, your brain had short-circuited for whatever reason. It was definitely not because Isack had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen. You remembered the lack of words coming out of your mouth, as you had then awkwardly settled for a regular greeting in English before Isack replied more confidently with his thick accent.

Following this meeting, you’d had no choice but to give up on speaking French with Isack, too scared that you’d embarrass yourself once again. This fear somehow grew bigger every time you’d hear Isack let some French slip up, force of habit you supposed. You had heard the occasional “putain” (fuck) and “merde” (shit), which meanings were quite easy to remember from the amount of times that Pierre had also said those words.

However, your lack of knowledge regarding actual grammar, conjugation, vocabulary – literally everything, let’s be honest – was soon evident to Isack. Indeed, you had once caught him talking to Laurent Mekies – in French, of course – and the confusion on your face had been so obvious that Yuki had begun laughing next to you. It wasn’t like Yuki had understood anything himself, but he knew that you were supposed to be more familiar with the language than him. Safe to say, he hadn’t wasted any time texting Pierre and talking to Isack about it. On the one hand, the oldest of the two Frenchmen had relentlessly teased you, disappointed that you hadn’t kept learning despite his departure from the Italian team. On the other hand, the youngest driver had thought of another idea.

From one race weekend to another, Isack had started to come up to you more often as the season went by. You were glad for the blossoming friendship, but one of his actions always left you confused at the end of your conversations. It would always start as usual: discussing the race, the possible weather, the choices of tyre strategy… Yuki would be present the majority of the time; but every time it would just be you and Isack, the driver would always end the conversation with something in French. So this was what happened during your most recent one:

“J’adore ton maquillage d’ailleurs (I love your makeup by the way)”, Isack had told you. “Ton rouge à lèvres fait ressortir ton beau sourire (your lipstick highlights your pretty smile)”.

Obviously, you had been completely lost as to what it meant. The only things you were familiar with were “lèvres” (lips) and “sourire” (smile) as you remembered learning how to describe yourself, but that was about it. The next time wasn’t any better as it had been a similar situation: another French sentence, another confusion.

“Tu devrais attacher tes cheveux plus souvent, c’est plus facile pour admirer tes yeux (you should wear your hair up more often, it’s easier to admire your eyes)”.

You wished you could be mad at him every time you asked him to translate, your head tilting to the side with a frown, but the innocent smile he kept giving was always enough to immediately make you forget about whatever he had said to you.

And as the races went by, Isack didn’t stop this little ritual, even pushing it to actual pick-up lines – not that you would notice the change in meanings. You couldn’t even write down what Isack was saying to translate it later; he was speaking so French-y that you had a hard time even picking up individual words. Your only hypothesis was that he was teasing about something – what, you didn’t know – but given his tone and what you knew about him, it could never be something mean or hurtful. 

…..

It had been a few months since Isack had begun the tradition. You had to admit you were a bit frustrated by the fact that you still didn't understand him any better, even though you had started to study French again to improve your level. Talking with Pierre or Esteban was sometimes useful, but they weren’t part of your team and you didn’t want to practice with Isack until you had reached a somewhat acceptable level.

However, it seemed that this milestone would happen sooner than expected as a conversation with Pierre about Isack’s quirk made you realise what had been obvious from the beginning.

“You want to tell me you didn’t get that he was flirting with you for all those months?” If Pierre’s eyes could go any wider than how they currently were, they would. “Oh mon Dieu… (oh my God). You’re unbelievable!”

“I mean… whenever we talk, it’s in English and about racing!” You retorted. “I never understand what he’s saying in French, how would I know it was flirting?”

“The way he looks at you?” Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Avec son sourire niais là (with his stupid smile). This is un-be-lie-va-ble,” he repeated while accentuating each syllable.

“How do you even know what’s he been saying to me?” You wondered. “I don’t remember seeing your bald head lurking around my garage.”

“I’m gonna forget the bald comment and reply anyway.” The driver leaned back on the wall, with a sigh. “You don’t think Isack thought of every pick-up line by himself, do you?”

“They were all pick-up lines?”

“Most of them”, Pierre explained. “It was just compliments at first.”

“Wow, okay…” You didn't know what to think anymore.

Isack had always been friendly, of course. And you liked spending time around him. And you liked whenever he had time to talk to you, something he didn’t do with every member of the team. And yes, you even liked the random French sentences even if you couldn’t understand a word for months. And you liked his smile, his laugh, his determination, his passion for racing, his kindness. And–

“Hello?” Pierre waved his hand in front of your face. “What are you daydreaming about, now?”

“Just thinking about what I should do now…”

“Easy,” someone other than Pierre replied. “You flirt back in a language he doesn’t understand. That way, you’re even.”

Without a care, Yuki – who had been listening to the conversation for a couple minutes – went to stand next to Pierre.

“How long have you been listening?” You asked, confused as to why you hadn’t noticed.

“Didn’t hear everything,” Yuki admitted. “Just from the part when Pierre says he helped Isack flirt with you, which is the most surprising part of the story.”

“Okay, rude? First, please don’t gang up on me. Second, I agree with the idea though. She gotta flirt back now that she finally realised – even if it wasn’t alone – that Isack is in love with her.”

“Let’s not go that far and say he’s in love with me,” you argued.

“Close enough, to be honest.” Yuki thought for a second. “You know I love you, but I cannot stand hearing him simp for you every fucking time I’m with him.”

“Okay, so what? I flirt back, and then?”

“I don’t know, go make out or whatever young people do when they like each other.”

“Respectfully Pierre, absolutely not. Even though it didn’t start like a normal relationship–”

“There’s no relationship right now,” Yuki clarified.

“Seriously?” You glared at Yuki, and kept going. “Anyways, even though it didn’t start – yet – like a normal relationship, I’m not fucking up everything based on Pierre’s stupid idea. But, I guess I can just ask him out directly.”

“You actually like him?” Yuki asked, feigning confusion.

“Yes? I swear to God, you make zero effort to help me.” If you could, you would just leave the conversation. “Pierre, I’ll unfortunately be counting solely on you so please give me like one or two good French pick-up lines so I can kinda get back at him. Not the same that you gave to Isack, though.”

“You can count on me, don’t worry. I’ll coach you on your pronunciation and delivery for the next race, you’ll be ready in no time.”

“Thank you. At least someone is being helpful.”

“Guys this was literally my idea,” Yuki complained. “You’re ungrateful. I hope Isack rejects you.”

“No you don’t?” You argued.

“I don’t, yes. But still you’ll get karma for your disrespect”, Yuki threatened.

“Eh, send it my way.” You shrugged, a smile on your face.

The conversation then ended in a playful atmosphere. You were glad to still have a solid friendship with both –formerly – AlphaTauri drivers, and truly hoped that you would soon be able to share the good news of being successful with Isack.

…..

Fast forward to the next grand prix, you and Pierre had dutifully practiced some pick-up lines for you to use on Isack. Saying that you were nervous was an understatement, and you really hoped that only one of them would be enough to charm Isack. But of course, things wouldn’t go as you had planned.

Waiting until after qualifying to not disrupt him before getting in the car, you had also distracted your own brain from the stress while talking about some strategies for tomorrow with other engineers. When Isack was out of the car, you lingered not far away in the garage in order to find the best moment to come up to him. When he was done talking to Laurent, you jumped at the opportunity of having Isack alone. As he saw you, his smile brightened. You knew he would eventually throw another French sentence at you, but your current goal was to be the one to say it first. So as usual, you talked to him about the weekend and congratulated him on his good qualifying position. Then, as the moment felt right, you went for it:

“Tu sais que si tu étais le temps d’un verbe, tu serais le plus-que-parfait? (you know that if you were a verb tense, you’d be the plu perfect – to be literally translated as more than perfect)” You tried to put on your most innocent smile, as if you hadn’t played him at his own game. Your accent hadn’t been the best, but Pierre had assured you that your words were perfectly understandable and that it was even more charming.

“Quoi? (what)” Isack almost didn’t hear what you had said, not expecting at all for you to speak French. “Wait, what did you say?”

Thinking about what he had always done, you didn’t cave in and didn’t repeat yourself. You were about to continue the conversation in English as if nothing had happened, but fate had other plans.

Out of nowhere, Isack’s PR manager came up to the two of you. She gave you a smile and a nod, before taking Isack’s arm.

“Canal wants a word with you, Isack. You did great today, so they need to interview their country’s driver.”

“What?” Isack was half-listening, still hung up on your words. His manager motioned for him to follow her, which he mindlessly did. His gaze, however, was still on you as he walked towards the media pen. “We’ll talk later!” He exclaimed, almost out of hearing from the other side of the garage.

…..

You hadn’t talked later, not on that same day at least. After Isack had been pulled away from you for his interviews, you had been called by the senior engineers who wanted to share some information about the car with you. Therefore, you hadn’t seen Isack for the rest of the day.

It was now Sunday. The race would start soon, and you knew that you would be thinking about the situation for the next two hours, but you couldn’t go to Isack now and risk disrupting his focus. Your own concentration would have to stay still and not waver. The support Yuki and Pierre had given you yesterday had been helpful, after you had texted them a pretty self-explanatory message:

I think I fucked up lol

Their only replies had been to set a dinner time for the three of you to meet, and you had all spent the entire evening discussing the situation. They agreed that you hadn’t “fucked up”, as Isack hadn’t rejected you. You still had a chance, and it would wait until after the race to be proven true.

…..

The race had gone well for Isack and your friends. All finishing in points, you were proud of their performance. You knew your team would celebrate later tonight, having been asked to join. And you would have accepted, if not for the eye contact that you had exchanged with Isack when he got out of his car. His eyes were still filled with the same determination that fueled him during the race, but there was also another purpose hidden behind.

Like a silent conversation, you and Isack were agreeing without a word to talk later – actually talk later this time.

So after the car was dismantled; after Isack had done every interview he was asked to; after you exchanged about the race with the rest of the team and was finally ready to leave the paddock, you sent a quick text to Isack:

Meet me @ the main entrance, near the parking lot

Isack hadn’t replied, but you didn’t mind as he was walking towards you mere minutes later. You were glad that most people – as in the fans – had left, except for some team employees, as the area was quite empty. You hadn’t expected you and Isack to actually talk there, thinking that you would both go back together to the city, but he apparently had other plans.

“So, what was that yesterday? You’re fluent in French now?”

“Absolutely not”, you admitted. “I still have the knowledge of a toddler, but yesterday was courtesy of Pierre – whom you can also thank I think?”

“Touché”, Isack chuckled with a shrug. “Guess he’s been rooting for both of us, then.”

“Rooting for what, exactly?” You asked, feigning ignorance. Although you had been determined to make the first move this weekend, it hadn’t gone like you had originally planned and you were now more comfortable with letting Isack take the reins as he had been doing so for the past few months.

“For us to ask each other out”, he casually replied. “Or at least for me to do so.”

“And will you do that?” You were faking confidence; but deep down, you were internally giggling and blushing at the situation. This wasn’t everyday that your crush was asking you out, and you had to stay composed.

“If you can already tell me that you’ll accept, then yes I’ll pop the question.” This was Isack’s way to make sure that you were both on the same wavelength.

“If you were to pop the question that actually means getting married, I’d say it’s a tad too soon.” Isack blushed at your words, not realising he had planned your future a bit too far ahead, and scratched his head with a nervous laugh. “But a question regarding a first date? Yeah, I think I’ll say yes to that.”

“Okay, so dinner tonight? You and me?” He flashed you one of those smiles that you adored.

“Lead the way”, you said with a grin.

So Isack did. You thus both ended up at a restaurant not far away from the track, with a beautiful view of the city illuminated by the street lights under the night sky.

Dinner had been more than pleasant. The atmosphere had been friendly like it usually was between the two of you, but something else lingered. You hadn't yet confessed your respective feelings, but it was clear to each of you that the other was sharing the same thoughts.

You complimented Isack on his race, your smile softer than usual. He thanked you for the support you always offered him and the team. You both talked about your graduation that would happen soon, and you hinted at needing a date for the event. He gladly took up your offer, and told you how much he was proud of you for achieving your dream. You then also reminded him that he had been achieving his for so many years as well.

When you were done, Isack walked you back to your shared hotel – where most of the Racing Bulls employees were staying. You hadn’t seen how time flew by until you were in front of your room. Isack had been a floor below yours, but he had argued that he was a proper gentleman and that he should do things right when you mentioned him getting off the lift before you.

So here you were, both awkwardly standing in the corridor. This was the moment of truth: were you supposed to confess right now? Right before going to bed? Would he want to kiss you?

A strange newly-found confidence suddenly rose in you, and you thought of the one sentence that would seal the deal, without ruining the vibe.

“Wanna know something?” You first tried to catch his attention by using English, which worked as Isack looked at you before nodding. “Je viens de me rendre compte que tu ressembles beaucoup à mon futur copain (I just noticed, but you look a lot like my future boyfriend)”.

It took the driver a few seconds to process your words. But when he did, he began laughing and the smile on his face kept getting wider.

“Oh mon Dieu… (oh my God)” Isack put his face in his hands, as he tried and failed to hide how much he was blushing. “Did Pierre give you this one too?” You nodded with a proud smile and Isack couldn’t help but think that you looked really cute right now – more than usual. “Wait, you do mean copain as in boyfriend, right?”

“Is that not what it means?” You didn’t think you had mistaken the word, repeating exactly what Pierre had taught you.

“It does, yeah. But it’s like… slang, I guess?” Isack was unsure how to explain. “Not exactly slang, but usually we would say petit copain for boyfriend, and copain alone is actually just a friend.”

“So like, small friend?” You translated with a chuckle. “It’s quite fitting you, I guess.”

“That’s mean, you’re literally the same height as me!”

“I deeply apologise for my rudeness then, small boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say yes, though.” Isack played pretend, but deep down he was still flustered by you speaking French.

“Yet”, you pointed out. “But I didn’t actually ask a question.”

“Which I’m waiting for you to ask.”

“I like you Isack,” you said with honesty in your tone. “Like… really like you. So, hmm… veux-tu être mon petit copain? (do you want to be my boyfriend?)”

“Je vais pas dire non (how could i refuse).” When you looked at him in confusion, Isack realised that Pierre definitely hadn’t covered that in your French lessons. “I can’t say no to that, so… Yes, I absolutely want to be your boyfriend.”

Despite being in your early twenties, you could now proudly say that you finally had your first boyfriend. And what was even better was that he shared your love for racing. You couldn’t wait to see the look on Pierre’s and Yuki’s faces when you would tell them the news, but for now your focus would still be on Isack for a couple more minutes.

“We kinda have to go to sleep now,” you reluctantly reminded him. “Getting quite late and I don’t know about you, but I have an early flight tomorrow.”

“I actually think I do too. I’ll see you tomorrow before you leave?” Isack knew you had to go back to university until the next race.

“Yeah, of course!” You happily nodded. “We can have breakfast together,” you suggested.

“That’s perfect,” Isack confirmed. “So… good night, then?”

“Good night, Isack.” You gave him a smile and, thinking about how you would regret it if you didn’t do it, closed the space between you and the driver before you kissed his cheek. “Sleep well,” you added before entering your room.

Isack was now left alone in front of your door, unable to properly think or react to your action. His feet mindlessly walked him back to his own room, while he couldn’t help the giddy smile that appeared on his face. Once back in his room, Isack went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and that was when his eyes caught something in the mirror.

A faint trace of pink lipstick adorned his cheek, where you had kissed mere minutes before.

Isack smiled to himself, and he really hoped that tomorrow before you left, you would leave a lipstick mark on his lips.

..........

And that's it🤭 i really liked writing this one, and i hope you liked reading it!!

I was afraid of not doing isack justice so i hesitated a bit ab when i first started my draft, but the amount of vcarb tiktoks + what i had seen ab him during the 2024 f2 season helped a lot

Btw i miss isuki every single day so let's pretend that yuki is still in vcarb w isack for the rest of the season🤗 (there's no real timeline btw bc we're barely 3 races in so)

Also let's pretend ik shit ab engineering and how its degree works lol like that's absolutely not my area of study so i kinda winged it

Please tell me your thoughts in the comments, and don't be shy to like or reblog if you enjoyed this🤍🤍

See you soon, stay safe, have a happy life, love y'all xx

[johnslittlespoon]

morning reblog + snippet <3 need to get in the habit of doing this but somehow once the chapter is actually posted i get nervous despite sharing bits and pieces the whole time i'm writing lol?? silly!

sappy but waking up to the ao3 comment emails had me giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair this morning, i rly do tear up reading them, i'm so so thankful for every interaction on this fic and ik i repeat myself every time i post a new chapter but i just. appreciate the love so much and i'm so grateful for the patience i've been shown as i navigate a proper long fic for the first time!! wowie

idk what i did to deserve stumbling into a fandom so kind and sweet and supportive and INSANELY creative and talented (simultaneously thanking barry and hating him for getting me attached to that precious little lieutenant and then ripping him away just as fast fml), i genuinely feel so lucky to have something to be excited about every day and as much as i love writing this fic, i can't wait to be done so i can lock in and pour over all my friends' fics and give back so much love :')))

You're A Dog (I'm Your Man)

Ch. 5/8 – 'I Count My Time In Dog Years'

[WC: 27K | Gale Cleven/John Egan, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Requited Unrequited Love]

John Egan loves like a dog.

[AO3 LINK]

[norrisainz33]

stroints || ls18

summary: you attend your first ever grand prix as lance's partner and he has a great season opening weekend!

pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

fc & warnings: none & slightly suggestive at the end. you are responsible for the content you consume!

requested: yes! thank you so much for your request xx

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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chloestroll: wait i love them both. i say wear the white on race day and blue on quali day

ynuser: ooooo good idea! i was considering wearing some aston merch on sunday and one of these on saturday but maybe i do what you said instead

chloestroll: oh i mean aston merch would be cute af too

ynuser: hmmmmmmm too many decisions here bc i also have this super cute jean set that maybe i’ll wear on race day instead ugh idek

lilyzneimer: either way you're going to outshine everyone you're radiant

ynuser: thank you baby girl 😭

lance_stroll: trying not to drool over how fcking gorgeous you are

ynuser: lance stopppp 😭😭

lance_stroll: it’s true!! i’ve somehow bagged the most beautiful girl in the entire world

ynuser: you’re such a sweet talker

lance_stroll: 🤷🏻‍♂️

lilymhe: the white top is to die for pls that one

ynuser: thank you for the input doll

yourbff: hear me out. white top with that gorgeous big gold necklace our favorite man got you

ynuser: no because you’re so right. that’s it! that’s the fit for quali!

flavy_barla: omg personally i'd pick the lace top

ynuser: yesss i think it 100% is the winner

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 18,188 others

f1gossip: is this lance stroll’s lucky charm? meet lance’s new partner, y/n y/l/n, who is making her race day debut! the couple's romance has been the talk of the town ever since those sizzling new year's eve photos were spotted on chloe stroll’s story. will y/n be the secret weapon aston martin’s been waiting for this season? only time will tell!

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user1: oh….. she’s literally so pretty?

user2: cut the tapes! ive seen enough! shes my new favorite wag

user3: god i hope she brings lancey good luck. he needs it fr

user7: no he really does. i just want the best for him this season

user4: did y'all see the way shes wearing an L necklace

user1: stop im too fragile for this

user5: WHO is this diva

user2: if u find out lmk! i just tried to scroll her insta and its private but she seems so normal

user5: lowkey... i think she is just a normal girl... i found her linkedin and she out here having a full time job

user2: this has to be rage bait... shes living my dream

user5: no truly. im so jealous but also im rooting for her?

user6: why did i not know about her sooner?! do we think lance can fight?

user8: he can't fight us all!

user33: no one cares abt her or stroll

user1: the hate is so forced gtfo

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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yourbff: you gotta warn a girl before posting something as scary as that first slide (i say this with love)

ynuser: SCERAMING hes just a goofy lil guy

yourbff: if you say so girly pop

chloestroll: leo and i are curled up and ready to watch uncle lancey bring it home!

ynuser: omg even little leo is watching?! its his first race too <3

chloestroll: we gotta support our favorite uncle!!!!

astonmartinf1: send us that first pic im begging

ynuser: only if you agree to post it on every social media channel you have

astonmartinf1: he's not gonna like that... but for you.... anything xxoo

ynuser: admin you are my favorite

astonmartinf1: and you're mine but don't tell anyone i said that

lilymhe: adjusting to the paddock life?

ynuser: kind of? every time i breath a camera takes another picture of me. i'm terrified they're going to get something embarrassing

lilymhe: hahahaha i mean odds are high that they will. remember what i said and just try to ignore them and act natural. i swear the media can smell fear

ynuser: that must be why they're always around. im sure im radiating it

lilymhe: deep breaths y/n/n its ok

lance_stroll: WHY

ynuser: omg get off ur phone you have a race to score points in

ynuser: oh now you wanna leave me on read ok

flavy.barla: if you need someones hand to squeeze through the the first few laps... you know where to find me babe

ynuser: no i literally am on my way. they haven't even finished the formation lap and i'm going to throw up

lance_stroll has made a post

liked by chloestroll, estebanocon, ynuser, astonmartinf1, boss, scottyjames31, yourbff, flavy.barla and 897,443 others

lance_stroll: a fantastic start to the season! thank you to the team and everyone who worked so hard over the off season to get this car where it is. lets keep this momentum going!!

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user1: a double exclamation???? you must be over the moon my stoic king

ynuser: stroints!!!!!! this calls for a celebration

lance_stroll: yes it does ;)

estebanocon: wait count flavy and i in to this celebration??

flavy.barla: yes please!!!

ynuser: well duhhhh

user5: need photo evidence of this party so bad. f1gossip im counting on you

user2: yayyyyyy lance!!!!

chloestroll: leo and i are so proud of you

scottyjames31: thats our favorite uncle right there!

lance_stroll: love you guys 🤍

user18: y/n made the win photo dump im crying. she's def his good luck charm, i hope she comes to every race

astonmartinf1: well done lance! 💚

user22: thats our goat!! can't help but notice you're ahead of that horse team in the standings... lets keep that going boy

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, user10 and 22,258 others

f1gossip: because you all asked so nicely and we couldn't not deliver..... we got some intel that a certain driver, his new partner, their friends and a few other drivers are out celebrating the start of the season in melbourne this evening

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user1: AHHHHHH MAN

user5: my goat! you always pull through. idk how u got eyes everywhere

f1gossip: and thats a secret ill never tell xx

user3: WOW lance looks good af im about to start drooling..

user4: y/n one lucky girl thats for dam sure

user5: no genuinely i am so envious

user6: i just fell to my knees in a walmart parking lot

user12: lance i was unfamiliar with your game

user18: esteban and alex are there too so cuteeeeee

user22: he needed this

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

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yourbff: girl get off that phone! I am SICKENED by the last photo

ynuser: god forbid a girl have hobbies

yourbff: you right. my bad ms pillow princess

lance_stroll: hheheeh you're so pretty

ynuser: eheheh no you

lance_stroll: i can hear you giggling from the bathroom

ynuser: you caught me

lance_stroll: get back out here

ynuser: yes sir

chloestroll: looks like you guys had a good night.. not sure i needed to see that last photo tho

ynuser: the best night!!! had to make sure to properly celebrate a great start to the season! and yeah sorry pls look scroll away and pretend you didnt see it

chloestroll: hahaaha well i hope next time scotty and i are there with you guys to celebrate together!

ynuser: ugh yes i hope so too 🤍🤍

flavy.barla: petite fille!!!! ohhh thank you for letting este and i tag along this evening i had a blast

ynuser: you are literally always allowed to tag along my love. i seriously am obsessed with you

flavy.barla: feeling is mutual. lets run away together

ynuser: done

lilymhe: petition for us to party after every race together pls you are literally the most fun

ynuser: omg stop YOU are the most fun! but yes ofc lets hang out and do everything together plssssss

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

a/n: thank you sm for reading!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ⠀

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[starconchs]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐬𝐦���𝐭. 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

pairing: geto suguru x f!reader summary: moments between you and geto, and how you inevitably ended up in his bed. genre: smut, college au, ends in fluff, geto is whipped tbh notes/warnings: mdni, vaginal sex, squirting, creampie, praise kink!, mentions of womanizer gojo bc it makes me giggle, somewhat flirty geto, flirty gojo, shoko smokes, mentions of alcohol, first time posting smut pls be nice it's mid at best. rushed and barely edited!! yes this is a repost oops. wc: ~4.9k

i.

if someone had told you five months ago that you would eventually end up in geto suguru's bed, you would've laughed in their face.

the names geto suguru and gojo satoru were notorious across your campus, and yet you had never interacted with them before you met ieiri shoko. gojo satoru was known for his flirtatious tendencies, and with a simple smile and a flash of his bright, blue eyes he was able to get most people fall for him. he had no shortage of admirers or flings, and he took great pride in the fact that none of his short-lived romances had ever ended badly.

geto suguru, on the other hand, had rarely been seen pursuing anyone. there were rumors, of course, of the lucky individuals that had gotten to spend the night with him, but geto had never taken it upon himself to confirm or deny any of them.

you couldn't care less about either one of their love lives, but no matter what classes you took and no matter who you sat next to, they always became a topic of conversation.

"so, are you going?"

you looked up from your notes to see your seatmate— mika, you think her name was— looking at you curiously. you gave her a puzzled look, earning an exasperated one in return before she leaned in.

"to the party tonight?" she whispered conspiratorially. "you know, the one gojo and geto are hosting?"

"no," you replied, turning back to your notes in hopes of ending the conversation. the truth was that you were attending, you were just hoping to get in, get tipsy, and leave before anything interesting could happen. in addition to being attractive, gojo satoru was also loaded, and that usually meant that he supplied all the alcohol at his parties without demanding some sort of payment from anyone who attended. as a broke college student, who were you to turn down free alcohol?

"you should," mika continued, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she jotted down some notes. "i heard geto will actually be there this time. something about it being in his honor."

your nose scrunched at her soft sigh, and she gave you a look of disbelief when you remained unimpressed with her news.

"you know, he barely shows up to these things, even though he lives there," she pressed on, biting her lip as she giggles.

"look," you said, not unkindly. "i'm gonna be honest with you; i could not care less about either one of them."

mika huffed before turning away, and you sighed in relief when she made no effort to continue the conversation. you looked away when you hear a snort coming from your left, and you raised your gaze to meet a pair of tired, brown eyes.

"not a fan of gojo and geto?" the girl asked, earning an amused laugh from you.

"i wouldn't know," you replied truthfully, shrugging casually. "never met 'em."

you watched as the girl barked out a laugh at your response, holding out a hand for you to shake. "i like you. i'm ieiri shoko."

you gave her your name as you shook her hand, your conversation coming to an abrupt end when your professor walked in. you smiled to yourself when the lecture eventually ended, watching as mika hurried out of class after giving you an unimpressed look.

"so, are you really not going to the party?" shoko asked, falling into step with you as you left the building. you watched as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, placing one between her lips before offering one to you. you shook you head lightly as she patted her pants pockets. "you wouldn't happen to have a lighter, would you?"

"of course i'm going," you replied, rummaging through your backpack for your lighter. you handed it to her with a smirk, earning a raised eyebrow in return as she lights the stick between her lips. "i'd be an idiot not to. i just wanted mika to stop talking."

"i guess i'll see you there," shoko mused, placing your lighter back into the palm of your hand as you came to a crosswalk. "look for me when you get there, yeah? you seem like good company."

you nodded your head as she waved, walking off in the opposite direction you were headed toward. you made it through the rest of your day without incident, making sure to grab an early dinner before taking a quick shower and lying down.

a quick glance at your clock let you know that it was nearing eight, and you sighed loudly before standing up and walking over to your closet to pick out your outfit. you took your time getting ready, music blasting as you finally slipped on your shoes and ordered a ride.

by the time you arrived at the party, it was in full swing. you could feel the bass thumping from where you stood on the sidewalk, and you quickly made your way to the front door in an attempt to escape form the cold wind.

you made a beeline towards the kitchen, resolving to get a drink first before looking for shoko. you hummed along to the song that was playing as you grabbed a cheap plastic cup, pouring yourself whatever what in the bottle closest to you. you slowly made your way out of the kitchen, raising the cup to your lips before catching sight of mika. you jolted lightly, placing your cup on the nearest table when you saw her turn your way before you ducked into a hallway.

a quiet grunt left your lips when you collided against something hard, and you felt yourself tilting backwards before a strong set of hands landed on your waist to steady you.

"woah there, are you okay?"

you glanced up to see geto suguru standing in front of you, an amused smile on his face as he studied you. you shot another glance into the main room, sighing in relief when you realized mika was no longer visible.

"yeah," you mumbled, straightening up and facing geto once more. "i'm good."

it was silent for a few seconds as geto followed your previous line of sight, his hands still resting comfortably on your waist. he turned back when you tapped his shoulder awkwardly, and you were met with the same amused smile still present on his face. he hummed in acknowledgement, looking down at you curiously as you leaned back slightly.

"you can let go now."

"my apologies," geto replied smoothly, his hands lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away. "just wanted to make sure you were okay. i'm—"

"i see you've met geto."

you peeked behind geto's broad frame to see shoko leaning against the wall across from you, and you watched as a look of mild surprise crossed geto's face.

"you two know each other?" he asked, earning nods from the two of you in return. the surprise on his face melted away into a charming smile, and he held his hand out for you to shake. "the pleasure is all mine."

you shook his hand lightly, nodding at him before turning back to shoko. you handed her your lighter wordlessly, and she gave you a grin before beckoning for you to follow her. the two of you exited out the back door, making your way towards the bordering fence as geto followed.

"i haven't seen you around before," geto commented casually, earning a suspicious look from shoko as he attempted to make conversation with you. he gave her a lopsided smile, tilting his head towards you briefly as shoko scoffed at him.

"don't go out much," you mumbled, giving him a dull look at you shrugged.

"why? overprotective boyfriend?" geto asked, earning an amused look from you at his boldness. you chuckled lightly, shaking your head as you crossed your arms.

"more like an overly comfy bed," you retorted, watching as he nodded at your words.

"i'm sure mine is comfier. i can show you, if you'd like," he responded slyly, a handsome smile on his face as he leaned in slightly.

"nah, i'm good."

geto blinked once, twice, three times at your words, staring at you in confusion as shoko's laughter rang in his head.

"what?" he asked dumbly, straightening up when shoko clapped him on the shoulder.

"i'm good," you repeated, giving him a small smile. "thanks for the offer but i'm here for the booze, not the guys."

"i've never seen this happen before," shoko breathed, stomping out her cigarette as her eyes lit up. "oh my god, i have to find satoru."

you watched shoko as she darted away, geto's eyes still on you as he composed himself. he shoved his hands into his pockets before backing away, still reeling from your rejection as you gave him one last look.

"i'm gonna go look for shoko," you mumbled, giving him a small wave before following after her. geto watched as you moved further and further away, his curiosity peaking as he waited for you to turn back and send him one last look. it never came, and he felt his stomach twist in disappointment.

ii.

"wanna grab lunch?" shoko asked, packing her stuff up as class ended. you nodded wordlessly, zipping your backpack up before slinging it over your shoulder.

"what did you have in mind?" you asked, heading towards the door.

"what about onigiri?"

you and shoko looked up to see geto by the door, his eyes on you as gojo stood beside him waving enthusiastically. a defeated sigh escaped shoko's mouth, and she hooked her arm with yours as she pulled you towards the two boys.

"only if you pay," shoko mumbled, not even having the energy to argue against geto. he gave her an innocent smile as gojo slung an arm over shoko's shoulders, effectively pulling her away from you as he shot you a curious gaze.

"have we met before? you look familiar," gojo asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you over his sunglasses. you opened your mouth to respond, stopping when he suddenly snapped his fingers. "i know! i've seen you in my dreams."

a surprised laugh left your lips as shoko groaned, and you grinned at gojo as you started walking.

"i totally haven't heard that one before," you commented, saying your name as gojo laughed.

"gojo satoru, but you can call me any time," he said, winking at you as you shook your head with a smile. you missed the way gojo stuck his tongue out at geto.

"don't get your hopes up," you replied, earning an exaggerated pout from gojo. you looked to your side when geto fell into step next to you, giving him a friendly nod as the two of you followed after gojo and shoko. you snorted as you noticed shoko's bored look, the occasional hum coming from her lips as gojo talked her ear off.

"how was class?"

you hummed when you heard geto speak, turning to look at him as he repeated his question.

"your class," he said quietly, glancing at you before turning back to look at his friends. "how was it?"

"it went well," you responded, eyeing him for a few seconds before following his gaze. "a little confusing, but shoko is crazy smart."

"she wants to be a doctor, y'know," geto said softly, a proud smile tugging at his lips. you glanced at him briefly, your eyes softening at the look on his face. "she's the smartest one out of all of us."

"i'm sure she'll be the best doctor," you said honestly. "if she ever quits smoking."

geto laughed at your comment, nodding in agreement as you came to a stop. you joined shoko at a table, nodding absentmindedly as gojo announced that he and geto would go grab the food.

"so?" shoko asked as soon as they were out of sight.

"so what?" you questioned, giving her a confused look.

"now that you've met geto and gojo," shoko began, waving a hand in the direction they had disappeared. "are you a fan?"

"they're not the worst," you admitted, receiving an amused hum in return. "they're huge flirts, but they're okay once you get past that."

shoko nodded in satisfaction just at the two boys reappeared, sliding into the empty seats next to you. you listened closely as gojo rattled off the different kinds they had gotten. you perked up when you heard your favorite ingredient, and you shyly asked if you could have that one.

gojo gave you a funny look before turning to shoko, mumbling something to her as geto held his hand out, the onigiri in hand. you thanked him with a smile, the four of you eating silently as you basked in the sun.

the silence was broken when gojo's phone went off, and his eyes widened briefly before he scarfed down the rest of his food and stood up.

"well we have to get to class," he proclaimed, tugging geto out of his seat before walking away. he paused briefly, sending you one last smile before waving. "it was nice to meet you! we should do this again, but it should just be me and you next time."

you rolled your eyes at his words, briefly catching the hard look on geto's face as you waved them off and turned back to look at shoko. she had the same funny look on her face that gojo did earlier as she looked at the two boys, humming thoughtfully before turning to you.

"you know, that's geto's favorite filling too," she commented, motioning towards your discarded wrapper with a tilt of her head. your eyebrows raised slightly, missing the insinuation behind her words as she sighed. "he always gets the same filling and refuses to eat anything else. i didn't think he'd actually give it to you."

you remained quiet after her statement, picking up the trash before tossing it into the bin next to your table. "there's a first time for everything, i guess."

"who knows," shoko mused, giving you a playful look as she stood up. "maybe he likes you."

iii.

shoko quickly became a constant in your life, and with her came gojo and geto.

"we're a package deal!" gojo had said when you made a comment about seeing them every single day. "you either get all of us, or none of us."

you couldn't find it in yourself to complain, especially not when the three of them turned out to be good friends. once you got used to the flirting, gojo was kind and funny, always knowing how to cheer you up. shoko was as blunt and honest as ever, and with her help, you were able to raise your grade in the classes the two of you shared.

geto was a different story. unlike gojo, he had never flirted with you after that night at the party, and you couldn't help but feel a little disappointed about it as you spent more time with him.

no one knew how, but you and geto quickly became study buddies. he was more serious than gojo, helping you stay focused, but less strict than shoko, who liked to use tough love to help you retain information. the two of you spent many afternoons at the library, sometimes joined by shoko or gojo, but mostly alone.

you quickly learned that geto was smart, almost frighteningly so, and he had a natural talent for teaching. his voice was soft and pleasant, his tone patient as you asked him to explain concepts you couldn't quite grasp. your study sessions usually ended in dinners together, grabbing whatever you could get from the university's food court.

he was also caring, always making sure to walk you home if your studying ran late. this often resulted in teasing looks from gojo, a pout on his face as he made kissy noises whenever the two of you would leave him behind. he always made sure you walked on the inner side of the sidewalk and he wouldn't leave you alone until he was sure your door was locked, and as the days dragged on, you found yourself becoming more and more attracted to geto suguru.

"you don't get it!" you complained, flopping onto your bed as shoko flipped through a magazine. "he's so— ugh."

"so ugh?" shoko repeated teasingly, watching as you tilted your head back to look at her.

"shoko!" you whined, throwing an arm over your eyes as you huffed. "i thought he was just a flirt. i didn't know he was this charming."

"this is hilarious," shoko commented, ignoring your glare. "remember when you turned him down?"

"he just wanted to hook up," you murmured, sighing softly before sitting up. "now that i've gotten to know him, i'm thinking i should've said yes when i had the chance."

"and who says you don't have a chance now?"

"he doesn't flirt with me!" you exclaim. when you see shoko raise her eyebrow, you elaborate. "he was flirting that night at the party because he was interested. he doesn't say anything that even remotely implies his interest in me anymore. the only one who flirts is gojo!"

"oh, geto definitely has an interest," shoko muttered, earning a curious glance from you. "look, he gives you his favorite foods, tutors you, and even walks you home. i've never seen him do that for anyone else. he wont even tutor satoru! and that's his best friend. if anything, you caught his interest when you turned him down."

shoko's eyes widened in panic when you pouted sadly, your expression falling as you took in her words.

"so he's only interested in me because i'm a challenge?" you asked quietly, earning a frustrated sigh from shoko.

"yes," she answered, getting a sad look from you. "but not in the way you think. he's never had anyone turn him down before you. and then he got to know you and he liked you. i don't think he wants to 'just hook up with you'. he wants to be with you."

"but what if—"

"trust me on this," shoko interrupted. you bit your lip hesitantly before nodding your head. "i think you should start the flirting. if he sees you're interested, then he'll reciprocate. i'm sure of it."

iv.

you felt a vague sense of deja vu as you stepped into gojo and geto's shared house once again, loud music playing as you weaved your way through the crowd.

you were on high alert as you looked for shoko, yet you still jumped when you felt a heavy arm wrap around your shoulders.

"hey!" gojo shouted, leaning in close to make sure you heard him over the loud music. "when did you get here?"

"a minute ago," you responded flatly, the faint smell of alcohol filling your nostrils as gojo hugged you. he giggled softly and you rolled your eyes with a smile, knowing he was probably already tipsy.

"who are you looking for?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he gave you a sultry look. "suguru?"

"no!" you denied, feeling your cheeks grow warm at the name. you averted your gaze, missing the way gojo's smile grew at your reaction. he guided you through the crowd and into the kitchen, coming to a stop when you saw shoko and geto leaning against the fridge.

"look who i found!" gojo proclaimed, pushing you in front of shoko and geto. shoko crowed your name with a smile, and you smiled back at her before glancing at geto. you froze slightly when you saw the way his eyes were trailing over your figure, taking in your outfit before his eyes settled on your face. there was a lazy smirk on his face as he nodded his head at you.

"hey," he greeted, his normal volume almost quiet in the loud room.

"hi," you replied, earning a groan from shoko. she walked forward, grasping gojo's arm before tugging him away.

"we're going outside," she announced, frowning when a noise of protest left gojo's lips. she flicked his forehead before glancing at you and geto, and a look of understanding fell across his face before he shut his mouth and followed after her without hesitation.

"you know," geto started, sighing as gojo disappears from sight. "something tells me they're not going outside."

"i feel compelled to agree," you grumbled, earning a chuckle from geto.

"i didn't think you were gonna come," he commented casually, turning to face you as you grabbed a bottle of water.

"oh you know," you said, shrugging half-heartedly as you took a sip. geto's eyes focused on your lips. "i go out occasionally."

"occasionally? why? got an overprotective boyfriend or something?" geto asked, his tone teasing as he repeats the same words he spoke when you first met. you grinned in response, putting your water bottle down on the counter as you crept closer to him.

"no, more like an overly comfy bed," you responded, your heart racing when he leaned down.

"i'm sure mine is comfier. i can show you, if you'd like."

"i would," you said, biting your lip when geto’s eyes widened. he paused briefly before slipping his hand into yours, pulling you out of the kitchen.

neither one of you noticed the way gojo and shoko exchanged a smug look as he led you upstairs.

v.

all of those previous interactions with geto suguru culminated into the position you find yourself in now: in his bed.

a gasp leaves your lips as geto's hands trail underneath your shirt, pulling the fabric up and over your head with one hand as he fondles your breast with the other.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you give him a bruising kiss, feeling his hands slip behind your back to unhook your bra. a hiss leaves your lips as the cool air hits your nipples, and he immediately takes one into his mouth, warm tongue laving over your hardened nipple as you moan.

your hands tug at his shirt, and he separates himself from you briefly to take it off and toss it off to the side, his fingers immediately going down to his belt to undo it. your own hands tug at your pants, pulling your underwear along with it as you kick them off the bed.

geto freezes when he sees you sprawled on his bed, and he licks his lips before reaching our and grabbing your thighs, pulling you flush against his own before dipping a finger in between your folds.

"so wet and i haven't even touched you," he murmurs, enjoying the way you squirm at his touch. "all this for me?"

"yeah," you breathe, biting your lips when you notice geto's eyes darken. "all for you. i need you, geto."

"suguru," he corrects, fingers swirling around your clit as you gasp. "say it."

"need you, suguru," you whimper, watching him with rapt attention as he pumps himself a few times.

"are you sure?" he asks, watching the way you squeeze your eyes shut when the head of his cock brushes against your folds.

"i'm ready. i need you. i can take you."

geto breathes in sharply at your words, his eyes trained on your cunt as he pushes in slowly. you're perfect for him, your warm walls pulling him in as your face scrunches up with pleasure. a soft moan leaves your lips as he circles your clit, burying himself even further into you until his balls rest against your ass.

he remains still for a moment, getting used to feeling of you squeezing him until you start moving your hips against him.

"please move, suguru," you whine, your voice soft and needy in his ears.

"anything for you," he whispers, lowering himself down to kiss you as he intertwines a hand with yours. he swallows your moans as he pulls out, leaving only the tip in before thrusting into you at a harsher pace.

"feels good, suguru," you moan against his lips, your hand squeezing him as he picks up his pace.

"you feel so good, sweetheart," he whispers against your lips. "you're so tight. look at you, taking me so well."

you moan at his words, your cunt clenching around him as he praises you.

"been thinking about this since the night i met you," he confesses, burying his face into the crook of your neck. he lets go of your hand to grab your legs, placing them onto his shoulders as his thrusts get deeper. "i knew this pretty pussy would be perfect for me."

your hands grab at the bedsheets as he keeps a steady rhythms, and geto finds himself fascinated by the way your breasts bounce every time he thrusts into you. he watches as you arch after a particularly deep thrust, and he makes sure to repeat the motion, enjoying the way you mewl as he reaches the deepest parts inside of you.

"suguru!" you cry out, your legs trembling as his fingers tease your clit. "i-i'm close!"

"cum for me," he whispers, eyes focused on your face as you spasm around his cock. you moan softly as he keeps thrusting, helping you ride out your high before he pulls out. you're flipped onto your stomach before you can react, your legs trembling as you try to keep yourself up on all fours.

"do you think you can do that again for me, sweetheart," geto whispers into your ear, his lips trailing down the side of your neck as you nod. "lie down for me, yeah?"

you're squirming as you obey, your face down on the sheets as geto looms over you. his usual half-bun is messy and loose from your earlier tugging, and you can feel the long strands of silky hair tickling your shoulders. his hand feels heavy as it rests on the back of your neck, keeping you in place as the tip of his dick brushes against your clit. a breathy moan leaves your lips, and he smirks as he watches you, stilling momentarily before you feel the head of his cock prod at your folds once again.

you wiggle your hips in an effort to get him to move, whining softly as you try to turn back and look at him. he chuckles lowly, fingers brushing your hair away from your shoulder before he leans down to press a teasing kiss against it. he complies anyways, groaning as he sinks into you and enjoying the way your cunt seems to suck him in.

he wonders if you know that he could never possibly deny you anything.

"harder, suguru," you beg, clenching around him as he grinds into you. "please."

it isn't long until he gives in, rutting into you like it's the only thing he's good for, his balls slapping against your clit with each stroke and sending you into a state of frenzied euphoria. you can feel his hand pushing you down, your back arching obscenely as his other hand creeps between your thighs, skilled fingers expertly nudging at your clit.

"suguru, pleasepleaseplease," you gasp, wiggling your hips to try and get him to go faster. "more, please, i—"

geto knows. he knows exactly what your trying to tell him as he speeds up, the wet sounds of your cunt only spurring him on. there's a creamy ring at the base of his cock, and geto grabs at the fat of your ass in an attempt to stop himself from cumming right then and there.

"suguru!" you squeal, trembling underneath him. "i'm cumming!"

geto grins when you gush all over him, clear liquid spattering all over his abs and thighs, coating his dick and making it easier for him to slip in and out of you. he stills for a brief moment, a low grunt leaving him as he empties himself into you. you whimper softly when he pulls out, and he grabs your chin to tilt your face toward him, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips before leaning back.

"look at you, you did so good for me, gushing all prettily around my cock," he murmurs. he watches as you clench around nothing, his cum dripping down to your clit when you hear his words. he reaches forward to gather it all up, purposely teasing your clit to hear you moan once again.

he makes no complaint when you roll over and grab his hand, licking his fingers clean before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down onto you. the two of you exchange lazy kisses before he rolls over, pulling you onto his chest before giving you a soft look.

"i like you," he says quietly, squeezing your waist as he gives you another kiss. "you know that, right?"

"mhm," you mumble tiredly. "i kinda guessed."

you press another kiss to his lips before resting your head on his chest. "i like you too."

"good," he chuckles, burying his face into your hair. "we should probably get cleaned up."

"yeah," you agree, making no move to get up. the two of you lay in silence for a few minutes, almost drifting off to sleep before you hear a loud knock on the door.

"hey!" gojo's voice is loud through the door. "congrats on the sex!"

ty for reading <3 !!

[irndad]

kiss me (under the milky twilight)- s.r.

a/n: this took so long and i'm so sorry! based on this post- reader has an ex that she keeps running back to, and spencer just wants her to see him. fake dating and hijinks ensue. VERY long. 4.6k words!! thanks to @fadingplaidtrashpatrol for ur thoughts and ideas!! masterlist // ask

The unraveling begins on a Friday. 

This is one of the rare Fridays where a full weekend is staring back at them, and Spencer is immeasurably pleased at his plans. He’s rented a Russian old movie, and his best friend had agreed to sit next to him on his shitty old couch while he whispers translations in real-time.

He loves spending time with her, a little hedonistically. She’s so kind, warm in both spirit and disposition, and Spencer treasures the time he gets to spend with her. Her desk adjoins his, and so one might assume that he could tire of her presence, but there’s something a little addicting about her, something he tries to have as often as he can. 

On this fine evening, she’s wearing an oversized sweater tucked into jeans- her position is mainly out of the field, and so she takes full advantage of the dress-code flexibility. Lovely earrings hang around her face, adorning her lovely features like a frame. 

Spencer’s more than a little in love with her. 

This has never really been a convenient fact, but Spencer’s used to wanting things he can’t have. And it was never really feasible not to want her- anyone who’s ever been in her presence would know this. It’s a foreign feeling, looking over at someone he’s lucky enough to know, and wanting them enough for that desire to turn into fantasy. 

“Spencer!” She greets him warmly, standing up to do so- if this wasn’t a workplace, if she was meeting him at the cafe like they do on Wednesdays, or his home, like she often finds herself in whenever he invites her, Spencer is certain she would wrap her arms around him in an incredibly warm hug. 

Because they are in the BAU, she believes it is inappropriate to embrace this way (which Spencer would argue isn’t true, given the way Morgan and Penelope are with each other, but if he told her that, it might be a little too obvious how desperate he is for her to touch him.)

The way she beams at him almost makes up for the fact that he doesn’t get to hug her. 

“I got you something,” he says in lieu of a response, clutching the bag of muffins in one hand. He’d woken up early to get her to stop by her favorite bakery, and it was worth it to see that look on her face. No one’s in the office now, the day long finished, and they’re getting ready to walk to his place. He lives so close by, and he’s grateful for this fact when they walk together back to his place. 

She grabs the bag, and he’s just so endeared by her, the giddy expression written over her lovely face.

“Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I do. You need to marry me, immediately.” She says to him, eyes closed in bliss, and even though she’s clearly joking, Spencer finds himself preening at her praise- wouldn’t it be incredible if she meant that? It sounds so pretty in her voice. I love you. 

He beams back at her, in a way he hopes doesn’t betray how much he wants. 

“I’m glad you like them,” he says back, his heart in his throat. 

“I have some news that you are going to be incredibly mad at me about.” She says, and a crumb is on her painted lip, and fantasy of kisses that he cannot have enters Spencer’s mind before he can shake it away.

“I could never be mad at you.”

“I think I have to raincheck tonight,” she says almost sadly, her voice apologetic, as though she has no choice in the matter.

“Is everything okay?”

He had picked up her favorite snacks yesterday night, tidied up his apartment top to bottom. 

“Josh texted me- he’s going through something and he needs me to come over-“

“He doesn’t need you to come over.” 

He rarely interrupts her, and he usually isn’t capable of being upset with her. He’s not really even upset with her now, but this is so exhausting, watching her deal with this asshole. 

It is a continuous surprise to Spencer that someone like her can be in a position like this.

Through Spencer’s eyes, the idea that anyone can not be in love with her is almost an impossibility. It’s not even his bias alone that makes him think this- it’s the truth of her. 

Josh is an asshole finance bro who works in the city center, and Spencer hates him more than most serial killers. 

He’s fucking careless with the thing Spencer wants the most in the world. Josh knows what it’s like to be with her, to be the person to falls asleep with her in his arms.  

Sometimes when Spencer can’t sleep, which is quite often, he pictures her soft cheek on her chest, pictures what she would feel like entwined with his own body, legs tangled with his and her fingers in his hair. It’s a sacred thing, this image- even though it isn’t real, Spencer knows he values the imagination of her presence more than Josh gives his attention to the real thing. 

They’ve “gotten together” and “broken up” and “started talking again” about 12 times respectively.

Spencer could kill him.

“Spence,” she sighs, shaking him out of his angry stupor, “please don’t be mad at me. He’s really going through something right now- he needs someone to be around. Besides,” she breathes out, “I can’t dump him. 

“Why is that?” He tries to temper his tone, but the memory of her mascara running down her cheeks as she sobs in his arms shoots through his mind, and manifests as a physical sharp pain in his chest. 

“That wedding is coming up,” she murmurs, looking down at her shoes. They’re scuffed, and Spencer thinks she might be embarrassed. Why should she be? He’s the asshole. “I told people I was going to have a date. Do you know how many people are going to be there, Spence? How many people are expecting me to bring my boyfriend?”

Her best friend is getting married. Spencer knows this because she’s told him, and told him gleefully when Josh had agreed to go with her. Spencer remembers thinking that he’d like to punch a wall.

Anyway. 

She’s the last of her friend group that’s not in a long term relationship, and in some twisted way, he kind of gets how Josh would be better than nothing, if you didn’t want to be seen as alone. 

“You don’t want to go alone.”

“Yeah, Spence.”

“I could go with you.”

It escapes his mouth without his permission, and he regrets it almost instantly. Because there’s no fucking way she’d go with him. He’s lanky and awkward and his blazers never fit and his ties are always tied wrong, and she’s beautiful and wonderful in ways he finds new ways to see everyday. He’s not a solution to her being worried about how she’s seen, he’d only make it worse-

“You would do that for me?” Her voice is small as she asks, and it shakes him out of his thoughts. He looks down at her, eyes softening at her lovely face. She looks touched, and he has to wonder, doesn’t she know?

He’d do anything for her. 

“Of course,” he breathes out, a nervous hand playing with the strap of his bag, “If it gets you to stop giving that asshole the time of day, I’d do it a million times.”

Her face shifts in a way he can’t read, and she swallows. 

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I want to,” he says, “Please. It would be fun, C’mon. You’re always saying I need to get out there and do things.”

“Being my fake boyfriend at my friend’s wedding is not getting out there and doing things,” she pouts, and his heart nearly jumps. It’s pathetic, but hearing her refer to him as her any kind of boyfriend is intoxicating. He wants to hear it, over and over. 

“It’ll be fun,” he says, touching her hand as it rests on the table, making intentional eye contact. She has been prettiest eyes. “C’mon, let me do this for you. I’m sick of this guy.”

She gulps again, an endearingly confusing gesture, and he finds the feeling a little desperate. Pick me, choose to be with me, even if it’s just pretend. 

“He’s going to be there anyway,” she breathes out biting her lip in a nervous gesture, “I- I’d owe you so much, Spence. It would make him jealous, I think.”

It’s a little hedonistic, how much he would enjoy that, he thinks. Someone would see her as his girl. He knows she might be doing this to get Josh’s attention, but still- the evening together seems like too lovely of a thing to turn down- too wonderful of a chance to not offer. He’d take a night of pretend over never getting to be with her at all. 

It’s enough to make him ignore that making Josh jealous is probably the reason she’s saying yes. 

“Okay, okay! Spencer, will you do me the honor of taking me to Julie’s wedding?”

“I would be honored. 

The weeks approaching the wedding are a bit of sweet torture. She’d had the idea that they could practice, whatever that meant, and the memory of it lives in his mind rent free. They’d been watching the movie, already touchier than most would allow of best friends. (She’s his best, Spencer’s just the tiniest bit resentful of Julie). 

She’d been sitting next to him on his worn out couch, her legs thrown across his, and true to his word, he was whispering the translation along to the movie. She smiled at him, watching his mouth move instead of the movie, and he felt tingly under her stare. How wonderful and bright it is, to be under her gaze. He kept speaking even though she wasn’t watching, because he imagines that if he stops, she might look away. 

Then, she had held his hand. 

Grabbed it really, fingers lacing with his own, and Spencer’s brain had short circuited. She has soft hands, he had thought to himself, and it was about the only thing he could manage to think. 

“We should practice,” she had whispered, even though it was just the two of them in the lowlight of his home, “Y’know, so people believe us.”

He didn’t say that he’s pretty sure no one needed to be convinced he’s in love with her. 

“Sure,” he had nodded, and squeezed her hand, “I think that’s a great idea.”

So they’ve been practicing. 

This has been in equal measures wonderful and torturous. She walks with him to work on half the days, with her fingers twined with his own, and Spencer finds it intoxicating that any passerby would assume he belongs to her. 

More than he already does, anyway. 

Her affection is her own, just turned up to 11. She’s gorgeous- this is a fact that was not instrumental in his love of her, but ornamental- still, this is hard to ignore when she touches him as much as she does now. When she’s out with the team at the bar, she rests her hand on the small of his back- he preens every time at this. This is simple, her domesticity, her claiming his presence as her own- it’s more than nice, Spencer realizes. It’s wonderful, to be wanted by her. Even if it’s not real.

On this night, they’re celebrating. They caught the unsub before he’d been able to kill his first victim. This is a rarity in their field, and she’d given the interview that had gotten the confession. It’s the closest to field work she’d gotten, and they’re all celebrating their win. Her win. 

She looks like a figment of imagination, lovely in a way he literally cannot believe he didn’t conjure up in fantasy. Her favorite song is playing out of pure serendipity, and Spencer likes that word for her. She is serendipitous as a whole. 

“Do you want something to drink, honey?” The endearment feels warm and natural as it comes out of his mouth. His hand is resting on the small of her waist, and he knows he’s being egregious with the practice thing. But this is so nice, her leaning into him, one drink deep and touchier than she is tipsy, and he loves this. He loves that under this pretense, he gets to know what she feels like in his arms. 

He hands her the water before she gets to answer, and she happily sips it. 

“Are you proud of me, Spence?” Her voice is immeasurably fond and he drinks it in like a man starved. 

“Of course,” he smiles at her. I’m always proud of you, he thinks. “You did so well, love.”

He’s not used to endearments, but she showers him in them. Before their little pretending, too. Called him dove, honey, darling. Packed an emergency lunch in his go bag in case he forgot his. She’s such a good friend, and he wants to be her lover more with each breath. 

He tries to return them, now. 

“Good,” she says serenely, looking at him in a way that kills him, because he will never, ever kiss her. She can hold him, and look at him like that, and he will never get to be with her, “I think my cider is too sour,” she scrunches her nose, and his heart swoops. 

“I’ll get you something sweeter, baby.”

“Yeah you will!” He hears Morgan laugh, and he flushes bright red. No one seems surprised, by how touchy they’d been. Even Hotch- he’d expected a talk, but then got a stern nod of understanding in its stead. 

She sips the sweet drink he got her, a little cherry on the step, and he thinks he’d do anything to keep looking at her. 

Five weeks to the wedding. 

He can do this. 

“Could you do me a favor, Garcia? I come bearing gifts.” 

Spencer’s snuck into her office- there’s not much to do today, but she hadn’t wanted to take PTO for no reason, so here she is, in her feathered and pink glory. 

“Is that a hot chocolate? From Dominicks? Ooh, you play dirty, Dr. Reid.” Penelope almost squeals, and despite his nefarious purposes, he finds himself joyful- it’s alwaysgood to talk to her. 

After a joyful, eyes closed and serene sip, she asks, “Alright, my sweet furry friend, what can I do for you?”

“Could you check on a Josh Collins for me?”

“Isn’t that your girl’s ex?”

“No,” Heat rises to his cheeks, before he can help it. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, and my favorite color is black.” Penelope scoffs back, but begins typing furiously anyway. 

He needs to know what is so fascinating about this guy. Because lately he can’t figure it out. He’s always fucking hated the guy, even though he’s never met him. He never had to- she’d shown up enough times at Spencer’s door crying, been broken up with and brought back enough to know that this guy is awful. Doesn’t even come close to deserving the woman that she is. 

“He’s a financial analyst at a Marketing firm, went to state school for his Bachelor’s, says here that he played football in college, but I don’t think they met until after,” she says, “Oh, he has a scuba license. And skydiving! Looks like he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

It’s an evil thought. Is that what she likes? He finds it hard to imagine, picturing the moments where she’s wrapped up in his arms on a movie night- that always seemed to be her preference. In, not out. 

“Is that him?”

There’s a picture of him on Penelope’s screen. Josh is chiseled and strong, smiling brightly in a polo on a jet ski- this is a photo posted on his social media, and Spencer has met a million of this guy. They bullied him in school. Spencer as genius and he’s a lot of things, but that will never be one of them. It’ll never, ever be him. 

Good to know, anyway. Better not to fantasize about what he knows he can’t have. 

On the day of the wedding, it’s actually a 6 hour drive. She’d offered to get them plane tickets, but he enjoyed his time with her. He was also desperate to extend the time until the wedding was over, and she’s probably the only person he wants to be trapped in a car with. 

They’re sharing a hotel room. She’s booked two beds, which he’s honestly grateful for- if they’d shared a bed, he might’ve combusted. 

Still, there is so much intimacy. She sings in the shower. He imagines a world where he’d know that in domesticity, where after a night spent in laughter and something like love, she showered in his home. But that’s not how he knows it. He knows it because he’s at her best friend’s wedding, pretending to be her boyfriend. 

When she comes out of her bedroom, she’s gorgeous. 

She’s got a green and purple dress on, a cinched waist and a sweetheart neck, a dash of plum lipstick on her lovely pout, and he’d like to kiss that smile very, very much. She’s a delicate kind of lovely, saturated in sweetness, and it’s sweet torture to have her this close.

“You look...” He struggles to find words, an uncommon occurrence in his life, “Like a vision.”

It’s sentimental and warmer than he wished he sounded, but god- she’s stunning. She looks like she’s made of old film, beautiful in that way that’s just a bit too good to be true. He adores her more with each breath.

“You think it’s okay?” She speaks to him with her doe eyes adorned with a concerned expression. He wants to kiss it away.

“You look lovely,” he says, a vast underselling.

The ceremony is a lovely affair, and Spencer learns that she cries at weddings. The bride and groom have lovely, saccharine vows, and Spencer tries not to picture a wedding that he will never get to have. 

It’s a little bit impossible with her at his side. 

She’s touchier now, even mores then when they were ‘practicing’. Her hands are warm laced with his own, her head leaning on his shoulder, and he feels lucky to have even a piece of getting to be with her. 

At the reception, she is tackled by her friends, and he performs dutifully as the caring boyfriend. It’s not hard.

It’s a lovely night. His arms glued to the small of her waist, and he’s been introduced as her “genius FBI agent boyfriend” many times tonight. He turns bright red every time. 

“This is my boyfriend, he’s the smartest ever,” she brags when she’s half a drink deep, and he cherishes the ability to draw circles on the small of her back in this moment- his words fail him in moments of praise, and touch is an avenue that he is rarely allowed to use.

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified-“

“Which is a thing that humble geniuses say.” 

So he’s having a great tine. 

Her lipstick is transfer-free, and his cheek is proof. She’s so affectionate his heart keeps doing somersaults. There’s a signature cocktail with some pun in the couples name.

“I’m fucking obsessed with these, Spence,” she says, a light airiness to her voice that he recognizes as her tipsy voice, “Can you get me another, my love?”

“Yes, honey.” He smiles at her, and kisses the crown of her hair before leaving her in the company of her friends. He’s indulging a bit too much, he’s aware. He’s going to have to give up this up when the sun rises, like some fucked up fairytale where Cinderella never gets the guy because she’s not worthy of it without the pretense.

“Could I get the house cocktail?” Spencer asks the bartender, flashing a smile at her with the giddiness of knowing he will return to her.

Spencer had nearly forgotten that part of the reason he was here was because of Josh. 

Who is at the bar.

“Hey man- you’re the dude she brought, right?” 

Josh is actually about 2 inches shorter than Spencer, and Spencer makes the most of this difference. He’s a broad chested muscle man, but he looks woefully underwhelming. 

“Yeah, I’m the lucky guy.” Spencer replies in a deadpan tone, turning to face him with a stony expression. 

“Careful, man,” Josh says, and it’s a little pathetic how he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t care, “She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Really? Because it seems like you’d leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s clear that she just brought someone to make me jealous.”

“Actually, while I can’t read her mind, I imagine you’ve slipped hers entirely. Clearly your entire energy is based in whatever ego-driven shell your youth has shaped you into- and maybe one day someone will care enough about whatever tragedy made you the way you are, but I am deeply uninterested, and I’d wager she is too.”

He’s not sure if this is true, but Spencer’s noticed that in the time since their ruse has begun she hasn’t mentioned Josh. Not once. She might not love Spencer,  but she might not see Josh anymore. 

“Also, if you ever speak disrespectfully of my girlfriend again I promise you it will not end well for you.”

His voice is even and has an underlaying of quiet rage. It’s wonderful to call her that, even more so as she enters into his eye line.

“You looked mad,” she says in lieu of a greeting, her nimble arms wrapping around his waist with fluid ease, “Is everything okay?” 

It’s only then she sees Josh, and there’s something wonderful about knowing that she came here to check on him. Josh is about to say something, he can tell even though he’s only visible in the corner of his vision. 

It’s a calculated risk but he chooses to do it anyway. 

When he kisses her, he doesn’t know what to expect. It falls into line like puzzles into place, one of her hands falling to his waist and the other cradling his jaw with a delicate softness. She leans into him totally and this is an intoxicating feeling- her lips are so, so soft and it’s what he’s been fantasizing about since she first smiled at him and asked him to keep going when he was rambling about Russian literature. 

It’s actually better. 

When she pulls back, she scans the space. Josh is gone.

“Well that had the intended effect,” he says- it seems better than anything else, like confessing that the only reason he did it was that he could. He kissed her. 

She nods, clearly a bit frazzled, and fuck-

“I should have asked, fuck, I’m sorry-“

“No, no, you’re okay, um-thanks for getting rid of him.”

Her voice is hollow. 

Despite the awkwardness of the kiss, which Spencer cannot stop thinking about.

Did he imagine it, or did she lean in? Did she sigh into it? How is he going to ever get over the fact that he’s never going to do that again?

Her lipstick is grape flavored. Now they both know that. 

They get back to the hotel at half past midnight, and she’d been a little distanced- not so much they still didn’t look like a couple, but enough that Spencer knows. They’re winding down the artificial love affair, and all of the things he’s become kind of addicted to are going to go away. Her fingers running through the tendrils of his hair, her delicate fingers rubbing tiger balm on his temples when he’s got his migraines. Her cheek kisses, the honeys, my loves, sweethearts. 

Kissing her. 

When she drops her bag on the hotel bed and sits on the edge of it, he sits next to her. She’s been quieter, since the kiss. 

“Hey.”

“Hey back,” she replies, bumping her knee with his in fondness. 

“I’m sorry I surprised you with, you know.”

“Kissing me?”

“I should have asked- I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset that you kissed me,” she says, looking down at her shoes, “I’m upset that you only did it because you wanted to spite Josh.”

“What?”

“I know that this is my problem, Spence,” she says, “You never… led me on, you know? I know that this was always my thing to deal with. Being in love with you was never something that I thought would be a problem. But when you offered to go with me- to pretend to be my boyfriend, how could I pass that up?”

This makes no sense.

“I know,” she runs her fingers through her hair in a frustrated motion, “I know that it was never a good idea. But the idea of getting to be with you was just too much to turn down, even it it wasn’t the real thing. And now we’re going back to normal and I promise that I will go back to being your friend. It might take me a second, though-I might need some space.”

She needs space from him? Because she can’t transition away from being his fake girlfriend?

“You don’t need space from me.”

He’s so fucking bad at talking. 

“Spencer-“

“No, no,” because now he has a shot- now  there’s a reality where the pit in his chest doesn’t have to live there forever. He can be with her. Because for some crazy, insane reason, she wants him. “You don’t need space from because I don’t want space from you, okay?”

He sits next to her on the bed, eyes a little crazed with want with nowhere to go. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Her voice is tempered, and he thinks he hears hope. 

“I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve been in love with you as long as I’ve known you,” he grabs her hand-it feels desperate to say and he sure he sounds it, “I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to spite him. I did it because I couldn’t live with the idea that I would spend the rest of my life never have kissed you.”

He probably would say more- so many things are coming to mind, most of which are pleading. She’s the only thing he’s ever wanted this much. Before he gets to, though, she kisses him. 

It’s sudden, as all things of this nature are, but he pulls her close on instinct. She ends up on his lap, her hands around his neck, and it is so rare that fantasy lives up to reality. But this is better, the feeling of the weight of her pressed against him and the taste of her grape lipstick. 

It’s a minute when she pulls back, and it takes everything to not chase the contact.

“I love you too,” she says, the sweetness of it dripping from the sound of it. He wants to hear it again, and again, and again.

“For real?”

“For real.” 

When the run rises in the morning that follows, he’s wrapped around the length of her like a vice, right and close to him, Her head rests on his chest, and while there is another bed there, it’s clearly not seeing any use.

He’s never slept better in his life. 

[number44newseries864962]

Need to rant for a minute because even though I have very much been enjoying the fruits of my efforts learning how to sew vintage style clothes, I just swapped out old fatphobia (nice plus size vintage clothes never making it to stores) for new fatphobia (trying to find patterns). Cause it doesn't end at what clothes you're able to buy already made.

I finally bought a Friday Pattern Company pattern the other day, and man it made the bare minimum feel like I was being spoiled. The sizes go up to 7X (that's XL, XXL, 1X, 2X, etc, so there's 9 sizes above L) they had a thin and a fat model on the cover! Usually I'm barely lucky enough to get an XL, and I'm just expected to guess how it's going to look on my body. The majority of their patterns have two differently sized models on the covers, and all of them have that full range of patterns inside.

It is so hard to find good plus size patterns, even if they're available, many companies just scale up their mediums and I can't guarantee they're actually sized correctly for a different shape. As good as Friday is, them and other modern indie pattern companies aren't easy to find.

Okay well what if I went another step deeper, what if I forgo patterns all together and decide to be completely independent and draft things myself?

Then I'll need a plus size dress form. I got lucky and found one at an antique mall for 50$ but these are incredibly rare and more expensive than smaller ones. I'll need to learn how to draft patterns, something that was taught to me on a XS form by my college and nearly every tutorial out there. Drafting close fitting clothes for fat bodies is a completely different skillset, because all that extra fat is much squishier and shifts more. Measuring yourself correctly and getting the shape you're looking for is far more important. Before I even got there I'd need to sketch out what I wanted to make, right? Well the patterning book my family got me only shows you how to draw tall, skinny people. A beginner would have to look up their own drawing references and tutorials because what what supposed to be a super accessible beginner's guide to fashion has decided their body isn't normal enough for the baseline tutorial.

We're expected to be the ones who put in the extra effort. Digging to find the pattern companies that fit our shape and actually prove they can, paying extra in shipping or driving farther to pick them up. Having to search specifically for plus size tutorials for drafting and sketching. It's always treated like it's not part of the beginner's experience to be working with a fat body, that's just going to make people more frustrated and lost and less likely to pursue something they're excited about! Especially if it's in response to already being frustrated about the lack of clothing options.

We need a little positivity to this post so to end on a high note, here's me modeling the blazer I just finished with a shirt I made a couple years ago!

Being able to finally wear clothes I really feel like me in has been an amazing confidence boost. It's not fair that there's so many roadblocks in the way for someone who looks like me who just wants to wear things they enjoy.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 15/Final

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, blood/violence, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: thank you all for coming along for this ride <3

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You slow as your lungs scald. You heave and bend over, unlooping the forgotten rope from around your neck. You're lucky it hasn't caught around anything.

You dizzily stumble around and hide it in the brush. If he's following, you can't leave any sign. Your mouth is full of saliva as your throat is scratchy and dry. You can't remember the last time you ran like that.

You keep moving. Even if you can't run, you have to keep moving. Sy will be after you. You got him deep but not deep enough.

If only you could have gotten him further over, right in the middle, maybe you could've killed him. The thought doesn't chill you, only your apathy to it. That's another thing he took from you. Your compassion, your trust, your naivete.

You trip and slide down an incline. At the bottom, sticks jab into your skin. You fix the shirt around you. The two buttons you managed to hook are loose. Your had bobbles as you blink and crawl over the ground.

You stand up and look along the curling road. Not a real one, not paved, but two dusty lines worn into the ground from the roll of tires. You turn toward the moon and start to walk.

As the adrenaline calms to a baseline thrum, your heartbeat slows enough to think. What do you do? Sy's a soldier, you're sure he's trained to survive, to find people. You're not trained for anything. And you're almost naked.

You wince as you step on a sharp stone. You hear something. A strange but familiar noise distorted by your ringing ears. You turn as a light flashes in your direction.

You dodge out of the way as you think it's him at first. But then the light splits and becomes two. It's not a flashlight, it's headlights. You hop back into the tire tracks and wave your arms.

"Hey, hey! I'm here! I'm here!" You holler and stagger.

You stare down the truck, certain it's going to run you over, then the brakes squeal to a stop. You gape at the driver as you see his shadow lean over the wheel. You can't move.

He opens his door and gets out. He strides along the hood as he sniffs, "now what're you doing all the way out here?"

You should probably wonder the same of him but all you know is you need to get away. You sputter and show your hands. "Please, I need help. Please. There's someone after me. He hurt me--"

"Who?"

"Just... this guy. Please, there's no time."

"Heh, you're telling me this isn't a trick," he scoffs and turns away, stomping up to his car door. "I know the type, you distract me and--"

He croaks and wheezes and you hear the new sound, the one you hadn't heard before that night. The noise of metal in flesh, squelching and stabbing deep. The man's body is hurled away, revealing the hulking shadow with the knife still in hand.

Your lip trembles as Sy bares down on you. His arm is soaked in his own blood, his hand in that of the man who's on the ground moaning. You take a step back, keeping your hands up.

"Sy, please, I'm sorry. I was... I was scared, please," you beg.

His breath grits in his throat like a growl, his chest rising and falling heavily as he advances on you. His eyes are pool of shadow as the moonlight gleams on the blood the slickens his flesh. He's naked, shameless, mindless. He only has one end. Yours.

You want to look around for something, anything, to get away, but you can't take your eyes off of him.

"I love you, sugar," he snarls as he gets closer and you take a pace back for everyone one of his. "How could you do this to me? I been good to you." He grips the knife tighter and his shoulders puff up. "I don't wanna do it..." he grits. "I DON'T WANNA DO IT!'

His holler echoes through the trees and leaves rustle as night birds scatter. Your heart seizes and your muscles buzz. The world narrows to just that moment, that road, and you see the dead end before you. This is it. It's over. You tried and it didn't work. He's going to kill you.

He growls again and adjusts his grip on the knife. He lunges forward and in an instant, he's hurtling sideways. He grunts as he lands in the dirt, the knife flying into the unseen brush. The snapping and snarling intermingles with Sy's yelps and grunts as you watch the dog's silhouette tear at her owner.

"Aika! Ahh!" Sy furiously tries to shield himself and she latches onto his hand. He garbles and growls as he struggles with the canine.

You don't think. You just move. You go to the truck and hop in the driver seat. The engine's still going.

You hear that man on the ground. He's gurgling. He's alive. It's not fair to leave him. He wasn't going to help you...

No, no. Sy didn't take all of you.

You get out and go to the man. He's not very big. Spindly with a bit of a pooch.

"Hey," you hiss. "Can you get up?"

He gives wet breaths and groans. He reaches for you. You plant your feet as you hook his arm around your neck. You haul him up, barely, and stagger with him toward the truck. He gets himself up into the front seat and you shove him across and follow him in.

You hear a yelp and the sound of paws scattering. You slam the door shut and hit the gas. The truck hurtles forward and you don't look back. If he's still alive, you don't want to know. You just want to get out of here. You want to be gone.

💮

The bright lights blind you as a figure blurs before you. The thumb tugs at your eyelid as the glow makes your eye water. The hand lets you go and the doctor comes into focus.

"Shock," he declares as you sit on the high hospital bed, still only in the dirty flannel shirt. "Nurse."

A woman in teal scrubs comes over and drapes a backless gown over you. Your legs dangle over the edge as you stare. They stare at you then the man in his white coat scribbles on the chart.

"She'll be fine. Not sure about the man."

The doctor leaves and the nurse eases you back to lay across the bed. You let her. She pulls the coverlet over you and her voice fogs in your ears. she points to a red string. She leaves with a hollow breath.

The walls become clearer, and the single window, the curtain beside the bed, and the shining sink faucet, dripping into the deep sink. The tempo keeps you from slipping.

The room darkens as the nurse comes back. She flips the overhead light but a lamp remains on near the bed. You rub your thumbs against your index. Someone tried to wash the blood off your hands. You can still smell the iron.

The morning rises and with it, the world settles back in around you. You take a breath as it washes over you. Is he gone? Or is he waiting right outside those doors?

Your hands rest over your stomach. You feel him inside of you. The way he tore at you, stretched you, tortured you!

You hope Aika got him good. You hope she killed him. That he bled out in the dirt.

Your eyes glaze with tears. A knock comes at the door. You don't react. It opens.

The nurse enters, a man in a dark uniform behind her. "Hon, the police wanna talk now."

You blink at the man. His face tenses. He looks at your hand and your blood-stained nail beds.

"You still got the cloths from that?" He asks the nurse. She points to the bin hooked from the end of the bed. He nods. He focuses on you and takes out a notepad. "Miss, we gotta ask you some questions."

"My computer. Check my computer," you say. You shudder and hang your head. "It's how he found me."

"One thing at a time," the officer says. "Last night. Talk about that first."

You take a deep breath then snivel. Your eyes sting and your cheeks pinch. If they're asking, you don't think they found him...

💮

Life is simpler now.

It's just you. It was before, but now for real. Just you and your books. You and the market stalls, the people, face-to-face. No more online shadows, no virtual wraiths to haunt you. This world is real. This world is only what's around you.

And Della. The golden labrador with her goofy expressions and soft coat. She's more than just a cuddlebug, more than your friend, she's your protection. The monster taught you more than he meant to. He taught you that you need to be vigilant. That it's good to have a loyal ally.

As sweet as the dog can be, she's not all soft fur and slobbery kisses. When someone gets to close to you, her head goes down. When she hears something odd, she growls. She's friendly on the outside but cautious on the inside. Like you.

You take her to the pier to paint or draw. You no longer sell online. You don't do anything online. You don't even have a phone.

That day, the dawn sky is a lazy shade of lavender dusted above cornflower and puffs of cloud. You carefully recreate the scene in watercolour, your easel set up in the sand. You never lived by the water before. The city was suffocating. This is airier.

In a way, it reminds you of that fateful day. Of him. Of that life he'd dreamt up in his twisted mind. But when you think of him, you push it away.

You're free of him and you're going to stay that way. He doesn't get any more of you. Not your fear, not your thoughts, not your grief.

They never did find him. After all the reports, the questions, the doctors, nurses, and officers, you stopped wondering. You read the short article on the discovery of a man and woman in a truck after an alleged attack at the beach, but it was so vague, it sounded skeptical. You're not sure anyone cared. The man who stopped, recovered, and wanted nothing to do with you. You didn't have much affinity for him either.

Maybe you're colder now. Maybe more distant. Wary. Wise? Some might call it that.

Three years ago, you started your page. To document your life, your existence, your thoughts. You did it to keep yourself from fading into nothing. To feel a little less alone. Now, you don't mind being alone.

You think about it. What use is it being a footnote on the internet? When you were in danger, no one cared. No one noticed. The only person who ever noticed you, well...

You sigh and step back to compare the sky to the painting. The sun's moved since you started. That's okay. The colours are close. The way the clouds curl is just so whimsical.

Della gets up and stretches, before makings circles on her blanket and flopping back down. She rolls so you can see her stomach. She wants attention.

You set down the brush and wipe your hands on the rag tucked into your belt. You go to her and squat down, scratching her belly as she wriggles and groans in delight. Her tongue lolls out and you chuckle.

In the end, you did get what you wanted. Not exactly happiness, but freedom. You have your art, you have a booth down in the town centre, you have Della, and you have the lake. It's all you can ask for and as much as you can handle.

Most importantly, it's yours and no one else's. You answer to no one and you belong to no one. You are no one and that's just fine.

[thewalrusespublicist]

Paul and Linda Interview from Hellllllll

@slenderfire-blog as the patron saint of good sources sent me this interview and I thought I would write it up as it gives a worrying insight into the famed idyllic marriage and Paul’s mental state at the time.

Reader, it was not idyllic and he was not doing well.

Disclaimer: For context, this interview is in his Broadstreet era aka the grief/midlife crisis/I cant have a meltdown if I’m making a film period. I fully believe that Paul was having an extended emotional crisis/breakdown post John's death/successive unresolved and badly handled traumas. (As I was saying to @slenderfire-blog, let's just say if he feels like crying every damn day about John in 2021, imagine how it was in 1985.) So yeah Paul is having a time and I look forward to McCartney Vol 3. for potential confirmation and illumination on this.

At the same time JESUS FUCK PAUL THIS IS TERRIBLE.

Like so bad, bad to the point I now feel like contemporaneous Peter Cox account is 1000% more credible as this is essentially the PR version of what he said. So let's get into the greatest hits:

The happy, definitely-not-in-trouble couple

They do seem to adore each others company, be locked in with each other and Paul does rely on her a lot for support and approval:

As they talk, Paul constantly squeezes Linda’s arm reassuringly, strokes her hand or looks to her for approval or agreement whenever he makes a point. The two are inclined to talk at once or to finish each other’s sentences. At times, the link is so tight, they seem almost like different aspects of one person.

Though at the same time they both describe the relationship as 'rather volatile' and full of arguments where they go and sulk in different rooms. They lightly play it off but then Linda says a bit too seriously that shes usually the one who gives in first :/.

Paul built the house they live in and are sort of obsessed with cosplaying living the 'peasant' lifestyle with no help save one housekeeper Rose who is from Paul's bachelor days and the occasional babysitter (as far as I'm aware this is true).

The marrying thing in 68 was so intense he even asked lil HEATHER to marry him what the hellllll (of course he wasn't serious but it does feel like another way of indirectly pressuring Linda to commit). He also kept asking Linda until she gave in.

Random swipe in the baby name department at Zowie Bowie, lmao not friends with the Bowies then (good thing Duncan Jones happens to agree).

They romanticise the bickering and volatility as being like passionate young lovers

“My parents were married for 25 years and they were like young lovers,” says Linda. “Paul’s parents were the same. If you’re lucky, you get that in life. You see, those are the kinds of things that matter to me—not the diamond necklace.”

Paul:

Paul is clearly not okay and seems to be regressing by trying to recapture his childhood through his current situation. Throughout the interview Paul keeps going back to his parents marriage and his childhood as the ideal frame of reference. This is pretty standard but Paul takes it to the extreme of this meaning no friends, family only and the wife do all of the labour.

This (save the misogyny) is a far cry from his 60s revolutionary kick but I can see how this happened in the wake of the Beatles split, the trauma and complex grief from John's death and the press. In response and defense to the criticism and hurt, Paul seems to have retreated wholly within himself and his family sphere and is coercing Linda into fulfilling the role of the wife within that. Take for example, his portrayal of the housework and why Linda should like to do it:

“Linda really doesn’t like housework,” Paul explains, “because when she grew up, her family had maids and she wasn’t taught to do anything. But it’s something I’ve tried to tell Linda about because in the kind of family I’m from, housework is considered a pleasure—the smell of ironing and the laundry. Where I’m from, once a week, the women would sort of get the laundry out and smell the washing and feel it and see it and iron it all, and they’d be chatting or listening to the radio. It was like a peasant thing. It was an event, like treading on the grapes.

It's bonkers and infuriating and at first I was like I DONT KNOW PAUL IF YOU WANT THE PLEASURE OF SMELLING DETERGENT SO BAD YOU CAN DO THE BLOODY LAUNDRY. But then you realise how Paul connects it with comfort, especially with comfort after a bereavement:

“Growing up in Liverpool, that was always there for me. Even after my mum died, my aunties came around religiously every week and cooked and cleaned the house and did the laundry and provided that kind of atmosphere for us.”

It's romanticising the poverty he grew up in but also signifies to me how much it's a coping mechanism. He wants Linda to do the laundry and have that idealised maternal domestic atmosphere as in his head if you have that then you can carry on even in the face of cataclysmic loss.

Denny Lane's comments about Linda being like a mother to Paul feel really pertinent here. Reading all this has kind of reinforced to me this idea I've had for a while that Linda's maternal attributes was one of the foundational pillars of Paul's attraction to her and an essential part of their marriage. In another interview I'll post another time, he says they never went on holiday without the kids, with them taking tiny Heather on their honeymoon. It wasn't just tours, the kids really did go everywhere with them when they could and they made sure the children's bedrooms were just next door to theirs so they could be there all the time. It's great, wonderful parenting but also with the genesis of their relationship it's really hard not to see Linda and the promised family as the replacement to fill the hole from the Beatles. Not saying that he didn't go on to adore them and them be the pinnacle joy of his life but yh ... once you see it it's hard not to unsee. (Also the thing I've always been too scared to say/wild speculation again I don't know these people ... but I think they would have always had these problems until Paul actually reckoned with his mothers death/other traumas.)

Thinking about it all as well, it must be so hard to essentially cosplay the culture and background you grew up in with wealth and class separating you from everything you used to intimately know

Aggressive optimist Paul telling a very different story here (is he more honest here, more depressed, or maybe somewhere in the middle?)

“I’ve got all these contingency plans. I tend to look at the worst side of things. I’ll say, ‘If they turn us down, we’re going to do this.’ If anything hurts me, I want to fight it—so it doesn’t hurt me again.”

Nothing to add just ... ouch.

Reinforcement of John refusing to let Paul hold Sean because Paul 'didn't know him' ... which yh that is some bullshit its a baby. Paul goes onto mention how John wasn't great with babies as he had no experience whilst he had and somehow makes it borderline a competition lmao.

HALFWAY THROUGH I REALISED THIS WAS THE INFAMOUS PLAYGIRL 'JOHN SAID JEALOUS GUY WAS ABOUT ME' INTERVIEW. I NEVER REALISED LINDA WAS THERE.

Not him essentially saying 'in hindsight maybe Linda needed a lot of lessons' for Wings and admitting he just wanted her there. They both seem to accept it as something that wasn't fair to expect of Linda with no training.

He does this embarrassed little giggle like 'oh I may be a chauvinist YES YES YOU ARE SORT YOURSELF OUT.

Linda ohh my GOD Linda girl

She has rings around her eyes from exhaustion

Gets up at 7am to do the breakfast every morning despite going to bed late

Said she didn’t want to get married again initially as she had been controlled by men all her life until then

Says her kids are her best friends and that she never had a friend until she moved to Arizona later on (this is interesting to me that both Paul and Linda both saw themselves as 'loners' in childhood even though interviews from people in Paul's childhood repeat that he was popular. Maybe this was a narrative in their marriage or maybe Paul always felt internally lonely).

Qualifier here: I also don't think the best friend thing is true, there are a few people that pop up over the years who say they were very close to Linda and one did a lovely interview with Paul post Linda's death. I think the whole 'family is all you need schtick was part cope and part PR.

From apparent tradition Paul says that he doesen't tell her how much he's worth and their money situation as 'his dad didn't tell his mum' (even though his mum was integral to financially supporting the family may I remind you Paul). Linda girl listen I can make you happy I can give you a good life and treat you to nice things come with me Linda-

Theres one point where Linda PANICS because Paul mentions the supposed socialist uprising potentially taking all their money because HE WON'T TELL HER WHAT THE FINANCIALS LOOK LIKE. THIS FUCKER (also socialists Paul you're a northern liberal get a grip you class traitor)

They both romanticise living frugally with Linda not buying any nice fancy things ... its hard not to remember Peter Cox's account of Linda asking to borrow money when reading this :(((((

Linda's idea of a luxury holiday is not having to cook and clean and she can have fun :( Paul then interjects with 'yh that's great for a bit but not all the time as isn't it nice to have the family all in the kitchen!!' I'm sure Linda would agree if you actually helped Paul.

In summation: he needs help and a slap, she deserves a statue but would probably prefer a sit-down. Thank god there’s a lot to suggest that Paul has improved massively when it comes to his view on women and labour (wouldn’t have married a working businesswoman if they hadn’t) but this is still a difficult window into how things were in the 80s and the life that campaigners like Yoko were fighting against.

[daenysx]

you KNOW what i'm going to ask for............... (probably not but anyways :•) )

can i get one sleepy sirius? unless you're not feeling like it, could i request a domestic intimacy drabble with him looking very pretty as usual?

ALSO, can we gossip abt your crush???? i need all the juicy details of this lucky individual

i knew it, angel!! i hope you enjoy- and also of course we can gossip about him, he's literally consuming my mind these days (all i can say in this post is that he kinda looks like ben barnes and he's so tall, i'm fucked)

-send me drabble requests!

sirius black x fem!reader, fluff

"Oh, fuck," Sirius groans next to you. What time is it, and why is he awake before you? Something terrible must have happened. You blink your eyes open to clouds filling the room's air with grey and blurry. Sirius mumbles a few words, his hand in his hair.

"What's wrong?" you ask, unable to find your voice. "Are you okay?"

He turns in bed, his eyes are almost closed, and he's frowning. It's so early to frown, you think, already dreaming of your morning coffee. Sirius' arm, the one he currently wraps around your waist begs to differ, though.

"I put my head wrong on the pillow and my hair's ruined," he murmurs. "Look, no waves. It doesn't feel soft at all."

So sleepy and yet he worries over his hair. In your defense, his deep black locks look the same every morning, you don't know why he decided to be upset over it today.

"You haven't even looked at the mirror." you say.

"I don't need to, lovely, I can feel it just fine."

You're silently asking for him to fall back asleep. Just for a few hours more.

"Baby, it looks okay," you tell him, snuggling into his bare chest. "You can always fix it the way you want, right?"

Sirius takes pity on your sweet words, you tangle your legs with his and kiss his shoulder. He rubs a big hand on your hip as a response.

"It's frustrating, waking up like this after having shower," he murmurs with a hazy voice. He stretches slowly and settles down again in the warm sheets.

"You look perfect."

"Thank you, my angel, it was my intention to hear this all along."

Sirius loves sleeping. He loves how you sound when you get closer to him, how your fingers seek his chest to keep them on his heart. He loves the moment before falling asleep, almost unconscious, but still feeling you in his arms. It's like a practiced performance, a routine he adores. He kisses your collarbone lazily, mouth gentle and warm against your skin. Your breaths tickle his neck, he cups the back of your head to pull you even closer.

"What time is it?" you ask. "Do we have to wake up?"

To be honest, he doesn't know the time, has no idea about it really. Guessing is an easy process, though, urging you to sleep in his arms is even easier. "I don't think so," he replies with confidence. "Go back to sleep."

You do as he says in a few seconds, your head tucked in his shoulder nicely. His fingers wander on your back to keep you there, your lips are faint against his neck. "I meant it," you say, words slipping away. "You're so pretty."

It takes every bit of control in him, to not kiss you in a way that will wake you up. He sighs, a warm feeling spread on his chest, something soft crawling in his belly. You give away your affection like it's in your nature and Sirius is amazed every time. He presses his lips on your forehead, warm lips pulling you into a deeper slumber.

[pretty-circa006]

Dumb Little Slut

Negan x F! Reader

summary It was a stupid mistake, really, but she didn't think Negan would get this mad at her.

tags rough sex, boot worship, gagging, spanking, choking, unprotected p in v, creampie, squirting, crying and dacryphilia, degradation and name calling, mild dub-con

wc 1.3k

note i totally forgot i had an ao3 account where i uploaded this fic, so when i remembered, of course the first thing i did was cross post it here! fair warning, this is something i would consider dark.

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

With Lucille in hand, Negan sat at the head of the table surrounded by Saviors as he awaited an explanation as to why they only came back with less than half the stuff they were supposed to.

Simon sighed. "One of the workers forgot to close the back of the truck and most of the stuff fell out." 

"Ya couldn't go back and get it?" Negan questioned. 

"We didn't notice until we got back." Negan sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was beyond pissed. Even though The Saviors would be okay without it, he still hated that half his shit was out scattered on the roads somewhere. 

"Who in the hell forgot to close the truck? I want a name and I want it now," he demanded with a slam of the baseball bat to the table. 

"[Name]," Simon said. Negan sighed. He should've known it'd be her. This wasn't the first time she's fucked up this stupidly and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last if he didn't teach her a lesson. 

"Bring her to my room. Dismissed." He stood up and stormed out before the others could. 

...

She nervously stood under Negan's harsh, hazel glare. He was sure she knew why she was here, because the first thing that came out of her were streams of apologies. 

"I-I'm sorry, S-sir! I thought I had closed it, honest!" she sobbed with big teary eyes. He grabbed a fist-full of her hair and forced her head back to make her stare up at him. She winced, which only motivated him to tighten his grip, earning a whimper from her trembling lips. 

"This isn't the first time you've fucked shit up," he growled, a dark look in his eyes. She started crying even harder, which made him smile. He roughly released her hair from his grip. With his gloved hand, he cupped her jaw, his thumb and fingers squeezing her cheeks so hard her lips puffed out. He leaned down to her level, his face barely an inch from hers.  

"Your ass is so damn lucky I don't have that pretty fuckin' face of yours burned," he said lowly. He could feel her quivering in his hold, but she maintained eye contact. 

"T-thank you for not b-burning my face off," she choked out. 

He smiled his charming dimpled smile at her, but his eyes were still dark. With anger or lust, she didn't know, but either way she was afraid. 

"Don't think for a second you're getting off scot free. You know damn well you have to make it up to me." She nodded her head as best she could in his grip. He roughly let go of her jaw and shed off his leather jacket before sitting down in his leather couch. 

"Strip," he ordered once she was standing before him. 

"Y-yes, sir." She unlaced her boots before toeing them off. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her jeans before stepping out of them along with her panties and pulling her tank top over her head. Negan wolf whistled when he saw she wasn't wearing a bra. Normally, that would've had her all hot and bothered, but this wasn't like the other times she's been called to his bedroom.  

"On your knees." She lowered herself to all fours and crawled over to him. She awaited her next orders like an obedient puppy. 

"Get yourself off on my boot." His boot was relatively clean, considering, so she didn't hesitate to put her bare clit on the toe of his boot. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with remorseful doe eyes. She began to  grind her hips on the leather, giving her clit the much needed friction.

"You are one filthy slut! Look at you gettin' off on my goddamn boot," he mocked. 

Without warning, Negan shoved his index, middle, and ring finger in her mouth, commanding her to suck, which she did eagerly. Her tongue swirled around the digits before he shoved them as far down her throat as he could, until the rest of his hand stopped him, causing her to gag around his hand.

"Thaaat's it, take it like a good little slut," he simultaneously praised and degraded. 

She continued humping his boot, coating it in her slick as she became more aroused and closer to her orgasm. The coil that built up in her lower belly was so close to bursting and Negan could tell by the garbled moans that came out around his hand. Every now and then, he'd press down on the back of her tongue, causing her to gag and more hot tears to pour down her face, making him grow even harder in his pants. She was about to come, Negan saw all her telltale signs, but this was a punishment and she didn't deserve to.

"Oh no, you don't get to cum, at least not yet!" 

He yanked his hand out, causing her to cough and picked her up from under her arms bent her over his lap. Her hard sensitive nipples against the rough fabric of his pants caused her to moan. He slapped her ass hard enough to leave a handprint before slapping it even harder a few more times. He could see her arousal pouring down her inner thighs. She was enjoying this far more than he'd like her to. 

"N-negan, please!" she begged, earning another slap to the ass. 

"You do not fuckin speak unless I tell you to," he said darkly. He pushed her off his lap and onto the floor before ordering her to crawl to the bed and get on it. He followed behind her as he undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, freeing his rock hard cock. It sprung up and slapped his abdomen. Negan was huge and she was honestly nervous to take him without prep. He never prepped her when he was angry at her. He stroked it a few times before lining it up with her leaking cunny. He slid his aching red tip up and down her slick slit before sliding himself all the way in and bottoming out from behind. She screamed out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 

"What a slutty pussy, baby," he moaned. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size and started roughly fucking her with a bruising grip on her hips. As he pounded into her, he roughly kneaded the soft flesh of her ass. Wanton moans escaped her lips with every deep thrust. He tangled his hand in her hair before pulling her head back by it, earning a pained scream from her. His large hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her oxygen as he got himself off. Her slick, velvety walls clamped down on his girth, a sign she was close. She clawed at Negan's hand, but he only gripped her throat harder. 

"Take it like the goddamned dirty girl you are, doll," Negan encouraged. The sounds and smell of sex filled the bedroom. He removed his hand from her throat when he felt her go limp in his hold. Slightly worried, he turned her onto her back while still balls deep in her pussy. His thrusts slowed as he lightly slapped her face a few times until she woke again.

"Don't go passin' out on me now, babydoll." 

He put her legs over his shoulders, bending her in half as he picked up his rough pace. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned his name repeatedly. He pawed at her tits as they jiggled with each thrust. His dick twitched inside her before he came without warning. He threw his head back as he moaned her name while emptying his white hot seed into her slutty pussy. She shook with her orgasm as she squirted around his now semi-hard cock, wetting his dark comforter. 

"That's my dumb little slut," he praised as he pulled out. His girl was lazily sprawled out on his bed, barely able to keep her tired eyes open as his cum leaked out of her. He sent a playful slap to her already abused cunny. 

"You won't be so lucky next fuckin' time, so I suggest you get your goddamn shit together before you get burned." 

She sleepily mumbled in response, too tired and fucked out for anything. 

this was originally posted on my ao3 account on 4/28/2024. i haven't posted on there since because people don't comment and barely leave kudos 🥲

[toriaaniin]

Scarface

No I'm not writing about the 1983 Al Pachino movie of the same name... I'm writing about our handsome Luke Newton's new scar on his forehead.

In preparation for my upcoming livestream tomorrow, I asked my followers "What should we talk about?". One of the responses was this:

If you're not too overwhelmed with asks. Luke's scar at SAG. How did he get it?

If you look closely... I mean, if you can get past the huge sigh of pleasure + butterfly flutters you experience simply by looking at this gorgeous man, posed on a bed, compelling us to...

Oops. I lost my train of thought 🥵🥵🥵

If you look closely at his forehead, just our-right of centre between his (perfect + expressive) eyebrows (that, you know, sit over his remarkable shade of blue eyes), you can see that Luke has acquired a vertical 4cm-ish scar.

The ask that's been asked of me: "How did he get it?"

Now you all know that I have Luke's phone number programmed on quick-dial. HA! 😂 I wish! All my questions would be answered, and oh how I would appreciate a day without wondering all things. Not so lucky. Naturally - like you - I have no idea.

What I do know is that Luke didn't have a cut or the scar back on October 21st when he and Nicola posted - simultaneously - their season 4 Polin (but I say Lukola) photo.

And Luke didn't have a cut or scar in late November while in Rome, filming White Mars. The second of these two photos was taken on November 29th, US Thanksgiving evening.

These are the last photos we have of Luke before we started seeing the scar.

The photos below show Luke at both the BOSS/David Beckham event on January 30th and then again February 14th when he attended the British GQ "Excellence in Film" event in London.

Introducing: the scar!

To the best of my knowledge, no one noticed the scar at that time. Granted, during the BOSS event we had other (ahem) things on our mind, and on February 14th, we were focused on Nicola in Ireland as well as Luke's solo evening out and his fun encounters with fans. We were simply happy to have new photos of the both of them!

So... while I can't tell you HOW Luke got the scar, I can tell you that it happened either in December or early January.

It's possible that he was injured in the last December days of filming White Mars. It's very possible. After all, he and Lucy Hale were battling a malevolent entity that infiltrated their Antarctic research facility 😲

It's also possible that while on his sunshine filled New Years trip abroad with Nicola, he encountered something to hit his head on.

Here they are, photographed on January 8th (Nicola at the William Tell premiere - Luke around the same date at a family gathering), both a touch red from too much sun. Sun kissed one could say 💛💛

But wait... hold up Tori! Luke isn't sporting a scar here either!!

Actually, my theory is that Luke had a cut (possibly with stitches) on his forehead in this photo. Why? Because it was originally posted with this "ouch" emoji plastered on it! At the time we all wondered: "WTF? Why put an emoji on his forehead?! How rude!" (note that the emoji was put on Luke's forehead by his cousin)

Someone in the fandom did us a favour and removed the emoji, then did a touch-up job to recreate an emoji-less forehead. With the doctored photo (above) as our breadcrumb that a joint sunshine trip was taken, many of us forgot about the original photo. I remembered it today though, hence this post! Friends; Lukey had a boo boo and it was covered up! 🤍🤍🤍

In conclusion I have no choice but to say again: I have no idea how Luke got his scar. I have, however provided you with a timeframe for when the injury occurred, and I've offered two scenarios where his head could have been bonked.

Personally I like my suggestion that it happened while on a sunny holiday with his lover, Nicola!! What do you think?

Do we really care though? The man is more handsome then ever before - truly! - and we got to see he and Nicola at SAGs shine with the energy and light of their love. I'm happy!

For now 😜

Aaniin Xxx

[writingonleaves]

to not know who i am, but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, nothing much else i can think of!

inspired by + title: i like me better by lauv

word count: 6.4k

author's note: hello everyone!! i feel like i've been in such a rut lately but i'm glad i managed to write this one out! this is for the lovely @wyattjohnston for her winter fic exchange 2k25. demi, thank you as always for your hard work in putting this together and i hope you enjoy. sorry that it's a few days late! to everyone, please let me know what you think!!

*****

When Maia Flaherty left her usual lunchtime coffee run with a number from one very Jack Hughes, she didn’t really quite know what to think. 

“No pressure,” he had said with an easy smile. “I just think you’re pretty and the glare you gave that couple that was making out at the table next to you sold it for me.”

As she stares out on her train ride home, she’s deep in thought. This might be just a one date thing and then they find out they have nothing in common and they move on. But she knows herself. She doesn’t fall fast, but when she falls, she falls hard. What if she ends up falling harder than him, setting herself up for heartbreak. But she knows that’s also unfair to him, especially because she doesn’t know him. She appreciates his boldness in asking her out, but she doesn’t understand how he can be so confident and sure that he wants to go on a date with her. To be fair, maybe he’s only looking for something casual, to which she has even less of an idea of how to handle it, because she has never done casual and doesn’t think she could do it. 

As she’s walking the streets back to her place in West Village, she thinks about how to approach this. Knowing her, she’s too curious to not text him and she probably will think on it over the weekend. But, should she protect herself and go into this as just meeting a friend or go into this romantically? She admits that he is cute and she was the slightest bit charmed by him, but she knows that she knows nothing else about him. She takes the time to look up some of his highlights of his career (he had dropped his Instagram handle to her “just so you know I’m a real person”) and she knows that he’s good. Almost annoyingly good. As a University of Minnesota alum, she’s familiar enough with hockey as a whole. She stalks his Instagram and doesn’t find anything much besides posts with family, friends and teammates. Pretty average. But she’s still weary. 

Monday morning rolls around, and on her train to work, she takes a deep breath, clicking on his contact and copy and pasting what she had written last night. 

hi!!! it’s maia from the cafe. if the offer still stands, i’d love to go out on that date 

Not even a minute later, and she gets a response. 

what a wonderful text to get on a Monday morning

the offer absolutely still stands. what’s your schedule looking like this week?

not around during regular people work hours so monday-friday 9-5 won’t work

my weekend is pretty empty atm but idk if that works for you? i’m assuming you have games this week

no games this weekend, for once. all weeknight games.

lucky timing

lucky indeed. you around Saturday for lunch?

works for me!

you’re in jersey right? i can come out to you if that’s easier

are you kidding me?

i’m not gonna make you come out to me, especially because I’m the one who asked you out

where are you in the city? I’ll come to you

She smiles to herself.

I’m in west village, but i can meet you anywhere 

i’ll do some research after practice and get back to you?

sure

i also can suggest some places as well!! 

appreciate it. i got it though. i’m the one who asked so I feel like it’d be unfair to ask you to plan

Huh, she thinks, being surprised again. She doesn’t have much to compare to, but she can’t remember a single date she’s been on where she hasn’t been the one planning.

okay lmk if you need my help! no rush we have a whole week 

(Jack has a break in a morning practice and he’s just staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. His teammates are all making fun of him, but he pays them no mind. It’s not new for them to poke fun at him for texting girls, but he knows, he just knows that this one is different. 

He also kinda likes the idea of “we.”)

kinda wish we didn’t

oh?

saturday is so far away 

you’ll survive

She gets into the office just then and her phone is forgotten as she’s thrown into spreadsheets and meetings. It isn’t until 4 p.m. where she has the mental energy and time to look at his responses. The last text he had sent was two hours ago.  

i found a place. well, a couple

i asked some of my friends who know the city better than I do

*screenshot of list in Notes app*

i tried to find places in different parts of Manhattan, mostly in West Village. i don’t know where exactly in that area you are and how easy or hard it is for you to get wherever

sorry, just realized I’m spamming you and you’re probably working

I’m so sorry i left you hanging work was literally insane until now

honestly all of these places sound wonderful

i’ve been to a couple of them before so tell your friends they have good taste

any one in particular you like?

you choose

since you’re planning it after all 

lol

i really don’t want you having to travel that far

i literally live in nyc so if I want to see any of my friends who don’t live by me I have to travel far

and you’re literally coming from jersey

i’ll be fine with any choice you make

seriously 

He chooses one of her favorite Greek food joints about 10 blocks from where she is and she tries to put it away in her mind. She still has this whole week to go. She’s known for years that she gets overwhelmed and stressed if she thinks ahead occasionally, and this is definitely one of those times. 

(There’s a game on Wednesday night, and her best friend and roommate Carrie urges her to put it on TV in the background while they’re eating dinner. Carrie knows next to nothing about hockey, so Maia tries to explain it to her. But most of the time, she’s quiet and her eyes are zeroed in on 86. Or trying to, because everyone skates so fucking fast. He scores a goal and assists another, and she knows that that’s literally his job, but she can’t help but feel something watching him skate around so confidently. 

She’s always respected the skill it takes to play hockey. Skating is hard. But the hockey attitude wasn’t always something that she loved. She understands that she’s projecting a lot of unwarranted judgement. But she doesn't think it’s all based on lies.

As the minutes wind down in the game, she zones out. She really doesn’t understand how or why this literal superstar of the sport just approached her and after knowing literally nothing about her, asked her out. This shit doesn’t happen to her. She also knows the usual crowd that hockey players go for. She’s not blonde. She’s not a model. She’s not anything like that. 

What does he want from her?)

*****

She wakes up Saturday morning a bit groggy, thanks to the glasses of wine her and Carrie had the night before. She goes through her morning routine, but decides to forgo the coffee and make a smoothie instead. She usually likes to sip on her coffee for hours rather than down it all in one go. And she knows if she downs it, she’ll start shaking. 

She doesn’t need to be shaking today. 

Carrie stumbles out when Maia just leaves the bathroom and offers to make a smoothie for her. With a yawn, Carrie nods as she slides past her to go into the bathroom. 

It’s 9:48 a.m. They’re meeting right at noon, so she has a bit of time. Her phone buzzes right after she finishes cleaning the blender. 

good morning! see you soon

She just sends back a couple of emojis, before scrolling around on her social media accounts, sipping on her smoothie. It’s just the waiting now that’s making her more nervous. 

She already knows what she’s gonna wear. An olive green sweater she bought recently that she’s been loving, black leggings, brown booties and earrings that she got years ago when she studied abroad. She’s leaving her hair down and putting some light makeup on. Nothing crazy. This is literally lunch. And she’s not gonna overthink for a boy. 

Carrie proves to be a good distraction, simultaneously hyping her up, assuring her and talking about other things to keep her head level. She walks to the subway station and goes on the train, airpods in. This is all routine. The way there is no stranger to her, often meeting up with her brother for dinner around the area. 

She checks the time. On time. 

She approaches the restaurant’s front at 11:57 and decides to walk in and grab a table. She stops in her tracks when she sees that he’s already there, in the corner by the window that she usually loves to sit at. He’s wearing a gray sweater and blue jeans, a baseball cap flipped backwards on his head. She waves off the hostess and heads in his direction. 

He looks up from his phone and immediately locks it, standing up. She smiles in greeting and he comes around to grab her bag as she shrugs off her jacket. She thanks him softly, to which he just smiles back at. As she’s sitting down, he pours out some water.

“You didn’t get lost getting here?” She jokes. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not that directionally challenged. Just not used to it.”

“That’s what you get for living in Jersey.”

“Oh. So that’s how we’re gonna play this?”

And that just sets the tone for the rest of the date. It’s…surprisingly easy. The follow up question immediately is if she’s from the city, to which she snorts and says “absolutely not,” but she’s been living here for over two years now. She grew up in Buffalo, she says, and went to college at University of Minnesota, to which he, of course, widens his eyes. “You went to Minnesota, and you’re not a hockey fan?” She rolls her eyes. “When did I say I’m not a hockey fan?” She talks about how yes, she went to a couple of games when she was there and they were always fun, but she wasn’t necessarily an avid fan. 

He talks about growing up in Toronto even though he was born in Orlando and then going to Michigan and how hockey was literally just his life from a young age, especially with parents who were also involved, as well as an older and a younger brother growing up to play too. Sure, she knows all of this (she couldn’t help herself and did enough research), but it is nice and different to hear from him directly. She does slip for a second and makes fun of his private school upbringing (“It tracks.”) but the shocked delight on his face lets her know that he doesn’t take offense. 

As they order the food and it comes and they start eating, she lets herself be charmed. She didn’t expect him to be so…normal. Normal in the way that she often forgot that he was one of the best hockey players in the country. Normal in the way that parts of him remind her of her closest guy friends. But then he would mention something about his career or just a random detail in his life that would make her remember. 

She notices that he also is very aware of how much he talks. It’s natural for her to ask more questions, because that’s just how she’s wired, but he turns questions back to her that excite her or make her laugh, and then she goes on a minor tangent. It’s very back and forth. Balanced. 

She’s having a really good time. 

She expected him to be more…straight-forward in terms of flirting, due to how he asked her out, but he’s not. He seems a bit nervous at times even, chuckling adorably and avoiding eye contact, but then he says something that’s so just so incredibly confident that makes her flustered or let out a scoff of disbelief. 

Before they know it, they’re done eating. She protests when he immediately grabs the check and pulls out his card, to which he just playfully glares at her for. She does relent and thanks him, and she’ll never forget the boyish smile he gave her. 

They’re both on the same page, not wanting their time together to end quite yet, lingering to leave. And then she suggests grabbing a coffee from a place around the corner and walking to a nearby park. She teases him, asking if he’ll get cold to which he scoffs at (“I’m basically a Canadian and I live at the rink. I’ll be fine. Will you?” She laughs. “I was born and raised in Buffalo. Don’t worry about me.”) 

They grab coffee (to which she puts her foot down and pays and he lets her), him a black coffee and her an iced chai, and she leads them leisurely to a nearby park. It’s a little chilly, but it’s not windy which is good, and they find an empty bench and sit down, their conversation and battering just coming so incredibly easy. Even to the point where sometimes, she’s not necessarily calling him out, but she’s challenging some of his thoughts. She’s not shattering his confidence at all, but definitely subtly giving him a reality check and just being honest.

And not even purposefully. It’s just how she is.

(He really appreciates it, actually. It’s been awhile since someone who he’s just met isn’t afraid to challenge him off the rink. He loves the attention and always has, and she’s giving that to him, but there’s also something innate in her that’s so grounded and in turns, grounds him.)

But it’s also different. It’s different when he randomly throws out a compliment here and there, saying how he loves her laugh and how cute she is. The way he’s paying attention to everything she’s saying. The way he just can’t help but chuckle almost incredulously because she’s so much more than he imagined, even though he’s the one who asked her out. 

Before they know it, it’s almost 4 and they’ve been chatting the whole time. Yet somehow, it still feels like they could keep going. She walks him to the nearest subway station since it’s on her way home. She gives him a farewell hug and he follows his gut and kisses her on the cheek, promising to text her. She smiles one more time before turning to walk back to her apartment.

When she gets back to her place, Carrie’s there and ready for a recap. She says everything she can remember them talking about, which is a lot, while Carrie just listens carefully. Throughout it, she’s trying to downplay it, probably for self-preservation purposes, looking back. Carrie lets her dwell on it occasionally, but also interrupts when needed to try to assure her friend that she’s a catch and there’s a reason he asked her out in the first place and she can’t play herself down like that. 

What she knows for a fact at this point is that she likes spending time with him, and she does have romantic feelings for him. Everything else? She has no idea. She has no idea if they’d pair together well. She has no idea what he wants from this. She has no idea how he actually feels about her, because he could’ve just thrown out those compliments because he’s naturally flirty. It wouldn’t surprise her. And god, she can’t help but let her mind wander into his career and being in the spotlight and how that just affects…everything.

She just doesn’t know. 

(Meanwhile, he returns to an empty place, Luke out with some friends for the night. He can’t stop smiling, replaying the whole day in his head. She’s just so much more than he expected, able to keep up with his quips, often beating them. She laughs and smiles so freely. She’s so damn smart. She’s beautiful. 

He’s had his fair share of hookups and casual things, but this? This is different. It’s scary, he thinks, that he’s this invested after one date. It’s unfamiliar territory, and there’s so much more he wants to know about her. 

He needs to know everything he can about her. Before she figures out that she’s way too good for him.)

*****

Four weeks pass, and they haven’t seen each other. There have been some sporadic texts here and there, but with the chaos of both their jobs and then Thanksgiving, it hasn’t accounted to more than that. 

(She’s trying to get over it and let it pass. He wants anything but that)

On an early December evening, Maia’s just finished cleaning up the dishes when she gets a call. When she sees his name, she blinks. She clicks accept.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Jack.”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

“How are you? How was your Thanksgiving?”

“I’m doing okay. Thanksgiving was good! I got to go back home for a few days. How about you? Did you even have a break?”

“Not really. I had some family come to watch some games though, so that was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” she hums. 

“Listen-I…I know it’s been awhile.”

“Almost a month.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out guiltily. “I-I’m really sorry about that. I’ve…the season’s just been so crazy and, yeah. I’ve been meaning to reach out sooner, but just, like. Yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she replies automatically. “I get it. Your schedule is crazy. I feel like you have a game every other day.”

“You’ve been keeping up?” He teases lightly. 

She rolls her eyes. “A bit more than I used to, sure. But that really doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs a bit, before settling down into a serious tone. “If you have time, or if you even want to, because I totally understand why you wouldn’t, I’d love to go out again. I just, I had a really good time with you last time. Again, I know I…if you say no, I get it.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, but she knows her answer. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she smiles to herself at his surprised tone. “You surprised?”

“A bit. I mean, I kinda fell off the face of the planet. I would understand if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

He sighs. “This week? Not much, unfortunately. I’m only around for dinner tomorrow and Friday, and then I’m gone for a few days on a stretch of away games.”

“Wanna do tomorrow?”

“You around?”

She snorts. “I’m not as busy as you are, Mr. NHL. I’m free most weeknights.”

He lets out a low laugh. “Okay, yeah. Tomorrow night’s perfect. I’ll actually be in the city in the afternoon to meet up with a friend so I’ll just stay and meet you around there.”

“Oh good. I don’t have to pretend I want to go to Jersey.”

“This again?”

She laughs. “I can choose this time. Do you know where you’re meeting your friend?

“Yeah. I have his address. Hang on, I’ll send it to you.” Seconds later, her phone buzzes and she briefly looks at the location on Google Maps. 

“Oh. Battery Park. That’s close to where I am. You must really like this friend if you’re willing to travel that far. It’s a pretty long way from Newark.”

“Right? That’s what I told him. So, tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can figure out a place and I’ll let you know tomorrow morning the latest if that works? What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything you like.”

“Jack.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. How does ramen sound?”

“Perfect. I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll text you,”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Tomorrow comes, this time at a lowkey but busy ramen place where they’re sat side by side and their knees are touching. Jack’s hair is out this time, and the waves are falling across his forehead and she just loves the way it looks. He notices the two rings she’s wearing as one quickly catches a light in the restaurant. They continue on from the last time they talked but this time, swimming the surface of deeper conversations. 

She talks about her constant doubts about her job and how she sometimes just wants to pick up and movs somewhere else and start new. He talks about how he knows he’s good at hockey and knows this is the only path for him, but how he recognizes that outsiders look and sometimes see a sell-out or someone who doesn’t work hard. But he’s learned to just put his head down and play and to do it well. That’s something she can also relate to. 

She talks about how her relationship with her older brother is one that she’s found to be very grateful for, especially because they’re so far apart in age. A lot of who she is is based on his personality. He talks about being the middle child and being close in age to his brothers, and how competition was always just built into every activity they did. He’s realized, especially as he’s gotten older, how much he appreciates his brothers and having all three of them being in the same league, with Luke on the same team, and going through similar experiences but also completely different trajectories. 

(Somewhere, they both take a few sake shots and Maia’s not quite drunk, but buzzing, her laughter more free and her face redder).

Even semi-intoxicated, she decides not to ask the questions she really wants to yet that focus around them and what they are, unclear of where they stand. They’re sitting so close to each other and she relishes in it, wanting more. When she runs a hand through her hair to push it back, she notices his eyes flickering at that action, which means…nothing. She has to break away eye contact sometimes because he’s just staring at her so intensely. 

No wonder he has girls wanting him left and right, she thinks. She’s kind of no better. 

Towards the end of the night (he paid again and she only let him after he said he would let her pay next time. Next time), they plan out vaguely when they’ll see each other next. He’s away for the next week or so, and she just shrugs. She gets it. It would be naive of her to think she can change it. “I’ll let you know the second I land,” he says, and she just nods. She then jokes that maybe their next date could be skating, and he rolls his eyes, though he takes it into consideration. When he asks if she’s serious, she snorts, “I mean, sure. But you’re not gonna have to teach me how, if that’s what you’re going for.” He laughs. Loudly.

When they part ways, he hugs her tightly and for a long time. She breathes him in subtly, her eyes fluttering shut when she feels him press a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

Maybe that’s when she should’ve asked. Because that act was way too intimate to feel friendly. But she didn’t, and she watched him walk away, chuckling as he turned around to shoot her a parting wink. 

She went to sleep that night, somehow, with so many thoughts circling around her mind)

*****

Maia has an idea of when he’s landing, so she’s not surprised when she gets a call on a Thursday night.

He seems a bit out of breath, and she asks him if everything’s okay. Everything’s fine, he says. He just landed back in Newark and is heading home. He cuts to the chase, and asks if she’s around the next night. She blinks, because she knows he has a game. He clarifies. Is she around after the game? (“Or for the game,” he adds quickly. “If you want to come, I can get you tickets.”) While she’s flattered, she knows that’s crossing a line at this point and she politely turns down his offer. But yeah, she says. I’m around after. What’s up? He asks if he can take her out on a date. And she knows her answer (it’s obviously yes) but she says only if she’s allowed to go to him in Jersey. He protests immediately, but she shuts him up (“Both of our dates have been way closer to where I am. It’s only fair, Maia.”) 

It’s gonna be a late night date, since the game (assuming no overtime) won’t end until at least 10:00. He’s not sure what he has in store, but she’s okay with not knowing. The only thing he assures her of is that he’ll drive her back into the city afterwards. Traffic should be light, so she doesn’t fight him. 

(That should’ve been another hint that this was something worth pursuing. She has a hard time letting go of control of plans, especially with people she hasn’t known for awhile.

She trusts him already)

When he hangs up, she thinks for a second. He had told her during their last date that he would let her know the second he landed. 

And he did. 

Huh.

*****  

The next night, she’s nervous. 

Dinner’s already been eaten. She caught the first period of his game, but had to leave to catch her trains to meet him. With encouraging words from Carrie paired with some hype up music, she’s on her way.

When she steps out of the station on this abnormally warm December night, she immediately sees him leaning against his car. His hair is damp from the shower he probably just took, and he’s sporting a peacoat over a sweater and blue jeans. 

He perks up when he sees her and she practically skips over to him. She smiles and pulls him into a hug, and she feels him press a light kiss in her hair. 

“Hey.” She says softly. 

“Hi,” he mutters in her hair, pulling away to lean down and place a kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He opens the door for her as she slides in, and she’s thankful that she followed her instincts and dressed comfortably in her beloved Minnesota sweatshirt, stifling a yawn as she thanked him. She puts on her seatbelt and leans back, watching him climb in. 

He turns to her, “Wanna aux?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, already fiddling around to connect her Apple carplay. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He chuckles, looking behind him to pull onto the road. 

She shrugs. “What kind of music do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

She snorts. “You don’t mean that.” She scrolls through her playlists and debates on which one to do. “I saw that you guys lost. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies automatically and she catches his eye and gives him a look of doubt. He corrects himself. “Okay, it’s frustrating, but none of that right now. I wanna hear about you. How’s your week been? Did that thing with your boss get resolved?”

She blinks. Right. She had mentioned that briefly when he called her earlier in the week. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I don’t know. You gotta learn which battles to fight, you know? This one is one I don’t have to win.”

He nods with a soft hum, stopping at a red light. “Do you like milkshakes?”

She chuckles a bit at the change of topic. “I don’t mind them.”

“Wanna get some right now?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No,” he admits. “Because I want one.”

“That can’t be on the diet plan you athletes have going on.” 

“Oh, it definitely isn’t. Worth it though.”

“Do they have oreo or cookies and cream?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” He grins, and she takes a couple seconds just to watch it. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Thanks for coming out to Jersey at 10 pm.”

She chuckles. His heart drops to his stomach. “I had nothing else to do on a Friday night.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay. I don’t believe that.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

She leans back into her seat. “I don’t have the energy to hang out with people every night. Respect to the people who do. That’s just never been me. I can sit for hours and not talk to anyone.”

“You’re an introvert, then.”

“Is that surprising?”

He takes a second to think about it. “Yes, one, because you always talk about your friends so I know you have a lot. And two, because we literally talked for four hours on our first date.”

She shrugs, looking straight ahead of her to get the courage to respond. “There’s very few people in my life who I can talk with for hours.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky, then.”

She looks back over to him, watching as he shoots her a quick smile before he focuses back on the road. “How’s your week been?”

“The usual. Practices and games and travelling in the west coast, so I’m a little jetlagged, which isn’t great.”

“I didn’t realize that you guys play games like, every other day. Which is dumb, because like, it makes sense, but that just sounds exhausting. What am I saying though? It’s literally your job.”

He laughs softly and she tries to ignore the warmth spreading across her skin. “It can be tiring, for sure. But yeah, I love it, you know? Wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Just then, they pull into this small, unassuming diner and roll right through the drive-thru. He orders a chocolate milkshake and she gets an oreo one, and before he can think about it, she forces her credit card in his hand. He laughs and relents, and they pull out and are back on the road quickly. She sips on her milkshake and smiles to herself, not even asking where he’s driving them to next. 

(She thinks they could be anywhere and she’d still want to keep talking to him forever. He thinks that practically every worry in his life could fade away if he could look at her smile for the rest of his life)

He rolls up to one of his favorite views in Jersey of midtown Manhattan, finding an alcove and backing his car into it. Hamilton Park. They both get out and all she can do is stand there and admire the stunning view, milkshake in hand. She’s literally breathless. The last time she remembers feeling like this is when she saw the Pantheon for the first time nearing midnight with her brother when they were in Rome in 2022. She doesn’t notice him unlocking the trunk and setting up the backseat with blankets and pillows until he softly calls her name. 

(When her eyes met his, the glow of Manhattan in her eyes, he swears to this day that his heart skipped a beat. He was hers already then)

They settle into the makeshift couch, not quite touching but really freaking close. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly, just looking at the view. 

He hums, his eyes flickering between the view he knows too well and the girl who makes him feel better about who he is simply for just being around. It sure is. 

She lets herself admire the view silently for a minute or so more, before she can’t take it anymore. “Jack?” She asks, still looking out. 

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” 

Wrong answer, if the unimpressed expression on her face is any indication. She nudges her knee with his. “Come on. You know exactly what I mean. What are we doing? What are we?” 

He shrugs, trying to ignore the frogs in his stomach. He should’ve known she was gonna bring it up first. She’s too smart not to. “I-I like you. Wouldn’t have chased after you if I didn’t. You-you’re amazing, you know that? I don’t think you realize how much you can just stay on someone’s mind. I know this is only our third date, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I like who I am when I’m around you.” 

She swallows, pausing to sip her milkshake and wiggling into the blankets. He thinks she’s adorable. “I haven’t liked someone in so long. I thought I forgot what it felt like. But then you asked me out and I see a text from you or hear you through my phone or see you on TV, and I’m like oh. I think I remember what it feels like now. It feels like this.” 

He has to take a second because oh, maybe her dreams of becoming an author aren’t just words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She swallows again. “But I, I can’t do casual. I never have. I really, really wish I could

sometimes. So if that’s what you want, I can’t do it.” 

“What makes you think I want casual?” 

She snorts, “Because you’re a hot and talented hockey player? You can’t blame me for making the assumption.” 

“You think I’m hot?” 

Maia smacks him in the stomach. Jack laughs. She takes a breath. It’s now or never. “I just, I know you have girls in your DMs and your comments and everywhere else that are prettier and maybe could give you more of what you’re looking for or something that’s not…me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She lets out a small noise and smiles slightly. “Thanks. But, I-I know that you have so many options. I won’t be hurt if I’m not the one you choose.”

He taps her knee so she’s paying attention and listening to his next words. “I-I’ve done casual before. I don’t think I can do that with you.” 

“You can’t? Why not?” 

“Well, A, because you don’t want to, which leads to B, I don’t want to. Not with you.” It’s his turn to swallow now as he looks at the skyline. “I really, really like you, Maia.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“All in?” 

“All in.”

“You completely sure?” She interlaces her hand in with his and raises his knuckles up to her lips. He’s utterly floored. But he’s nervous. And she can sense it. 

“Yes. I just…it’s, I’m not trying to backtrack. I mean, you’ve already seen some of it. Like, during the season, it’s intense. Game every two or three days, practice pretty much everyday, stretches of roadies and being away. I feel like, not that I doubt you or us or anything, but that’s not, I won’t be around as much as I should be. How is that fair to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. I figured that from the first day. I get it. Well, as much as I can get it. I’m sure it’s gonna be tough. I know it will be.” She squeezes his hand, leaning on his shoulder. “If you’re willing to try, then so am I.”

“You’re too good for me.”

She scoffs, grinning as he places a kiss on her temple. She places her milkshake by her side, summoning up some courage. She adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing him, and he just watches her intensely. With her Minnesota crewneck, a blanket around her shoulders, hair falling just past her shoulders, and the soft smile on her face, his mind goes quiet. Peaceful.  

She kisses him first. Innocently and softly, before pulling back to gauge his reaction.

He responds quickly, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips against hers again. They’re both smiling into the kiss and everything feels calm. He wraps a hand around her waist as she maneuvers her hands around his neck, playing with his hair. She’s so lost in him that she doesn’t really realize that she moves herself so that she hovers over his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He has his hands placed on her lower back.

He lets out a low groan, “Baby.”

Her brain short circuits, both at the nickname (she’s always flinched at it before, but she loves the way he says it) and the timbre of his voice, but she has enough sense to pull away. They’re both breathing heavily. “Sorry,” she breathes out, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. She closes her eyes. She needs a second. 

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing her face back up to his and brushing his thumbs on her cheek. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I saw you.”

She chuckles, sliding off of him and settling into his side, staring out at the skyline again. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“I kinda knew if I kissed you before knowing what we were, it would be more heartbreaking if you rejected me.”

“If I rejected you?” 

“Yes.”

“In what world would I have rejected you?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad it’s not this world.”

She keeps herself from rolling her eyes, and just leans up to kiss him on the cheek. Because, you know, she can do that now. 

(That night, staring out at the stunning skyline of a city she has grown to love, with the warmth of the blankets over her legs and over her shoulder, a boy she was very quickly growing to care for deeply pressed by her side, telling her he feels the same way, she felt lifted. Free.

Unstoppable)

(When he drops her home, it’s 1:18 a.m. and she doesn’t want to get out of the car. With the way his hand has been attached to her thigh, it seems like he doesn’t want her to get out either. But he has an 11 am practice tomorrow and he just had a game. He’s exhausted. 

He kisses her once, twice, a third time before letting her go. As soon as she steps through the lobby of her apartment building and out of view, his grin practically splits his face. He smiles all the way home)

[nagaytoe]

Nativitas Domini

(noun) [Latin] Lord's birth

Jericho Ichabod X Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Requests: open

Note: Me writing something that's not Sol X Reader?! And it's fluff on top of that?! (I have actually never written fluff before if i recall correctly)

Unbelievable... Enjoy this Christmas special though, y'all (even though it's a tad bit late but better late than never, am I right?) and apologies for not having posted any one shot in three weeks (I was in a bad writing slump)

I initially wanted to make this another angst but I was too in love with the fluff, I couldn't bring myself to destroy that...

“My Love, wake up.”

A soft voice woke you from your deep slumber. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the remnants of sleep still clearly visible in your gaze.

“Crowe?”

You opened your eyes fully to reveal your lover's silhouette in front of the window, shielding your eyes from direct sunlight.

“Have you slept well?” Crowe brushed your hair out of your face and behind your ear. His gaze was full of love and admiration, as if you were the most precious gem, the most beautiful being he has ever laid eyes on. You hummed in quiet agreement and he chuckled.

“That’s good, that’s good. We still have quite some things planned for today, remember?”

You pondered for a moment, gathering your thoughts, since your mind was still foggy from sleep. Another quiet chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts as a hand was placed on the top of your head, ruffling your hair.

“We wanted to go shopping for presents, then bake some cookies and then go to Jess’ and Brittney's place to celebrate with the others. It’s already 10 am, it might be better if we get started soon.”

You slowly sat up on the bed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and yawning.

“I already made breakfast, the only missing piece at the table is you.” Crowe stretched out his hand towards you, a gentle smile playing on his lips. You looked at him for a moment, unable to believe that he is actually here with you, by your side. Taking his hand and nodding, Crowe helped you get out of the bed and the two of you walked towards the kitchen together.

The smell of pancakes and orange juice invaded your senses and you soon saw what Crowe had prepared for you. The table was set for two people, in the middle of the round surface was a plate, soft and thick pancakes stacked on top of it. Next to it was a juice pitcher, filled with your favorite juice. However, these weren't the only things on the table. A big bouquet with the most colorful flowers was placed next to your plate and cutlery.

You let out a soft gasp, looking over at Crowe with a wide smile, your eyes glistening.

“Crowe…they are beautiful…”

Walking up behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist, Crowe pressed a kiss on the crown of your hair. “They are no match for you though…”

You giggled softly in response and leant into Crowe's embrace.

“I love them, Crowe, thank you so much…”

The bouquet truly was beautiful. Purple calla lilies, white baby’s breaths and blue agapanthuses. The colors reminded you of Crowe, with his blue eyes and usual purple attire.

Crowe pulled your chair back, gesturing for you to sit down. Right after you sat down he moved around the table, sitting down in front of you. You loved mornings like these, even when the sun was absent they were filled with warmth. It was domestic. It was real. Sometimes you couldn't quite believe your luck. How were you fortunate enough to end up with someone like Jericho?

“[____]?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by your lover's voice. Looking up, you saw him smiling at you with admiration and a hint of amusement in his eyes. His arm was propped up on the table, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand.

“What are you thinking about, Love?”

A warm feeling spread through your chest. You were still crushing on him as hard as on the first day. His words, his voice, his personality, his looks… Everything about him was perfect.

“I'm just… thinking about how lucky I am to be with you.”

A swift look of surprise brushed over Crowe's features before he smiled brighter than before. He reached over the table, taking your hand into his bigger, warmer one. “I am the lucky one, my Starlight.”

Swooning at his words, you realized that he had pretty much ruined you for everyone else, Crowe had you on the hook. You doubted that you could ever love someone like you loved him, but then again, you didn't plan to either.

You gave him a sweet smile and he let go of your hand after a few beats, gesturing for you to fill your plate with the pancakes he had prepared. He did this pretty often, surprising you with self-made breakfast, yet you fell head over heels for him over and over again, no matter how often he did it.

Reaching over with knife and fork, you took two pancakes off the pile, filling your plate with them. As soon as you took a bite you perked up. “Crowe, they taste amazing, did you change the recipe up?”

The pancakes were fluffy and sweet, even sweeter than usually. “Just a tad bit. I know that you have kind of a sweet tooth, so I added a bit more sugar.”

You weren't sure what was sweeter, your boyfriend or the sugar he added.

He was probably sweeter, even though he didn't have much of a sweet tooth himself. That brought up another question, however.

“What about you though? You aren't that fond of too much sugar.”

“I can handle a bit more sweetness in my pancakes. After all, I handle you everyday and you are by far sweeter than any pancake I could ever make.”

You had to suppress a grin at that. He could be so cheesy sometimes.

Time seemed to pass way too fast, it felt like the two of you finished breakfast in no time.

“I'll clean up, you can get ready in the meantime, Darling” Crowe took his and your plate and brought them to the kitchen sink. Thanking him, you stood up and you made your way to your shared bedroom to get dressed. You took a look out the window, snow was painting the world in a pure, innocent shade of white and created a calm, serene image. Perhaps Crowe and you can build a snowman later if you have enough time.

Walking up to the closet, you were pondering on what to wear. Crowe was wearing a purple sweater and black slacks, perhaps you could put on a matching outfit. After all, he loved when the two of you wore matching outfits.

You took a pair of black pants out of your closet, before looking for a purple sweater. You had one, albeit the color being a bit lighter, it would have to do.

The colors purple and blue had a special spot in your heart, every time you saw them, you were reminded of Crowe.

He was everywhere, his essence in everything.

The night sky, the ocean, the flowers in your garden during the warmer seasons and the bouquet he gave you this morning, even in your closet you found these colors more present than before.

You walked into the narrow hallway, painted dark red with a birch wood floor, to see Crowe was already putting on his shoes, sitting on the bench near the door. As soon as he was finished and laid eyes on you, he couldn't help but chuckle. “I feel like I have seen that outfit before somewhere…” He walked up to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest. “I love you so much, you know that?” He leant down to press a kiss to your forehead, before wrapping both arms around you in a loving embrace. “I love you too, Jericho… More than words can ever describe…”

Crowe pulled back to look at you and raised his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking over the soft skin. Before you met him, you didn't know that it was humanly possible to look at someone the way he looked at you, but he proved to you that it indeed was possible and even if it wasn't, he would make it possible.

His bright blue eyes were filled with so much love, you couldn't begin to comprehend just how much love he felt for you.

Your face was gently pulled closer to his by the hand holding your cheek, his own face moving closer at the same time, before your lips met in a sweet kiss. It was an attempt at expressing your feelings for each other, but this universal act of love could only scratch the surface of what truly laid beneath your exteriors. Beneath all that skin, bone and flesh laid a love so profound, it almost made your hearts burst.

Crowe pulled back eventually, but you didn't leave his embrace without him planting another kiss on your forehead. He turned to take your black coat off the hanger and helped you put it on in his usual gentleman-like fashion. While he was looking for something in the hallway's dresser you were putting on your boots. The coat you were currently wearing matched his perfectly well, only your boots weren't matching - his being dark brown and yours being black - but you weren't going to nit-pick every small detail. Crowe stood in front of you again, a purple scarf in his hands. “It's cold outside, my Love, you'll need this.” His voice was as soft and caring as always, while he gently wrapped the scarf around your neck.

Opening the front door, Crowe gestured for you to walk outside before him. He followed close behind, taking your hand in his as he left the house with you and closed the door behind him. As you made your way towards the shopping center, the snow crunched under your boots, accentuating every step.

Despite the thick clothes you were wearing, which engulfed you in a comfortable warmth, the cool december breeze made you shiver. The coldness was slowly biting away at your skin and you tried your best to bury your face in your scarf, though it didn’t help with warming your face as much as you had hoped. Crowe squeezed your hand at this, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry, my Love, we'll be there in no time.”

The walk to the shopping center was peaceful, you walked by multiple groups of children who were building a snowman or having snowball fights. Looking around, you found everything to be covered in thick, white snow, giving the usually dull surroundings an almost magical feeling. It might be cold right now, but at least it was beautiful outside.

The mall wasn’t too far either, luckily. In this type of weather it was going to take around fifteen minutes to reach it, which felt like fifteen seconds in Crowe’s presence. That was one of the many things you loved about him. Any task, any situation, no matter how daunting or boring they may be, they seemed way easier to conquer with Crowe by your side.

The mall was bustling with life, chatter and laughter everywhere. Christmas tunes played from every corner and matching decorations were hung up everywhere. However, the highlight was the 30 feet tall christmas tree in the middle of the mall, cladded with different types of ornaments, ranging from fairy lights and tinsel to brightly colored baubles and little angels hanging from the branches.

“Whose present should we get first?”

You pondered for a moment at Crowe's question, “Jess. I already have something for her.”

Crowe quirked his eyebrow at that. “Lead the way then.”

You tugged Crowe along with you, leading him to a record store. “You know how Jess is absolutely obsessed with Eries, right?”, You looked up at him, feeling a little silly for asking this as you realized that he obviously knows, since he was the one who told you that information in the first place, “Of course you do…Anyways, I was thinking about getting her a vinyl record.”

“Does she even have a record player?”

You shook your head, “Nope, but knowing her, she wouldn’t play the record anyways, however, she would hang it up on the wall for everyone to see, just like her other prized possessions.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t have it already though? She’s one of his biggest fans after all, I kind of doubt that she doesn’t have all his merchandise by now.” Crowe’s question was a valid one, you haven’t told him that piece of information yet, since it was more of an impulsive decision. “I know that she doesn’t have it, she told me herself. See, we were talking about this special edition record of Eries newest album coming out and when the presale was happening, she didn’t manage to get a copy. I, however, did.”

Crowe furrowed his eyebrows at your explanation, still not getting the full picture, “Why did you try to obtain a copy in the first place? As far as I know, you’re not one of his fangirls.”

“Well, I thought it would make a nice present if she didn’t manage to get a copy. And if she had managed to get a copy I would have given it to another friend of mine, who likes Eries as well, but isn’t big enough of a fan to buy limited edition stuff.”

“You had a full-on masterplan, huh?”

You nodded eagerly at his reply, “All that’s left to do is to pick up the copy from the record shop.”

Tugging your boyfriend through the crowd, you weasel your way towards the record store. As soon as you arrived you were met with seemingly endless rows of shelves, packed to the brim with colorful records and the speakers faintly playing a Christmas song.

“By the way, how much was that record?”

You gave Crowe a side-eye, before averting your gaze as you walked towards the register. “Way too much…”, you muttered under your breath before clearing your throat. “But Jess is an amazing friend…I’m sure she’ll love this present!”

Crowe shook his head in disbelief with an airy laugh, “I’m sure she will, but I would still like to know how much that record was, you know? After all, we did agree on splitting the costs for the presents in half.”

You mumbled a response under your breath, incoherent to Crowe’s ears. When he asked again, your response was still quiet, but he heard your answer at last, “Sixty-five bucks…”

Crowe’s bright blue eyes widened a little in surprise, which is why you decided to quickly reassure him, “I know it’s a lot, that’s why the record will be on me, you don’t have to pay half the price-”

“Nonsense, I’ll pay half the price, just like we agreed, don’t worry about it, my Love” He cut you off, holding his hand up in the air to stop your rambling. You gave him a soft smile, your face a little flushed as you muttered a small “Thank you”, fully aware that debating with him on this matter will get you nowhere.

After informing the employee at the register about the order you wanted to pick up, he went to the back and swiftly returned with it, handing the record to you with a sweet smile.

Crowe wrapped his arm around your waist, an innocent gesture, though a hint of jealousy laced it. You were his partner after all, he should -and would- let the whole world know how lucky he got, even if this poor employee probably didn’t have any ulterior motives behind his smile and wave good-bye.

“How about we get Brittney’s present next?” Crowe asked, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as the two of you made your way out of the record store. You nodded, thinking back to all the times Brit told you something related to her interests.

“Do you already have something in mind?”, Crowe asked as he scanned your contemplating expression. You slowly nodded, “Yeah… she mentioned something about this skin care set she thought about getting. It’s a bit pricey, though…”

Crowe smiled softly at you, letting go of your hand and stroking the back of your head softly. “Don’t worry about it, my Love. If something is out of your budget I don’t mind paying more than half the price or entirely for the present.”

Your head snapped towards him as you immediately protested, “No way in hell am I gonna let you pay for everything yourself, that wouldn’t be fair at all!”

Your boyfriend could only chuckle in response, shaking his head lightly, “Whatever you say, Love…”

The two of you made your way towards the mall’s beauty store, Crowe’s hand tightly holding your own, almost as if he was afraid you would be swept away by the crowd of people present. It didn’t take long for you to find the skin care set Brittney told you about, despite the shelves being lined with all kinds of beauty products, ranging from perfume to high-end makeup products. Albeit the fairly high price the set was almost sold out and you barely managed to grab one of the last boxes.

The store was filled to the brim with teenage girls and husbands with their wives, all of them trying to find last minute presents for their loved ones. Thus, Crowe and you had to wait quite some time at the register, however, time always seemed to pass in the blink of an eye whenever he was with you.

“By the way, what should we get Deryl?”

You looked up at Crowe, waiting for a response as he pondered for a moment.

“Well, he loves football and sweets… though I believe you know as much about football as I do, which is practically nothing at all.”, Crowe chuckled slightly and of course he was right, both of you barely had any knowledge about football.

“Then sweets it is, we just have to hope that he eats them in private and not at the party, unless we want him bouncing off the walls-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as an idea hit you, “How about one of these international sweets boxes? As far as I know there is a shop here which sells sweets from all around the world. I believe that would make a great present for Deryl!”

Your boyfriend smiled gently at you as he responded, “Great thinking, let’s go there once we’re finished here.”

Crowe and you checked out at the register and made your way towards the sweets store shortly after.

The sweets store was probably the most colorful shop in the entire shopping center, the walls were painted in bright colors and even the tiles on the floor were practically glowing in neon hues. The shelves were lined with all kinds of sweets, all of them wrapped in bright packaging and sorted into different aisles depending on which country they’re from.

“Is there anything specific Deryl likes?” Crowe shook his head in response, thus you took it upon yourself to search for tasty-looking sweets, hooking a shopping basket on your arm.

You were able to fill the basket in no time with all different types of sweets; savory ones, sour ones and just classical sweet ones.

“Those are quite a lot of sweets… it might be better to give him this when we are about to leave…”

You raised an eyebrow at Crowe’s suggestion, “And leave the others with the mess of a Deryl who is high on sugar?”

He smirked smugly at you in reply and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

The two of you wrapped up at the sweets store not long after, walking out with two shopping bags in your right hand, one containing Brittney’s and one Jess’ present, and a big box of sweets for Deryl tucked away under Crowe’s left arm.

“We still need to get a present for Geo, do you have any idea what we could get him? It’s not like that guy is an open book when it comes to anything regarding him personally…”

“I already have something in mind for Geo, don’t worry.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise at Crowe’s declaration.

“Follow me.”, He took your free hand in his, making his way through the crowd and leading you to the mall’s exit.

Curious as to where Crowe was taking you, you couldn’t help but ask him, “Where are we going, Crowe?”

“To the box office, it’s on the way home anyways.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his response, but decided not to dwell on it. You would see what Crowe is up to soon enough, since the box office was pretty close to the mall.

As you left the shopping center, the coldness engulfed you in an icy embrace, stinging at your flesh. You immediately missed the comforting warmth of the shopping center, even if the atmosphere was chaotic. The only source of warmth you now had were your thick clothes and the warmth of your boyfriend’s soft hand, but all this didn’t do much to keep you from shivering.

After what felt like an eternity out in the harsh coldness of December, you finally reached the box office.

Crowe leant a little towards the cashier as he spoke his request, “I’d like to buy a gift voucher for 75 dollars, please.”

You lifted your eyebrows up slightly, before nudging him softly with your elbow while the employee was preparing the voucher. “I would have thought that you were gonna give him a present that’s more… personal.” Crowe looked at you for a moment, processing your words.

“Well, he’s not the type to be against vouchers as a gift, in fact, he thinks it’s the best type of present to give to someone; if it’s required to give them something, that is.”

“I guess that makes sense for him… he doesn’t seem like the type to give others personalized presents… or any at all, to be honest…”

Crowe couldn’t help but chuckle at your reply, “Yeah, he finds it to be the most practical type of present and I am not going to disagree with him on that, I get where he’s coming from.”

You nodded in silent agreement as the employee finished wrapping up the voucher, handing it to Crowe, who gave him the required amount of cash in exchange, before bidding goodbye and putting the envelope containing the voucher into one of the bags you were carrying.

“What time is it?”

Crowe took a look at the watch on his wrist, “1 pm. The party starts at 4.30, therefore we still have some time to get everything ready.”

Your boyfriend gave your hand a small squeeze and smiled warmly at you. This was almost enough to make you forget about the crisp cold air surrounding you, emphasis on almost. You were walking at a faster pace than usually, desperate to get home as quickly as possible.

Luckily, you soon saw the row houses on your street, one of them being the one you and Crowe resided in. The two of you moved in together after a year of dating, deeming it safer for the both of you - well, mostly for you. He insisted that you move into the townhouse he rented with him, considering it a safer option than the apartment you previously called your home. Of course, he was right, this part of town was much safer and if something were to happen, he would be there to protect you.

The houses were made of brownstone and not much bigger than your old apartment, though it was still nice to have a bit more space available, not to mention the tiny garden at the back - something your previous home lacked entirely.

Speed-walking towards the dark green front door, you ushered Crowe to unlock the door, who chuckled in response to your antics. What may have been annoying to anyone else, he found endearing. To him, you could hardly do any wrong, you were perfect, perfect for him.

You were greeted by the familiar smell of your home and the comforting warmth it provided. Taking off your boots and coat you turned to face Crowe, “Ready to bake some cookies?”

The kitchen was small, but it was big enough for the two of you. The counter, made of ebony and an oak countertop, formed a U-shape, lining all walls except for the one with the door. A big window overlooking the garden was above the kitchen sink and opposite of the door. Some potted plants hung from the ceiling, giving the room a rural feeling.

You walked to the kitchen cabinet and whipped out every required ingredient and equipment.

“Did you decide on which type of cookies we are baking?” Crowe entered the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing his toned lower arms.

“I was thinking we could bake some good old chocolate chip cookies, how does that sound?”

Crowe cracked a grin at that. Chocolate chips were his favourite and you knew that all too well.

“I’m definitely not opposed to that suggestion.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Of course you are not.”

You ordered Crowe to weigh the ingredients while you took care of mixing everything, the dough soon being finished. The moment you turned your back to grab a scissor for the package of chocolate chunks, Crowe grabbed a spoon from the kitchen drawer and tried some of the cookie dough.

“No snacking on the cookie dough, Crowe.”, you turned around to find your boyfriend frowning at you, causing a little laugh of yours to break free.

“Mind you, I was taste-testing.”

You shook your head at his answer, but at the same time you were endeared. Crowe was usually this composed, mature gentleman, but around you he could unleash a more childish side of him, one he didn’t show anyone else. Coming from him, this was a huge sign of trust, a privilege he didn't grant just anyone.

Right after you mixed the chocolate chunks into the cookie dough, you took small scoops and placed them onto the tray Crowe got ready for you. Once you were finished with placing small piles of dough, your boyfriend took the tray from you and put it in the oven.

“Now that the cookies are in the oven, what should we do in the meantime? Wrap the presents?” Crowe asked while wiping the surface of the countertop with a wet cloth. You pondered for a moment, recalling the children you saw on your way to the mall and pointed towards the window overlooking the garden

“I have a better idea… See all that snow? How about we build a snowman?”

Looking at him, your eyes glistened with hope and he smiled brightly at you, an indescribable amount of love in his gaze.

You definitely were perfect for him.

“Of course we can, Love, but weren’t you the one freezing outside earlier today?”

He just couldn’t help but tease you a little every now and then.

“That was different. I can handle the coldness if it means I get to feel like a kid again.”, you argued, a lop-sided smile gracing your features.

“Touché.”

With a pep in your step you went back into the hallway to grab both of your boots and coats, along with a pair of gloves for each of you. You swiftly returned to the kitchen and walked through the doorway into the living room, straight towards the back door, handing Crowe his clothes, before putting on your own coat and boots.

No five minutes later were the two of you out in the freezing cold. You already got to work, making a little snowball and rolling it around on the ground, your gloves doing very little to keep the snow’s iciness away from your skin, though you couldn’t care less right now.

The garden was small, surrounded by high bushes, which were painted white by the snow just like the ground was. The big apple tree at the very back already lost all its leaves weeks ago and the flowers you usually kept were long gone.

Crowe joined you, rolling his own snowball on the ground and turning to you for a moment, “I take it that you want to be in charge of the big snowball at the bottom?”

Looking over at him with a smile you nod eagerly, earning you his warm signature smile in return.

The two of you kept rolling the snowballs around, which were getting bigger and bigger by the minute, until they finally had a size you were satisfied with. Crowe placed his slightly smaller snowball on your bigger one, going off to find some sticks to use as arms right after while you were busy making the head. Once you were finished and placed the third and smallest snowball on top of the other two, Crowe returned with some sticks and a couple of small rocks.

Handing you the two biggest sticks, you took them and placed one on either side of the snowmans upper body and some smaller branches on the top of his head. You took three small stones out of Crowe’s palm and placed them in a vertical row on the snowman's upper body.

“By the way, do we have a carrot laying around?”

“I think so… let me take a look.” Crowe handed you the rocks and turned around, walking back inside. In the meantime, you took two rocks and placed them where you thought the snowman's eyes might be and used the leftover stones to give the snowman a smile. Crowe eventually returned, a carrot in his hand. “There you go, finish the job.”

You side-eyed him, processing his words, “You’re saying this as if I’m assassinating this poor snowman…”

Your boyfriend chuckled in response as you added the final detail to your snowman.

Suddenly, an alarm went off.

“Ah! The cookies are ready. Just in time…” Crowe turned off the alarm on his phone and took your hand in his as the two of you made your way back inside.

Once back in the kitchen, the two of you took off your boots, coats and gloves. Crowe took out the tray with cookies while you carried the clothes back into the hallway, hanging the coats back on their hangers, placing the boots on the mat next to the front door and the gloves back into the dresser.

The smell of fresh cookies invaded your nostrils and you could feel your mouth watering, causing you to swiftly return to the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here!” You entered the kitchen, causing Crowe to turn away from you quickly, making you stop in your tracks, “Wait… are you eating one of the cookies?”

“...No…” Crowe was trying his best to not sound like he was talking with a full mouth, but failed miserably.

“You are!” You could hear Crowe swallowing before turning back to face you, trying to defend himself, “I had to do a taste test…”

You take one cookie from the tray, studying it a little. Judging by the looks of it, those cookies turned out amazing.

“Firstly, you already did one with the raw cookie dough and secondly, I highly doubt that one was necessary…Though, I might do one as well. You know, two tongues can taste more than one, or something like that.” Putting the cookie in your mouth, you can almost hear your taste buds singing Hallelujah, your eyes widening as you let the warm, sweet taste of chocolate chip melt on your tongue.

“Oh my…these cookies are perfect!”

Crowe nodded in agreement with a grin on his face as he watched your fond expression, before looking at his watch, “It’s 2.20 pm, we have about two hours until the party, any ideas what should we do until then?”

You thought for a moment before a smug smirk crawled onto your face.

“Don’t tell me-”

You cut off your boyfriend, “Let’s watch a Christmas movie!”

“We still need to wrap the presents, my Love” , Crowe pointed out, but you quickly shot down his argument.

“We can do that while watching the movie. It’s not like we have tons of presents to wrap anyways.”

Crowe sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, though more in a playful fashion, before nodding slowly.

“Alright, let’s watch a Christmas movie then.”

You immediately made your way towards the living room, the walls were painted a light blue shade and lined with tons of shelves, the floor was birch wood, just like the hallway. Sitting down on the soft, dark blue couch and grabbing the remote, you made yourself comfortable, nuzzling against one of the couch’s cushions. While you were busy picking out a movie, Crowe grabbed some wrapping paper, as well as the presents for your friends, and carried them towards the living room, setting everything down on the oak coffee table in front of the couch.

He sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer as you put on your favorite christmas movie. You shuffled closer to him, basking in the warmth Crowe radiated, not just emotionally but also physically. No matter how tough times might get, next to him any problem ceased to exist, if only for the moment and you could swear your love for him was growing more and more the longer you were together.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel giddy for tonight, looking forward to spending time with all the people who grew on you so much during your years at university.

Were you to look out the window, you’d catch the snowman smiling at you, the snow which was currently falling from the sky accumulating on his carrot nose.

Everything was perfect, you were exactly where you were always meant to be and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

[deadlysoupy]

here's a tfe starbee request: post breakbee breakup, bumblebee wants to make breakdown jealous. starscream has been dealing with annoying comments from megatron since their divorce the end of the war and wants to make a point about him not needing megatron. they get together as each others rebounds and end up catching feelings for each other.

or, alternatively, bumblebee defending starscream from megatron's comments about how starscream is too evil to be allowed to exist in the world unsupervised. they aren't even together and don't even get along at this point but it makes starscream go heart eyes (spark eyes?) because other than hashtag no one's ever stood up to megatron for him.

this one took a while but hey, it's here and it turned out better than i thought it would! (quick note tho for the future: you guys should know i'm not one for "rebound" ships. or jealousy, unless it's starscream. there are some lines i dont want to cross and this is one of them. just letting you know that, unless an alternative is provided, like here, i will not write a "rebound" fic)

(Read here on AO3)

The day has not been going well for Starscream.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he's had a consecutive streak of bad luck looming over his helm. Ever since he was imprisoned, come to think of it. He's had it pretty well during their "stalemate" with the Autobots and the Maltos, but it was nothing he would describe as "lucky".

He ultimately failed in his mission to finally have a home, but that wasn't anything new.

Now, he's forced to share space with the person who pushed him so far into insanity, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Mainly, Starscream has learned to avoid confrontation with Megatron, no matter how impossible that seemed. It was working — for some time.

This day turned out to be an exception.

They cross each other in the maintenance room. Starscream needs to upload intel on their new human relations — he didn't read the file, it was too processor-numbing for him — and it seemed like Megatron ended up with the same objective. It had still felt like a strange vision, that Megatron would ever do someone's bidding that easily. The room was small, barely enough for three bots, and given Megatron's frame… well. One could say the air started suffocating Starscream pretty fast.

He grits his denta and reaches out his servo to the main panel.

Apparently, that was the wrong move to make. Megatron regards him with a "look", his size — as always — looming over him, murderous optics drilling into his spark.

"What do you think you're doing, Starscream."

He doesn't shudder under the threatening tone. He needs to keep calm, or it will blow his whole plan out of proportion.

"I'm doing my job, Megatron," he answers, staying as still as possible. "Or is this not what I'm supposed to do?"

The warframe clicks his denta. "You never do your job. There's always something with you."

"I've been nothing but compliant with you Autobots ever since you oh so kindly let me out," he can't help but sneer in response. "I have no reason to do harm, so you should just let me do what I came here to do."

Megatron unleashes his pointed dentas, glinting under the artificial lighting of the room. "I wonder how long this charade of yours will keep working, Starscream. We both know you aren't doing your job out of well intentions — your spark will always be rotten."

And Starscream would have agreed with him on any other day. On any other occasion. He would have glowed in the praise, would have considered it to be the mightiest words of affirmation he's ever heard, and he would have gone on his merry way.

But he wasn't going to let this go. He can't keep pretending to like this presence, this… humiliation. Hashtag, the Terrans, and one other particular bot taught him otherwise.

Starscream's backstrut straightens, high on alert, voice loud. "You may believe whatever you want, Lord Megatron, but I deserve to be here just as you do. You've earned your chance to keep your place among the Autobots, and I should have the space to be able to do the same. Unless… you actually don't deserve to be here? Unless you're just the same arrogant fool you've always—"

A servo squeezes Starscream's shoulder and the plating creaks under it. Starscream's frame buckles, but stands firm. "Shut your ammering, Starscream, or I'll remind you why I don't trust your miserable spark with anything of importance."

"What's going on here?" Bumblebee's voice comes from the entrance. Starscream won't admit it out loud, but he's glad to hear it. The Autobot has been the only one keeping him sane in all of his time outside of the brig.

"Nothing, Bumblebee," Megatron regards him with a short look. His servo moves away from Starscream's shoulder — the ping of pain runs across his entire frame, but it goes away quickly. Luckily, Megatron wasn't able to do a lot of damage. "I was simply concerned that Starscream had malicious intentions. Nothing more."

Bumblebee arches an optic ridge, first at Megatron, then at Starscream, who looks away from them both. He was not going to get involved anymore. It would only make things worse.

"Right," Bee says. "So, that's solved, then? Can't you… I don't know… be nice now?"

"Are you insinuating I wasn't, Bumblebee?"

And when that tone is directed at Bumblebee, Starscream's gears are twitching. He almost wants to open his mouth to retort, but Bee beats him to it.

"Well, by the sound of it — no, you really weren't. Yeah, I've been listening," the scout folds his servos. Star glances at him, and the stance almost mesmerises him. He's completely calm… while scolding Megatron. "I know you're trying, Megs, but come on. We need to be better than this. I'll admit, Starscream can be a little… a lot to handle, but if you deserved even a smidge of doubt, then he does, too. He's not that bad once you get to know him. You don't need to second-guess his every move. Just… be patient, okay?"

Starscream isn't sure whether he should be offended, touched, or enraged at Bumblebee's comments.

In the end, he settles on amused. He doesn't recall a time when someone would defend him and, at the same time, be so very kind to someone like Megatron. It's something Bumblebee masters to an art form. And he's growing to appreciate it.

Despite his efforts not to, a smile makes its way on Starscream's face. He turns his helm before anyone notices.

Megatron huffs air out of his vents. "You're right. We should… cooperate," he sounds like he's fighting the words actively coming out of his mouth. Starscream hopes it hurts to say them. "I'll come back later, when it's less crowded. Good day, Bumblebee."

"You, too."

When Megatron leaves, Starscream still has a smile on his face.

"That was some lecture you gave there, little Bee."

Bumblebee shrugs and walks up to Starscream. "Yeah, well, sometimes the guy forgets who's on which side. Gotta approach everyone differently, y'know?"

And there was also that. How Bumblebee chose his words carefully, suiting it for whoever the bot was talking to. It reminded Starscream of himself, in a way, and made Bumblebee all the more… interesting to interact with.

Bumblebee's nonchalance turns into concern. "He didn't… hurt you, did he?"

Judging by the way Bee glances at his shoulder, any answer might set off alarm bells in the Autobot's processor, so there was no way of hiding it. "Perhaps. Nothing I can't handle, though."

Bumblebee frowns. "Are you sure? Do you want me to… I don't know, stay with you?"

A grin snakes up Starscream's faceplate. "What, worried about little old me, Honeybee? Have no fear — I am perfectly operational. Besides, I'm sure you have your own duties to attend to."

The bot wants to protest, an objection on his lipplates, but a blush takes over on his faceplate, and the thought is forgotten. "…sure. I'll… see you later?"

"Oh, you will," Starscream coos, and Bumblebee turns tail as fast as that.

Despite his tremendous desire to shoo Bumblebee out of the room, it's now sparkless and empty. Starscream clutches his shoulder, still aching, but on its way to recovery. He'll manage without help, as he always had.

Next time, perhaps, Bumblebee. Next time.

[the-daily-bugle-official-blog]

Friends, enemies and all readers, welcome back to the Daily Bugle. It is unfortunate that we must restart our newspaper with such a tragic story. Last week, during a fight that broke out at a pro-mutant protest, leading to several injuries and the death of a 17 year old girl by the name Emily Rose Wilson. All and more will be discussed in today’s edition.

On the 19th of February, DA Rumlow announced that a mutant registration bill had passed in New York, meaning that mutants with a previous criminal record have to be monitored by the government. This is an easing of a previous bill aiming to ban individuals with the mutant x gene from participating in public life. Even despite these loosening of restrictions, several hundred mostly mutant protesters showed up to protest the bill. In response, several hundred counter-protesters also gathered outside the DA’s office, led by a group known as the Friends of Humanity. We were lucky enough to be be able to interview this group and their aims seem far from unreasonable, and deserve to be heard in the free marketplace of ideas:

“Our group is called Friends of Humanity. We stand for and to protect the rights of humans and humans alone. We are just protecting the status quo” “Families have been ripped apart. It's been happening everywhere. They show up and attack people. They ruin our property.” “Even in the face of their ignorance and resistance, I know humans need me to do what I do. I have every intention to keep doing what I'm doing. Our cause is just. We won't have what our ancestors fought for be stolen from us. We can't have what our families have been through be ignored. We gotta keep fighting the good fight” - Anonymous representative of Friends of Humanity

The Friends of Humanity may seem unjust to an outside observer, but their ideas have merit and their warnings shouldn’t be ignored. Especially after the violence that occurred last Wednesday. After a few of the more violent mutants felt their needs were not met, they took to attacking the counter-protesters who had as much right to be there as anyone. In the chaos and destruction, an innocent onlooker received third degree burns from a mutant who could control fire and died from her injuries the next day in hospital. A vigil for Miss Wilson will be taking place tomorrow at 10am at the place where she was attacked, and we invite all Daily Bugle readers to attend, to pay respects to this innocent girl who’s life was cut short. We received a statement from Miss Wilson’s parents about their daughter:

“Emily was a star, she lit up every room she was in and never let anyone feel alone or disliked. She will be missed by everyone who knew her, her kindness was something that doesn’t leave you, ever” — Katelyn Wilson, Emily Wilson’s mother

Of course, this brings up how necessary DA Rumlow’s bill was. The mutant who attacked Emily was a 19 year old named Elias Redwood, who has a previous criminal record of violence and theft. He is currently being held in police custody and is facing a trial. Perhaps, if Mr Rumlow’s bill had been able to pass without protest, criminals such as Redwood would not be walking free on the streets able cause permanent damage any time they have an emotional outburst. We at the Daily Bugle believe in mutant rights, but not at the expense of lives like Emily’s. In any case, Emily Rose Wilson will be sorely missed, and her memory lives as a constant reminder of the threats still around in modern day America.

Though while the mainstream media sleeps on this story, as it goes against their pro-mutant narrative, we at the Daily Bugle will not be silent! To join our daily newsletter comment underneath one of our posts to be added to the list. Be sure to comment your thoughts about the mutant question below, or leave an anonymous submission to get potentially featured in a later news story.

— J. Jonah Jameson

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Editor's note: Welcome back everyone. I’ve recovered from the flu and hypothermia after my landlord cut off the heating to my apartment, so I’m getting paid to edit this again… honestly I’m not surprised. Mr Jameson loves nothing more than to take tragic stories and use them to push and agenda. Miss Wilson deserves to be remembered without her death being used as an excuse for pro-mutant bigotry. And by the way, that interview with the Friends of Humanity had been very edited, so here’s the full thing. Also, the bill passing doesn’t mean it will become law, there’s still hope And to the young mutants out there who feel alone, you’re not alone. There are many of us who will fight for you, now is not the time to give in. Good luck, I think we’re all going to need it – J.E. - Lead Editor

Hey guys guess who’s back? I killed the writer’s block with fire. I tagged a buncha people I know/have seemed interested in the past. If u wanna get added to a permanent tag list pls just let me know. Also please reblog and tag other people, that helps a lot with getting this seen. Thanks so much for reading <3

Face claim for Emily Rose Wilson is Kacey Rohl

@hufflepuffavenger @thatone-midgardian @justaperi-dot @viridonia @therealquicksilver @friends-of-humanity @itzzkaylaaa @multifandomer537 @goddess-of-birds @clintbarton-thearrowguy @ghostcat58 @thebestmerc-1 @crazyinlovewithmarvel @lunamarvels @officially-reformed-capn-hydra @twoarrsandonesea @newsreporter16 @your-fav-russian-assassin