#miss when they were at peak popularity

[majorsomethingdisorder]

I miss heta-oni

[i-like-anything-water]

shipping ships that had already had it's peak from previous years is like going through a sandy beach looking for any type of metal using those whatchacallit things used for looking metal...and then finding cool trinkets along the way.

[galaxygermdraws]

Saw @roenais was doin a DTIYS, saw it was Ex, and got way too excited to try it out. Had a lot of fun with the shading on this one, tried somethin a tad more simple than usual but still detailed.  Had fun with this <3

(Instead of plug myself n ask for reblogs, m gon go tell everybody to reblog the original piece this is a DTIYS from, bc its sick and I love it.)

[jellogram]

Rock bands used to just write about whatever the fuck. Not to be all "old music was better!" but when's the last time the world's highest selling band released a song about killing people with hammers. The Who made an entire rock opera about a deaf, mute, and blind guy who is so good at pinball that he inspires a cultlike group of devotees who think he's the next christ. It was released at the peak of their popularity and was made into a movie featuring people like Elton John and Tina Turner.

I think classic rock gets a reputation for being all about girls and cars and drugs but for about 15-20 years there were absolutely no rules on acceptable song subject matter. Pink Floyd has a song about a gnome going on an adventure. Alice Cooper has a whole album about breaking out of the Ableist Insane Asylum because he misses his dog. These weren't weird little indie groups, these were all highly successful charting bands getting radio airplay and selling out stadiums.

We need to bring this culture back. No more love songs. Sing about wizards.

[xazse]

So about the Shouki no Kami x reader, while we're fighting Scaramouche's boss we get injured and some pieces of our clothes are already ruined, causing Scaramouche to feel umm. Yk 🫣

HUMILIATION

Synopsis: Your ruined clothing definitely catches Scaramouches attention.

Notes: Hi I enjoyed writing this, I must tell you that it’s completely consensual and reader was free to leave whenever she pleased but chose to indulge in scaras antics! + I do have other requests but they are just asking for a part 2 of something, I’d love to work on it but id rather work on some new stuff.

Pairings: Scaramouche x fem!reader

Warnings: Pussy eating + crying + manhandling + mean!Scara + dom!scara + overstimulation + smut + not proofread + creampie + begging

“Die insolent woman, you’ve been a pain in my side for the longest.”

Scaramouche points Shouki no Kami’s hand at you, he can’t choose which way he wants to kill you, with all the elements in his very hands it’s hard. He wants to make you suffer for as long as possible: wants your screams to fill the room as you beg for mercy, maybe you’ll even cry he’d enjoy that the most.

He bares you one more final look your face dirty and ragged, coughing up your own blood, his eyesight falls a little lower and he pauses. Your shirt was ripped with large tear; exposing your bra, it’s white and basic but nonetheless he can see the fat of your boob spilling out: clearly the bra doesn’t fit you as well as you think it does. Your shorts are a tattered mess as well.

He halts the beam to stare and maybe even admire you a little, He won’t lie and say he hasn’t felt a little bit of attraction at just how desperate you are to kill him, every battle you’ve had with him ends with him fleeing after taking a damaging hit or he’s managed to knock you unconscious, why he hadn’t killed you those times is because he’d wanted you to live with the humiliation, but now that he’s in the final steps of his plan he no longer sees the need to toy with you.

Looking at you longer starts to stir some of those lewd feelings he knows he shouldn’t have for you, it’s merely sexual nothing romantic, he deems you aren’t on his level for him to see you that way, doesn’t matter you’ll be dead in a few.

But… Ever since becoming sentient and reaching the age of maturity, Scara hasn’t laid with any women. As a way of relief when he was alone he’d find himself grabbing and groping at his cock, such a thing had an impact on his body and mind it aggravated him that men had to go through that, it did feel pretty good though when he reached his peak.

He supposes in this moment that you’d be the perfect specimen for him to have sex with, you should be honored you’ll be the first woman to take what humans call his virginity.

You attempt to grab your pole arm but find it getting knocked all the way across the room with just a flick of the giant robots finger. You feel completely defenseless, at least the comfort of knowing you went down with a fight will provide some relief, you close your eyes as you await your death.

Footsteps can be heard behind you, the bastard wants to kill you with his own hands? His steps are slow and steady as he approaches you, when he finally does he kicks you over you groan in pain at just the force of the kick, you’re now on your stomach when he sits down and puts his entire weight on your back.

“I’d kill you right now but I have other uses for you”

“Just get it over with” you seethe through clenched teeth

“And miss the chance to further humiliate you? I don’t think so. I could kill you right now or I could fuck you then let you leave orrrr you can leave and run back to your family with your tail inbetween your legs. Your choice either way you’ll die sooner or later it doesn’t matter to me”

Your lip quirks upwards and you resist the urge to burst out laughing

“Not so popular with the women? Knew you were a hopeless virgin,” you giggle a little before continuing “is that why youre so hell bent on destruction? You just needed some pussy?”

Scaramouche’s expression darkens but you can’t see that, he won’t allow you to.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, always have.” “I think that’s why breaking you down has been so fun”

You shrug “I’ll indulge you Scaramouche” you huff out, “I don’t need to guide you through it right?” You tease.

“No need, I’ll have you crying on my cock begging for more.” He tears off the remainings of your shirt, your shorts are next as he descards the fabrics somewhere else, you aren’t getting those back you sigh loudly.

He places his hand under your stomach in a way you’re arching: ass up and face smooshed into the cold hard floor. You don’t process it as quickly as you should but next thing you know you can feel the cool open breeze on your parts, bastard even ruined your underwear. He admires you once again, staring at your cute cunt as it’s begging to be filled and fucked, he’ll give you just that.

First he decides that he wants to taste you, wants to figure out why people enjoy pussy as much as they do.

He bends down a little, having him eye level with your cunt makes you feel a little embarrassed and your body a little hot, you’ve never been eaten out before if he does- you lurch forward when his tongue licks a stripe up. He thinks he didn’t really get a good taste so he licks another, and another until he’s full on licking and sucking directly on your hole.

“Ohh..mnh-“ you use your hand to close your mouth, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. But fuck does it feel so good, he hasn’t even found your clit yet and you don’t think you’ll be able to hold back anything.

He starts getting messy with his tongue work, it was messy before but now it feels dirty. You know you’re becoming wetter by the second and he isn’t wasting even a second to lick up the essence that leaks out. This position isn’t doing it for him anymore so he flips you onto your back, immediately he dives right back into sucking, when he accidentally brushes over your clit and sees the sweet whine that slips past he does it again to make sure he heard you right, tracing over the bud you once again make the noise but even sweeter.

“Scara-Ah..ngh”

His arms wrap around your thighs, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered that you’re caging his head in, he’s completely in tune with sucking on your wet sloppy clit. All you can do is take it and cry small whimpers of his names, you don’t know whether you want him to stop the pleasure or continue it.

His shorts begin to constrict as he starts to grow hard, they feel tight around him and he feels the need to loosen them up, his hand dips below his waist and into them, his fingers grope his cock roughly, the damn thing definitely has a mind of its own as established earlier. It’s already leaking precum into his hands.

He stands up on his knees, you obediently don’t close your legs, leaving them wide open, a little bit of licking has your eyes clouded and lusty, he thinks you definitely now deserve to feel the stretch of his cock.

He tugs his waistband just below his heavy balls, you stare openly too, he’s fucking big, you had never expected that from his small stature. He knows he is too with the condescending smirk on his face, clearly proud of what he has. It’s more thick than it is long, girth was not lost on him, you advert your gaze fully.

“What are you doing? Look at me clearly woman, none of that shy stuff now.” He leans in and pulls your bra down, useful for later he supposes.

He stokes himself a few times, making sure your eyes are trained on every stroke and every dribble of pre that cascades down his length. He taps his cock against your clit eliciting a sharp rise in your chest. His cock is placed against your wet hole and pushes in, he only gets a little past the tip before you’re whiny voice picks up and telling him to stop for a moment, he does obey to let you breathe.

As he sits and waits he can feel just how hot you are, he bets putting it even deeper will have him seeing stars.

He starts pushing in again, repeating the words relax as you tense up every so often, he isn’t going to fucking kill you. Your tight cunt starts to slowly adjust and pull him in, it gets warmer and warmer the deeper he goes.

“You’ve been- mhn..- fucked? How come you’re so damn tight?” It’s clearly starting to affect him, serves the dick right.

It’s not long before he’s got his full hard cock deep inside you, his chest is connected to yours as he lifts up his hips to slam right back down into you.

“So… ooh my god” his hips can’t stop fucking into you, your gummy walls just adds so much more stimulation, it’s filthy and gross the loud sounds of his balls slapping against your ass or your equally lewd moans of his name drive everything so much higher. His chest is rubbing against your nipples when he goes up and down, they feel raw and extra sensitive adding ontop of the pleasure.

He’s using you like a damn toy to reach his peak, it feels different than when he would use his hands, his balls feel heavier and he feels the need to empty them, empty them right inside your sopping cunt.

You take your fingers and begin rubbing wildly at your clit.

He’s been hitting a certain spot inside of you, but when he inches his hips a way, he hits it directly.

“Pleas- please again-“ “deeper-deeper Scara.”

It’s embarrassing how you’re full on crying it feels so good, too good, you can’t help but cry from the amount of pleasure you’re feeling, no man you’ve ever come across has had his size nor the way he keeps hitting that spot.

He gives you one more stroke and you whine his name the loudest since he had you bent over on all fours. Your pussy gushes and cums around his cock, that nasty white ring shines so much when he looks at where you’re connected for a slight moment but he quickly returns to your face: mouth slightly agar as you take wide gulps of air from just how powerful that orgasm was.

You weakly try to slide up and slip his cock out of you, he’s quick to slam right back in to the hilt.

“That’s not fair, I haven’t came yet, I think you can spare a few more hours” he taps your cheek lightly in a mocking manner.

“You can can’t you?” He purrs out so seductively.

“I’can” you slur out slowly looking so fucked out and In scaras terms ready for another orgasm just like that one.

He keeps fucking into you, even if his cock is soaked in just your cum, or when he switched positions to him standing and holding you with your arms wrapped around his neck whilst he fucks up into your pussy. The floor decorated with your juices just drive him to keep ruining you. When he finally does cum it’s mind-blowing, he bites down so hard on your neck that you think it drew blood. It muffles his loud groan as his balls constrict and he’s filling you with his load, you think the virgin will stop and be one and done but he isn’t, he pauses to breathe but starts bouncing you up and down on his cock all over again.

Scaramouche thinks he actually wants you alive, wants to keep feeling your hot pussy milk him nonstop, he’s interrupted in his thoughts with you weakly begging for more, you’re so fucking gross, wanting to be filled with more of his cum regardless of your hatred for him.

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

I read on Twilight's wiki page that Endo always intended on him having a high paying job (like a doctor or a lawyer) and in the end he chose to make Loid a psychiatrist due to his affinity for psychology.

And can I say. Lawyer Loid was such a missed opportunity. So much comedic potential.

Like. you have Loid Forger, notorious in the firm for winning every case that comes across him, due to his clear and concise arguments and knowledge of the law. Then you look at his home life and see that this man can't win an argument against his four six year old daughter. The minute her eyes turn teary he folds so easily. Like. That's comedy gold.

And I feel like on first meeting Yuri would hate him even more. Like, I feel like Yuri's the type of guy who goes, "a defense attorney? AKA a professional liar?" (← is a cop lying to his sister about his job) and his internal monologue just goes, "what does yor see in him? sure, he's handsome, smart, popular in his firm--" [angrily munching on food Loid made him]

And there's news of a murder on several news channels while they're having dinner one day, and the news agency names the suspect and Loid offhandedly goes, "Oh, my firm handled that" (I have to mention my work life for the mission, so they dont suspect I'm anything but a lawyer), and Yor goes, "I don't think a man his height could have done that. Look at the blood splatter. Had to be someone taller" And Loid's looking at her like: 👁️👁️, and Yor fumbles with, "Oh, Yuri used to love those detective shows when we were kids" and Loid's like, "anything you say <3. do you want some more chicken?"

And, logically, if he's assigned to a popular/high-profile enough firm, there's a higher likelihood of him making contact with high-profile businesspeople (sure they have their own legal teams, but for a consultation or something?) rather than a psychiatrist. (Again, my own opinion)

But the only downside is whenever he pulls some medical shit he cant go, "Oh, I learned that in med school" but the natural excuse can be "oh, i was a sergeant, i learned some basic medical knowledge during the war"

Anyway. Lawyer Loid could have been peak comedy.

[writingbynova]

The Party ★

★ & The After Party

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ⊹ : pwp (porn with plot) - mdni - frat boys au - gojo & geto x nerd!fem!reader - party - bff drags u there - tiny mention of substances but no use - mean geto - protected sex - degrading - pet names - geto calls you: sugar/ doll & Gojo calls you: sweetie/ princess/ baby - rough sex - biting - overstimulation - threesome - slight choking/ breath play - hits of dacryphilia - missionary - Doggystyle - face fucking - praising - oral(m & f receiving) - mind breaking - dirty talk - fingering - getting caught (through the phone) - lmk if I missed any tags...

Word count : 3.6k

A/N : sorry js felt horny ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ (should have added toys but I'm sleepy) wrote this while listening the the party & the after party, shameless, often, I was never there, & coming down.

Majoring in Biology but never got fucked by two frat boys at a party ? Guess you didn't listen during the chapter of reproduction... Let's teach you some tricks shall we ?

"Going where? A party ??" you asked your eyes almost gouging out of their socket "Id love to but i don't think I can... And I wasn't invited. I have homework anyway it's better I stay and study"

You friend stands in front of your mirror, putting dresses up to her body to determine which one suites her best. They all do.

"Yeah whatever, good thing I wasn't asking you to come. I'm telling you. Get dressed, Yuji is picking us up in 30 mins. " She says leaving you alone in the room.

Frat boy's parties weren't really your thing. Although you couldn't judge because you had never been to a party, you always focussed on your studies. Hence why you didn't even know where you were heading to. Nonetheless you headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

"You done ?!" You heard your friend scream from another room, while you applied some mascara. "You better be when I get there !!"

You sighed. You really didn't feel extremely comfortable going. You didn't know anyone except your bestie who was basically your polar opposite. Outgoing, friends and... Well 'closer' with the popular boys. While you were the awkward nerd who didn't know anyone and never interacted with XY chromosomes possessors. Majoring in Biology.

Your friends barged into your room just as you expected and you stood anxiously before her.

"Where you going?" She asked judging you up and down. "Uh.. you said a party" you muttered, this situation really wasn't your daily life. "No, I mean where are you going dressed like a Spanish teacher, you look a damn mess girl." So that's the matter. "Oh...it's that bad ?" "That bad ? You look like you got dressed in the dark"

Pink skirt and a purple top make a cute combo tho ? Don't they? Okay, maybe not then.

"You were seriously about to walk out dressed like a 6 year old girl? And where's your makeup ?" Truthfully she was being dramatic. "I don't wear makeup and I've never seen a 6 year old dressed like this" you clapped back "Only means they dress better than you." Ouch. Touché " We've got about 10 minutes to salvage this before Yuji shows up, go get my makeup bag and the black leader dress on my bed. Quick." You nearly ran out the room. Visibly the night would be hard.

"Are you sure this is okay ? I think I look kind of weird and these lashes are sooo long I've never had them this long."

"You look like a piece a cheesecake. I'd take a bite out of that ass right this second if Yuji wasn't waiting for us" she laughs. You chuckle at her antics. As funny as she is you can't help but feel self conscious at the idea of walking out dressed like this. A black leader strapless dress, barely covering your ass. Black high heels in which you barely felt stable. A full face of makeup adorning your face you looked like a mini version of her. Hot as a motherfucker though.

"Let's head down girl?" She says, peaking through the door. Handing you a little YSL bag with a gold strap.

"Yes, be there in a second I just need to find my glasses..." You said, patting your desk in search of your square correction glasses. "Please tell me you're not planning on wearing those windshields..." She criticizes. "I need to wear them, I can barely see without them." "You're lying !! You haven't been wearing them since and you're fine let's go." She said grabbing your wrists and dragging you out. Fuck.

A pink haired boy gestures at you two before opening the car door for you two. 'Such a nice boy' you think. Thanking him and sitting next to your friend in the car. She makes small talk with him and you get to know he's one in a few classes of hers and friends with the party organizers.

"Gojo and Geto, hottest boys alive. The party is at Gojo's house he's some rich kid you must have seen him at least once." You look over at the picture. A tall boy with white hair and sky blue eyes leaning on a tall boy with black long hair and purple eyes. They're cute you can't lie. You have seen him around, he plays basketball and girls from what you heard. "They look nice" you only say. Because what else is there to be said. This is just two campus boys organizing a big party. Nothing special, you've never experienced one but now it doesn't seem like anything special

"I won't tell you what I think. Make up your own opinion were here" she says gesturing for you to open the door on your side. Suddenly it does seem like something special and the knot ties in your stomach, you start wobbling on your heels. Still your friends drags you to the door with a "you'll be okay" that does not reassure you in the slightest. A boy open the door. Pink hair. "I though Yuji wasn't coming in until later ?" You whisper in her ear "that's not Yuji it's Sukuna his twin." Yeah makes sense. He lets you both ente the house and you're hit with the smell of sex, probably some weed and sweat.

Your friend drags you over to her group of friend and they start chatting, before moving over to take shots. You on the other hand stay aside, props for not drinking but you do feel excluded. You need to isolate, Candy by Doja Cart banging within your head, it's too crowded. "Where's the bathroom" you scream over the music. Your friend points up the stairs. Without thinking you rush up the stairs, it's already better. The floor is already much more empty.  What wasn't smart was not asking which door was the bathroom door. They were all white. Which one was it ?

Anyway. You didn't really need to go to the bathroom you just needed some alone time. And which the popular music playing downstairs you were soon the only one left sitting on the hallway carpet in some corner. Clearing your calendar and doing some homework on your phone. You should have taken your earphones with you. "Need some help princess?" A voice asks. You lift your head to be met with the white haired boy leaning over you, his big eyes staring at yours. So that's why she said they were the hottest boys alive...

The black haired boy sighed "is she even sober ? How many times have we told these randoms to stay off the top floor" he hisses staring you down. "Oh I'm very sorry, I didn't know and I was looking for somewhere private..and I'm not drunk, I don't drink" you say almost muttering. This is not the best encounter you ever went through, it looked like the white haired boy was intrigued but the black haired boy very obviously didn't like you. "Coming to a frat party to stay alone and not drink. Do you even know us ?" The black haired boy asks. Shit. That's true what's their name again? "Uhhh" you point at the white haired boy" Joe—go ? Jogo? And Toge? No! uhhh Geto is it ?" They both stare at you blankly before bursting out in laughter "she called you Jogo, you'll never hear the end of it" Geto? Laughs, mocking the white haired boy who's face in now red.. "Sorry was that not it ? I apologize if I said something offensive " you retract "it's okay" he offers you a hand. "I'm Geto, you got that right, and he's Gojo, not Jogo" he chuckles looking over at his friend. You take his hand lifing yourself of the ground and stepping in a much clearer light.

"Damn, ya look good" Gojo says, starring you down. They probably couldn't see you properly because corned you were in. "You actually do" Geto adds smirking at you. "How About we show you around ?"

Well they're much more welcoming now.

You can feel your face burning. Like melting off. As you walk down the corridor. You're sandwiches between a total of six ab rows. Scarily hot. Gojo's hand holds your hip, while Geto's holding your hand. "So... What do u major in ?" He asks. You're hardly able to think, the tension is so obvious. "Uhh.. bio" you say as the white haired boy unlocking a door to a room? "What are we doing here ?" You ask starting to feel anxious. Two frat boys taking you in some room sounds weird. It was pretty though, a balcony from which you could see over a good part of the city, a huge bed with silk red sheets and a plain blanket, a nightstand, a desk. And some led lights shining a pretty pink.

"Who's room is this?" You ask. Looking around. "Mine, if you looking to chill you're free to come here" he says closing the door, locking it and standing behind you, his hand on your waist. Letting the white haired boy come into view. He holds your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. They probably could tell your heart was beating at a thousand mile per hour, you tried avoiding his gaze, though he was dangerously close to your face, to your lips to be precise. "You're so soft" he says "and you smell so nice" Geto adds, his face buried in to crook of your neck.

"A-ah thank you" you stutter. You can very distinctively feel Geto's cock pressing up against you dress, which is too short by the way, entirely too short. Gojo starts lining kisses on your jaw, until his face is met with yours again, his eyes focusing on your lips, he grazes his thumb upon them. "Can I ?" He says looking you in the eyes. He wants to kiss you ? This rich ass frat boy want to kiss you ? Fuck.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out, so you nod mindlessly. He leans in "just relax" his lips meet yours and the feeling in euphoric, he's crazy skilled, it feels like bliss pure bliss, you taste a minty hint on his lips before his tongue slides into your mouth. Chasing after yours "mmhf!" You whine feeling Geto behind you, trailing bite marks all over your neck. "What'd you say sugar ?" He says coily, watching you avoid the question. Thing is you don't stand a chance before them. When's the last time you've had sex ? A year and a half ? Maybe two? And now you two guys slowly hiking up you dress. "Listen here sugar. How about we make you feel realll nice? You seem so pent up..." He says against your skin. Kissing the spots he previously bit. "Ah uh I don't really kno-"you start saying, interrupted. "oh won't you look at that ? So horny she got her panties and my pants wet! We should take care of that" Gojo says shining a runway worthy smile. Shit. You knew you were kinda wet, who wouldn't be, squeezed in between these two boys, ready to ruin you while the biggest party on campus was going down a few feets below. Before you're able to speak Geto offers you a hand "Let's play sugar. You can only win here." The offer was tempting so tempting you took his hand, blushing at Gojo's cheers behind you.

"Talk to us. What do you want sugar ?" Purple eyes grazing upon your almost naked body. It didn't take Gojo much time to slide your dress off you, leaving you in your black laced matching underwear set. Good thing you were wearing that one. "Focus" he ordered. You were laying back on his chest, while he was playing with you bra's clasps. Focus. Focus? Right he asked a question. "I uh... I- don't know.." you muttered, eyes fixed on the white haired boy kissing your pussy through your panties. Having you throb like crazy..

"Mhm a virgin maybe?" He said, studying your look. "No! No.. I have had sex in the past I just.. you know..."

"No we dont. Use your words sugar. 'fore I take them away" he warns. "You're making her wet! Such a needy thing." Gojo adds, taking a break from teasing your pussy though your panties. "When's the last time you got ate?" He asks training his finger up and down your soaked undies. What? How was that relevant ? "I had lunch if that matters ?" It's the way his eyes go wide that makes you wonder what the fuck you just said. "You've never gotten ate before ?Oh I have to be your first" he said shifting behind you to get up. The white haired boy reluctantly move but before he whispered something to Geto that makes him lightly chuckle and say "okay okay"

His face stills between you thighs, you're mesmerizing by his beauty and assurance. The tensions is building up in your stomach "just trust me and relax". You simply nod, trying to put your focus away. Gojo's laying next to you. Kissing your chest, his hand wrapped around you, slowly u doing your bra. "Oh fuck..." He says, flinging the fabric at some end of the room before latching on your nipples. "Ah!" You yelp, feeling his hot tongue rolling over your bud. You close your eyes, too busy relishing in the feeling to bother realizing Geto's sliding off you panties and spreading you thighs far apart. You jolt and moan loudly when he licks a long strip from your pussy to your clit. "Ya like it uh ?" Gojo teases, finally letting your boob free, with a satisfying "pop!". You nod frantically, whatever he's doing he's great at it. So great you start lowly moaning for more. Trying to cover your pathetic whines with your hand "Go on tell him you feel good" Gojo says encouraging you to speak. Your eyes drift over to Geto, teasing your hole with his fingers and sucking your clit. "Ahh... I- I like it, it- ah! Feels nice..." You whine, felling your face heat up.

Geto's eyes stare into yours, and you can feel him smiling against you. "Good girl, see, wasn't so hard" Gojo says, making you return your attention to him. He lands a soft kiss against your lips, not letting you pull away. And you're moaning into the kiss, your chest hovering up and down the faint sound of 'Coming down' by the Weeknd playing downstairs, Geto's fingers stretching your walls open while he licks you down. The squelching sound and feeling sending butterflies to your lower belly. You eventually pull away from Gojo, out of breath. Your legs shuddering, your moans growing louder and louder. "Hmm! 'm cumming! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" You mewl throwing you head back into the pillows. Your body jolting up at each additional suction he makes. He trails kisses up your body, upon your navel, between your breasts, up your neck before settling for your lips. You whine when he pulls away from your dripping cunt Making you crave attention. "What was that sugar ?" He asks caressing your heated cheek. "Felt nice...so nice...wan' more" you shamelessly admit, while still recovering from your high. "Say no more" Gojo says standing between your thighs in an instant.

Fuck it's big. Fucking huge, fully erect. Precum leaking from the tip, veins, lining its girth. "Satoru. Wrap it" Geto says. "Oh yeah" Your eye candy leave and starts searching through the bedside table, taking out a box of condoms. XXL. "Satoru?" You mutter. "Gojo's his last name. Satoru's what close friends and... Special people like you can call him" Geto answers. You nod thoughtfully "is Geto your last name too?" You wonder. "Yeah, but you're gonna have to earn calling me by my name sugar. Be patient you'll get there eventually" . Your cheeks heat at his words, you're being way to confortable for someone who's sprawled out on a bed she's never seen with two men she just met at a party. "Eyes up here sweetie, swallow it all" against your will your eyes drift from Geto's pretty eyes and land on Gojo's- no, Satoru's dick. Fuck are you really about to take all that. Your ex boyfriend was much smaller and frailer that this. "Don't worry darling you can take it" Geto whispers behind your ear, his voice sending butterflies to your stomach.

Satoru's cock nudges your hole, and he slowly pushed his tip in, stealing the words from your mouth, the more he pushed in the more you're feeling hot all over. "Fuck, love me some good tight pussy, you're perfect sweetie" he groans. "So fucking tight s' making me crazy" you whimper at his words, holding for dear life onto Geto's bulky arm. "Ah- are you in?" You babble, feeling your cunt throb around his girth. "Yeah...'bout halfway" he said gathering spit on his thumb and rubbing it messily over your clit. You moan loudly "Arh- shit! S-satoruu!"

His eyes ignore yours and perk up to his mate instead. It happens withing a fraction of a second: Satoru makes head movement. Tilting his head to the right. Geto pins your hands down and before you even have the right to wonder what exactly is happenings his lips crash against yours, his tongue poisoning your senses. *Thrust* your eyes open with, a thunder sensation runs up your spine before your stomach starts burning and you pussy raining. Your eyes roll back and fill with salty water, while you whine, whimper and mewl breathlessly into the kiss. Your pussy fluttering around his girthy cock.

Geto finally lets go of your lips, a string of saliva connecting both of you. Again you're mesmerized by his purple eyes. Until another thrust punches through you. Making your eyes close shut. You gather up strength to get on your elbow. "Satoru! Satoruuu" you whine and purr. "Feeeels too good, wanna cum 'gain" you pout feeling your brain disconnect. It's all you can think about right now. His thick cock stuffing you full, occupying you, fucking the breath in and out of you. "Anything for this thigh ass pussy don't mind be breaking you" he says. His hand grabs your hips but he doesn't thrust anymore, no. He drags your body over and over again on his cock, grunting over your high pitched moans. Fuck his dick was good. Good as fuck it got you screaming shamelessly. "Fuck i'd drown in this pussy anyway sweetie! Fucking tight!" He grunted switching to rutting his hips into onto your ass.

You couldn't be more grateful for the loud music playing downstairs, you had to thank Megan thee Stallion for covering the lewd pornographic sounds you both were making. Your pussy clammed him down, throbbing relentlessly around him. "Go on baby cum some more on my cock" he purred, watching your eyes flutter and chest hover up and down. His hips slam into yours exactly two more times to send you over the edge. Two thrust stretching your pussy to its maximum entent. Your voice rang against the room's walls " 'toru! 'toru! Cumming!" You cry, unfolding on him, a white sticky substance now covering the condom he wore. Inside and out, he grunts and moans over you "Mhm! fucking milking me out huh ?" He pulls out, letting the euphoric feeling wash over you.

You feel silly, so silly you want more, you miss his cock, you want more so much more. Your eyes wander off to Geto, who's eyes are fixated upon the lower part of your body. "How d'you feel doll?" He asks, his arms wrapping around your back to lift you up on your knees. Your teary eyes land back on his, how you missed them. His soft concerned look. "Arh- I wan' more" you're basically just giving out your ability to walk. That's probably not the best of ideas.

He chuckles lightly, " if that's what you wish...turn around sugar." Fuck it you can't get enough. You lay on the bed facing it's end, you can't know for sure but by the sound of it  he'd putting on a condom. In the meantime you gawk at the sight of Satoru pumping his ,now, hard again, cock right in front of your face, you're on the verge of reaching over, drooling and all when you feel Geto's pressing your back into the mattress, locking both your wrists with his one hand.

You whine at the loss of your eye candy. But soon totally forget about it, well maybe not totally but there's another dick on your mind in the moment. He slips in with less effort than Satoru had to use. Still his girth is spreading you apart. "Fuckkkk, so tight, just like that squeeze me good sugar" he grunts, fucking you into the mattress. You're blabbing and whimpering pathetically and he pull you up, with a hand on your lower back making you arch, thrusting into you like a maniac, making your ass bounce repeatedly, "Fuck, so fucking good sugar, 'm never letting you go. Stay like this." He orders through his ragged breathing. His hand slides up front and you know, his fingers attack your clit, you accidentally lean forward. Only slightly but it's enough to have his cock fucking you in all the right spots, "Ah! Geto! F-fuckkkkk s'deep soo— deep!" You coo and mewl, it's barely descriptible, like the tip of his cock was stuffed so deep in you, so fucking far you wondered if it was actually hitting your cervix. Where was all that biology knowledge? "Ah- fffuck I know, I know sugar" He's dragging his cock so far up your cunt, thrusting so hard it vibrated within your entire core.

Your eyes brim with tears. You're barely coherent in your thoughts and words. "Ahh! Geto! Geto! Geto— Mmph!!" You cry out, trying to get his attention. His cock thrusting deeper and deeper at a mind breaking pace. "S-satoruu! Tell him to be n-nice puh- please" you beg tugging on the boy's arm. "Calling out his name while I'm fucking you ? What a slut. Open your mouth." You might have been getting fucked stupid you knew not to ignore his orders. Your lips parted, offering the perfect opening for Satoru to thrust his aching cock into "Repeat after me slut, Su-gu-ru". Fuck you try, try to think and act. Act quick. Satoru's cock filling your mouth, deepthroating you, till you're gagging and choking. Suguru fucking your slick pussy like there's no tomorrow. "Shu guwu mhm!" You whine around Gojo cock, using your tongue to play around his shaft. Making him grunt your name. Youre slowly losing your mind.

A faint ringing sound in the background, not enough to get your attention but enough to attract theirs. You only realize when the white haired boy walk off in direction of the noise, leaving you mouth hanging empty. He returns and points a phone in your face and it takes a few seconds for you to collect your thoughts and read. Fuck, Fuck it's your friend but fuck it feels good

"mhm ? Pick it up" Suguru whines behind you. Roughly slamming his hip into you. "Huh nah! Fuck!" You're done for. The white haired boy display a mischievous smile before tapping the green pick up icon. "Girl ??! Where are you ??" You hear ringing through the phone. You stay quiet. As best as you can pleading Satoru with your eyes. 'Please hang up' you think but he only smiles and plants a kiss on your lips. "Hellooo ???" Your friend says. Suguru's hand wraps around your neck pulling you up close to him. "Speak" your eyes roll back. You're so fucking close. Shit. The boy in front of you kneels on the edge of the bed before his hand slide down between your legs starting to toy with your bud, circling and pressing his thumb over the bud. "Fucking speak" he orders. To think you had called them nice boys few hours ago. You wrap your arms over Satoru's shoulders for support when Suguru's hand leaves your neck to pinch your nipple. "

"Sugu! Sugu! Suguru! Ah! F-fuckkkkk Suguru you're the best! Y-yes the b-best" you cry out. Your orgasm winding you out. Fat tears sliding down your face. Huda beauty setting power and Charlotte tilbury meeting spray might be very good at keeping makeup intact, it was powerless face with this much face fucking, kissing and overall destroying.

Forgetting the jealous man in front of you watching you get fucked like he disappeared. Satoru grabs ahold of jaw. Using his finger to tap on your cheek. "The best huh ? Open that cock sleeve of a mouth for me, slut." Shit. "ahh I'll call you l-later 'm busy" you say as normally as you could. It's not like you just came on the phone. *Bip* He hangs up. And now it just the three of you again.

"Ahh!! I'm sowwy— Ngh!" You cry out. Another spank hitting your already sore ass. Suguru's spanking you like a mad man making you huff and hiccup relentlessly. You can't tell how you feel, the line between pain and pleasure being blurred. "How many times did we have to fucking tell you before you spoke ? Slut" Satoru gripping your hair to shove himself deeper down your throat. Fuck

It's Suguru first. His thrust turn erratic and he's groaning so much. "My pussy to fuck, Mine, 'gon f-fuck you today, tomorrow and every-fucking-day" he grunts, shoving himself  into you one more time, before his long strings of cum are stopped by his condom and he bottoms out. Still he's not done. While you're too focused on giving your best head in stock to Satoru he takes off his condom and throws it away. He lays between you legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs to make you sit on his face and again he's licking long strips of your cum, soiling his chin. Making you whine out of surprise around Satoru's dick, sending shivers down his spine and a cum load down your throat.

"F-fuck it sweetie, don't swallow yet, let me see all'at" you're mewling and brainlessly lagging in your actions, involuntarily riding Suguru's face your tongue lolling out, white sticky strings adorning your mouth. "So good!! Mhm ahhh!! " You moan. And *click!* A nice pic of the three of you having fun added to your photo gallery. You're to busy cumming hard on Suguru's tongue to care. You stretch your arm to Satoru, sticking your tongue out and it's barely a second before he's holding your chin "Swallow it." And like clockwork you do. And using that same clock your thighs shudder around Suguru's face, your toes are curling and you're making the lewdest face at Satoru, sending the blood straight to his dick. "My turn sweetie"

Visibly you were right when you said the night would be hard.

PREVIOUS POST ~~ NAVIGATION ~~ NEXT POST

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAD MAN

A/N: he looked like a snack, his ce vibes were too strong to hold them back

base of the idea was by @harrysblackcoat

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

SUMMARY: You came to the game to forget about the massive fight you had with Harry a few days ago, but your alone time is soon interrupted by the man you've been trying to avoid.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You weren’t planning to come today. Well, you were, until about four days ago, but then the whole ordeal happened with Harry and suddenly you didn’t want to do anything else than stay at home, cry or either sleep until you forget about the shit you both said. 

It was nasty. You don’t even remember how it started, maybe it was because he got home too late, or was it because you couldn’t choose a restaurant again and it always drives him crazy.

You have no idea what started it, you only remember how bad it got. Screaming, shouting, saying the worst things you ever did and probably neither of you meant. But you said them and you can’t take them back. 

Maybe packing your stuff and leaving wasn’t your best idea, but you needed time and space. Harry has been blowing your phone up ever since, but you feel like you need just a little bit more time away from him to think about… well, the two of you. 

You’ve had the ticket for months and you didn’t have the heart to miss out on the game just because of what happened. So you pulled yourself out of your depression cave, aka your old apartment you still haven’t sold since moving in with Harry and came to the game. Now you’re sitting in your usual seat, waiting for it to start while trying your best to keep him out of your thoughts at least until the end. 

Looking across the stadium you see the VIP section and immediately, you fail at not thinking about him, because you think of how he is the kind of man that would be standing there, sipping on something fancy and expensive. 

Groaning you turn your attention to your drink, playing with the straw, but then you remember the time you explained to Harry why this is your favorite seat in the stadium.

“Okay, enlighten me, baby,” he smirked at you, pulling you to his lap after pushing himself away from his desk.

“It’s close to the exit, I can leave before the crowd gets moving, the toilet is 20 seconds away and the line is always short, because the one by the F stairs is more popular. And…” You peaked at him, checking if he was still listening and there he was, giving you his undivided attention with a cheesy smirk on his handsome face. “And the drinks are better in the buffet that’s behind.”

“Better?” he chuckled. “Baby, they are the same.”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “It’s less… watery.”

“Mm, if you say so,” he smirked and then kissed you, making you forget about what you were talking about just a moment ago.

You need to blink your tears away. You promised yourself you wouldn’t be crying during this game, that you wouldn’t think about how much you miss him and how even despite the fight you love him more than anyone. 

You dig into your bag for a tissue, right when someone tries to squeeze past you to their seat. The tall man inches into the row, his long coat brushing your knees while you’re still elbow deep in your bag and you faintly register that he sits beside you. 

“Here,” he deep voice speaks up beside you and you know who it is even before his hand moves into your view, holding out a tissue. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, taking the tissue without looking at him. 

“Why do people come to football matches?” he asks back and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I’m here because you wouldn’t answer the phone.”

“That might mean that I don’t want to talk to you,” you casually reply, staring ahead of you.

Harry exhales sharply beside you and his knee presses against yours, making you gasp.

“Y/N, I hope you didn’t think I would just let you slip out of my hands like that, right? We need to talk.”

“And you thought a football game would be the best place for that?” 

“This seems to be the only way to get you to talk to me, so yeah.”

“How did you even know I would be sitting here?”

“Because you told me this is your favorite seat.”

“I did not. I just told you I have one, I never told you it’s this one.”

You sit in silence for a bit, trying to figure out if maybe you did tell him the exact seat, but you get to the same point: you didn’t.

“I never told you, so how did you know?” you ask and finally look at him. His beauty strikes you, as always, the chiseled jawline, the slope of his nose, the curly lashes, he still takes your breath away. 

He runs his tongue across his lips and then looks at you.

“The drink,” he then finally says.

“What?”

“The drink. It really is better here.” You watch him and he continues. “I tried… I tried them all in the stadium and it really is less watery.”

He tried them all. He went around the stadium and tried them all to figure out where you’re sitting. 

“Now that you’re listening to me, can we talk?” he then asks with a soft smile. “Or it could be just me speaking, but I really want to tell you what I’ve been thinking about the past few days.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Talk then.”

His gaze lingers on your face, as if he is taking in every tiny detail before speaking up again.

“I fucked up, Y/N. I said all those terrible things in the heat of the moment and I regretted them right away. I didn’t mean any of them.”

“Not even when you said that all I do is get on your nerves?” you find yourself asking.

“You do get on my nerves, Y/N,” he says and you’re just about to open your mouth, but he is quick to continue. “You make me go crazy in the best way possible. With your silly dancing in the kitchen, the way you sing every song with the wrong lyrics and swear your version is the right. When you get mad at me for using words you don’t know the meaning of, or when you put me in my place when I’m being a total ass… you make me go crazy… for you.”

Your eyes are tearing up again and when his hand moves to your knee you lean closer to him, wanting more of his touch instantly. 

“I love you, Y/N. I never thought I could love someone this much, but you just always prove me wrong,” he chuckles softly and your hand finds his on your leg, your fingers locking together. “Please come back. I’m nothing without you. Come back and get on my nerves every day because I want to be a mad man, but only if it’s you who makes me crazy.”

Now you’re fighting the urge to cry like a baby. You love this man and you can’t imagine a day when you won’t. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. He reaches up and wipes them with his thumb. “I didn’t mean it when I said you must be fucking all your assistants at work.”

“That hurt,” he smiles bitterly.

“I just… I still wonder why you chose me,” you admit with a shrug. 

“Because you’re the one for me,” he simply answers, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. You take a deep breath and exhale it shakily before leaning in and kissing him. The game starts right when your lips meet, but all the screaming and clapping tunes out as you’re back in the arms of the man you love. 

“Do you want to move to the VIP section?” you ask. 

“Nope,” he smirks down at you. “This really is the best seat.”

“See? I told you!” chuckling, you just pull him in for another kiss before making yourself comfortable with his arm around your shoulders.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[oofthwoods]

DEBUTANTE! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k

NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?

She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).

In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.

She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.

The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.

"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.

"It's alright, Lewis-"

"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."

"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"

"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.

"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."

Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.

"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.

"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.

"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"

The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."

She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."

Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."

The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.

The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.

“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.

"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"

The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.

"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."

Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.

"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"

"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."

The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.

The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.

"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.

The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"

"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.

Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.

"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.

"I already have one."

"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.

"Yes. WWJD."

"What does that stand for?"

"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."

The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.

Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.

"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.

She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."

Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.

Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."

The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.

"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."

A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."

A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."

With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.

She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.

"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.

"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.

The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.

The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.

As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.

"Copy." She smirked.

The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.

As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.

She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.

The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.

"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."

"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.

"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.

This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.

Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.

Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.

"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.

"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"

The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."

As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.

"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.

But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.

Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.

"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.

"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."

He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.

Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.

"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."

A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.

"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.

"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."

"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.

She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.

Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"

"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."

He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”

Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”

The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.

She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.

"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.

The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.

"Stay safe, Nando"

"You too. Give us hell"

"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.

"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."

"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.

As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.

"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.

The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.

The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.

She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.

"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."

She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.

"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.

Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?

After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.

In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.

Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."

The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.

"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"

The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.

She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”

She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.

He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.

"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."

A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.

"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.

"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.

She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.

Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.

Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.

She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"

He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.

Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.

Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.

Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.

As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.

But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)

Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.

He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"

A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.

"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."

She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley, @stinkyjax, @namgification, @judespoision, @cha-hot, @disneyprincemuke, @itsjustkhaos, @trouble-sistar, @ihateyougunthersteiner, @treehouse-mouse, @cherry-piee, @fangirl125reader, @cassie0sstuff

[dannyriccsupremacy]

suburban legends | CL16

| charles leclerc x fem!exgf!reader smau

| summary : charles doesn't do enough to keep his girlfriend and when the internet finds out, they are less than happy.

| faceclaim : christina nadin

| part one here ! part two here !

youruser just posted a story!

yn, her bff, chloe, julia and amelia all sat at a cafe by the water catching up. their drunken plans from the club bathroom that night had turned into a reality, and they were all so excited to see each other- and follow each other on social media.

as they were chatting, giggling with each other, your bff suddenly gasped and scoffed.

"whats that for?" yn asked, slighting laughing at her antics.

"ex-o'clock." she said sipping her drink, "yours, not mine."

"what?!" yn exclaimed, giving her bff a look, "definitely him?"

your bff nodded, rolling her eyes. the other three girls were avidly looking at everyone in the vicinity, trying to work out which man was eliciting this reaction from the duo.

"brown hair, sunglasses, white shirt, two o'clock." your bff answered their unspoken question.

the trio's eyes landed on the man at the same time, and amelia suddenly went white. soon the other four's attention was on her, concerned.

"miels, what's wrong?" julia asked, placing her hand on amelia's arm.

"oh, n-nothing." amelia shook her head.

"no, honey, what's wrong?" chloe questioned, her curiosity peaking.

"i feel awful. i didn't know, i swear." amelia apologised frantically.

"know what?" yn furrowed her brows.

"he's the one i'm talking to right now. charles is the one i'm seeing. and yn, your the ex he isn't over yet." amelia blurted, cheeks turning pink.

"amelia... i am so, so sorry." yn apologised, a sympathetic expression on her face.

"yn! do not apologise. especially not for a man!" amelia scolded, laughing slightly, "i was going to break things off with him anyway. he is well and truly still in love with you."

yn smiled sadly, taking another glance at the man, only to find him already staring at her, love still shining in his eyes.

liked by lilymhe, sacreskin + 90,367 others

youruser bros b4 hoes 😉

view all 16,324 comments

yourbff words of wisdom

user omg is this about that one tweet??

ameliahobart bros 4ever

user in her post breakup popularity era

user yn is so hot

juliaverner marry me pls!!

↳ chloedarren she said no hoes maam 🚫

user i bet charles misses her

lilymhe no hoes here 🙅‍♀️

↳ alex_albon lily???

↳ carmenmundt get over yourself albono. sucks 4 u

↳ georgerussell63 carmen???

↳ youruser please no hoes in the comment section. read the sign.

↳ francisca.cgomes yeah scram

↳ pierregasly kika???

↳ user i love the unhingedness in yns comment section

amelia sat across from yn, a slightly embarrassed look on her face.

"look, yn, i really like you and i really want to stay friends with you, so i just really need to tell you this so i don't think that our entire friendship is built on lies." amelia blurted, causing the confused look on yn's face. yn nodded for her to continue.

"basically, charles hired me. i'm an aspiring actress and i answered a call he had put out for someone that fit my description. when i sat down and met him for the first time, he explained that he wanted someone to pretend that they were his girlfriend to make his ex- you- jealous." she explained, wringing her hands together.

"when i first met you, i didn't know you were the ex, but he told me to keep up the act with everyone since monaco is such a small place and everyone talks." she took a breath, "but then when your bff pointed out him as your ex, i wanted to say something, but i really liked you so i didn't want to ruin the friendship we had already created."

yn sat in silence as she took in the girl's words. "okay."

"okay?" amelia was nervous, "just okay? is that like a bad okay, or is it a good okay?"

"a good okay," yn smiled, "i really want to keep being your friend so i'm so happy that you told me now. i definitely would of had to re-evaluate the relationship if it happened later down the line."

"oh thank god!" amelia let out a sigh of relief, at which yn laughed, "but i do want to let you know that charles still truly loves you. like he would not shut up about how amazing you are. i have only heard his side of the story, but if i were you, i would definitely get back together with him."

"he kissed me in a way that screwed me up forever, then i broke my own heart because he was too afraid to do it." yn responded, thinking back on their relationship.

"sounds like you were born to be suburban legends!" amelia giggled.

"i think i might." yn grinned.

"now i did meet his friend lando... what's his deal?"

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff + 95,375 others

youruser our mismatched star signs surprised everyone 🤷‍♀️

view all 21,598 comments

yourbff pop off ig

↳ youruser slay

pierregasly at least he doesn't mope around anymore

↳ youruser aw honey you moped?

↳ charles_leclerc FALSE. LIES. MISINFORMATION.

user MY PARENTS!!!! ARE BACK TOGETHER!!!

↳ user NO LONGER A CHILD OF DIVORCE!!!

user i cant believe theyre back together

user honestly... i would too

ameliahobart the cutest couple!! (set me up with ykw pls!!)

↳ juliaverner dont manipulate them

↳ ameliahobart but i manipulated them together 😔

↳ chloedarren 🎶 cause [she's] a mastermind 🎶

user NATIONAL TREASURES.

authors note i literally took so long to get this part out i am so sorry!! but this will be the last part. a spin off may occur 👀

@allywthsr @sunny44 @coolio2195 @multi-fanss @babyliz43-blog @redbullgirly @smnthnclj @d3kstar @living-with-ghost @noonesgoneuntiltheyregone

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ ELATION ]

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A/N: This was originally an nsfw quick thought but it spiraled out of control so I guess it's a story sneak peak now?!…

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ]

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You look down on him. Pure joy on your face as he kneels, sitting there at your feet, and all at his will.

It feels so odd but intoxicating. You, so much smaller than him, who can only harness half the power he holds and are seen by everyone as the softest being ever to grace the hotel halls. You, an almost picture-perfect doll many thought fell from heaven, towering over one of the most feared overloads without a hint of fear in you.

Alastor at your whim, willingly, and all because you flattered him with your existence. So polite, so sweet, and so daring. You were fragile and fearless, an ordinary sinner who had him wrapped around her little finger within minutes of your first meeting.

And you knew it.

You knew it and you used it against him shamelessly.

One look from your doe-like eyes and he felt incapable of refusing any wish you asked of him.

It gave you a rush, confidence even, and boosted your hidden ego, knowing you could crumble such a powerful demon to his knees so quickly. The slight smile you'd learned to showcase daily became a grin looking down on him now, in the confines of his room, in the dead of night…

You'd come to him for attention, and though he was busy preparing the script for his next broadcast, he immediately disregarded it as you waltzed into his space.

“Hm, seems you missed me a lot, Al,” you teased him with a giggle, perching yourself on the sofa he'd just been lounging on himself and lowering your gaze as he crouched his taller frame before you.

A true gentleman….acting without being told to.

How sweet….

“My dear,” he addresses you quietly, smile ever present as you tipped his head up with your stocking-clad foot; the soft black fabric reached your thighs, drawing his attention to the exposed skin above it as you playfully nudged his chin to refocus his wandering gaze.

“My eyes are up here, sir. Don't you know it's impolite to gawk at a lady?” You flash a closed-eye smile while chastising him, crossing one leg over the other as he looks upon your face, but he finds it incredibly hard to leave it there as the silk of your nightgown shifts with your every move.

Alastor could easily rip it off, pin you down, and take what he wanted from you.

Use you for all your worth and dare you to run as he did…

He had the power to but basked in your control instead, loving the trivial games you'd play with his undead heart and undeniably amused by your confidence to do so.

You didn't need his affections, his ownership, or permission.

Protection or popularity wasn't your prerogative either…

You needed nothing from the feared Radio Demon…

Not a single thing…

But you would damn sure take everything from him.

“What is it that you desire, sweetheart? Tell me, and it's yours…” Alastor felt his chest lose all its air as you giggled again, humming quietly, hearing his offer and only answering him when you'd taken an excellent, sultry look at him.

“Anything?” you question him, reaching out to gently pet his ears, brushing the same delicate fingers through his town-toned hair a couple of times before tracing over his hidden antlers. Alastor felt an invisible shiver rack his body as you toyed with the familiar areas, aware of their sensitivity but selfishly stimulating them to get his reactions.

“Anything…you want..” the stag groaned lowly, smile growing tight as you massage his right ear before switching to the other and using that hold to drag him closer while uncrossing your legs. He obediently leaned in, the subtle scent of your aroused heat stirring a dormant hunger in him instantly and the plushness of your thighs fitting perfectly into his clawed hands as he reached for you.

You moaned quietly as he dragged his claws over your skin, careful not to rip your stockings, panting heavily against your clothed cunt like a starved man.

It'd been days since he last tasted you, had his fill of your cunt that you so graciously allowed him access to, and Alastor had long forgotten how to mask his greed for it…

He saw no point in hiding his craving when you came to him in a state like this. Demanding and desperate, just the same as he was.

“So…” you sighed in delight as he nuzzled his head closer, blood-red eyes drifting up to meet yours as you continued to speak, “…you’ll help me fall asleep then? One last time…”

A lie.

You both knew you'd return to him for all your needs, desires, and troubles.

“One last time “ meant nothing to Alastor and even less to you.

“Of course, I will, my darling…” he let the static drop from his voice, admiring how your small canines dug into your bottom lip, eyes lidding over with unmistakable pleasure.

That was all you needed to hear from Alastor, voicing no refusal as he shifted closer to your heart and moaned loudly as he passed his tongue over your clothed heat once, then twice before ripping it away with his sharp teeth.

You jolted from sudden action, not startled by Alastors microaggressions and rather proud of yourself for causing such a ravenous reaction. “Careful, or you might hurt me, Al…” you feigned concern, petting his head gently as a lazy smile tugged at your lips, and said deer demon responded to your coy reprimand by slowly lapping at your folds.

“Oh, mmm…” Your back arched from the velvet cushions you sat against, hands fisting the fabric of his red dress shirt as he wrapped an arm around each of your thighs, effectively keeping you still.

His grip was bruising, a normal pain you'd come to expect since you tended to struggle to tease his efforts at pleasing you, but your little habit persisted.

“Y-you think- ahm…you think you deserve this?… To have me…t-to get anything you want…ah…” you writhed in his hold, glaring at him vengfully despite drowning in a pool of ecstasy everytime he passed his unruly tongue over entrance. Alastor chuckled at your brazen remarks, reveling your warmth as he switched between teasing your clit and exploring your inner walls, and you lost your breath from the familiar pattern.

He knew you inside and out, committed your every reaction to memory, and thrived off seeing your tender body betray your power-hungry mentality.

Your thighs trembled as his tongue slithered deeper into your cunt, leaving no inch of it unexplored while his gaze remained on your flushed face. He couldn't look away, not when you threw your head back before letting out a string of whimpers, blinking back tears as your hips rolled closer to his face.

He had you now, legs shaking, and your count steadily streaming a mix of his saliva and your cum.

He had you, and there wasn't a thing you could do to stop him.

You'd asked for it…

“Earn it…earn me…Alastor,” you praised his efforts through grateful moans, vibrating with pleasure as the coil in your stomach curled itself impossibly tight the longer he feasted on your cunt. Stars dotted your vision as your high approached, his distorted groans and deathly grip coaxing it.

Blood trickled on your thighs, his nails gradually digging deeper into the fabric covering them, but you refused to care as Alastair brought you over the edge.

“That's enough..” you whine as his tongue swirls inside of your cunt, leaving nothing to waste as you come down from your high. He didn't relent to the ministrations, overstimulating you on purpose, and you tugged one of his ears roughly to correct him. Alastor grunted in pain, grimacing at you as he backed away from your entrance slowly, “What a violent little thing you are.” He chastises you, eyes narrowing as a huff leaves your lips, “And you're an arrogant son of a bitch…” you snap back childishly.

His eyes glow bright red at your snarky remark, smile widening as you follow it up with an innocent smile. No one but you could get away with talking to him that way, smug and inconsequential.

Indeed, Alastor would find a way to fuck the meaning of genuine fear into you…

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This was literally a drabble…ughh my writers block is actually debilitating atp… :(

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

His eye brow raise kills me everytime…like okay yes sir whatever you say sir mhm will do sir no need to ask me twice sir!!! ❤️ credit to the creator

[splatloafbud]

a very vivid splatoon 3 splatfest dream i woke up from this morning at 2am:

the splatfest theme was: "which shape is the best?"

the teams were: circle vs triangle vs square

i had joined team circle because the colors reminded me of team future, the grandfest team i joined irl

before playing a ton of turf war (the turf war part of the dream was a blur to me), i was too preoccupied taking in the sights and sounds of the splatsville city. all of the idols were performing there, each wearing new outfits for this event (shapes fest had a lot of energy like it was grandfest 2.0)

there was a part where i was taking a bunch of Marina pics cuz she looked cute in the outfit she was wearing (which i don't remember, but it looked vaguely like a mix between her grandfest + suffer no fools outfit)

after the turf war part that i don't remember a whole lot on, cut to a scene where me and the family are out going to store: specifically Target

we had all split up to buy whatever we needed and i came across some cousins there were shopping there too, so we chatted for a long time (some of the store assistants would join our conversations too). it turns out that the shapes splatfest was BIG in town. even the ppl who weren't gamers were talking about it, including my cousins

"triangles are obviously peak. like, they're mountains. they literally have a peak." ok bro

after what felt like a long time, the unimaginable happened..... on a big screen display, inside target, the SPLATFEST RESULTS were announced for all of us to see. everyone inside the store froze to watch the results... for every score that showed on-screen, me & everyone inside that store was excitedly reading the numbers out like, like how the audiences do in gameshows

the sneak peek scores were won by Team Circle, whose numbers i don't remember exactly, but the POPULARITY VOTES WERE INSANE: circle (80%) -> triangle (10%) -> square (10%)

and finally the clout appeared..... winning the Open and Tricolor clout....... was Team Circle. and when the clout numbers appeared, ME AND EVERY PERSON IN TARGET WAS CHEERING SO LOUD- we were celebrating, applauding & hugging each other like we won the lottery or some shit

and my ass was over here going: "YESS!!!! THE CIRCLE!! INFINITE SHAPES!! INFINITE- LIKE THE FUTURE!! TEAM FUTURE!!! ZERO IS INFINIIIITE!!!"

once we all calmed our asses down, a cutscene played immediately after the results, daylight outside in-game (as always after announcements)

a few team circle inklings & octolings were standing around in the city, the splatfest decorations still hanging around. one of the inklings go: "we won, but i'm hearing people say that we lost..."

things then took a turn for the worst

nighttime fell across the sky, like darkness covering the world. a vehicle rolls up in the center of the city, with this bowl structure attached to chains... then suddenly... Mr. Grizz appears from inside the bowl!

when he's speaking, the dialogue box doesn't appear, it's just text. his voice had his dialogue voice tone, but he was speaking in english. music started playing: like slowed-down circus music that sounded distorted & unsettling, with a choir sounding like it was mourning.

once he stepped out the bowl thing, mr grizz then placed a hand on each inkling/octoling's head. one by one, they all transformed into little bears that then shriveled up into these sad-looking teddy bears. they were still sentient, but could not talk or move, lying on the ground making distressed cries.

then the scene faded to black with text at the bottom, like it was the end of a nintendo direct. then the mr. grizz cutscene played a second time, for those inside the store that missed it (when it replayed, the dream's pov switched to the game, so everything was in full screen and the music was amplified)

...... that was when i woke up lol

[backwzzds]

law w/ a breeding kink go

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sweet & messy, trafalgar law (nsfw)

omg law + breeding kink just makes sense. it’s clear that in reality he’s a very tidy and well kept person. law will go crazy if even a single note from his doctor’s book is missing. but when it comes to you—he’s the messiest person ever, especially with cumming inside you.

at first, law was against it. no, cumming inside you was too risky. he knew the effects birth control had on you and didn’t wanna rely solely on that to keep you from conceiving. the least he could do was his part and at least try and pull out on time (hard to when it’s literally your cunt he’s in every other night but whatever).

having sex with you is honestly the only time law gets to turn to his other side; the dark, messy part of him that lacks the self control popular law has. no, the law that fucks you is the part of him he tries his absolute hardest to lock away, it’s no surprise only you got to saw it.

when law has sex with you, self control doesn’t exist. the moment he’s inside your tight, gummy walls, its almost as if the biological primal male instinct in him completely takes over, and his only goal in life is to breed you. maybe not even for the sole purpose of impregnating you, but marking you. completely digging his territory and spiritually letting others know that your womb was his—whether you liked it or not.

law felt at home when he was between your legs. it was almost as if your velvety cunt made all the stressors of his day wash away the moment he came in contact with it. your tight grip on him like a vice was enough to send him in a haze. each thrust he gave you as if it were his last.

at this point, the sex wasn’t even for you, it was for him. and not in some selfish, asshole way; law always made sure you came at least twice before he focused on getting to the true work. but instead in a way where he spent hours sometimes just edging himself to a point so that when he finally nut inside you—it was gonna be worth the torturous wait.

it’s almost as if his version of heaven is calling his name at the gates when law feels himself reach his peak. he didn’t even have to do much to get to this point; you were doing it all for him. just laying on your shared bed, legs wide open and awaiting him as your gold anklet with his initials rested right over his shoulders.

when law cums, his eyes nearly rolls to the back of his head. it’s so good, it all becomes overstimulating for him. the lower half of his body practically trembles as he releases long ropes of his hot white cum into your pink cunt, not stopping once after you were clearly filled. to make matters worse, he pulled out and finished all over your breasts, significantly marking you. all his.

no one else’s.

[hellodropbear]

like she used to (bonus)

alexia putellas x sister

part I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII

it's been well over a month since I finished the last part of like she used to and started this chapter, i'm so sorry for the delay!

a week after i posted the last part i was on a run in the national park near my house and it is between two beaches (literally my favourite run ever) so very sandy and uneven and i was running alone and tore my acl/mcl lol so I have been preoccupied with that stuff.

i'm super fucking pissed as well because i was supposed to have state cross country in a couple weeks (first season in the open group) AND my reconstruction is scheduled for like two weeks before peak surf life saving season so i'll probably miss the whole summer and into autumn AS WELL as the competitions we do throughout the summer.

anyway i had to quit football and dance because of a back injury so if this means i have to quit xc and/or sls i'll be super sad.

rant over and here is a new part of like she used to, a popular request of when elena meets olga

:)

~~~~~~

I was a lot littler when I met Jenni. She was tall and had heaps of tattoos littered around her body. Her arm's weren't dissimilar to Mapi's, but they were better at picking me up - either to restrain me or comfort me.  

The first time I met her was on the pitch, on Mapi's shoulders at the end of a game for Spain. I think I was about 6, too big to be carried around like that, but my resistance was ignored and Mapi had pulled me up anyway. 

She was shouting and chanting as she walked around the pitch, making me squeal in laughter as she tugged on my leg and made joke after joke. She only quietened as we approached a bunch of chatting footballers. I had met most of them before, but Jenni was there, the only one I didn't recognise. 

I distinctly remember Mapi tugging me down and holding me up on her hip, pointing at Jenni. She knew I didn't know her, she knew how anxious I became when I was introduced to new people so she made sure I was secure in her arms, my head pressed against her neck.

"Ah! The baby Putellas!" She smiled at me - that friendly, toothy grin that quickly became so familiar. 

I leant back into the familiarity of Mapi, mumbling my response quietly. 

"Not a baby." 

Mapi had laughed, ruffling my hair and planting a kiss on my head. 

"She is six now. You're so big, mi pequena!"

My gaze never left Jenni, still curious about the unfamiliar woman standing in front of me. Mapi must have noticed, because she continued to speak when nobody else did. 

"Elena, this is Jenni Hermoso. She plays here with Spain and also Barcelona with Ale!"

I nodded, smiling shyly at Jenni. 

"I have seen you at home, Elena, but your sister likes to keep you safe and away from all of us players."

I looked up at Mapi, uncertainty written all over my face. She leaned down to me, whispering in my ear. 

"Jenni is a striker for Barcelona, she plays very well."

"Not as well as you, Mapi!" 

She had chuckled softly, kissing my head again. 

"Tell Jenni that."

I looked back up at the dark haired woman, a shy smile on my face. 

"Mapi plays too! She is a defender. I want to be a defender when I grow up and become just like Mapi."

Jenni chuckled as Mapi adjusted her hold on me, allowing her to pull me closer as she wrapped her arms around me. 

"Who knows. Maybe if you get to know me better you'll grow up to become one of the greatest strikers of all time."

I don't remember what happened next, but both Mapi and Jenni laugh when they retell the story of me scrunching up my nose and shaking my head, confident that defence was the only area I would consider going into. 

From then on, Jenni became a familiar face. One that I would recognise at Alexia's games and approach shyly, blushing as she pulled me up onto her hip and walked me around the pitch. 

It was a welcome surprise when Alexia arrived home from training one night, Jenni right behind her with a bashful smile on her rosy face. She sat beside me at the dinner table, sneaking the food I didn't want to eat and making me laugh by kicking Alexia's leg. 

She quickly established her role in our family, and I quickly realised how much I liked having her around. 

She started to pick me up from school, driving me to my own trainings, kicking the ball with me in the back yard when she got home from her training. She was like another sister and as I grew older I began to confide in her like she was related by blood. 

So when Mami told me they had broken up, I was distraught. It was bad enough that she had moved to Mexico, but when she came back to Spain and didn't visit our house, it felt like I had lost a sister. 

Because that's what she was; a sister. 

Mami or Alba must have told her how upset I was though, because she sent me a text not long after, apologising. 

I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye, pequena. I love you so much and I will miss seeing you all the time. I can't wait to watch you grow into a brilliant defender and I have no doubt you will be just like Mapi like you said you wanted to be all those years ago. I am so proud of you and I am always rooting for you and always here for you if you ever need me. 

I had cried over that message, I hate to admit. But it was when everything started to fall apart; when I was beginning to question everything I knew about myself and my family. My emotions were high and I think Jenni disappearing from my life tipped me over the edge, sending me into a raging ocean, swallowing me and spitting me right back out again. 

It's ok. Spain will miss you. I'll miss you a lot as well. Sorry you couldn't convince me to become a striker like you.

~~~~~~

Meeting Olga is different. 

There's no Mapi holding me, right there to carry me away if I want to leave, to comfort me if something goes wrong or to kiss the top of my head to remind me of her presence. 

There's not much comfort left in Alexia either, she is still trying so hard to build back our relationship but for some reason I am struggling to let her. 

I can't confide in Alba, because she met Olga months ago, when they first got together. Mami thinks she is brilliant. 

Of course I have stalked her instagram, my heart racing as I struggled to understand how my sister went from Jenni Hermoso to this girl. Mapi told me it was bad to compare the two, and bad to judge Olga before meeting her. 

They are friends, Mapi and Olga. She became defensive when I said that I don't care who Alexia is dating anymore, that it won't make any difference to my life anymore. 

She told me that I should give it a try.

I told her I'd do it. I told her I'd do it for her. 

~~~~~~

Ingrid dropped me off at my home, sensing my reluctance to head in and reassuring me it would all be ok, that Olga is great. She told me that if I need, I can just send her a text and she will get me to take me back home. 

They didn't want me to leave their apartment, Mapi and Ingrid. Mapi worries a lot, I have found, and had many lengthy discussions with Mami about my wellbeing, how it had declined so quickly and the crash had slipped right through Mami's eyes. 

"She needs to stay somewhere that she can receive the love and care that she hasn't had, Eli! It's not your fault you are busy, but I am not. I can take care of her while she is still vulnerable and then in a couple months, we can rethink."

I wasn't supposed to be listening to their conversation, but Mapi's temper had been rising and her voice became louder as a result. I closed my door again when she finished, not wanting to hear what Mami had to say. 

I held bagheera hostage and wept into her fur, and she stayed with me all night, still asleep by my side when I woke up the next morning, Mapi knocking on my door with breakfast, ready to confirm that I would be living with her indefinitely. 

She said that she was going to help me and look after me. She said she was always there if I wanted to talk, if I wanted to cry, yell, laugh. She said I was going to be ok with such confidence, like there wasn't a doubt in the world. 

"This will just be a blip, pequena. Everything will be ok soon, and I will be right here making sure that time comes."

But, despite my reluctance, she wouldn't take no for an answer when she found out about this dinner tonight, about meeting Olga. 

They are all already sat around the table when I enter the kitchen, slipping my shoes off and walking over to where Mami is sitting, dutifully planting a kiss on her cheek before moving back to my spot beside Alba. 

"Hola."

Alexia looks at me. Alba looks at me. Mami looks at me. But I am focussed on the new brunette sitting across from Alba, waiting for her to make eye contact. 

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Elena."

She looks up at me hesitantly. 

"I know. I'm Olga. It's nice to meet you too, Elena."

I can almost hear the collective sigh of relief around my dinner table as I sit down, still focussed on Olga. I have nothing left to say though, so I am grateful when Alba picks up a new conversation. 

I provide input when necessary, but I am more focussed on Olga than I would like to admit, my eyes straying over to her a bit too frequently. 

She seems, nervous? Maybe. It could be that she doesn't like the food, the way she is picking away at it. But Mami cooks the greatest paella I've ever eaten, and I've heard from Alba that Olga loves any types of food. 

The other and more likely option is that she's nervous because of my presence, which is an idea I am entirely uncomfortable with. But it is almost confirmed in the way she avoids eye contact through the whole dinner, and I feel deflated as I traipse up the stairs and into my room, sitting on my piano stall for the first time in months. 

It's been almost two months since that day. Two months since I left this house, running as far as I possibly could from the darkness it trapped me in. 

I don't like to think about that day, about how I felt in the days leading up to it and the days after it because how am I supposed think about how I felt when I didn't feel anything?

Things have changed so much since then. I made my debut for Barcelona. My sister apologised. I have started living with Mapi and Ingrid, closer to training. I have stopped going to school after my therapist told me it was too much. Everybody knew that quitting football wasn't an option. 

I haven't touched a piano since that day, so the keys feel cold and unfamiliar underneath my fingers. My chords are dissonant and my rhythms are erratic and unsteady. 

It feels like I have lost my touch, and I can feel that connection I had with my father drift further and further away from me as my fingers continue to improvise. I resort back to the first song he ever taught me, a little nursery rhyme but the familiar notes destroy me in an entirely different way, memories flooding through my head, Papi sat beside me on the stall helping me, my sisters and Mami squished on the tiny office couch behind us, cheering me on and singing along. 

My hands retreat from the piano before I get too frustrated and instead, I let my eyes drift up to the picture that has hung above it since it was moved into my room. 

Shaking hands reach forward to pluck it from my wall, and it sits in my lap, my head dipped as I stare at it, memorising every tiny detail. 

I was so small, wrapped up in my sisters' arms. She looked so excited to have a new baby sister, the smile on her face is unfamiliar to me now. 

Alba is beside her, staring down at my tiny body, as if she was printing the image of me into my memory. Mami is gazing at the camera, smiling with her hand wrapped up in Papi's, her head resting on his shoulder as he stares lovingly at his three daughters, his eyes full of tears. 

I quickly wipe away the tear that drops onto the glass, inhaling softly and letting the air leave me once more. My eyes close and I try not to picture how different my life would be if he hadn't of died, if we were still a happy family of five. 

I wonder sometimes, if he would have let the family divide, form a big crack that could be glued together so many times but never completely fixed. Never back to how it once was, always more sensitive than it should be. 

I don't think he would have. 

At least that's what I tell myself. 

I am still staring down at the picture when there is a soft knock on my door, it creaking quietly as Mami pushes it open. 

"She is very happy to have met you, Elena."

I frown, my eyebrows crinkling. It didn't feel like that. Mami speaks again before I have time to come up with a response. 

"But she doesn't know how to bond with you, because she thinks it is her fault that you and Alexia fell out. She thinks she is the reason that you are so sad."

I shake my head. 

"It was long before she came along."

"I know. I know it was."

She sounds guilty, and I know her well enough to know it is because she wishes she did something early on. She wishes she did something at all, that much she has told me. She regrets leaving Mapi to pick up the pieces and try and glue me back together. 

She knows that Mapi has struggled though, because she does not have enough hands to hold the million pieces that I was shattered into together. She can not do it alone, but is reluctant to let me go somewhere else. 

"This is the best place for you at the moment, pequena. Your Mami and sisters are a phone call away, but I have so much time to make sure you are ok."

I heard her talking to Ingrid that night, telling her how worried she was that if I did go back home, if I went to stay with Alexia or Alba, everything would go back to how it was. 

They had agreed that night that they could provide me with the love and care they think I need, that wasn't given to me at home. 

"Can you tell her that she doesn't need to think that? I don't want her to treat me different to Alba or you."

I turn around to face her and notice the single tear that threatens to fall from her eye. 

She has been emotional recently, ever since she came to Mapi's to see me. She cried a lot then, apologising, telling me she was a terrible mother. Telling me that Papi would be ashamed of her. 

Something tells me she cries a lot when I'm not here, the silence that echoed through the house where loud laughs or cries once sang out swallowing her as she eats, sleeps and sits alone. 

"I think you should talk to her, Elena. It would mean a lot to her and to Alexia. It would make things better for the both of you."

~~~~~~

Mami's words follow me for the next few days. 

When Ingrid picks me up, I force a smile and tell her everything went well. Mapi is harder to convince, but I tell her I am tired and head straight up to bed. 

I think about Olga, what I could say to her. How I would even meet up with her. 

She seems nice, and I do want to get to know her, to get along with her. And I think this is the only way to get past the initial awkwardness. It's not like she would come to me. 

It takes me two weeks to build up the courage to go see her, and the only person who knows is Mami because I had to ask for her address. She was happy, I could tell over the phone, encouraging me that it was the right decision, that I was good for doing this. 

I tell Mapi that I'm going to hang out with an old friend from school, but catch the bus out to Olga's apartment instead. 

She lives in a small Barcelona house, a few steps leading up to the large front door. 

I ignore the nerves that flare up inside me as I walk up the stairs, my hand barely hesitating over the doorbell. 

I resist the urge to run and the door creaking opening is the final confirmation that this conversation is happening now. 

She seems surprised to see me, but her initial shock is quickly masked by an awkward smile as she invites me inside, offering me snacks, drinks, a meal. I decline, perching myself on the edge of her sofa after she sits down. 

She looks at me intently, waiting for me to initiate some sort of conversation, but the words aren't coming out. The words I have been brainstorming for the past two weeks seem to have flown out the window as soon as I entered the apartment, leaving me with nothing to say. 

The length of the silence is verging on the edge of being awkward, and Olga clears her throat and speaks instead. 

"It was nice to meet you the other night, Elena. I had heard so much about you and I have been looking forward to meeting you for so long." 

She beamed at me, and I smiled back sheepishly, still unsure what to say. 

I hesitate for an embarrassingly long time, before words finally come to me. 

"Sorry."

Confusion flashes over her face and her mouth opens to speak, but I beat her to it, elaborating. 

"You were probably looking forward to meeting me and I left as soon as dinner finished."

"It's ok." 

She answered too quickly, and I flickered my eyes towards her. A small smile sat on her face, and she had relaxed into the cushions of the sofa. 

"I have thought about what I wanted to say so many times, but I have forgotten how I wanted to start."

I chuckle sheepishly and she shakes her head. 

"You don't need to worry, Elena. I don't want you to be scared of me, or what I think. I just want to know you, and I want you to know me."

"I- It's just- I don't know. You know about everything that's happened... with me and Alexia?"

She nods hesitantly and opens her mouth to speak but again, I beat her to it. 

"It's not your fault. Like, not at all. Mami said you think that and it's not true. It is a lot older than that, all the way back to when Ale and Jenni first broke up."

I didn't really know what reaction I expected from her, but I did not think she would relax so visibly. Her entire body loses any remaining tension, and she releases a loud, long breath. 

"Thank you, Elena. For saying that. She's told me how much you mean to her and how badly she screwed up. I didn't want to be the reason for that. Mapi has mentioned vaguely how it hurt you, and I didn't want to be the reason for that either."

I shake my head.

"You don't need to worry about it. It's not because of you, and it's getting better now. Slowly. I'll be ok."

"I know you'll be ok." 

Her words come out in a whisper and she continues when I look at her in confusion. 

"I have heard a lot about you, Elena, but most of the time, it is about your strength. Everyone says how strong you are, how resilient. Everyone is so proud of you, of who you've become and it is so hard for them because you are the only one who can't see it. You are the only person who doubts yourself. Alexia blames herself and I blame her too."

Her words hit a chord that hasn't been hit in a long time. People have said that to me so many times, in so many different ways. They tell me I am strong, resilient. That I am a hard worker and that I persevere. Usually, it means nothing to me, just more words that are said out of obligation, to try and please me. 

But Olga's words are full of emotion that I can practically feel radiating off her. She means it, I realise. She isn't saying this to make me feel good, or because Alexia told her to. 

She is telling me this because she wants to, because she wants me to hear it, to understand it. 

"I don't blame Alexia for anything any more."

She shakes her head. 

"You should. Because everyone else knows it is true, that her neglect impacted you in ways that cannot be reversed. Things she did that left marks that will never go away and it will haunt her. It already does. She loves you so much. So much. But sometimes she will start crying and I just know it's because she is thinking about you."

There are tears in her eyes, and there are tears in mine. 

And then the tears slip down my face and she is quick to pull me into a hug. 

"You didn't deserve any of this and I am sorry that I didn't do more to stop this. You tell me it is not my fault, but I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. And for that, I will blame myself."

I shake my head again.

"It was not your responsibility."

But I know she knows that, I know what she is trying to say. 

And maybe if she had done something, said something, things would be different. 

But the cracks were already there and they would have remained no matter when Alexia came to apologise. 

I am in a good place. 

Alexia and I will be in a good place soon.

There is nothing anyone can do to change what happened. 

"Thank you for being there for Ale. I know she's had a hard time too."

~~~~~~

lol hope you enjoyed (this has barely been edited so will probably go through it in the morning again)

i'm not kidding this chapter has taken me so so long and I really don't like it but i have written, edited, deleted and rewritten for so long so this is the best we're getting for now

if anyone has any other requests for this fic or an entirely new one let me know!

i have ideas for a new fic coming though so we'll see when I get round to finishing one of those chapters :)

[wilwheaton]

Hi wil!

Do you have a spotify (or any other streaming platform) playlist that you can share? :D

I do! I've made a few playlists that are public.

The most popular is my new wave playlist, though my personal favorite is Wil Wheaton's KROQ Happy Place. It's mostly deep cuts from the early 80s, when I was discovering and falling in love with punk, new wave, goth, and the like. There are others on my profile.

And since we are talking about Spotify, I have to say: Joe Rogan is a cancer on society and it sickens me that Spotify is giving him a platform and money it should be giving artists. And it's criminal that, in 2024, ANY streaming service uses lossy compression like Spotify does. There is a generation of music lovers who have no idea what that music is supposed to sound like, because they only hear it from Spotify. They don't know what they are missing, and maybe never will. If I were a musician, I'd be pretty unhappy about that. Can you imagine movies being just slightly out of focus all the time? You'd get used to it, but that's not how it's supposed to look.

But the reality is, Spotify has the deepest library and best user experience of all the streaming services I've experienced. Oh, how I wish Apple didn't believe that UI peaked in 2009 and nothing should ever change.

So, the instant a robust alternative to Spotify arrives, I am there, and I know I'm not alone. But until then, it's where my playlists live.

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.  

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.  

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.  

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow.  I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon