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himbosandhardwear · 6 months ago

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Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

“Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.

#dustin: this steve hes my babysitter and he DROVE ME HERE #steddie #meet cute?#anonymous grinding #ficlet #my writing

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messylustt · 2 years ago

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𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.6k words

fic masterlist previous part pt six next part

mentions of injury; miguel be fantasising bout you guys; miguel makes you say spanish sentences that you don’t know the meaning of (i don’t think this is a warning but oh well); please also forgive if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes (I’m tired af) — after the incident you wake up at HQ, with a note saying your hired status. with confusion you go to speak to miguel. along the way there and back you get your friends acting suspicious. miguel finally begins to accept that he wants to keep you close.

Your eyes slowly blink open, bright light invading your vision. At first you just lie there, no thoughts really occupying your brain.

As you go to sit up, having realised that you're lying on a bed, a hand suddenly rests on your shoulder. You turn to see Hobie. "Careful there, mate, wouldn't want ya knocking out again."

"What..." You drift off, brows furrowing as you rub your temples. "Knocked out...oh." Thoughts, or more so memories, begin to flood your brain. The different universe. Miles. The masked men. The running...and then...Miguel. You remember seeing Miguel, he had helped you, asking you to stay quiet.

You remember the instant feeling of relief when he had spoken, and then the droopy feeling of your exhausted body.

You go to swing your legs off the bed, as you gaze around the medical room. But Hobie keeps his hand on your shoulder. "You've gone through some stuff over the past couple days, take it easy."

"I'm alright...thank you." You nod, giving him a small smile. "Am I back at HQ?" Then you further mutter. "I thought he'd send me home."

"Yeah, me too...but maybe your act of defiance changed his mind." Hobie chuckles.

You go to shake my head. "I didn't mean t-"

"Mean to go, yeah don't worry we knew not long after you disappeared." Hobie interrupts.

You nod, but then your brows begin to furrow. "Wait, how did you know?"

"Miguel actually found out. He got pissed you left a day early. Thanks for that, by the way." Hobie nudges your shoulder gently.

You softly chuckle, though your thoughtful expression stays. "How'd he found out? I could've just gone home. I planned to just go home."

"I think he went to your universe." Hobie says, a sly grin forming.

You stare at him. "Why? To tell me I should have worked that day?"

Hobie shrugs. "Maybe."

You shift your body, so that you're somewhat facing him more. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Hm?" Hobie hums, acting innocent.

"Hobie don't have that expression if you're gonna stay silent." You wave your finger in front of his face.

Hobie stands, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what you're talking about, y/n."

"Hobie."

But he's already walking out he door. "Oh." He pokes his head back in. "There's some lunch on that table there. Be grateful I didn't eat it."

;;

You stare at the note in your hand. It read 'You're not fired as of Tuesday'.

"Peter, hey. Have you seen Miguel?" You ask as Peter nears you, your hand now scrunching around the note. Another god forsaken note.

"Y/n, hey. Glad to see you look less pale." Peter smiles, but you're persistent.

"Apparently I'm not fired?"

"You got your job back, nice." Peter at first doesn't notice your blatant narrowed gaze. But when he does, his smile turns to a frown of confusion. "You don't seem happy about that."

"I'm confused. He isn’t one to mess with people…right?"

Peter tilts his head to the side. "Eh, part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he did." He mutters.

"I mean, not even a day ago he was wanting me gone. Not that much has happened to change his mind." You say.

"Actually a lot has happened."

"Yeah, but that stuff shouldn't change his decision about me working here."

Peter shrugs. "Maybe it did."

"Your elaboration there is great, Peter, thanks." Your sarcasm is clear.

Peter smiles, fixing the spider beanie on Mayday's head, as she babbles on about something. "Go talk to him. Most of the time I can't read him, so I wouldn't have a clue."

"That's why I'm trying to find him." You say, to which Peter answers with "I think I saw him heading to the top floor."

And so you make your way to the stairs to heaven (hell). You had just walked down them in an effort to find Miguel, now you were walking up them...in an effort to find Miguel. This fact only seemed make you even more annoyed with him.

Great, you got your job back, but at this point you needed to know why. You needed to know what made him change his mind that quickly. Nothing else ever has. Miguel has always been one to make final decisions, with not much there to sway him.

You think back to Miguel’s reasoning for his initial firing, as you walk up the steps. It was because of the attack. So why would he re-hire you because of another one? Or more so because of the same masked men who had attacked. Were they even the reason?

Does Miguel think you know something, and is wanting you back to tell him? No—you think to yourself. He wouldn’t re-hire you for that simple reason.

When you reach the top, your gaze gets caught up in a decision of what direction to take. None of his offices were up here. The only place you can think that Miguel would go is his room.

But you pause in front of his door. Did you really want to go in there? He’s clearly not working if is in there. God, but you had too many unanswered questions, so you knock.

It’s silent for a moment, besides your breathing and the distant chatter of spider-people. You go to knock again, but the door creaks open. It’s darker inside, the dim lighting reminding you of one of his past requests. You can remember the feel of his broad shoulders when giving him that massage. The small groans he would let slip.

You had pushed aside that memory, not liking the way it made your entire body buzz. “Miguel?”

Then he opens the door wider, staring down at you. His position was surprisingly relaxed, one arm leant against the doorframe, as he wore those monotoned clothes that brought out his red eyes.

Speaking of those red eyes, you caught them scanning your body, a little too slowly and for a little too long. You gulp, not meaning to come across so nervous.

You hold up the severely scrunched up note. Miguel shifts his gaze to it. “I see you decided to take your annoyance out on that this time.” He comments.

You narrow your eyes. “Why am I not fired?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see that note.” He says, relaxing more against the doorframe.

“No. I’m not happy to see any note.” You say, lowering your arm. “Why couldn’t you just tell me in person?”

“Because I wanted to avoid this.” He gestures to you in general.

“You can’t expect me not to be a little curious at the sudden change of heart.” You say, trying not to let your gaze drift down his body. When he had shifted his shirt rose a fraction, letting you see part of his hips and abs.

Of course he had abs. You weren’t blind to how built he was, but the small visual still seemed to make you blink too many times and your brain re-wire.

“You don’t need to be curious.” Miguel states, his tongue running along his fang as if he were bored, but the expression in his eyes begged to differ.

“But I am.” You say, tucking the note in your back pocket. “Look, it’s beneficial for you if I know the reason. Then I can work on what made you want to fire me and continue doing what made you re-hire me.”

“Don’t do what made me re-hire you.” Miguel quickly answers.

Your brows furrow. “You’re saying that like what I did was bad…Why would you hire me for something you don’t want me to do again?”

“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“Don’t worry, I have a lot more in my head for you.” You smile.

Miguel shakes his head, looking away with a clench to his jaw. The tiniest of smiles edged the corner of his mouth, but with his turned away head you weren’t able to catch it. And when he glanced back it was gone.

“Can’t I do something without being questioned?” Miguel asks. “I mean, you got your job back, you should be happy…and any other sparkly emotion.”

“You should use those ‘sparkly emotions’ more often, O’Hara. You know people who can lead with positivity usually get more people on their side.” You tilt your head with a raise to your brow.

“You do realise going off track isn’t gonna make me tell you anything.” Miguel says.

Your smile falls as you press your lips together with a sigh. Miguel darts his gaze up your form again, checking your injuries. Your ankle was only partially sprained so no cast was needed, but his gaze kept on getting caught up on the small cuts that littered your body. Some faint, some more prominent, like the one on your bottom lip.

Before he knows it he’s grabbing a belt loop of your pants, pulling you slightly closer as he tilts your head how he wants. Your eyes widen at the action as your heart begins to pick a quicker pace. Two of his fingers stay under your chin—keeping your head tilted up—while his thumb hovers over your cut lip, his gaze narrowed in inspection.

“You should make sure that that doesn’t get infected.” He says in a whisper.

You scoff, though it comes out softer than intended, you having to gulp immediately after. You had been right—having him this close was going to give you a heart attack. “That’s rich coming from you.” Your voice has turned to a mere whisper also.

“You keep seeming to forget that you’re only human.” He mutters. “Weak.”

“You forgot annoying.” You mutter back. Miguel meets your gaze and you freeze. He was close. Too close. Because your mind was beginning to fog over as you stared at Miguel’s intrigued eyes.

Then suddenly he says “We’ll continue our Spanish lessons in a few hours.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.” You say, to which his eyes narrow, his hold still keeping your head tilted up.

“Really?” He sounds disbelieving. “So, you manage to say one Spanish sentence, and that’s it? you’re done?” He tilts his head his eyes darting. “I thought you were more determined than that.”

You narrow your eyes in turn. “And I learnt that sentence from my phone. So, yes, I think I’m fine.”

A small sneering smirk began to curve his lips. “I thought I took your phone.”

Your mouth opens and closes. “I…got a new one.”

“Or…you stole it back.” He counters, raising a brow.

“It’s easier this way. I don’t have to bother you with lessons.”

“But I liked getting something in return.” He answers smoothly.

“You were asking for things anyone could do.” You say.

“But I’d have to pay for someone to give me a massage.” He mocks sadness. “When you were there being oh so nice and generous.”

“I wasn’t being generous. It was apart of the deal.”

“And it still is.”

“No. You firing me, got rid of the deal altogether.” You say, moving to step away, wanting to breath in air that wasn’t getting mixed in with his.

But he pulls you back, tightening his hold on your chin a fraction, one of his fingers dragging to rest on the in-between of your jaw and neck.

“But I re-hired you, which means the deal’s back on.”

“What if I say no to the job?” You suddenly ask.

“Chaparrita, you’re not gonna say no.”

And you hated the fact that he was right. No matter what people said you did like this job, being around all these spider variants. It settled for an interesting life.

Miguel’s finger—that rested by your jaw—started to subtly caress back and forth. It had soon grown into a habit of his, when he got the chance to touch you.

There was almost something soothing about it for him. Being able to feel your soft skin against his claws, that he would usually only use for violence. A contradiction that silently said to him ‘Not everything about you is violent. Not everything has to be’.

And those words only seemed to come up in your presence. At first he had been annoyed by them and that fact. He doesn’t have time or the energy for “feelings” and such. He had to stay focused.

But over—especially—the past few days his annoyance had fizzled away, slowly but surely. Shifting to a feeling that he much preferred, one that made his body buzz with heat. And of course—only in your presence.

So, yes, maybe he did re-hire you so that the masked men wouldn’t be able to find you in your home, but maybe it was also for selfish reasons. Not liking the idea of not seeing you, even if his scowl was still present.

He liked being around you, even just listening to you talk. It all still confused him, but he finally recognised his want for you to stay. To make him feel settled, calm even.

At the end of the day, both his ‘reasons’ for re-hiring you are selfish and he knows it. He wants you close and in his line of vision, and he was going to make sure things stayed that way.

“Alright.” You say, finally agreeing to continuing this deal with Miguel. “But please don’t make me run around endlessly.”

“Have I been?” He shakes his head for you. “No. I’ve only given you easy tasks.”

You don’t why he has but you are definitely grateful. “Don’t use your phone again.” He suddenly says.

“Many people use phones for different thin—“

Miguel cuts in, sparing you an annoyed look. “For Spanish lessons.”

You finally manage to step back, holding in your sigh of relief until you were alone. Miguel watched you intently, catching onto the way your hand began to fiddle nervously with the very same belt loop he had been holding onto.

“I’ll uh…see you in a few hours then.” You say, beginning to step backwards down the hallway. “In the tech room?”

Miguel shakes his head. “It’s still being repaired. Just come back to my room.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach, as you nod. “See you then.” Then you swiftly turn and head towards the stairs.

Miguel watches you go, his lips curving up into an easy smile.

;;

A few hours later—those hours having been filled with back and forth thoughts—you were walking past all the different spider variants, heading towards Miguel’s room.

You narrowed your feelings down to nervousness, having gone in a roundabout of thinking ‘it’s fine’ ‘I’ll be fine’ to ‘im starting to sweat’ ‘why the hell am I starting to sweat?!’

“Y/n!” A voice stopped you, and you turn to see Miles, Gwen and Hobie.

“Miles.” You smile. “So sorry for practically leaving you back there.” You did feel bad.

“Please don’t. I would have told you to run anyway. Those men were scary.” He made a face which made you chuckle. “They had like….real large claws.”

“Yeah…would much prefer never to see them again.” You half chuckle.

“How are you?” Gwen asks, taking her hood off.

You nod. “Good. Better. Yeah…a lot better.” You glance down at your ankle. “Wish I wasn’t so accident prone though.”

“Nah.” Hobie begins, swinging his arm around your shoulder. “You jus’ have a running theme of bein’ in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” You scoff.

“Where are you headed anyway?” Hobie asks you.

“Oh, just to Miguel’s—“ you pause. You were gonna say ‘Miguel’s bedroom’ but then realised how strange that would sound. “To speak to Miguel.”

“I thought you already did?” Gwen asks, brushing her hair from her eyes.

“Yes…but…we have more to discuss.” You nod.

“Like what? Does he want to talk to you about his strange display of worry the other day?” Hobie asks with a sly smirk.

You glance at him, brows furrowing. “Coz that don’t really sound like him.” Hobie continues.

“You’re doing that face again.” You say, narrowing your eyes.

“Am I?” He again prays innocence.

“Yeah, you are. And it’s beyond annoying.”

“Jus’ like I thought he found you.” Hobie mutters almost smugly.

“What?”

In response Hobie just smiles at you, putting his hands in his pockets. You shift your gaze to Gwen, who is looking away.

“Why are you guys acting so suspicious?” You ask.

“We just find it…strange is all.” Gwen says.

“Find what strange?”

“Well…Miguel was the one to bring you in…which isn’t strange, but it was just the way he was acting.” Gwen begins, making your brows furrow further.

“I’m not following.” You say slowly.

“He didn’t really let any of the doctors touch you up.” Gwen continues.

“Then how….?” You’re confused. Because you had woken up with clean cuts and a fixed ankle.

“Ay, what are we all talking about, you guys?” Pav appears, swinging down from a different ceiling path.

“Jus’ about Miguel’s strange actions in medical.” Hobie says.

“Oh yeah!” Pav nods quickly. “He was acting really different. Wouldn’t let anyone near you, y/n.” He gestures to you, to which you raise your brows in disbelief. Then Pav chuckles. “It was almost like he was—“

But Gwen cuts him quickly. “He was just acting different. That’s all.” Gwen spares Pavitr a small glare.

“Okayyy.” You drag out, eyeing them all again. “Right now Miles is the only one seeming to be acting normal. Which I appreciate.” You had begun to back up down the path. Miles spares you a small smile in response.

As you begin to head to Miguel’s room, their words circled your head. What did they mean by ‘didn’t let the doctors touch you up’ or ‘didn’t let anyone near you’. They’re right—that is different from Miguel. So far different that you just can’t seem to believe it.

Maybe they were playing some prank. But even though you can see Hobie and Pav coming up with that joke, you can’t see Gwen getting in on it.

But those thoughts soon drift away as you near Miguel’s door again. You knock, feeling your palms increase in sweat.

Miguel opens the door. Upon seeing you he tilts his head, asking for you to come inside. You do, slipping past him and into the cozy, dim room.

“I hope you’ve come up with some helpful phrases.” You say turning to him. “Because I gave up my phone for this.”

Miguel pulls out a desk chair, taking a seat. You look around, seeing no other chair to occupy. “Use my bed.” He says, gesturing to his ruffled sheets.

You turn your gaze to it, holding down the small hitch of your breath. Why was it hitching? It was just a bed.

You walk over, carefully taking a seat at the edge, facing an already seated Miguel. “And yes, I am better than your phone.” He says, meeting your gaze.

“You sure?” You question. “My phone is pretty helpful.”

“And you’re saying I’m not?” Miguel asks with a small tilt his head. “That hurts.” His dry humour was something that had grown on you. Whether you liked it or not.

“Quiero ir a la feria.” It was a simple beginner question that you repeated effortlessly.

“Quiero ir a la feria.”

“It means ‘I want to go to the fair’.” Miguel explains.

After a few more simple sentences, a idea pops up in Miguel’s head. He probably shouldn’t execute it, but of course he still will.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” Miguel says, waiting for you to repeat it.

“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” You repeat, your flow having gotten a lot better.

Miguel’s breathing hitches upon hearing the words. You had assumed he got you to say something simple, along the lines of ‘I am a farmer who plants trees’. But he instead made you say ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.

And Miguel should probably stop and move on, but he doesn’t particularly want to. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me what the other sentence means?” You ask.

“Repeat it.” Miguel doesn’t budge.

You sigh. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?” (Don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets, Miguel?) You tilt your head, staring at him. All you know is that you asked him a question, but that’s about it.

Miguel breathes heavier, giving you a once over. “Tan bonita.” (So pretty.) He murmers.

“Do you want me to repeat that too?” You ask.

Miguel chuckles. “That’s fine.” Your words staying trapped in Miguel’s brain, seeming to repeat…over and over.

Miguel’s gaze kept flicking to your lips. Conflicting emotions resided behind this action. He could see your cut, which reminded him of the fact that you got dragged into a mess you didn’t particularly ask for, resulting in you getting injured and down right hunted.

The other emotion veered closer to his reasoning for getting you to say those sentences. He wanted to feel them. Lean closer…and see what they felt like. Maybe he wanted to soothe your cut with his tongue…

“Miguel? Are you gonna tell me what I just said?” You ask, leaning closer to get his attention.

Miguel meets your gaze. “I’ll let you try and figure it out.”

“That’s not very good teaching.” You mutter.

He just shrugs. “Then I guess you‘ll never know.”

“And don’t translate it on your phone.” Miguel says pointedly. “That would make you a bad student.”

You clench your jaw but nod. “Fine…” your gaze shifts to the window, seeing the dark sky.

You quickly stand. “I didn’t realise it was this late. I should go.” You begin to head to the door.

Miguel watches your every movement, until you glance back giving him a small nod. “Thanks for somewhat of a good lesson.”

Miguel just hums with a nod, as you turn shutting the door and leaving. Leaving Miguel to gaze back at his bed and where you were seated.

He had already begun to decide on what he wants in return.

ok, this post isn’t letting me add the colours and now I’m sad

this part was a little less action, coz i wanted focus more on miguel’s fEeLiNgS. coz boy does he have them

taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright

taglist #2 taglist #3 taglist #4 taglist #5 taglist #6

#the miguel effect #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara smut #atsv #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman

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pimosworld · 10 months ago

Note

Hi it’s me!! Since you are open to requests, could you please do a very fluffy smut with Joel where the reader is very insecure about her body and he makes her feel loved and it’s just so sweet?? In need of a comfort daddy Joel 🥺

Pairing- Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary- Joel wants you to see your body the way he does, a work of art.

CW-18+, MDNI, NSFW, A smidge of angst because (body image issues), Fluff,miscommunication, reader is not described other than not feeling herself lately, Soft dom Joel, smut, body worship, mirror sex, fingering, unprotected piv, cream pie, self acceptance, no use of y/n

WC-2.0k

[Joel Miller Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

A\N- My first Joel request and I would say I was feeling inspired by some body issues I’ve had lately. Thank you anon for this lovely request I hope I did it justice.

Clothing optional

There was a war going on in your house. Two separate wars to be exact, although you personally had no idea about one of them.

You’re currently on the frontlines in your room with a pile of mass casualties on the floor beside you. As you stand and face the mirror in front of you it’s unclear who the enemy is. Logic would have you believe it’s the clothes, the clothes that fit not long ago…that much you’re sure of. The cruel part of your brain, the part you couldn’t seem to shut off was telling you the enemy was your body. This body that has carried you through life, through ups and downs, through grief and happiness. Yet you stand here and shame it, calling it the enemy.

This dress, one that you were never really that fond of but could always rely on it fitting was the straw that broke the camel's back. It hugs in all the wrong places and definitely seems shorter than you remembered the last time you put it on. The lace at the seams is frayed a little and you swore you heard a stitch pop when you tried to unzip yourself. Now you’re frozen in fear that you’re stuck in this godforsaken thing and you’ve still not figured out what you’re wearing to impress Joel’s business partners. He was always so put together, what could they possibly think of you by his side.

“Sugar ya in there?” A knock on the bedroom door and Joel’s sweet voice causes you to panic.

You’re not even close to being ready. Tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined and your claustrophobia is aching to get out of this dress.

“Don’t come in.” Your garbled voice is evident all rushed out in a frenzy as you hear the door swing open.

****

The other war.

A war that’s been silently brewing in the house over the last few weeks. Joel noticed something different about you. It took him a lot longer than he’d cared to admit once he realized. He knew your body in and out. Every freckle, every line, every scar or birthmark. He’d made it his mission in life to be able to pick you out of a lineup blindfolded, only tasked with his hands or his mouth.

He was insatiable for you.

He never understood when other men would say that after some time you won’t be as obsessed with each other. After marriage things become monotonous and it feels like a chore. He loved chores, being able to complete a task. If loving you and worshiping your body was a chore then he wanted that duty everyday.

At first he thought he must’ve said or done something to upset you. He knew his mouth could be pretty reckless at times so he gave you a few days to cool off.

When you shy away from him or insisted your shirt stayed on during sex he started to grow suspicious. Maybe he hadn’t told you enough how much he appreciated your body. He thought he did a pretty good job of it but things get complicated when you’re in the heat of the moment. He made your brain go all fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate on what he was sayin’.

�� He’d had just about had enough when he walked into the kitchen the other day. You were reaching something high up on the shelf. Instead of asking if you needed help he just stood there ogling you as your shorts rode up, exposing the bottom of your ass. He wanted to sink his teeth into it. He wanted to grip your thighs and bend you over the counter. He could just imagine it as he pounded into you from behind while you screamed his name, the ripples from his thrusts dancing across your skin. You looked so startled when you saw him there, his eyes blown black with lust as he stepped towards you. His heart broke a little when you scurried away and returned aggressively wrapping your robe around you.

****

A peace offering.

You knew there was no way he was staying outside at any sign of your distress. He enters your shared bedroom slowly like he’s approaching a frightened animal. You’re sure you look like one in your state.

He’s quite the opposite. Crisp black on black suit, his hair combed back out of his face to show off those beautiful brown eyes. His cologne wafts towards you with hints of bergamot and cedar wood. Just the sight of him has you weak in the knees.

“You wanna tell me what’s got ya all worked up?” He takes a tentative step towards you as you shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself.

He clicks his tongue, hating how defeated you look right now. “Listen sugar, I’m gonna count to ten.” He gently unfurls your arms from you and wraps them around his middle. “And by the time I get to ten.” You take a shuddering breath against his chest relishing in the comfort he’s bringing you. “You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong.”

“One.”

“None of my clothes fit, I hate the way I look right now and I don’t want to embarrass you tonight because I look ridiculous standing next to you in some dress that I hate.” It’s all rushed out and muffled into his chest as he cradles your head and rocks you back and forth.

“Is that all?” He teases as you nod your head. “I’m thinkin’ maybe there’s a little more.”

“Two.”

“Well…the other day.” You let out an exasperated sigh as you look up at him. “You were starin’ at me, in the kitchen. I couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but it didn’t look good.”

He thinks for a moment, back to his thoughts in the kitchen and you must have read him all wrong.

Joel steps back from you briefly as he undoes his tie, letting it drop to the floor. “The other day in the kitchen.” His hands start to work at the buttons on his dress shirt as he shucks it off his broad shoulders. “I wasn’t tryin’ to stare. I was tryin’ to keep my hands to myself.”

Your breathing picks up as he undoes the buckle on his slacks and lets them join the rest of his clothes. He palms himself through his boxers, his hard length growing at the slightest touch.

“Joel, what are you doing?” He doesn’t answer you as his hands grip your shoulders turning you toward the mirror. “We’re gonna be late for the dinner.”

He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth as you gasp. “We’re not goin’ to the dinner sweetheart.” Joel’s eyes lock with yours in the mirror as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do ya see how beautiful you are?”

His grip stops you from shaking your head no and you figure you might as well get with the program now, since he’s being so generous.

“You wanna do this your way or my way?” He asks with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Your way?” You shakily answer as he smiles all wide and kisses your cheek.

His hands make quick work of the zipper that was stuck and he eases it down your back. Carefully dragging it down your body, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His hand kneads your breast and soft whimper leaves your lips as it trails down your stomach. “You weren’t plannin on wearin’ any panties to this event?” His fingers dip lower circling your clit just barely teasing you.

“I…I hadn’t gotten around to them yet.” Your voice is shaky as he winds his other arm around you pulling you taught to his chest.

“Well good thing…you won’t be needin’ em tonight.” His words send a shiver down your spine as you stand there, naked as the day you were born trying to stay afloat. “Now, I asked you if you see how beautiful you are?”

“Yes.” You moan out as he slips two fingers inside, chuckling to himself as he works you open.

You cry out at the loss as he pulls them from you, holding them out in front of your face. It’s lewd the way he licks his fingers and his grip on you tightens as your legs threaten to give out at the sight.

“You want me to show ya’ what I was thinkin’ about in the kitchen?” Rhetorical question of course but you're feverishly nodding your head all the same.

He places a soft kiss to your neck as he guides you to the bed. Neither of you trusting your feet to carry you there. “Lay down for me baby girl. Face me.” You lay down on your stomach, resting your head on your arms as you watch him place the mirror near the edge of the bed.

His fingers tug down his boxers and it surprises you every time, the sheer weight of him. His cock twitches at the sight as if it knows you’re looking, admiring as you stop yourself from reaching at the angry red tip to swipe your finger through the bead of precum leaking out.

The bed dips behind you as he straddles your thighs. You can see him in the mirror watching you as you wiggle your ass, that fight part of your brain no longer concerned with the way you look. Not with the way he’s looking at you. Like he wants to eat you alive.

His fingers grip your flesh as he tilts your hips up, he’s rock hard as he slides the tip through your aching folds. You clench around nothing as you try to draw him in.

“Eyes on the prize baby.” You tear your eyes from him as you catch yours in the mirror. He wants you to watch, but not him.

You’re the prize.

He sinks down in one fluid motion and it takes every fiber of your being to keep your eyes open. You both moan in unison as he starts a slow agonizing pace.

Joel watches you as long as he can but he can’t tear his eyes away from the ripple of your skin as he pounds your flesh. Hitting something deep and devastating inside you as you clutch the sheets. Soft chants of his name punched out in his thrusts as he tries to hold off his release. It feels too good and just like his daydream. Having you bent over all fucked out, unable to form a coherent through. The only thought he wants running through that head is how perfect you are.

“Oh fuck…I’m the luckiest man alive, ya know that.” He grits out as he meets your eyes again.

His strong hands haul you up against his chest as he wraps his arms around your shoulders. All you can manage is a head nod as you keen at this new angle.

You can feel the beads of sweat from his hair drip down onto you as you cling to his arms, he growls in your ear as your climax peaks over you, taking you by surprise as you cry out his name.

“This pussy was made for me darlin’.”

He can feel you suck him in and his balls draw up tight. Your front bathed in a sheen of sweat down your breasts and across your stomach as you ride out the aftershocks. His hips slow to a stutter as he holds your prone and pliant body, pulsing inside you as you let out a soft exhale.

You’re completely and utterly wrecked and he thinks you’re like one of those renaissance paintings with the naked ladies. Better than that because you’re real and you’re all his.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself as you lay there, Joel’s hand draped over your body at the edge of the bed. You can finally look in the mirror and see the war that was waging was all on your head.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

#joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel x reader #soft joel miller #joel the last of us #joelmiller #tlou imagine #joel miller fanfiction

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afniel · 27 days ago

Text

So today I woke up and promptly remembered that hey, didn't I have jury duty at some point this month...? I went downstairs and checked the summons postcard and sure enough, I did.

Last week!

Now, this isn't me confessing a criminal misdemeanor, because I was excused, actually. Luck was on my side (and so was the Wayback Machine, which is how I had to check). No failure to appear, no foul.

The thing I'm actually proud of is that I didn't freak out about it. See, when you've got a lifetime of internalized ADHD shame, the typical reaction to realizing that You Forgot Something, Again, goes like this:

Panic so much. You're going to be In Trouble. Nothing can possibly be worse than being In Trouble. This is a category 5 emergency.

Self-flagellate as hard as humanly possible. What kind of useless sack of unreliable shit, accidentally mislabeled as a human being, could have fucked this up so badly? This is just like everything else in your life. Nothing you do is ever right no matter how hard you try. What's even the point? You're an eternal fuckup. Might as well just accept it.

Existential crisis spiral until you can't even remember what the real problem is. The problem is just you. The problem has always been you. Why are you like this?

Eat an entire thing of Oreos, or whatever your self-destructive self-soothing behavior of choice is. Do you feel better? Not really. You stopped hyperventilating at least, so it'll have to be close enough.

Actually deal with the real problem, if it's even a problem. It probably wasn't. Now you just feel stupid for getting so worked up about it.

Completely fail to realize that you punishing the hell out of yourself in steps 2-4 is just reinforcing your panic response and making you less capable of coping in the future, because you've had it beaten into your head that forgetting things, a normal and reasonable human error, is Simply Not Acceptable, even if it's ultimately pretty harmless. But hey, if you kick your own ass about it harder than anybody else would or even could, then you've personally made sure you have control over the severity of the punishment, right?

Right?

Does that sound like a trauma response? Well, it should, because it is. Many people with ADHD have this same trauma response, because having a brain that doesn't work like everyone else's in a world that is not just not built to accommodate that, but in fact is built to convince you that this is a personal, moral, and unforgivable failure is actually pretty traumatic.

That's verbatim how I've lived most of my life. Don't ask me how the hell I got this far carrying on like that, because I don't even know. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger gives you a goddamn complex. But I've been working on it over the past I don't even know how many years, and today, my response was more like this:

Oh shit jury duty was a week ago. Well, now I just feel silly.

Uhh...let's figure out the worst possible outcome. Jail time? Seems highly unlikely for a first time misdemeanor. Possibly a fine, but probably a warning.

Let's look up what actually happens to people in my county who miss their jury duty. They get sent a second summons. That's very reasonable and not at all a real problem if it happens.

Let's find out if I was even summoned to appear. If not, it isn't even a problem. Mention it to my partner at this point. They say 'yeah, I forgot I had jury duty once. I looked up whether or not I was summoned on the Wayback Machine. You told me to not worry about it either way because people honestly forget all the time, and it's a fixable problem whatever happens.'

Realize they are right (and that I forgot this happened until they mentioned it because it was such a non-issue), and I should take the advice I give and treat myself like somebody I care about. I reassure myself that it's not a big deal and people do it all the time and nobody's doing to be personally affronted, and a sincere apology goes a very long way even with a cranky judge if it comes to that. I check the Wayback Machine.

I was excused anyway, so no big deal in the end. I now have a funny story to tell, and I'll probably remember better in the future as a result. Realize that even if it had gone worse, it still would have ended up a funny story later. Yeah, even if they inexplicably threw me in jail for a night. That sure would never get old retelling.

Have a shower and get on with my day.

Gold star for me, I completely didn't even realize that I was de-catastrophizing so well until after the fact. Like I've got it down to a reflex now. I am legitimately just a much calmer person than I used to be. Feels pretty alright! I could get used to this not kicking the absolute mental health out of myself every time something goes slightly wrong. Highly recommend being nice to yourself actually, 10/10 experience.

Anyway that's me tooting my own horn. I feel very emotionally stable and pretty good about that fact. It's been a fucking journey.

#adhd #adhd problems #actually adhd #adhd things #adhd trauma #adult adhd

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roosterforme · 4 months ago

Note

Does Jake ever have nightmares about a mission or his air-to-air kills in the Mr. Right Now Universe? If so, how do you think it goes the first time he has them when Darlin' is around?

Jake keeps his job pretty well separated from his personal life, but there definitely comes a time when the two can't help but overlap. Naval fighter pilots have it rough when it comes to having a career that is relatable to their partner, but Darlin' always pays attention to what he says. She also knows his moods. I can imagine him returning from a mission where he has a hard time disengaging... (long and angsty ahead)

He was going through the motions. Ever since you picked him up four days ago, Jake was with you, but he still seemed so far away. You thought having him back home again would make everything better, but you found yourself constantly swallowing down a lump of apprehension when you were with him.

"Do you want more pizza?" you asked, watching the way his green eyes shifted from a faraway gaze to focus on your face.

"Yeah," he grunted, accepting the slice without another word.

He wasn't making fun of your pizza. He barely commented on the movie that he insisted he wanted to watch. Even the way he treated you in bed felt off. It was confusing, and you hated the way you were doubting yourself. Originally you thought he just needed some sleep and good food, but he was barely saying a word to you right now.

Tears burned your eyelids as you got to your feet. "Are you not happy to see me?" you asked, voice harsh and raspy.

"What?" he asked, looking up at you, finally focusing on what you were saying.

You held your arms out at your sides. "I missed you, Jake. I missed you for weeks and weeks. I poured my heart out in love letters that I sent to you, but now that you're back, it's like you're still on the aircraft carrier."

He rubbed his hands over his face, a weariness falling into place that made him seem older somehow. "Darlin'," he started, but then he went silent again.

As much as you didn't want to say it, you had to. "Did you meet someone else?"

Images of an older, more sophisticated woman filled your brain even as Jake jumped to his feet. "No! Of course not!"

His arms were around you as you started to cry in confusion. "Then why are you so quiet? Why won't you talk to me?"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Darlin', there's nobody else. I swear. I'm just having a hard time processing things."

"What things?" you asked softly, looking up at him. When he hesitated again, you led him to the living room couch and got him snuggled beneath the fleece blanket with you. Then you turned off the lamp and ran your fingers through his hair until he was ready to talk.

"You know, I guess I'm supposed to be thrilled that I have five air-to-air kills now," he whispered, voice low and filled with sadness. "It's supposed to mean something when you're an ace. But I haven't really slept in two weeks, because I can't stop thinking about it."

"Jake," you murmured, kissing his forehead even as his arm tightened around you. "That's a lot to process. We can talk about it if you want to."

You could already feel some of the tension easing away as he whispered, "I already feel a lot better just saying it outloud to you." He let you kiss him slowly all over his face as he said, "There's nobody else. There's not going to be anybody else. I promise I'm here, Darlin'. I'm just so tired, and I can't seem to shut down and just sleep."

Without another word, you rubbed circles along his shoulder with your thumb. Soon his breathing evened out, and he was asleep. You would let him sleep as long as he could.

#if you ask emily #jake seresin x reader #fake it til you jake it #fake it til you jake it hc

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thesmollestsnek · 2 years ago

Text

Death echoes

So a while ago, i found this dp x dc post that had a really interesting lore headcanon for Danny’s ghostly wail. Idk if I’ll be able to find it again, I’ll link it here if I do, but essentially it posited that every ghost has something called a “death echo”, which is an ability unique to them based heavily on their deaths. These echoes are the most powerful move in a ghost’s moveset, but they’re also extremely volatile and draining, typically damaging the ghost in some way when used, with Danny’s being his Wail because he died screaming. The original post then went on to some really cool halfa!Jason ideas based on these death echoes, but for this lil snippet with an extremely long intro I’d like to focus on Danny a bit more.

Edit: Apparently I may have extrapolated a lot of the actual lore behind these death echos myself? The inspiration post was a lot longer in my memories. Or I might've mushed multiple posts into one mental box and then forgot lol. So a lot of the actual detail from this point on is seemingly mostly original material? I think? Idk man, sometimes my brain spits out information without giving me any clues as to where it got that information. Anyway, this post got kinda long and since I'm... decently sure this is where I shifted from summarizing @ailithnight's post to writing all my own thoughts I figured here would be a good place to throw the cut lol.

So! with all of the context-for-the-context out of the way, let’s move on to the actual context for what I’m writing cause I can’t be bothered with writing an intro XD

Essentially, this is an au where Danny is an established member of the Justice League, or maybe one of the teen hero teams? I’m a slut for eternal teenager Danny, but maybe he’s enough of a powerhouse to be on the main team despite him both looking and acting like the dumbass fourteen year old he died as. Either way, he’s on a League/League-sanctioned mission and things go bad. Like, everyone-almost-dies bad. And so as a final desperation attack, Danny uses his Wail, a power he’s never told anyone on the league he even has. And it works, and they make it out, but after the fact everyone has. Questions. And because in this au death echoes are deeply personal, Danny dodges those questions, but the league coughbatmancough isn’t satisfied with that. So they push for answers. Answers Danny’s not willing to give, because. In my mind death echoes aren’t just based on how a person died, but also their experience of that death. What their last thoughts were. When Danny died the only thing that he could process beyond just an all-encompassing painpainpainpainpain was the sound of someone screaming. His screaming. And so his death echo is the sound of a fourteen year old child screaming in deathly pain and terror weaponized, which definitely gave the league Even More Questions than they would’ve had already. Which finally brings us to the actual snippet, which is a conversation between John Constantine, who was brought in for his experience with the supernatural once it became clear Danny wasn’t going to talk, and Danny himself.

~~~~~~~

“So, kid. Batsy tells me you’ve been hiding some of your abilities, wanna tell me what's up with that? Call it an occultist's intuition, but somethin’ tells me you’re not just being stubborn for the hell of it.”

“It’s... complicated. And not anyone’s business, either!”

“Kid...”

“Why does it even matter?! It’s not something I want to or am even able to do on a regular basis! I saved the mission, can’t they just accept that and move on???”

Sighing, Constantine reached up to start massaging his brow. “Kid, you and I both know that ain’t gonna be enough. Now I know that some things are better left alone, but the rest of these idiots? They can’t accept that, Batsy especially. That man’s never left bloody well enough alone in his life”

He looked up just in time to see the otherworldly teen shrink into himself, looking every bit the child he was. “I know but... why? Why do they need to keep asking questions? And why do they only ask the ones that hurt to answer?”

A sharp glance. “The fuck kinda questions are they asking? Batman was speaking in more grunt than word, so I didn’t really catch all the details of what this power you’re supposedly hiding even is.”

Phantom shrinks even more into himself at that, and responds in a voice so small it’s more sigh than speech. “I... I can scream. And it breaks things and pushes people back. But it, it sounds. Bad. And it brings up bad memories and I don’t like to do it or listentoitoreventhinkaboutitandtheywon’tletmeforgetand-”

“Breathe kid. I know you don’t need to but just take a deep breath with me. Don’t you go getting lost in your own head on me now., Constantine reassured the kid automatically, the sheer hopelessness prompting action long before the words themselves could be understood. Then the rest of him caught up, and he had to pause. Looked up at the kid, saw just how distressed he was. A picture was starting to form in the back of his head, and Constantine didn’t like what he saw one bit. A last-resort power that the normally open Phantom was strangely reticent about. A scream so horrible sounding the rest of the league would not to stop asking questions about it. Terrible memories to match said scream. And one truly miserable child who couldn’t bear to even think about any of it.

“Phantom... is that your Echo? Screaming?”

A miserable nod is his only response, the tears that had been welling up in the kid’s eyes finally starting to fall. Cursing softly to himself, Constantine stood to leave, bracing himself for the Bat’s inevitable questioning. “Well then you just take all the time you need love, and leave the rest to me. I’ll make sure the rest of those idiots know not to ask you about this ever again.” And with that Constantine turned and strode towards the door, leaving the quietly sobbing child to collect himself in privacy.

~~~~~

I had a whole-ass lore dump conversation between Constantine and Batman planned here, explaining how death echoes are deeply personal, and asking about one is a taboo on par with, potentially even worse than, asking a ghost about their death outright. Because they are formed from an amalgamation of how a ghost died, their last thoughts, and their final emotions, in some ways asking a ghost about their Echo is like asking them to describe their death in painstaking detail. But uhhh... inspiration bug left. So yea. Side note, I’d like to apologize if my depiction of Constantine’s accent was Bad, I’m but a lowly USAmerican whose only exposure to British accents is through tv ^-^’

#did some minor edits to fix typos and make things flow better when i went back in to add the hyperlink #that being said dont expect too much i wrote this in a bit of an inspiration frenzy lol #and barely edited it after the fact #the snek rambles #the snek writes #snippit #dp x dc #danny phantom #john constantine #idk wtf else to tag this #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover

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quin-ns · 2 years ago

Text

Fake Blood (Ethan Landry x Reader)

Word count: 5.6K

Summary: spoiler: the blood isn’t fake. alone in your apartment after your friends had been attacked, you ask ethan to stop by. he does in an unexpected way and you get more than you bargained for

Tags: (18+), friends to lovers, minor violence, knife tw, flirting, making out, virgin!ethan, virgin!reader, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, the ghostface robe stays on during sex, denial ab ethan being a murderer :) (if bad why hot?)

A/N: just watched scream 6 for the first time only a few days ago and couldn’t get this psycho out of my brain (tiktok edits didn’t help lol). timeline might be a little wonky but tbh it’s not relevant. also this follows the theory that ethan did the big apartment attack. I really wasn’t expecting this to be this long but it’s worth it yall I promise

Misc masterlist + main masterlist

As much as you liked Mindy, if you knew becoming friends with her would lead to you being integrated into her friend group of past and present serial killer victims, you might’ve thought about asking someone else to partner up with you for a presentation in your film studies class.

When you’d asked her, it was mostly to avoid having to accept an offer from a guy named Jason, who had always stared at you during that class and brought up the ‘Stab’ movies whenever he could (this was before you knew your friends knew him, but you still got a weird vibe from the guy).

She’d been excited to hang out with you after you two gave your presentation, and that’s how you wound up spending most days with her and her tight knit group of friends.

You were probably closest with Mindy, but you liked her brother too. For a guy named Chad, he was actually pretty chill. You got along with Tara as well, who was in a bit of a rebellious phase after being attacked and nearly killed, which you only learned about once they trusted you enough. Her older sister Sam was mostly cool too, but a bit overprotective. There was a gloomy aspect to her, but you supposed it made sense given that she was betrayed by her murderous boyfriend and now the internet peddled theories that blamed her for a series of killings in their home town of Woodsboro.

They had a tight bond, and even though you grew close with each of them, you knew you’d be an outsider. Like Tara and Sam’s roommate Quinn, Mindy’s girlfriend Anika, and Chad’s roommate Ethan. You all had shared multiple conversations about their trust issues. It must’ve been hard to even start to trust people after all that.

Out of all of the other “newcomers” as Mindy once put it, you got along with Ethan the best. He was a little quiet and sorta dorky (which your friends would tease him about a little—all friendly, of course) but he was fun to talk to. You guys liked a lot of the same stuff, including horror movies, and it didn’t hurt that he was cute.

In your opinion, with his curly dark hair and eyes to compliment, the whole “shy guy” thing was part of the appeal.

You wondered if he’d ever make a move, or if he even knew you were curious about him in that way. You wouldn’t go so far to say it was a crush for your ego’s sake, but you wouldn’t send him running off with his tail between his legs like you did with most guys.

Like that guy Jason from film class, who, just before Halloween, was killed alongside his roommate by a masked killer.

“Didn’t he have a thing for you?” Mindy asked you as you were all gathered around the TV, finding out the news together.

You were sitting crammed in a chair next to Ethan since the others had all taken up the couch space. He didn’t seem to mind, but it did unfortunately make it easy for them all to look your way and stare. You didn’t like the attention.

You were in shock at the news, especially when the anchor revealed Jason had also killed your film professor. Ethan pointed that out, saying if the guy was crazy enough to do that he might’ve even gone after you.

“Maybe the killer who killed him did you a favor,” Quinn suggested in response to Ethan.

The thought terrified you. You looked around the group. “Do you guys think he really would’ve hurt me? He seemed weird, not psycho.”

“We talked not that long ago, nothing seemed off,” Tara revealed with a grim look. “He asked if you and Sam were gonna come to the party.”

You hadn’t planned on going—what the hell would’ve happened if you had?

You exchanged a look with Sam, who seemed to have the wheels in her head turning.

You zoned back into the news as the reporter explained the mask found was a ghostface mask—like from the Stab movies. And of course, the actual Woodsboro killings.

“Pack a bag,” Sam told her sister, springing up to move around the apartment building.

Sam and Tara argued, which was a little weird to witness. You tried to sink back into the chair, while Ethan looked at you like he wanted to say something.

Hopefully it wasn’t “get out of the chair” because you didn’t think you could move.

The night ended with you going back to your little apartment alone. Your roommate was out of town and so your anxiety was on high alert.

A lot had happened that night apparently, including Sam and Tara getting attacked in a convenience store and them being questioned by the cops.

As much as you cared about them, you feared what would happen if you were with them.

That’s why the next night when you were invited over, you had been hesitant. A government paper was the perfect excuse, but you had FaceTimed with them so you all could keep an eye on each other.

You sat at your little desk, your laptop opened to work on your paper, and your phone propped up on your cup so you could talk to them hands free.

Apparently everyone was together at the apartment except Ethan, who told you he was studying in the library when you texted to ask him. You responded that you were working on a paper and that if he wanted to come over to keep you company, he could.

You’d spent some time alone with him, but not a lot when you really thought about it. It was always in the group—who were all murder suspects, according to Mindy’s movie rules.

You knew you weren’t the killer, and you had absolutely no motive. The others were still suspicious of you so that hurt a little (maybe that was another reason why you were keeping to yourself), but you did your best to understand that they weren’t just suspicious of you.

Everyone was a suspect, and no one was safe.

You felt even less safe when Mindy said she’d call you back. You didn’t know why she had to hang up so urgently, but you had a feeling it had to do with the emotional conversation Tara and Sam had been having in the background. You couldn’t make out most of it clear so you avoided mentioning it.

You sighed and checked your chat with Ethan. He hasn’t responded to your text. You were getting nervous now that you weren’t video chatting with your other friends anymore and the thought of being home alone didn’t bring you much ease.

You thought about just going over to the Carpenter’s (and Quinn’s) apartment, not wanting to bother Ethan further. Maybe he was ignoring you on purpose.

However, it was a far walk there. You didn’t feel safe making it alone at night—especially with a killer on the loose, likely targeting your friends. If you had a car, maybe, but you were a broke college student who could barely afford a place to live.

You sucked it up and double texted Ethan, this time asking if he could come over and that you were worried.

When he didn’t respond right away, you gave it a few minutes.

A little while longer passed and since you now couldn’t focus on your paper, you tried to call Mindy back. Then Tara. Then Chad. Then Sam. Then Quinn. Then Anika.

Not a single one of them answered.

You took a deep breath. Then, you went to double check that your door was locked.

You tried to call Ethan, but his phone went immediately to voicemail. It must’ve been dead or powered off.

That left no one else to call, and you felt more alone than ever.

You sat down at your desk and tried to focus.

You ended up going to your bedroom, putting on sleep clothes, and watching a comfort show under all your blankets instead, paper completely forgotten.

Your phone dinged from your bedside table and when you looked at it, you saw a message from Ethan. Only a few hours late, but he said he was on his way up.

That was sudden. You tried to not overthink being alone with Ethan too much.

A few moments later, there was a knock at your front door.

You climbed out of bed, not really caring that you were wearing sleep shorts and a baggy shirt. Your friends had seen you go to class in about the same when you had all night study sessions.

When you got to the door, you got a little nervous. But you knew it had to be Ethan, so you tried to push the anxiety aside and unlocked then opened the door.

You were met with shock and horror.

Towering over you in your doorway stood a figure in a black robe… and a ghostface mask.

You tried to slam the door, but the person caught it. You choked on a scream when they shoved their way in, holding a knife. There was a small stain of red on the metal blade and a darker, bigger mass on the robe.

Blood. Blood was red.

You scrambled back and tried to think of where to go. None of the doors in your apartment locked, not even the bathroom door.

Your heart and mind raced and suddenly you were spewing words.

“I don’t know what to say to make you not kill me, but I please don’t,” you rushed out.

The person—the killer—moved closer to you after shutting and locking your front door.

You ran, but there was really nowhere to go. The killer ran too. You tried to lure them to the bathroom and shove them in, but they dodged and had you almost within their grasp.

They didn’t slash the knife, though.

You ran for the front door, but the killer grabbed you by the arm. You were shoved back against your hallway wall and pinned. Your back slammed against the wall, but not hard. They held the knife to your throat—not too close, but it was still there and still kept you frozen.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

The words came out before you could stop them. You internally scolded yourself. That’s the kinda shit the girls who got murdered asked.

There was a laugh, and then a familiar voice.

“I’d never do that.”

By the time the killer reached for the mask and pulled it off, you still hadn’t processed your shock.

“Ethan?” you gawked up at him while he gave you a cheeky smile. He let the mask drop and the hand holding the knife fell to his side.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he said through a smile, excited eyes scanning your face for realization.

“Is this… is this a fucking prank?” you questioned, finally comprehending. “Ethan, what the fuck!?” You shoved him back by his shoulder, admittedly a little pissed. “You’re covered in blood!”

He stayed standing in front of you.

“It’s fake, I promise. It was just a joke,” he reasoned, looking a little guilty. “Y’know, cause Halloween and… alright, maybe my timing isn’t great.”

You scoffed out a laugh at that. “It’s terrible timing. There really is someone after us.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Ethan apologized with a small, apologetic smile. You stared at him, still surprised. He looked so innocent for someone that could pull off, let alone come up with, such a messed up prank.

“Is this where you’ve been? Dressing up to mess with me while there really is a killer after us?” You questioned, raising your brows and crossing your arms.

“Y’know, if there really is a killer after us, we probably shouldn’t let each other die virgins,” Ethan stated in a flirtatious way he easily could’ve played off as a joke. Maybe it was entirely a joke, but you played along in a different direction.

You scoffed. “And you’re just assuming I’m a virgin?”

He shrugged, the long fabric of his costume rustling. “I see how you are with guys. They want you, you never want them.”

“So what, I’m a tease?” you guessed, used to hearing that but a little disappointed to think it would come from him.

“No,” he clarified quickly. “But they’re just never good enough for you and you know that. Like that jerk Jason.”

You cringed a little at the mention of him, and then felt bad about that. The guy had been murdered, after all.

“Don’t say that, he’s dead.”

“So what?” Ethan asked plainly, surprising you a little. “He was a killer too. He could’ve gone after you, you should be grateful to whoever did it.”

You furrowed your brows. He was starting to sound like someone else. “Grateful?”

“It’s okay, you’re allowed to be.” Ethan’s expression as he spoke was one of reassurance. “You could’ve been next, you never know. He was one of those guys who couldn’t take a hint that he was beneath you.”

You had no idea he thought that way about you—that there were men he deemed unworthy. It was enough to distract you from the shift in his demeanor.

“And what? You’re saying you’re one of the guys who’s good enough for me?” you couldn’t help but wonder. You never thought about your dating history (or lack of) like that.

“Hell no,” he said, surprising you yet again. You were expecting a ‘yes’ with the way he was coming onto you all of the sudden, but what he said carried even more of a self-depreciating brand of charm. “But I’m hoping maybe you’ll pity the loser who’s had a hopeless crush on you for a while now and give him a chance.”

“You’re not a loser,” you said before you registered the rest of his words. When you did, you were taken aback at the confession. “But you’re not usually this… bold, Ethan.”

You wanted to ask him if something was wrong, but there was a lot wrong these past few hours.

“What can I say? I’ve been feeling more confident recently.”

You hummed, understanding that in a way.

“Maybe it’s the whole ‘we could die any second’ thing,” you ventured a guess.

He smiled to himself, like you’d just referenced an inside joke you weren’t a part of.

“Could be,” he agreed. He laughed a little and looked down at himself, then met your eyes again. “Sorry about scaring you. It was in poor taste. We both like horror movies… I don’t know, it was stupid.”

You scoffed, but you weren’t really mad anymore.

“I like horror movies, I don’t want to be in one,” you told him, eyeing the knife he held loosely in his right hand. “Is the knife real?”

“What?” Ethan asked, feigning confusion. He lifted the knife and examined it. “This knife?”

“Yeah, that knife,” you parroted back his playful tone. “You said the blood is fake, but is the knife real?”

A devious look crossed Ethan’s face. He held it to your throat slowly, holding it horizontally. You didn’t flinch, much to his pleasure. He seemed almost impressed.

“Gotta be authentic, right?” he mused, eyes flicking to your parted lips as you breathed steadily. “Can I kiss you?”

When his curious eyes looked back at yours, you couldn’t help but notice he still held the knife. The rush of excitement you felt scared you more than the fear of him letting it slip forward.

“What’s the knife for?” you asked with a surge of confidence, taunting him a little. “If I say no?”

Ethan laughed at that. He pulled it back and let it drop to the floor. It clattered against the wood, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. But it wasn’t from fear—it was from anticipation. Maybe your curiosity was a little more than that after all.

“You’re safe with me,” he assured. “Promise.”

His words felt layered, but in a way you couldn’t define.

Perhaps it was his way of saying he’d protect you. Maybe it was strange, especially given his entrance, but you found yourself feeling exactly that with Ethan. Safe.

Nothing was going to hurt you, certainly not him.

“About that kiss…” you started, giving him the indication that he was looking for.

Ethan took the hint and ran with it, lips crashing into yours in the blink of an eye.

His lips were soft, but the kiss was needy and hungry. You tried to move your lips in sync with his, but he was much more dominant.

A joke that you’d never say flashed by about him practicing.

It was easy not to laugh when Ethan’s hand threaded into your hair and his tongue began to explore your mouth.

The leather glove felt strange. It made you pull back a little, which you almost couldn’t do with the way Ethan eagerly chased your swollen lips with his own.

You glanced over his costume again. It looked really legit—when did he have time to get it? Was he actually gonna wear this for Halloween? You swore you remembered him and Chad talking about some other costume he made out of cardboard for the frat party.

Before you could spiral down that path, Ethan pulled the leather gloves off quickly and cast them aside. It was like he could read your mind. Both hands went to your face, pulling you to meet him halfway in another searing kiss.

You didn’t know what was coming over you, but whatever it was was causing arousal to stir in your belly.

You figured out the answer to that pretty quickly.

It was want. You wanted Ethan.

“Is the other offer still on the table?” you uttered softly when you and Ethan had to part for air.

He grinned, unable to contain it.

“Thought there was no way in hell that would work,” Ethan admitted a little breathlessly. “Thought I never stood a chance with you, but I liked you anyway.”

Ethan had a boyish charm about him usually, but now that was combined with a streak of deviance that you finally now noticed.

You weren’t expecting to be as intrigued by it as you were.

“Give yourself a little more credit,” you told Ethan, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch a little. One hand rested on your shoulder and the other fell to hold your hip, tucking under your baggy shirt and rubbing your skin beneath. “You are pretty cute.”

Ethan’s smile only grew, but when you leaned in to kiss him again his lips met yours.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and guided the two of you to the ground with your back leaning against the wall. He was in front of you, on his knees, with you in his lap.

You ran a hand through his curly hair and you guided his lips back to yours. From what he’d revealed, Ethan hadn’t had a lot of experience with girls. It was a damn shame, because the boy was a great kisser.

His hand caressed your thigh as he trailed upward. You gave him a soft sound of encouragement when his fingers found their way to the waistband of your shorts.

“Is this okay?” Ethan asked, which made you want to grab him and kiss him again.

“Yeah.”

His hand slid into your shorts and your underwear.

One finger—you guessed middle—pushed inside of you. A small gasp escaped you at the intrusion and he watched your face.

Ethan was making sure the sound wasn’t of pain, which it wasn’t, and you appreciated that.

He withdrew the digit, then pushed in again. He repeated the motion a few more times before adding his index finger.

Ethan’s breathing grew heavy as he felt you squeeze around his fingers. He thrust and curled them inside you with rhythm. He managed to find one pretty quickly. That plus his thumb rubbing at your clit, you were falling apart in mere minutes.

Your brief orgasm rocked your whole body, leaving you clenching his fingers and quivering.

Ethan muttered things to you, but you could hardly hear over the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

Your head rested back against the wall as you caught your breath, still trembling from the aftershocks. Ethan withdrew his hand from between your legs and out of your shorts.

Your eyelids felt heavy, but in between slow blinks you saw him lift his fingers to his lips. You watched breathlessly as he placed them into his mouth and moaned at the taste of you.

No words would come out of your mouth, but he took rendering you speechless as a compliment.

“I’ve thought about that,” Ethan started, voice a little ragged. He was watching you, but his hand had moved off to the side. “What you’d look like… what you’d sound like… what you’d taste like.” The awe in his eyes as he spoke left you swooning.

“And?” you managed, sitting up a little straighter.

With the change in your angle, you could feel the bulge in his pants, even though the added layer of the costume he had yet to remove.

“You’re better than I ever imagined,” Ethan finished.

A scrape against the floor alarmed you. You looked to the sound and saw Ethan grabbing the knife off of the floor.

You watched as he brought it between your bodies. He first tucked it through the leg of your shorts, the cold metal sliding against your skin as it caught under your underwear as well. Then, he pointed the sharp side facing out. Finally, he sliced up through the fabric. You gasped a little as the cold air of the room hit your newly exposed skin. He did the same with the other leg, then pulled the tattered material away from your body.

You did the honors of pulling off your shirt. You didn’t have a bra underneath and you almost laughed at the way Ethan gawked at your fully naked body when you cast it aside.

“Your turn,” you told him. You were completely undressed, while he still wore the long, black disguise.

“Actually,” Ethan said a little eerily. There was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I was thinking I could leave it on?”

It was a question, there was room for you to say no. Maybe you should’ve, it was a little weird. But you weren’t really thinking about that. You were more focused on how badly you wanted Ethan to fuck you, and that clouded your brain.

“As long as you don’t put the mask back on,” you relented in a joking tone.

“You’re so fucking cool,” Ethan rushed out before slamming his lips into yours. The knife was cast aside again—you didn’t see it happen, but both of his hands were on your face.

You laughed a little against his lips, dazed and drunk on arousal. You didn’t really care about the logistics of it.

His hands moved down, but you were distracted by his lips dominating yours.

You heard the sound of his zipper being undone and he moved a little—you guessed shoving his pants down his thighs.

There was no time to look down because in a rush, Ethan was pinning you back against the wall with his body. One hand gripped your waist, holding you in place for him. The other was presumably guiding his cock to your entrance.

You gasped a little against his lips when he started to press forward while simultaneously pulling you down into his lap. The fabric of the costume draped over your thighs, blocking your view.

The stretch of his cock pushing into you was more intense than you could’ve predicted, but your whole body trembled with pleasure at the feel.

Finally, he either got too excited or lost his patience, and guided you down the rest of the way until he was fully sheathed inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ethan cursed to himself, body straining to keep from moving. His head dropped to your shoulder, heavy breaths hitting your neck. He leaned against you, forcing you against the wall.

His cock twitched inside of you and his body tensed, trying to hold back.

You panted slightly, trying to get your breath back. You ran a hand up his back and you felt him shiver. Your hand moved up the back of his neck and into his mess of curls.

You always liked Ethan’s hair.

You gave a small, barely qualifiable tug, but it had an effect. His body jerked, causing him to move inside of you. You gasped a little, but the motion felt good.

He lifted his head to look at you. His face was a little flushed and the lust blown look in his eyes made you quiver.

“You can move,” you whispered out, not trusting your voice.

Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He secured the arm around your waist a little tighter and he put the other hand on the wall, giving himself leverage.

The slow drag of him moving out of you made you gasp for breath. The thrust back in knocked the air out of your lungs.

He set a quick pace after that, hips slamming eagerly into yours as the pleasure and excitement overwhelmed him.

It felt good, really fucking good.

Neither of you knew exactly what you were doing, but you were sure you’d figured it out because your whole body tingled with pleasure.

You cried out his name, which only spurred him on.

In a jarring movement you could hardly track, Ethan dragged you from the wall to the floor. He put himself on top of you, never once withdrawing from inside of you.

He watched your face as he pounded into you. Ethan had more leverage this way, able to grip your hip in one hand while the other held the top half of him off of you by being planted on the floor near your head.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, which you couldn’t see because the bottom half of your body was covered by the black costume. You hardly paid any attention to that aspect. You didn’t care that he wore it, not when you were this caught up in pleasure.

(In hindsight, you should’ve).

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Ethan breathed out, hips starting the stutter with every thrust.

The knot in your belly started to tighten as he buried himself into you over and over.

You couldn’t speak, your breathing was so labored as you reached to cling to him.

His head dropped down to your shoulder as he allowed more of his body weight to fall onto you. You found yourself enjoying the feel of him truly being on top of you.

You hardly noticed the fake blood smearing onto your bare skin. When you did, you were too gone to care.

You bucked your hips, meeting his stuttering thrusts. He was getting close to his edge and so were you. You moaned beneath him as his forceful thrusts sparked pleasure through your entire body.

“I’m close,” you managed to moan out against his ear.

“Oh, fuck,” Ethan groaned out, cock pulsing inside of you at the thought. He lifted his head enough to be able to watch your face. “Come again for me, please,” he panted out, nearly falling over the edge at the mere anticipation.

The begging was hot, and your body was already ready to give him what he wanted.

You noticed his eyes flicking down your body, seeing the red stains on your skin. That was quickly forgotten by you when your whole body began to tense and quiver. You held onto him tight as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

You didn’t see his eyes linger.

Ethan couldn’t hold it together, not with the way your body tightened around him as your orgasm rocked you.

He collapsed on top of you, holding you against him as his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes were clenched shut as he frantically shoved his hips against yours, burying himself deep. His cock twitched, his whole body shivering as he spilled himself inside of you with a moan.

The sound of him alone was enough to prolong your pleasure as you rode it out, but the extra movement and the feeling of him filling you was an added bonus.

He kissed you hard on the lips, effectively pulling the air from your lungs.

After a moment, he found the strength to roll off of you, only to then drag you to his side.

“I can die a happy man, now,” he joked morbidly.

You shoved him a little by the shoulder like you had before, but not enough to actually make him go anywhere.

“Don’t say shit like that,” you argued weakly.

He flashed you a brief grin. “I meant it as a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes and did you best to laugh it off.

You lost track of how long it took you to move from the floor to your couch. The same thing happened between the time it took for you to get from the couch to your shower.

It was a tiny shower that couldn’t fit two people, so you rinsed off as quick as you could. You were tired, and your legs felt weak, and you knew you’d be sore in a way that would make it hard to keep calm tomorrow.

Whatever he had used for the blood, at least it washed off fast. You were able to finish up in a matter of minutes.

You threw on new pajamas and crawled into your bed, managing to tell Ethan to take however long he wanted and that he could stay over if he wanted.

You found yourself hoping he would.

You were nearly asleep when the shower shut off and Ethan finally joined you in bed. He was only in his boxers and a black t-shirt, which he must’ve been wearing under the costume robe.

A thought nagged at the back of your mind about the costume, wondering why he’d gone through all of that just to mess with you for a minute—albeit a terrifying minute. It didn’t seem like him, but then you remembered you’d only met him a few months ago.

You were so exhausted you fell asleep in his arms, not awake enough to care about all of the weird details. In fact, the only thing you could think about was how much you liked falling asleep with Ethan’s arms around you.

In the morning, you found out your friends had all been attacked.

You showed up with Ethan after the feed on your college’s chat app blew up with images of cops swarming and ambulances outside of Sam, Tara, and Quinn’s apartment.

Mindy seemed relieved to see you, but not so much when she realized Ethan was with you. Maybe she’d cleared you as a suspect in her head.

She yelled at him to stay back, accusing him of being the killer. Nobody was taking Quinn’s death well, but Mindy was especially heartbroken over Anika.

“Stay back!” Mindy yelled at Ethan, who did as she commanded.

Everyone turned on him then, even Chad. Everyone except you. They demanded his alibi.

“How do I know you’re not the killer, roomie,” Chad spit at him, amped up.

“I was with Y/N last night,” Ethan defended, holding his hands up in a small show of innocence, before you could say a word. “We were… preoccupied, alright?”

You wanted to elbow him for how he worded it, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. It might’ve been on purpose, you weren’t sure.

He wasn’t close enough to do that, though, and now all eyes were on you.

“Yeah, he was with me,” you backed Ethan up.

You weren’t going to leave him hanging because it was the truth, but you knew what that implied, and so did your friends. They all shared subtle—but not unnoticeable—looks. Your face felt warm, while Ethan bit back a prideful smile.

“So you guys, um…”

“Chad, stop,” Tara scolded him before he could point out the obvious.

“Point is, we had nothing to do with this,” Ethan stated.

We?

They were suspicious of him, and now he was lumping the two of you together. There were always two killers in the movies—you began to doubt if the alibi would ease their anxiety or only spike it.

You thought back to when he had showed up to your apartment in that costume. He’d scared you, but you accepted it when he told you it was a joke that he mistakenly took too far.

It made you wonder. What if it was him?

If he wanted to hurt you, he easily could’ve. That didn’t seem to be his intention. What was? Seeing how much he could scare you? Get your heart rate up? Seeing if you wouldn’t believe him?

Or was it seeing if he could put the evidence right in front of you and have you ignore it because of a crush?

Fuck. Maybe it was some weird combination of all. Were you that gullible? Or were you overthinking it now?

Your brain struggled to come up with a conclusion.

You wanted to believe Ethan was innocent. You really, really did.

It was easier than believing you had slept with a killer. Or potentially worse, that you had feelings for one.

Ethan gave you a slight, assuring smile.

Your head told you one thing, but your heart told you another.

Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you kept your mouth shut and gave him one back.

#quin-ns writing #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #scream #scream 6 #ethan landry smut

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alastor-simp · 12 days ago

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Birthday Boy🥳 - Angel Dust x Female Reader Part 2/2 (R-18 MDNI)

❥Warning- This story contains sex (NSFW), so if you underage and reading this, Please skip it.

❥Summary: Angel's Dust birthday party just finished and now you are wrapped like a present for him😏

❥Tags - Angel Dust x Female Reader, Flirting, Teasing, Fluff, Lingerie, Cosplay, P in V Smut, Birthday Sex, Licking, Boob Job, Spanking,

❥Notes - Here is the Part 2 of the sexy spider birthday smut. I had posted this a few months ago but it got deleted, so here it is again. Enjoy!

❥Credit - Divider credit to @cafekitsune

❥Part 1/2 of Story here: Link

"Sooo~, does the birthday boy wanna open up his present? Your voice spoke in a whisper, as you continued to lay back, body wrapped in the red body bow gift that was hanging on your sensual body. Angel Dust remained unmoving on the bed, brain still trying to wrap his head around your seductive presentation. He felt his member beginning to rise, which you caught as you looked down, happy that he was responding to you. "I can see that you love your gift~." Moving your foot towards his length, you rubbed your toe on it, earning a moan from Angel.

Laughing softly, Angel moved your foot away with his hands, as he slowly moved to hover over you, eyes glistening with desire. "You're driving me insane here, toots. I will gladly accept my present." Four of his hands laid touches all over your body, earning a small moan from you. Pushing his head closer to yours, foreheads touching, eyes serious, as he softly gazed at you. "Open your mouth, please."

Whispering out, you obeyed his instruction and opened wide, tongue sticking out. His tongue soon connecting with yours, joining them together in a wet kiss, causing you both to moan. Two of his hands, wrapped around your lower back, hugging you closer to him, deepening the kiss. His eyes remained opened, staring at your reactions, you were always so cute he thought.

His lips were so sweet, tasting like the cake that he just had downstairs. Your hands moved to his head, rubbing the back of his fluff while holding his cheek with the other, Drawing away from each other, leaving a string of spit behind, you both stared at each other, softly panting from the intense kiss. His lips drew back to kiss you again, then moving to your cheek, your eyelids, your forehead, then slowly moving down to your neck, sending shivers down your back. His kisses stopped at your red covered breasts, tongue sticking out to lick across his lips. "Time to unwrap my present now~!"

Hooking his fingers on the red bow, he slowly pulled it down, your breasts springing out in full view. He devilishly smirked, hands moving to cup your soft mounds, thumbs flicking your nipples. "Ah!" You continued to moan at the sensations, as Angel continued to play with your breasts. "So soft and perky~. I wonder how they taste?" Tongue sticking out, Angel bent down, sticking one of the nipples in his mouth, while his fingers continued to torture the other. "Mmmmm Angel~." This felt so good, he was crazy with his tongue. His tongue continued to twirl around your nipple, making it harden as the one he was pinching began to turn red from the ministrations.

Removing his mouth from you, he stood up, his shadow casting down on you. Displeased that he stopped, you were going to tell him to continue, but stopped when you saw him remove the red thong he was wearing, showcasing his long erection at you. Taking note of your silence, he smirked at you, "Like what you see, toots?" You giggled at him, lips pulled into a smirk. "Yes....do you?" Legs spreading out, you allowed Angel to get a good look at your string-held crotch, dripping in your juices. Eyes widening at that, Angel stilled for a second before smirking back at you. "Very~."

Leaning his body over you, he sat on your belly area, his dick presented in front of you. "I'm gonna fuck your tits babe." Positioning closer to your chest, Angel placed his erection right in the middle of your soft mounds, engulfing it with your breasts. He slowly started to move, his lengths moving in and out of your breasts, the tip popping out in front of your face. "Ahhh...my satan, this feels incredible!" Throwing his head, Angel moaned out in pleasure, moving his hips faster. You were moaning as well as the way he was touching were breasts while giving himself a boob job was so addicting, it made your toes curl a bit. Wanting to satisfy him more, you stuck out your tongue, licking the tip of his length whenever it popped out of your breasts, making him moan louder. "Ahhhh...babe....keep doing that..and I'm gonna..." Angels voice was raspy with need, wanting very much to come.

Humming, you continued to lick at his tip, hands raising up to grasp his behind, pulling him closer towards you. Moaning out your name, Angel drew to a halt, cum shooting out on your face and tongue. Closing your mouth, you swallowed what was in your mouth, gazing up at Angel, hungrily. Angel looked back at you, seeing your messy face giving you an apologetic smile, "Sorry about that....Let me clean you up." His hand reached for a napkin plus a small bottle that was below his bed, using the napkin to wipe away at the excess cum on your face. Once he was done, he kissed you again, napkin throw across the room without a care in the world.

Pulling away, Angel leaned back, bottle of mysterious substance, probably lube, in his hands, while the other two had grabbed at your string thong and moved it to the side. Popping the bottle open, he poured the liquid on your lower lips, body jolting at the chilly feeling. His fingers then slowly began to spread the lube all over, inserting them inside every now and then, trying to make it bearable enough for you, when he has to enter. "This feels so good!" Your thoughts scream out, as you continued to moan at the sensations. Retreating his fingers out of you, Angel grasped his length, positioning it at your entrance, but refused to enter. His face appeared hesitant, as he continued to look at your entrance then back to you. "Listen, its my first time doing this with a dame...so I'm gonna need some reassurance that I'm doing alright."

Blinking up at Angel, you slowly burst into laughter, earning a confused look from Angel. One of your hands grabbed his, giving it a soft squeeze, "I'm prepared Angel, don't worry......plus since I am your birthday gift, you can do whatever you want with me. Spank me, lick me, bite me, do whatever your heart desires~"His colored eyes widen at you, dick springing back to life at your seductive words. The hesitation was gone, replaced with a very turned on look, as Angel smiled, showing his golden tooth at you. Slowly pushing his hips forward, Angels rod slowly began to enter you, hitting your inner walls, making you groan.

There was a small sting when he entered, causing your eyebrows to knit together in pain, but it quickly disappeared, leaving only the sensation of him being fully inside of you. He moved his body back down, hovering over your body, as he was panting from how amazing your insides felt. "You okay?" He was still questioning you, worried if he was hurting you. When he got a nod of approval from you, he started to move, hips moving back and forth, rod caressing your inner walls. The pleasure was slowly increasing the more he moved, causing you to wrap your hands and legs around him, drawing him even closer. A harsh slap was soon met to your butt cheeks, making you jump, "Yeah, you like it when I spank you....right babe?" Angel smirked at you, giving another harsh slap to your behind, making you scream from the pain and pleasure. "Ahhh..yes....do it again!"

Angel awarded you with another round of slaps, cheeks burning red. His movements grew faster, causing your head to fall back on the bed. Silencing your moans, Angel pushed his tongue back inside of your mouth, kissing you while gyrating his body faster, ready to come at any moment. Soon your vision turned white, as you felt your body shake from the rough orgasm, nails clawing at Angels back, earning a groan from him. His hips drew to a stop, come exploding inside of you, yet he kept his mouth connected with yours, swallowing your moans.

He slowly moved his head back ending the kiss. His eyes were gazing at you lovingly, hands moving to caress your cheeks, as he placed another kiss to your forehead. His head then dropped to your chest, as he heaved a sigh. "Best....birthday....present.....ever!" Chuckling at his cuteness, you ran a hand through his hair, tousling his white furry locks, "Glad you enjoyed it.........wanna go for round 2?" Hearing a muffled snort from him, he lifted his head, magenta eyes gazing at you, "I'm all for a second round, toots, but lets just cuddle for a bit, okay?" It felt like your heart skipped a beat, hearing that adorable phrase from him. Your hand continued to rub at his head, while the other pulled him in closer, squishing his face back into your soft mounds, "Okay."

-END-

Putting tag list in comments since not working well

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redclercs · 2 years ago

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

v. i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this

— the one where both of you have given everything to be where you are.

warnings: misogyny, sexual harassment, this is how monaco went btw i accept no criticism. barely proofread, sorry. 3.7k words (+ article, podcast excerpts)

masterlist ✢ next

'Have we let y/n y/ln get away with way too much?'

By Alan Gomez

Yes folks, it might be our own fault, we have created a monster in the form y/n y/ln. Mediocre actress at best and with an even worse personality, if the latest events are any indication.

But how could we let this happen? Come on, we're smarter than this!

The thing is, y/n brainwashed us into believing that her doe-eyed, no-brain characters were actually her. Don't beat yourselves up over this too much, even I was a victim of those pretty eyes. But now that the blindfold has fallen, we have come to realize we have let y/n get away with everything!

You might know y/n from Supercut, the romantic comedy that took the world by storm in 2019, where she starred alongside Aidan Kim and it lead to these two becoming one of the general public’s most cherished couples. At least until two months ago, when their breakup was announced via Inside Out. Although there haven’t been any official statements, given the circumstances, we believe it was the actress who broke it off with Kim.

→ Aidan Kim and friends at Cannes Film Festival

→ Y/N supports alleged boyfriend at charity football match

But whether she’s dating a new guy now or not, why do we keep letting her do whatever she wants?

How did she actually brainwash us into thinking she’s anything close to an “it girl”? After Supercut, all she’s done is the absolute bare minimum to keep people talking about her, it’s all RomComs and no effort. I didn’t want to be that person, and you have to believe me on this, but Aidan Kim made her.

Let’s remember Aidan built his career from the ground as a member of Star-5 the early 2010’s boyband that split in 2018. He was the ‘someone’ in the relationship. How can people even compare having the hit song “Round and Round” in your résumé to being in Scream (Netflix) and The Mist (again, Netflix)?

Aidan made us like her and the writers of Parisian Valentine, The Hating Game and Last Night In Love, did her a HUGE favor by consolidating her as the “Queen of RomComs” by what standard? Well, don’t ask me.

The truth is, we accepted y/n into our hearts and homes, thanks to Aidan Kim and an unbelievable amount of luck, and we haven’t held her accountable for anything ever.

Here’s what I’m talking about, if you’re still wondering what the point of this article is, click on every link to be taken to the whole context, you’ll thank me later:

❍Y/N yells at paparazzi to leave her alone as she walks around Beverly Hills with Victoria Presley.

❍ Y/N praises Taylor Swift while tearing down several male artists for writing songs about their personal experiences.

❍ Y/N says in interview with ELLE that not every movie has to be “profound”.

And just for fun:

❍ A collection of Y/N’s disastrous looks.

It’s time we realize y/n y/ln is talentless, has a horrible personality and feigns innocence she certainly doesn’t have. You will NOT continue to take advantage of us, y/n! It’s all over for you, so I’m glad you’re dropping your pathetic career to become a WAG. #Y/NIsOverParty.

↺ FROM ❛WE WATCH❜ PODCAST

Paul Byrnes: Can y/n really do another role now, after all she’s known for are romantic comedies?

Anna Sanchez: well, I really liked her in The Mist, she did great as character in a horror it was—

Paul Byrnes: No one cares about The Mist, Anna, just you.

Anna Sanchez: all I’m saying is she’s a good actress, she can do other things. That was your question, Paul.

Paul Byrnes: Well, in my opinion she can't and that's it.

↺ FROM ❛IT TALK❜ PODCAST

Greg Zane: Let's talk y/n y/ln and her fashion choices now that she's an F1 WAG. What do we think?

Riley Green: She's a what now? How long has it been since she broke up with Aidan Kim?

Martha Vincent: I think she's looking great, I just wish she'd let go of the ugly caps.

Riley Green: No seriously, how long did she stay single?

Greg Zane: I agree Martha, but caps are big in Formula 1, nothing we can do about that. I'm wondering if she'll go for a more glamorous look in Monaco.

Riley Green: guys? hello?

Martha Vincent: Oh Riley, we're not talking about her love life, let it go.

↺ FROM ❛HOLLYWOOD VIBES❜ PODCAST

Pauline Oscar: [cont.] I'm just so curious about the reason of their breakup, why hasn't anyone said anything?! It must be juicy.

Brenda Yim: I feel like it's bad for one of them, most likely y/n. Hello, can anyone offer one of their friends some money? Just like old times!

Pauline Oscar: [laughs] Definitely! We need to know! Can it get any worse than the fact that she's already with another guy? What's his name? Charles Le what? She soooo cheated.

liked by charles_leclerc, vicpresley, mati.bassi, carlossainz55 and others.

ynfreesia UM THE LIKES?

xxynbaby it's "monaco" of course

aidanluvs you don't even have the decency to pretend like you're alone? fuck you

ynredstar i cannot defend you if you pull this shit girl

mati.bassi great view for breakfast with my best girl!💕

ynredstar oh ynredstar nevermind thanks mati ↳ feels4aidan don't be so gullible she's obviously covering up for them

THE COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE DISABLED.

May 27th, Montecarlo, Monaco.

THERE are tears in your eyes, and despite your best efforts not to let them run down your cheeks, it's futile. The worst part is that you're the one doing this to yourself. There's zero need to read 'articles' from pseudo journalists on how a man gave you your career and how you're tossing it into the trash for another. Not to mention the cascade of curses you received for a picture on instagram, where everyone thought you were with the other man.

Has your life really come to this? People don't talk about you unless a guy is involved? You loathe it. Your career was never about Aidan, and it's not about Charles now. Who only makes things worse every time he shows up and yet you can't manage to bring it up to him.

It's embarrassing. You don't want to walk up to him during whatever free time he has in a hectic weekend, and ask him if it really doesn't annoy him everything the press has made up about the two of you, or if he's really that unbothered by being paired up with you in the wildest scenarios, and tell him that he can shut them down whenever he feels like it (you wish he would already), and let him know you won't mind whatever he says about not being involved with you.

But no, Mr. Leclerc is busy giving unclear answers at interviews and liking your instagram posts, as if this isn't already a wildfire.

You put down your phone and pick it back up almost immediately, Vic's ringtone fills your hotel room and you wipe away your tears before answering her FaceTime request.

"Were you crying?" it's the first thing she says, moving her sunglasses to the top of her head. There's a lot of noise in the background and you can barely make the words out, but she comes so close to the phone that all you can see is the tip of her nose. "Why were you crying?"

"It's nothing, Vic. What's up?" you sigh, rubbing your eyes only makes things worse but you don't want to worry about that now.

"I just got to Monaco, babe," the phone is at a safe distance from her nostrils again and you can see around her, the airport where you landed a few days ago. "I'm with my parents," she rolls her eyes, lowering her voice. "But if you could get me into the Ferrari Suite I can hang out with you tomorrow!"

They allowed you one guest and the spot has already been taken by Mati, so there really isn't much you can do in terms of getting her into the Ferrari Suite. "Well, let me see what I can do, okay?"

"Okay," she sounds unsure, you know Vic enough to be sure she expected a different answer. "I mean my parents have Lounge privileges but it's more fun to be with you."

Had she said something about coming to Monaco you might have been able to do something, but as far as you were concerned she planned to stay in France all week, enjoying Cannes and mingling.

"I'll do my best Vic, but you know how they are," you exhale heavily, "Plus it's a crazy-ass weekend."

"Isn't it always?" she's yawning now, "We can meet for dinner later and you can tell me what's up alright? Being with my parents is so boring."

You shake your head, "Be nice, they just want to hang out with you. I'll call you after Quali," you check the clock on top of the nightstand, it's 10 am. You have to get ready for FP3, which you don't care about attending or not but Stuart Schaffer asked to see you, so you haven't got much of a choice.

"Sure babes, love you." Vic pulls her sunglasses down again and blows a kiss to the screen.

"Love you too," it's your turn to yawn as you tap the hang up button.

You look at the special edition Ferrari cap you received as a gift yesterday on top of your suitcase and immediately discard the idea of wearing it. No caps. And then the wave of disgust invades you, are you seriously going to do what some random man said on a podcast you came across by accident?

The answer is yes, unfortunately.

─────────

You would rip your leg off if you could, at least it would mean you’d be able to get out of this chair and away from Stuart. But his palm resting on top of your knee feels like a death grip and you’re frankly afraid to move in case it goes further up.

Mati decided to skip FP3 and you’re really hoping she’ll be on time for Quali because you have no one else to talk to, Stuart is just parading you around again and keeping you way too close for comfort because he’s in a great mood since both Ferraris maintained their top spots and things are looking hopeful for Qualifying.

You know it’s your chance to ask if you can bring Victoria around tomorrow, and you know the answer will be yes, but you don’t. You don’t want to ask things from this man, he’s the type to never forget a debt.

You barely catch a glimpse of Carlos and Charles as they walk by on the way to their debrief and Charles waves at you quickly, with a single-dimpled smile. He’s wearing the same cap you refused to put on.

“I’m going to call my friend,” you blurt out once Charles is out of sight, finally moving your leg back to make Stuart’s hand drop. “She had the worst hangover, I have to check up on her.”

“Oh, you girls get wild in Monaco,” Stuart cackles as you sprint away from him, actually resisting the urge to wipe your knee clean.

"Hey y/n!" Mati's voice can barely be heard above the EDM playing wherever she is. "What's up?"

"Where are you?" you whine, looking back inside the Suite. "Help."

"What's wrong?" you picture her frowning as she tries to walk away from the noise helplessly.

You feel guilty for worrying her so you sigh. "Nothing, I just hate being here. Are you coming here for Qualifying?"

"Yep," she pops the 'p' and laughs. "Listen, why don't we have lunch here at the yacht and then go back for Quali?"

"Yes!" once again you look over your shoulder to where the Elix men are laughing at their own jokes and patting each other's backs. “I’m on my way, okay?”

“I’ll be right here, also don’t scare me like that again, please.”

“Sorry,” you chuckle, embarrassed. Maybe you’re a bit dramatic at times, but it’s really all good-natured. “See you in a minute.”

You turn to the door of the Suite, giving a short jump back when you open it at the same time as someone else.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, stepping inside as Charles moves out of the way to let you in. “Thanks.”

“Sorry I scared you,” he smiles, closing the door again once you’re fully in. Charles is once again holding a closed Elix can, tapping his fingers on the side.

You eye it suspiciously, wondering if the thing has really grown on him. After all, one of the first things he told you was how much it disgusted him.

“It’s alright. I thought you were in your debrief?” You grab a can of Elix yourself, looking good in front of the sponsors cannot hurt.

“It was a short one. Keep doing what you’re doing kind of thing,”

“Right. Well, good for both of you,” you look around for Carlos but he’s nowhere to be seen. “Would it jinx it to say ‘good luck’ for later?”

You know many sportspeople take their jinxes and rituals way seriously, and you don’t want to be the one to blame if something goes wrong for the local star.

Charles considers this for a second and then shakes his head no. “Wish me luck,” he smiles.

“Good luck, Charles.” You beam back at him, enjoying—despite yourself—the way his eyes burn into yours.

─────────

You’re back at the Suite with Mati 10 minutes before Qualifying starts. The tension that had seeped out of your body in the form of laughter and loud singing with Mati is already making its way back to your back and jaw. You’re not ready to be around the Elix people again, but you must. However, first, you make Matilde promise she won’t leave your side.

Stuart Schaffer is already patting the empty seat next to him when you make your way through the refreshment tables. You smile at him, a muscle in your cheek falters as you walk past him on your way to the balcony, to catch both Ferraris leaving the garage.

“Oh don’t drink that,” you whisper when you see Mati walk your way, two cans of Gold Elix in her hands. “Don’t.”

Matilde snorts, “You’re literally the ambassador of this thing, and you don’t like it?”

“SHHH!”

“Fine, but those guys are looking at us so we have to at least sip it.”

You groan, opening the one she offers you and then taking a huge gulp. “Yum,” you mock.

Mati laughs again before her face goes sour with the taste. “Oh my God,”

“Warned you,” yet you take another sip. You think that if it grew on Charles it might grow on you, but you don’t really see it happening.

Q1 and Q2 go by smoothly, at least for Ferrari and you’re on the edge of your seat for Q3. This is the race you’ve been more excited for, but it’s not like you’ve attended many others. Still, Monaco just hits different.

The end of Q3 almost gives you a heart attack, although you also blame your almost empty Elix. You didn’t even notice how much you drank, but the thing that really gets your heart jumping out of your chest is Victoria’s ringtone.

Begrudgingly, you turn away from the track. She has texted you a thousand times, without exaggerating, since Quali started and you know it’s because she’s bored out of her mind at the Lounge with her parents. But you’re starting to find this genuinely entertaining and you are bothered by the distraction.

“I told you I’d call you after Quali, Vic,” you singsong, looking up at the screens inside the Suite.

“Well Quali is almost over, no one cares about the last three minutes.”

You do, Max Verstappen is in first place, then Charles and Checo in P3. You’re crossing your fingers for Charles to manage to get above both Red Bulls. And for Carlos to squeeze in there too.

You don’t say anything else, too enthralled by the battle on the screen.

“Y/n?” Vic raises her voice, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes Vic, what is it?”

“We’re going to be at Ferrari together tomorrow, right?”

You wince, glad she chose a phone call instead of FaceTime this time around. You haven’t asked and you don’t intend to. Vic still has VIP Lounge access, she’ll be fine.

“They said no, Vic.” You lie, your eyes scanning the screen, it’s the last lap before they get the checkered flag out. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why? Did you tell them I can give them publicity? I have one million followers!”

“Monaco is different from Miami,” you explain gently, “But you’ll still be at the VIP, you have a great view.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she’s beyond annoyed now, as it happens every time things don’t go her way. You can’t blame her, but you also think it will be good for her to spend some time with her parents, whom she refuses to visit although they live in Malibu and pay her mortgage. “We’re still up for dinner though, right?”

“Yep! I’ll meet you at your hotel.”

“Okay see you then, babes.”

By the time your eyes return to the screen, Charles is in P1, Carlos in P3 and the Ferrari Suite is exploding in cheers.

YOU’RE up painfully early the next day. Vic and you went back to your respective hotel way past three am and you’re exhausted, but at least you had enough self-control to avoid today’s hangover.

Nevertheless, the morning goes by in a blur between breakfast with Elix people, calls with Mildred and Walter, your manager, and two casting agents that tell you that no, you don’t need to go for an in-person casting, you’re not getting the role.

By the time you get to the Suite you have a headache and the knot on your throat is progressively getting harder to swallow. You only make things worse by rage-reading tweets with your #IsOver hashtag.

People claim, with more force every day, that Aidan gave you everything and you are starting to regret ever meeting him.

You have worked your ass off for years, taking on small roles, commercials, stock-photo deals. Learning scripts and going to castings and taking classes, you have been criticized and rejected for more things than just “not fitting the role”.

You have given everything you are and everything you have, and people assure what you got in return you owe it all to some man.

“Hola y/n!” Carlos is the first one to get back to the Suite and you wish he would rub off some of his good mood on you. “How are you today?”

“Hi Carlos, I’m alright and you?”

“You definitely look it,” he says, semi-sarcastically. “Something on your mind?”

The knot is back in your throat so you shake your head no. “And yours?”

“Nada de nada.” he smiles. You’re still growing on each other, but this is the most comfortable you’ve been while sharing the same space.

Charles arrives while Carlos, Mati (who is hungover from her party at the yachts) and you are comparing workout playlists. Wearing what now seems to be like his comfort cap, and a pair of ugly ripped jeans, he smiles brightly at the three of you.

You’re happy to see both Ferrari boys so smiley after the past couple races. Miami especially. And you hope they’ll do well; but you’re particularly scared for Charles, and whatever it is that made him unlucky in his hometown, you don’t want this day to end on a sour note.

You spend about an hour talking to them about anything, your movies, their races, Mati's tour with Romeo and Juliet. Music, hobbies and quirks, Charles and Carlos have an opinion on everything and they are actually quite fun to be around. Then, a Ferrari Team member comes to get them for the Drivers Parade so you wave them goodbye, wishing them a smooth race.

"You're not going to wish me luck, y/n?" Charles asks, the smirk on his face is one you identify as mischievous, and it makes a small wave of anxiety run down your back.

Mati stops the bottle of water halfway through her mouth to ogle at the two of you, and the palpable tension that has installed itself in the space.

"Good luck, Charles," the smile you return falters in one corner, but Charles doesn't seem to mind as he adjusts his cap and says thank you before leaving behind Carlos.

Mati has forgotten about her need to hydrate and is staring at you with both eyebrows raised. "I thought you were not doing that?" she gestures with her head towards the door through which both drivers vanished.

"I'm not doing anything," you reply, defensively. "He's being—"

"y/n, you could cut the tension there for a minute," Mati finally takes a swig of water and you wait for her to continue talking. "Like I said, I don't recommend it but... you're free to do whatever you want." she isn't unkind while wording that last part, but it still stings you with annoyance.

"Thanks, Mati." you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning back into the sofa.

─────────

The Ferrari Suite explodes in cheers once the checkered flag is out. After a frankly insane race with rain, crashes and too-long pit stops, both Ferraris have crossed the finish line, and most importantly Charles has finally managed to get rid of his Monaco curse. His enlarged picture appears on every screen with P1 right in the middle. Carlos is P4, but the points are extremely important in the long run, so people celebrate nevertheless.

Before you know it, Mati and you are being dragged down to the track for the podium celebrations. You're buzzing with excitement, holding Matilde's hand as you run to one side, where the mechanics can't crush you as they jump up and down.

Even above the general screams of happiness, you can hear talks of 'Charles deserves this so much', 'It was about time' and 'His hard work is finally paying off at home'.

At least someone's blood, sweat and tears are valued.

YOU are probably not living down the Charles dating allegations this weekend. Which is not your fault, honestly, had they enlarged the picture, it would have shown Mati just as excited for Ferrari as you were. She's Italian, and she bleeds for Ferrari.

But right now, surprisingly, you're not overwhelmed with whatever it is they're saying on Twitter. Although it took Mati snatching your phone away and tossing it in her own purse before sitting you down to retouch your makeup for the celebration party.

Victoria is joining you too, because a 'the more the merrier' applies to any sort of party happening in a Monaco club, especially if it is for the unofficial prince.

It is the first time in three months you let go of your worries, even if it is for the shortest amount of time as you dance with Victoria and Mati and drink anything you please and whoop every time the DJ mentions Charles and Carlos.

You're happy to be with your friends, away from Elix and celebrating two people who can become something more than coworkers to you. Although through the night you see them on a few occasions, Carlos waves at you as he passes by a few times only stopping in the third time to let you congratulate him with a quick hug that's more of a shoulder squeeze than anything.

Charles is obviously harder to approach, and to be fair, it's not like you're even trying. He's surrounded by his hometown friends and by anyone who wants to have his attention for a minute, for a picture or a dance or to buy him a drink.

It's past three am when Victoria is beyond buzzed and you're starting to feel exhausted so you decide it's time to leave. Mati has found someone to take home so she's been gone for around forty minutes, minding her business.

"Come on, let's go," you are grabbing Victoria by the wrist as her ankle twists. "We've both had enough," you laugh, Victoria joins your laughter as you snake through the crowd of people pumping fists in the air, some of them point and wave at you and you smile back at them politely.

You hear your name being passed around a few times, but you focus on finding the exit while keeping Victoria by your side, who has started to whine about not wanting to leave.

Once you break into the outside, you take a breath of fresh air, the coolness makes your skin rise in goosebumps and you shiver, letting go of Victoria to lift the hair on the back of your neck.

"It's too early!" Victoria complains once again, her eyes are glassy and she's just as sweaty.

"It's not, plus you're drunk, we should leave," your ears still feel drowned in the sound of music. “My feet are killing me.”

The exit opens again, and a couple stumbles out laughing and they tell Vic and you goodbye in drunken French. Before the door shuts again, Charles is out on the street too.

"I heard you were leaving," he says in what you're sure it's a too loud voice. But your ears have barely stopped ringing, so you can't blame him. "Are you two okay?" he eyes Victoria, who is starting to lean down on her knees to soothe her dizziness.

"Oh we're alright, we've just partied enough," you smile at him. Charles is rosy, bright-eyed and sweaty. Is it corny to describe someone as painfully handsome?

"I didn't get to congratulate you," you add, trying to keep your attention on Charles while being aware that Victoria might start retching at any given moment. "You did amazing."

Victoria straightens immediately, her glassy stare focusing on Charles. "You're such a good driver, Charles, for real."

"Thank you," Charles nods awkwardly a few times as Victoria pokes him with her left index finger. "And thank you y/n."

"Come on, Vic," you chuckle, keeping her hand away from Charles. "Seriously though, I'm happy for you."

Charles smiles again, running a hand through his hair. "Thank you, really. I'm sorry I didn't see you earlier," he points behind him, to the club.

"It's your party, you can't be everywhere,"

Vic is yawning loudly, and you roll your eyes, amused. "We better get going."

"y/n, when are you flying to Spain?" Charles blurts out, the moment you turn to lead Vic down the street.

"I'm not sure, Wednesday probably?"

"You know, I can still show you a place or two in Monaco. If you want." He sinks his left hand in the front pocket of his dark jeans, and you wonder where the mischievous aura from what seems like ages ago went.

You pause, letting Vic put her whole weight on your shoulder as she finally gives up to the exhaustion. "Um well..."

The same tension that appeared at the Ferrari Suite is back, and the more you hesitate, the thicker it becomes.

Victoria pulls you down with her as she throws her head back, yawning again. Charles is just in time to hold you back up, his other arm pulling Vic back to a standing position.

"Only if you want," he says, he is far too close now and you can smell the mix of alcohol and cologne on him.

And maybe it's the alcohol in your own system, and you'll regret this once you sober up and realize that you told Matilde several times this is exactly what you were not going to do, but you say yes.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. I want to say thank you to everyone who interacts with this series, it means a lot to me to know that you're enjoying it!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @majx00

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amywritesthings · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Hi! Hi! It’s the Floch friend again. I missed Levi and SU reader so much!!! They live rent free in the back of my head and I always miss them, I don know how you do it. I’ve already said a million times how I love your writing, but it always scratches the right part of my brain and I can’t stop rereading everything.

As for the Hallosleepover, I have a couple of prompts, you can choose either of them (or none, if you don’t feel like it). For Levi x SUreader - their first fall on the surface, and for Levi x P4reader - “when they instinctively put a protective arm out to protect the other when an actor tries to jump out and scare them” (a prompt from the second list).

Hope you had a nice week ❤️

hallo-sleepover '24! / accepting.

floch friend, hello my love! gosh you are always so lovely, i swear. you are the best. i would be delighted to give you a lil First Fall for our fearless duo

first fall.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 860 tags: big fluff vibes, changing of the season, mentions of the underground city, set in the flackbacks and universe of silver underground. credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Colors.

The trees change colors on the surface.

Levi’s busy fixing his carat in the freshly-cleaned mirror in the corner of the room while you button your ivory pants. Now that you’ve both been on the surface — him for four months, you for two — you’ve settled into a new routine similar to the one you abandoned below the surface.

After living a lifetime there, you’re both used to working in pure darkness. It gives you precious time to be in one another’s presence before you have to slip back across the hallway and into your quarters to pretend yet another day.

The day is still young; dawn fast approaches from its kiss goodnight.

As the sun creeps across the horizon, your eyes see the flutter outside Levi’s open window.

Your chin turns to observe absently, but then the world stops.

Leaves.

Red leaves.

(It’s almost the start of autumn, Petra had told you at dinner not long ago. A new season. It’s beautiful this time of year.)

“James?” you hear from the side; Levi’s voice, gruff from the morning still.

Dropping your leather leg straps to the floor, you abandon dressing in proper attire for a chance to sprint out of his captain’s quarters towards the front door of headquarters.

The wooden door slams against stone, reverberating down the hallway.

The sound may wake up half of the squad from their slumber.

You don’t care.

Ever since the two of you managed to survive the underground with bared teeth and taut fists, it’s been tough to simply be. The Survey Corps are by no means gentle — people die just as often as those who were once your neighbors — but the surface dwellers have no idea of the luxuries they take for granted.

Down there, the gentle caress of the breeze does not exist. Down there, warmth can only be found in another body and not the sky.

There are no trees, no trunks, no leaves. There are no changing skies.

But up here?

Everything lives and dies and lives again. Everything has an order, turning brilliant colors in the blink of an eye. Slowly the humid summer air flutters into a crisp chill.

The start of autumn.

Boots skid against the floor as you rush towards the front entrance. You scoot through a sliver of an opening to find yourself outdoors — surrounded by a sea of brilliant vibrance. The trees that were once a staunch green have now faded into a cacophony of colors: oranges, yellows, reds.

No two trees are alike.

“The hell’d you run out for?”

Hearing the baritone sound behind you, your wide eyes find Levi following out right behind you. His hands are still fussing with the carat at the base of his throat, jacket abandoned.

Then he pauses.

Sees, what you see.

“The trees are finally changing. I saw it from your window and had to see it for myself,” you exhale with a childlike wonder, unable to contain your excitement.

With Levi you don’t have to — just like the changing of the seasons, he knows just about every version of you; every color. You’re allowed to

“Is this what Petra was talking about?” he asks, leaves crunching under the heel of his boot as he moves to stand beside you. “Autumn or whatever?”

“I think so. She called it a season. I think she said there’s four of them?”

“What was the last one?”

Sticking out a tongue as you concentrate for a moment, the word comes to you a beat later. “I’m pretty sure it was called summer.”

“Hm.”

“I can’t believe they’re all different,” you murmur, pointing one out in particular: its leaves are only just beginning to fade into a new color, causing it to stand out. “Look.”

“I see it.”

His statement isn’t said with annoyance but amusement.

When you turn to him, Levi isn’t looking at the trees. He’s staring at you, as if he’s more interested in witnessing your reaction to something so new and beautiful than living in it for himself.

“Well don’t stare at me.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.”

His eyes narrow with a fraction of amusement before blinking back to the trees. “Petra also said it will snow up here in the later months.”

“Snow?” you repeat. “What’s that?”

“Got no clue,” Levi admits, choosing to be honest in this private moment with you. If it were anyone else, he’d have a smartass remark. It’s too early for that. “Was hoping you’d know.”

Snow.

You wonder what they call the changing colors, if they have a name as foreign as snow.

Reaching for his hand, Levi does little to dissuade you as you pull him towards one of the adolescent trees to the east by the stables. When you reach to run a fingertip along one of the low-hanging crimson leaves, he squeezes your joined hands.

“Guess we’ll see it together,” he adds.

A promise.

To see everything, anything, together.

(A promise once made in eternal night, now carried into the light. I won't go far from you.)

Nodding, you squeeze his hand back.

“Yeah. Together.”

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi x reader #levi x you #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fic #aot drabble #snk drabble #levi ackerman drabble #hallosleepover 24

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versethetic · 10 months ago

Text

NOT PERFECT. JUST LOYAL.

i like to keep things real here so i tend to share my slight struggles with loa so that others who’ve gone through the same thing don’t beat themselves up over it.

but i’ve actually only fully understood what it means to live in imagination for a little while now;, and then put it to good use just a couple weeks ago.

despite knowing about the law for over a year…💀

OVER. A. YEAR…💀💀💀

even then, i got so caught up in making the images in my head perfect, or making sure i’m “saying the right affirmations" which obviously didn't help my case

i love reading loa posts because they make me feel nice and inspired and just remind me of my power but i somehow equated that as me overconsuming info and then i would spiral within my own head.

i would barely think of my desires as mine and when i did for only a day or two, i’d then turn around and believe that i wasn’t doing enough, that i need to affirm more or visualize for an hour and walk through every step of my day in my new perfect life or else it wouldn't manifest.

loyal according to merriam webster is "unswerving in allegiance"

all the way up until a couple weeks ago, i was not loyal to the idea that my imagination is all i need. i was not loyal to the idea that the 3d means absolutely nothing in terms of “getting” what you want, because there was nothing for me to get. now, i have become loyal to already having my perfect life.

i am that bitch. i am the prettiest princess. i am the smartest in school. i am the most famous. but i didn't need to have the perfect mindset with loa to realize it.

do you see where i’m going with this?

IMAGINATION IS ALL YOU NEED

granted, i had my days after this realization where i still struggled with techniques or accepting my new life as mine, but now i know that if i don’t identify with these things, it has not a single setback on my manifestations.

no matter what i was feeling, i told myself “i have it, my life is perfect, i am calm, i have it in imagination, the old senses are dead to me, i know what’s in my mind is the real truth”

when loa blogs say that you know you have it, it’s not some cheap trick they spew out because everyone else is saying it. if you imagine what you want, it’s officially set in stone. what you think comes to life.

the 3d is the afterimage, the product of a movie you directed, wrote, produced and starred in. you just need to stick with this fact through thick and thin, sleet or snow.

YOU are what the 3d answers to.

YOU are what the mirror reflects.

YOU decide how simple things are for you.

if you woke up and the old senses in front of your human eyes still show something you don’t like, are you gonna take that as a fact?

when you know and are loyal to the fact that your godly brain is showing you that devoted sp you have? that grand big mansion you live in? that whole new life you’re dwelling in?

NO. you’re not. think of you and you're 4d as BFFs who'll never separate, who tell each other everything and have those bff necklaces and go everywhere and do everything with each other. or imagine you're a ceo and your 4d is a loyal secretary who never asks questions and simply obeys whatever you tell it to do, because it trusts YOU. it works for YOU. however you wanna see it, you and your 4d are locked in 🔐🤞, okay? it is not separate from you, it does not seek guidance or information from anywhere other than YOU.

IT IS YOU.

and it took me a long time to see that.

it might be hard at first and the acceptance might not always be there. but i am making a conscious effort to at LEAST continuously tell myself that my imagination is all that matters. to at LEAST believe that what i want is already mine, and that’s the LEAST you can do as well.

your journey does not have to be perfect. your mindset does not have to be perfect. your feelings do not have to be perfect. mine definitely weren't. you just need to be loyal to your imagination.

#loa #law of assumption #loassumption #reality shifting #shifting #shifting realities #manifesting #manifestation #desired reality #verse diary

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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question of the day: who would fall the hardest if they ever fell in love?

well... i've got 4 candidates in mind, and i think... (4/4)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

hobie brown. — guilty of falling hard for you.

summary: hobie never thought that he'd feel anything more than a friendly feeling with you–and he never wants that feeling to end. pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader genre: fluff !!

hobie brown does not care about labels, they do nothing but confine him to one facet of himself, and he finds that utterly displeasing. he's finally able to live his life with such bohemian freedom that he doesn't wanna let go of it by conforming to what people think of him. though, there is one label he doesn't mind considering as the truth... being the boy who loves you the most.

hobie brown has always seen eye-to-eye with you, despite being strangers not too long ago. the minute he met you, he could tell here was something special about you; maybe it was the way you talked, the way you walked, the way you laughed, your personality, your determination to never give up so easily... but whatever it was, you had him hooked on you.

hobie brown had never met anyone quite like you, and that was the best part about you--you had your own uniqueness, your own spark about you. every time he thinks he knows everything about you, he's suddenly thrown into another world, another side of you that he had never seen before and inevitably got blown away by.

hobie brown loves how you're like a firecracker--colorful, unpredictable, fiery, and hot--you're full of surprises that only he knows about, you're full of life and vigor and he gets more and more interested in you the more he sees you this way.

hobie brown can't believe, though, how easy it is for him to just like you. everyone at the spider society, every one of his close friends, all love you, that's for sure. but what he can't believe is how innate liking you seemed to him; it came as easy as breathing and blinking, as natural as it was for his heart to beat and for his brain to function.

hobie brown was sure that you weren't just anyone, no, you were... ethereal, you weren't ordinary; and nobody thought you were ordinary, you were aware of that. you were never one to comply with what society declared you should appear or act as, you were you, and that was the person hobie was most fond of: the real you.

hobie brown found himself tinkering with a new gizmo he had going on, he was a little anxious while making this, in complete honesty. he hadn't always been confident that every machine he makes'll work out the way he wants them to or even work at all, but he's accepted failure as part of the process. what he's anxious of is... if you'll like it.

hobie brown is shaking in the knees right now, but he's trying to play it cool, to shake that shaking out of his joints and act as calm and composed as he usually does around you, but it's too hard. it's too hard to calm around literally the most perfect person in the world that looks up to you and calls you their closest pal and who also has the sweetest laugh and smile in the world and the most perfect personality that anybody could ever seek for in a lover.

hobie brown is conflicting with himself right now, and this hasn't happened to him in years. hobie's muttering to himself the lines he practiced, trying to run by himself how being cool was supposed to be, because when he's trying to get a grasp of himself back in his mind, his mind defaults to thoughts of you.

hobie brown is blanking out right now, finally faced with you. he clears his throat and involuntarily flashes you a tiny, quivering grin. he's stuttering and stammering, which is quite uncharacteristic of him, but he was always unexpectedly cute no matter how he carried himself.

hobie brown finally says 'screw it' and clears his throat for the final time. "now, i... i might sound ridiculous right now, but... i remember you said you had a music box as a kid back then, always played the melody you hummed and taught me way back when we first met. a-and, well... i'm not the most skilled artist in the world, but, i'm your artisan, like you say. and this artisan hopes... that you like it." he said as he handed you a little box colored in your favorite hues with all kinds of colored papers, paints, and little designs on them with a wind-up dial on its side.

hobie brown anxiously watches you open up the box, and as he takes your hands in his to show you how to wind-up the dial, a couple of cats were on the little pedestal that popped up and twirled slowly as a soft beat from a song in your childhood played.

hobie brown smiled wider as he watched you grin and chuckle at the adorable little thing, he felt his heart skip a beat or two when he realized you were happy seeing this, having this in your hand, hearing those familiar notes from your childhood... and it was also here, when you told him a 'thank you' that his world became brighter. he got a bit heated in the face, his smile unwavering but instead growing, and he nodded as you leaned closer against him. he's decided, finally, that he indeed, does love you; and from that love... he fell, and fell hard for you, wanting to see that smile of yours every day not because of the music box or anything he gives you, but because of him. that is all hobie wants and needs in his life, that is all he yearns for to be complete--you and your happiness.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @euphovlq @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn @conitagray

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petrichorium · 1 year ago

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satoru tries to keep it from you, as if your reach in the court isn’t threaded more firmly even than his own. as if the royal guards do not prefer your company to his, as if you’re such a fool you wouldn’t notice how he’s come to bed long after you’ve gone to sleep every day for the past week—he tells you it’s dull financial advising, you know it’s because he’s been busy torturing a man. an assassin, you’ve been told; a poisoner who hadn’t even made it out of the kitchen before being caught.

you also know he’s back earlier tonight because he’s executed another man—the one who hired the hit, one of his own cousins. ordinarily such a thing would be dealt with swiftly, except that the food found dosed had been not your husband’s but yours, and your king does not take kindly to threats against you. the maids had told you all of that days ago; it’s the guards that tell you he assembled the court without you, hours past sunset, and made a display of cutting down his own kin for your sake. ruthless, they tell you, savage, lest there be any doubt in his affections for you.

he comes back to your shared bedchamber without a drop of crimson on his clothes, but the satisfied air about him and the heavy drum of bloodlust you can see in his eye tell you that your information is correct. still, you greet him casually and don’t bring up your discontent as he removes his blindfold and makes himself comfortable on the bed, unabashedly peering at you while you sit at your vanity pretending to ready yourself for sleep. he’s silent with his staring, and you are silent as well, busy ruminating on how you’re feeling until you come to the conclusion that the only action of his which has sparked your ire is that he has chosen not to share them with you—no, you’re not bothered by his barbaric display, but rather that he did it without informing you. with your opinion found, you are ready to initiate the conversation.

“so?” you begin casually, gaze flitting up to meet his eye through the mirror. “are the conspirators dead, then?”

at first he gives no response, but when you turn in your seat to face him he rises to stand and strides over to you. lacing his fingers with yours, he pulls you to your feet—holds you close, leans down to press his forehead to yours.

“can’t get anything past you, hm? not with your brain.”

“well, are they?”

“yes. of course. they’ve hardly earned the title of conspirators frankly, not with that pitiful display.”

“mm.” you purse your lips and pull away, turning your back on him. “lovely to know that you’d accept my death if it were at the hands of a competent man.”

he follows you swiftly, eases his arms around your waist and rests his chin in the crook of your neck. his tone is easy, light—amused, perhaps. “i don’t believe i said anything of the sort.”

“i do not find this amusing, my king.” despite your tone, you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair, drawing a contented noise from him which he buries into your nape. “i’m displeased by you.”

“are you, now?” his lips quirk against your skin, and he shifts, his whole body moving so that he can trace kisses along your jaw. “i’ll simply have to please you, my queen.”

“satoru.” the name makes him pause. you tighten your hold on his hair, pull him to rest against your shoulder again in an attempt to halt him. “you killed your kin for me and attempted to hide it. did you truly think i wouldn’t find out?”

“not this quickly,” he grumbles, petulant, entirely unsuitable for a king who had just slit the throat of his own cousin before an audience.

“people chatter, especially when you require the attendance of the entire court. but since we are being honest, i knew of the whole ordeal the moment it happened—i do believe i was made aware of the poisoning before you were, my husband. so tell me, why did you torture a man for a week and choose not to inform your wife? why did you so courteously invite my companions to witness this execution but neglect to extend that invitation to me?”

he doesn’t speak for a moment. his breath comes hot against your neck, not quite a sigh but certainly a deep breath—then he turns his face into your hand, leaves a fleeting kiss against your palm, and lifts his head.

“they need to learn, hm? how would they have learned if i’d let this go?” his eyes are manic, the closest you’ve seen to what they’d been that night—yet the moment they meet yours they soften, reverence seeping in. he stands to his full height behind you, hand coming beneath your chin to tilt your face upward so that he can loom over you and press a kiss to your brow; he’s gentle with you, but the steel at the core of his tone is more than palpable. “i won’t show mercy, certainly not when it comes to those who wish to harm you. you cannot ask me to be forgiving with such things.”

you realize with those words that he believes you’re balking at the brutality, that he thinks you timid and soft. he thinks you don’t know what he does to maintain his power, as if you’re not intimately aware of the monster he’s had to become—as if you hadn’t come face-to-face with it, with his blade.

you think you probably shouldn’t be as endeared as you are. you certainly shouldn’t turn around, wrap your arms around his neck, and tug him down into a real kiss to reward his actions, yet you still do. it’s addicting how quickly he melts to your affections; you know how intimidating his size must be to so many but it’s impossible for you to fear it when he’d drop to his knees for you at a single word.

when you pull away he doesn’t let go—he whines at you, a wordless protest, and buries his head into your shoulder to nip at your skin.

“i’m not angry with you for refusing mercy,” you mutter to him, “i’m angry with you for lying to me. i am your queen, your partner. you will not do this again, you will tell me the next time you intend to cut down a man in my name.”

he pulls back and opens his mouth, eyes wide, but you cut him off by lunging upward to peck at the corner of his lips.

“it’s in your best interest to comply, husband. you cannot hide things from me.”

“i know, wife.” his sigh is love-struck. “i’m a fool to have tried.”

usurper!gojo masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #mine.🌧#char.🌧 gojo #usurper!gojo

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