#nicholas is my exactly age

[blackynsupremacy]

as long as ya’ll keep writing nicholas chavez x black reader, i can’t participate in no nut november this year.

[hellsingmongrel]

So, bit of ramblings on my Post-Trimax Wolfwood headcanons.

Man, one of my favorite tropes in media is a character who's spirit lingers on after they've died, but it's usually something you only see in fanfic, so I cannot get over how FUCKING FERAL I was when I realized that it was legit a thing in Trimax, and that Wolfwood was the one we actually got to see, legitimately talking to the people he'd left behind and confirming that ghosts in the canon weren't just hallucinations or something! Like yeah, we saw Tessla leading the boys to her body, but since her ghost was never mentioned again, it could have easily have been written off as a fluke, right?

NOPE. They are real and they linger after to watch over the people they care about or to send messages to the people who are still alive! And the fact that the character who had just wormed his way into being just as beloved to me as my favorite character (Which NEVER happens, I usually only have enough brain cells for one at a time!) and that we had just had our hearts ripped to shreds watching him die was also the one we got to know had definitely stayed behind to watch over the people he loved just makes me SO HAPPY! I rp that asshole from time to time, and I just love exploring the implications of it!

I play him like he's been there a LONG TIME. When he died, Rem was there, watching over Vash, but when Knives spent the last of his energy, she chose to move on with him, now that she knew Wolfwood would be there to keep watch over Vash, and he took it SERIOUSLY. He's been waiting so long, he's lost his sense of time, he thinks it's only been a couple decades when it's been CENTURIES. And the time has softened his own trauma, he's gone from being surly and angry and defensive to being at peace and finding comfort in the fact that its allowed him to see more of Vash's life than he ever would have been able to live long enough to see when he was alive. And it's given him time to notice just how unwell Vash is, how broken he is, watching over him when he thinks he's alone and lets himself break down.

But it's also made Wolfwood a bit unwell in his own way; as time went on and the people he knew in life began to pass away, too, his interest in paying attention to what the people around them were doing wained, and his dedication to watching over Vash until it was his time to pass on became a strange sort of dependence. He loses his sense of self, in a way, until the most important thing in his existence is being there for Vash, waiting for him, having long-since accepted that when the time comes, it'll be over and he's alright with that.

He's happy, but to the perspective of a living person, it would seem TWISTED in a way. He still thinks he's a damned soul, stealing more time than he's allowed and only damning himself further by doing so, and he just knows that when he gets to walk Vash into whatever comes after for them, they'll be separated again, for the last time, and there won't be any coming back from it that time, because Vash is too good, too kind, too HOLY to ever be damned. But it's fine. Wolfwood knew he was damned long before his death, and time has just given him the chance to make peace with it and simply be happy with the fact that at least he'll be able to be with Vash when he can move on to wherever good people go at the end. And yet when it happens, Vash feels the same way about himself, so certain that he's the one who's damned, and their reunion is wonderful and painful and terrifying for both of them in different ways.

He's even worse with interacting with people, once he's forced to interact with the living. I play Wolfwood in a game where he stumbles into revealing himself after spending centuries never letting himself be seen, and he worries that going "silent" again will upset people. He's spent centuries being a silent shadow, certain that letting Vash know he was there would only cause more suffering for an already unwell mind, so he's forgotten how to interact with tact, blurting out whatever pops into his head because he's only had himself to talk to for all that time. He hurts people without meaning to, begins to suffer from the crisis of worrying that no matter what he does, he's a burden to the people who mourn him, he doesn't belong, his existence is nothing but a constant reminder of what's coming and will only cause the people around him pain. He's both able to be the kind, caring, loving person he might have been if the Eye of Michael had never taken him from the orphanage, and also a HUGE, ANXIOUS WRECK.

And the thing that makes it all worse for him is the fact that when he was dumped into the game I have him in, he was separated from the Vash of his timeline, and now lives in constant fear that he'll never see him again, that he won't be there when he passes on and there won't be anyone to greet him on the other side, alone and never knowing that he was waiting for him. He made a promise to Rem that he'd watch over him for her, that he'd lead him to his final destination where he could be with his family again, and now that he's lost that, what purpose does he have? He's terrified to let go himself, worried he'll pass onto the other side when Vash was right around the corner, but the thought of lingering without finding him again, missing his chance to be there for him when it's his turn, leaves him in an almost constant state of almost-panic.

I also just think it's kind of sweetly poetic, if in the end, he chose to continue the role he'd been forced into; take Vash where he's supposed to be. Only this time, it's his choice, and it won't be to his death. He wants to guide him to where he knows people are waiting for him, where he'll finally be happy and be at peace. He doesn't mind the fact that he's going to Hell, so long as he was able to be the one that leads Vash to the place where he won't have to be in pain ever again.

[randomshyperson]

Best (Girl)Friends - Wanda Maximoff x Rogers!Reader

Summary: Wanda sympathizes with your willpower. 70 years on ice is a long time to wait for an intimate touch. And being the good friend that she is, Wanda offers you some help.

Warnings: (+18), some vague plot, smut with virginity loss, Rogers!Reader following all Wanda’s wishes, power bottom!Wanda, kissing, friends to lovers, mutual pining, explicit consent but Wanda being a tease and a bit possessive. | Words: 4.893k

A/-N-> I’m pretty sure this was a request, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. 

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

-&-

Shield acted as if they won the lottery.

In a way, it felt like that. Two Rogers siblings found on the same day would probably yield some promotions within the teams responsible, and a nice image bonus with the US government. 

But while Captain America was found in a negative temperature on the other side of the planet, his sister destroyed an entire building with her sudden appearance inside a blue explosion a few hours later.

In your defense, you had no idea what was about to happen. 

One minute, you were inside a Howard Stark-designed marine suit at the bottom of the ocean. But in Shield's defense, you were disobeying the orders of your director, that is, Margaret Carter on the phone, who five minutes earlier insisted that she would not risk losing another Rogers and that reaching the cube was not worth the risk to your safety, but you still put on the prototype underwater suit and dived in search of the item, which, to you, was the key to finding your brother.

You were right, in a way. Touching the cube with the determined idea that you would like to see Steve again really worked. The problem was how it happened. 

The explosion was all around you, and you saw nothing but the beam of blue light that forced you to close your eyes. One moment you were deep in the sea, and the next you were in the middle of one of the Shield Secret Bases, a thousand of bricks flying around with the force of the explosion.

Your presence in the secret room of Project PEGASUS caused Shield to be on high alert, and a dozen rifles to be pointed in your face.

But it was all cleared up in no time and ended with your figure handcuffed on the seat of a government Jet on its way to New York.

Unlike Steve, you were awake. And not the least bit in the mood to follow Nick Fury's theatrical demands.

"That's to avoid shock, Miss Rogers-"

"Absolutely not, Nicholas." You cut him off impatiently, your hands-free since Shield had clarified exactly who you were. "The first thing I'm saying to my brother won't be a lie."

Nick sighed. "I understand it's a delicate situation, Miss, but Captain Rogers has been frozen for too long. An innocent fantasy is meant to lessen the shock of the truth."

You skirted Nick without caring about the speech. "There's no way to lighten news like this one. We're both in the future, for Chris’s sake! That it's absurd enough. No more lies, and let me see my brother for once. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that." 

Fury didn't have the heart to insist, not only because he had another supersoldier getting him out of the way, but because of the emotion in your voice. He waved in dismissal to any soldier more curious about your determined walk, and no one interfered as you made your way to the room where they placed your brother.

Shield had begun to create a scenario around him that made you chuckle in irony. You dismissed the agent posing as a nurse with a look, and Nick allowed you to be alone in the room, and without wasting any time, you made your way to the bed.

Steve looked the same as he did the day he disappeared, and you felt a sob break in your throat. Maybe the sound woke him up.

He opened confused eyes at you, and unlike him, you had aged a lot since the last time he had seen you when you were still a child. 

"Hey, Stevie." Your greeting came hoarsely, laden with emotion. Steve took a moment to recognize you.

"Y/N?" He asked, tense and startled. You could almost see the gears of his brain working, the way he tried to recognize his surroundings as well. "God, how long have I...?"

"Longer than you can imagine, big brother. Much longer." You replied before hugging him tightly. 

This must have been the last entirely friendly interaction you had with your brother, a reunion bittersweet for its peculiarities that was unable to conciliate years of differences between the two of you. Nor did the ice erase your hurt over Steve sending you away from the war when your parents passed away, or make you forget the years of training and working for Shield in search of him once you were back in Brooklyn. Nor did it change Steve's view of how he wanted to protect and keep out of trouble - which included superhero work - his younger sister who he had vowed to take care of.

But it was indeed an undeniable amusement to the rest of the team that the personalities of the Rogers siblings were so blatantly different, and it caused some apprehension every time Steve had to witness you leaving the tower in some sports car borrowed from Tony Stark while dressed in leather jackets borrowed from Natasha Romanoff.

The apex that you were entirely corrupted for all that he expected from a proper 1950s girl came in the addition of a certain angry witch to the team a while later.

Of course, the close age - if one ignores the years between the time jump and your arrival - you and Wanda had made your friendship an inevitability. But this doesn't mean that witnessing your clear crush on the new Avenger wasn't giving your older brother a headache.

Natasha thinks he deserved some credit. Considering he was a white man from the 1950s who was frozen before appearing in a new century, Steve was pretty open-minded. She was pretty sure this was due to the closet years of keeping a secret crush on his best friend, but she wouldn't be mean enough to torment Steve with that. 

And besides this, you were also getting used to the new century. And with the possibility of being able to have feelings for Wanda in an open and free way, so different from the world you lived in before.

The witch, on the other hand, had the greatest of fun tormenting you as much as she could while she waited for you to be ready.

And these teases came at every opportunity Wanda could take, from summer days at the tower pool where she had an excuse to wear bikinis around you and make a complete mess of you with the "friendly cuddling" which is how she came to justify the fact that your room was hers now and that there was nothing more platonical than sleeping cuddled up to your best friend.

With each passing moment, you grew comfortable and certain in your own feelings, parallel to which you became more confident in your powers and Wanda began to feel that the tables were turning on her every time a tickle war ended with you using your super-strength to pin her to the bed or you could effortlessly carry her away from a training session or conflict.

It didn't take long for the situation to become unbearable - Wanda was sure she would combust in the next cuddling session if she felt your body against hers again without that leading to what she really wanted, so now she had to take drastic action.

Communication was always the key to everything.

"Have you ever had sex?"

Your cell phone fell hard on your face. Wanda giggled at the mirror reflection: she was on her back brushing her hair and stealing glances at your figure lying on the bed, still learning to use the current technology but definitely loving the whole thing.

Snorting in embarrassment, you pushed the electronic device down onto the mattress and massaged your sore face. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy seeing me like this."

"What do you mean?" She asks innocently, turning her attention to the ring drawer. 

"Disconcerted."

Wanda chuckles mischievously, running her fingers through the options and trying to decide between the items as you stare at the ceiling. "I know you're like 100 years old, but won’t you tell me that it never happened? Not even when you became a hottie super soldier?"

You grunted in shame, covering your face with your arm. Wanda giggled again, this time putting on one of the silver rings. You were too far away to notice how her fingers were slightly trembling, giving away how she was equally affected by the conversation. But unlike you, Wanda knew how to keep it cool very well.

"Wandaaa." You grumbled, and she almost dropped the subject when you added. "No."

"No, what?"

With a sigh, you removed your arm from in front of your face but didn't risk looking at her. "Back then...I just, I didn't have the courage I guess. You know, girls were supposed to be virgins to marry, in theory. And well, I wasn't going to marry anyone because I was too busy working. And when I got into the army, the vast majority of the guys I knew started looking at me with contempt and indignation, and then came the serum I just...didn't know how to handle the attention."

Wanda spun the stool she was sitting on toward you, listening closely to your words. 

You sighed shyly. "I mean I had opportunities, but I just didn't feel comfortable following them. I wanted... to be with someone who liked me. Not the super serum, you know? Most people were only talking to me because of it. They hoped to gain some kind of benefit from meeting the American Soldier. I don't know, maybe it's just me trying not to sound so... cowardly."

Wanda stood up with a sigh, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the ceiling until her face appear in your field of vision.

"Detka, you are literally the bravest person I know." Reminded the witch, bringing a small smile to you. "And there's nothing wrong with not being ready, or waiting for the right person. Sex is intimate, it makes sense that you want it to happen with someone you like and who likes you back."

"Thank you for being understanding." You muttered, swallowing dryly when instead of returning to her previous activities, Wanda sat down on the bed next to you. With a sigh and shifting your gaze to the ceiling again, you ventured, "Have you?"

Wanda's teasing giggle brought a deep color to your face. "Have I what?"

Snorting, you retorted, "Come on, you're the one who brought this up."

Wanda pinched you gently on the belly, smiling at your complaint. “A few times, actually.'"

It made no sense at all to feel jealous of a time you didn't even know her, and that you were somehow in the past, but still, a bitter burn filled your stomach. Wanda, the telepath that she was, seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, and without caring whether it would make your heart stop or not, approached you to use your torso as her personal pillow. With two legs on which side of your hips, she stared down at you.

"But it was nothing outstanding." She began, using her fingertips to wander all the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders through your pajamas and having the best time in the world in watching every single hair of you shiver. "I kept making the same mistake in settling down for mediocre sex. No real feelings, no passion, much less love. Always end up frustrated and having to finish the job alone."

You frowned in confusion. "Alone...?" But it only took one look from Wanda for you to understand what she meant and choke, your face pink again. The younger girl giggled, leaning her elbow on you to rest her chin on her own hand and take a closer look. 

"Eyes on me, baby." She asked, hoping you would overcome your own shyness to do so. When you follow her request, Wanda was ready to risk everything. "You know I love you, don't you?"

You sighed, nodding. "I love you too, Wanda." Your confession was huskier than hers, and she had to ignore the sincerity of what that really meant in order to stay focused on that afternoon's goal. "Kind of the essential thing on the best friend package, isn't it?"

Wanda chuckled, rolling her eyes. 

Of course, you would make a joke to lessen the intensity of the moment, if she was nervous in all her confident glory, she could have sympathy for you, who was literally having to deal with your long-time crush practicing lying over you.

"Friends help each other, don't they? Especially best friends." She retorted, and you frowned in confusion.

"Yeah, I guess… why, did something happen?" Before your confusion could turn to worry entirely and you could finish the movement of getting up, Wanda pressed her hands on your shoulders and pushed you back on the mattress.  "Hey." You chuckled puzzledly, but the laughter died into an affected sigh when Wanda simply shifted in your lap completely, in a very non-platonic way.  "Right, whatever makes you comfortable." You mutter, very aware of the heat radiating from the girl's body on top of you, who just chuckled mischievously at your shyness.

"Relax, dorogoya." Wanda reasserted in a low, dangerously seductive voice. Her hands were on your shoulders still, rubbing your loose pajamas and somehow pushing them down to the limits, exposing as much skin as Wanda could manage. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to...but I also need you to tell me exactly what you wanna do and how ready for me you are."

Your throat went dry, and Wanda's dilated pupils were not helping the words to form. She bit her lip, seeming to have the best time with your clumsiness.

"I-I... god, Wanda..." You gasped and she leaned in completely until her breath was hitting your cheek.

"How about a kiss? Don't tell me you never got one?" She mocked and you had to chuckle dryly.

"You can be quite an ass, Maximoff." You murmured with your eyes closed, risking moving your hands to her thighs around your hips, the action making you both hold your breaths for a second. "I've kissed before."

"Hmm, I see." She hits back, deviating from the original path and letting her mouth tease your jaw, feeling your hands squeeze her thighs gently with every kiss across your skin. What Wanda wouldn't do to see you lose control...

"I like kissing." You confess hoarsely, mostly because she’s making you so nervous that the words are simply spilling. You kept your eyes closed and your neck stretched to give her more room to don’t stop. Aware of your words, Wanda hums again as she keeps depositing chaste kisses on your collarbone. "I like...kissing girls."

It should be a heartfelt confession, one that Wanda theoretically knew about but that you've never put into words before. But suddenly, Wanda bit down on you, hard enough for you to grunt in pain, opening your eyes. She grabs your cheeks with one hand, a hot fury in her eyes that makes you shudder.

"Rule number one, don't talk about other girls when you have one on top of you."

You open your mouth like a fish, babbling nonsense for enough time for Wanda to make a motion of leaving. But that makes you react. "I didn't mean to upset you!" You try quickly, hands moving on an instinct to hold her by the waist on top of you. Wanda has to bite her lips hard to keep from letting out a much more submissive sound than she would like when you just squeeze her firmly to keep her there. "Wanda, please forgive me! I-you caught me off guard, alright? I’m nervous… We’re friends and suddenly… you’re so close and I’m talking nonsense! Please, just… tell me what you want to hear.”

She huffs impatiently, crossing her arms and turning her face away as you sigh in defeat. Wanda wants to be annoyed, but you're so lovely when you lean your face into her, trying to ease her anger with chaste kisses on her cheeks and neck until you manage to get from her a stubborn smile. She has no choice but to uncross her arms to slide her hands up your shoulders, wrapping herself around your body again. 

She feels you smile and relax completely, the kisses getting firmer on her neck until they tickle and elicit a husky giggle from her. Still, Wanda settles a hand in your hair, and the slight tug to bring your faces close together again draws a deep sigh from you.

"I don't want to hear about other girls, detka. This is your last warning." She says seriously with eyes glowing red for a moment. Wanda had hoped to have a direct effect, but to her surprise, a teasing smirk began to form on your lips.

"Wow, you're totally jealous." You accused and she grimaced, trying to pull away once more. But that only made you burst out into a teasing giggle, while your strong arms wrapped around her torso, bringing her back to you effortlessly while keeping her locked into you. Wanda was clearly aware of how shaky her legs were with the motion, and trying to walk away again would only result in her falling to the ground. "Wanda, darling, the girls I kissed must be a hundred years old by now."

Reluctantly and with a rosy tinge in her cheeks, she mutters, "Honestly, I was hoping to be your first."  Her confession makes you rise your eyebrows in surprise, only to smile fondly next. Your hands moved again, caressing her back in an attempt to relax her as well. 

"Hey, look at me." You call out gently, waiting for the girl's stubbornness to subside with the help of your caresses. Wanda has a stronger color on her face when she finally raises her eyes to you again. "I didn't imagine this was anything of relevance to you. But I haven't lied before, I've never been with someone intimately. If you still want to, you can be my first... everything else."

She twitches her nose softly. "You’re making it sound like it’s a favor for me. I only want to... if you do too." She retorts with a certain determination in her gaze, and though you feel your cheeks burn with the ultimatum, you nod foolishly before breaking the distance.

It catches Wanda by surprise, the sudden kiss, and you're despairing when she doesn't respond immediately, pulling away at the same speed you approached. "Sorry." You say mortified and breathless, your lips tingling. "I like you, Wan. I really do. I just thought you should know before..."

She places a finger over yours, shushing your nervous anticipation. Her free hand goes to your cheek and Wanda pulls you close again, her eyes darkening in a way that makes you shiver entirely.

"Like I said before, just relax, baby. Stop overthinking." She whispers before she firms her mouth over yours. It's a sensual, intense kiss unlike any you've ever received. Wanda seems determined to drive you to complete insanity. She kisses you unhurried, waiting for permission to slide her tongue into yours, and giving you no room to breathe properly, head spinning with those new yet so familiar needy feelings. She kisses and kisses you until you're restless beneath her, your body burning and your hands curious testing limits that she doesn’t impose, only encourages you to break. Her taste and smell intoxicate your every sense, the feel of her body molded to yours, teasing your reactions and almost making you lose control of your strength. The tight squeeze you give her when she sucks your tongue earns a whimper from her that sticks and echoes in your mind, making you dizzy with lust. When she finally breaks the kiss to breathe, her lips are swollen like yours, and her pupils are so dilated that there is no green left in them. Your face burns for the matching fire you find in her gaze.

You are unable to find any words to describe this moment, so you only stare at her, blushing over the smirk that starts to form on her lips once she catches the adoring look you’re giving her.

Licking your lips to try to gain some focus, you dare to ask: “Was it…good?” You would have added “Did you like” or “Was I enough” if Wanda didn't break into a giggle that shut you entirely, your cheeks burning. Before the shame could surface, she grabbed your cheeks again. “You’re too cute, darling.” She says, kissing you again more quickly than before. Her hands move to yours then, intertwining your fingers together to drag them on her thighs, down, and then back up, this time under her skirt. Your heart stopped, and Wanda turned her dark eyes back to yours, her voice so low you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close. “Don’t be shy, see for yourself how much I like kissing you.” She whispers darkly.

When she kisses you again, her hands guide you under her skirt until you're in her front. The mere contact of your fingers with the wet spot on her panties makes you groan and break the kiss, needing a moment to just take a breath and calm your nerves. Wanda doesn't wait long, releasing your hands to move hers to your shoulders, needing firm support now that you're so close to where she needs it so badly. She gasps in surprise when your hand gives a quick tug that rips her panties off at once, a wave of new wetness running down her thighs in the same second.

You don't say anything about it, just turns your face to kiss her again, the same way she did before, and somehow even dirtier and more sexual, drawing gasps with every flick of your tongue against hers.

Because Wanda's your best friend, she wants to taunt you - tease you about being better at this than you let on, but all the words fall away at once when your fingers fill her in one go. All Wanda can do is moan, choking on the kiss as she feels you slide into her with such ease. 

"Fuck, detka." She moans with her eyes tightly closed, just as she pulls away to breathe. Your response is to just continue your movements, in and out of her without haste, feeling every mention of her warm walls squeezing your fingers. Wanda is burning on top of you and the sound of her drenched pleasure echoes low. You hum contentedly, nipping at her neck as she can no longer match the kiss, so close to her own climax. Your hand adjusts, increasing its reach, and when your thumb gives her clit the attention it needs, Wanda lets out an affected squeal. "W-wanna cum, baby. Please!"

You bite back a smile, surprised and impressed by the question hidden in the statement. You adjust to face her and wait for Wanda to feel the change to look at you too. The dark, lust-filled pupils leave you breathless.

"You can cum, sweetheart, you don't even have to ask." You assure her softly, never stopping your movements inside her. "I'm here to please you." You whisper, and it's enough for Wanda to break into an affected moan, hips thrusting helplessly against your hand until she arches her back and lets out the longest, dirtiest moan you've ever heard. 

Her eyes flutter shut as she rides her high on your soaked hand, until she finally opens scarlet pupils for you, a long groan leaving her lips as the last sensations of the best orgasm she ever had fade away.

Wanda turns her full attention to you in the next second, stealing quick but intense kisses until a husky giggle leaves her lips and tickles yours.

"You're too good at this for your own good." She prompts, and the compliment takes a heartfelt giggle from you. You try to relax under her gaze but Wanda's dilated eyes have a different twinkle as she holds your cheeks more firmly. "I think I want to keep you all to myself. Without sharing with anybody else. What do you say, baby?"

You swallow dry, suddenly quite vulnerable "H-hm, like... dating?" You retort in a weak tone of voice because you need to confirm and well the idea that someone as unbelievably awesome as Wanda Maximoff is actually asking for exclusivity with you seems too freaking surreal not to confirm. As many times as necessary.

Wanda giggles mischievously, settling herself on top of your fingers that never left her and sighing as she feels you even deeper than before. "Yeah, just like that." She moans, and you're not sure if she's answering your question or guiding you through the motions, but you get the impression that the answer goes both ways. 

It's not like you will contradict your new girlfriend any further.

Before Wanda could indulge in the sensation again, however, she stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist. Raising curious eyes to the breathless flushed girl on top of you, your first reaction was to check if you had done something wrong, and by god, hurt her. But Wanda bit back a smile, her other hand going down to your belt.

"We're overdressed, honey." She whispered against your lips, red sparkles playing with the edge of your shirts, teasing them upward. " Strip."

Moaning low against her mouth, Wanda almost didn't let you pull away. In record time, your clothes were off and so were hers, between stolen panting kisses you fell to the mattress again, curious hands urging together.

Wanda pinned you beneath her with no effort despite your super strength, and feeling her naked against your skin drove you to the brink of insanity. She swallowed each moan with her mouth, appreciating the increasingly needy sounds as she fit against your hips, and began to move hers.

Soon, the friction became unbearably arousing and you had to clutch at the sheet, and the headboard. A hot, tight knot at the tip of your stomach left you breathless, every movement of Wanda's hips into yours, the perfect fit between your cunts was enough to make you choke. 

You practically meowed when she got the rhythm right. "O-oh god Wanda! T-there's something... fuck, I can't-"

"I know baby, just let go for me." She panted, her hands clenching the sheet on either side of your head, her hips frantic against yours. "Fuck, you feel amazing" She moans a confession, smiling satisfied at your expression of pure bliss beneath her.

Suddenly the knot bursts, and you're blinded by the pleasure of your first orgasm for a full moment. The headboard snaps in your left hand and Wanda cums in a loud, animalistic moan, spilling herself down on you before collapsing heavily onto your torso, your panting breaths mingling like your juices.

You try to recover together from the intensity of the climax, your hand finding her back on instinct to stroke her as Wanda nestles closer against you, an exhausted, satisfied smile on her lips.

She barely had a chance to lift her face to kiss you when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

"Kid, is everything all right in here I heard something breaking-'" 

You nearly knocked Wanda off the bed in an attempt to cover the two of you with the comforter - and the mattress lost a few springs in the process.

The two Avengers who'd entered the room covered their faces with their hands, but unlike your brother, Natasha was holding back her laughter.

"I'm sorry. We... I... you-"

"Come on Captain, we're leaving." Natasha cut Steve off with a pat on the shoulder, leading the way backward. "Sorry girls, lock the door next time. And well, use protection!" She burst out laughing, ignoring the embarrassed grumbles from you and Wanda, and closing the door.

With the safety of a locked door, you hid your face in your pillow.

"Great, the best day of my life might be ruined because my brother is going to have a stroke."  You grumbled, getting a hearty laugh from the other.

Wanda adjusted herself, stroking your hair until you looked at her again. "Best day of your life, huh? I'm flattered." She teases, smiling at the red that appears on your cheeks.

"As if you weren't cocky enough." You retort in the same tone, adjusting to hold her by the waist and pull her to you, getting on top now. Wanda sighs softly, even warmer with the addition of the blanket now, she finds it kind of hard to concentrate, much more talk. "Thank you, Wands."

Your line surprises her. "For what?"

"For being my first time." You clarify with a shrug, though your gaze was intense. "I've always wanted it to be with someone special, someone I like and trust. And there's no one I love more than you."

Wanda kisses you because she doesn't want to be the type to cry during sex, and she's pretty sure she would. You don't mind, she transmits the feeling through action and well, there are other things you're dying to do other than talk.

There will be time for confessions later.

[lovelynicho]

"I'm giving you this summer now"

&team reaction - summer love

Pairing: &team x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, sligh angst

Warnings: drinking in K's; not proofread (I'm still lazy)

Note: yes, I have requests I still need to write, but as the summer is coming to an end, I wanted to write something like this; english is not my first language if there's any mistakes please let me know!

Masterlist

K

After your first meeting you never tought you would meet again. You first met at a party, both of you were a little tipsy and danced until you could barely stand anymore. Although, you believed you'd never see him again two days later you met him at a store and while you had no intentions of talking to him it seemed like he tought differently and asked for your number. You found it weird but at the same time curiousity grew inside of you and you couldn't stop it. So you ended up on a date with him that night and it was surprisingly good. At first sight you tought that he's just a guy who just wants to hookup, but he was actually interested in you, he was funny and incredibly charming. So after that date you found yourself on an another one with K, and it was followed by the next one and so on. He made that summer the best you've had so far, and both of you decided to make the fall at least as great.

Fuma

You have never been in a relationship before. And it started to get scary because it's been so long. All of your friends who are the same age had already gone out with at least one person but not you. This led to you thinking that there might be something wrong with you. You were often alone, walking in the city, admiring the settling sun. That's exactly what you were doing the day you met him. Fuma. The most perfect man ever. It was almost unbelievable that nobody wanted you before and suddenly he showed up. Tall, strong, handsome, charming voice asking for your number. It was pretty late, the sun going down, but the summer breeze is still hot. Despite that, you shivered when he said he'll call you. And he did. And he made this summer the best of all by making you feel loved in a way you never experienced before.

Nicholas

You loved being a tour guide. You were always good at learning languages and to use that to show others the beautiful parts of your hometown was a dream of yours that you finally achieved. It was the beginning of summer but you already took numerous groups on a great tour. But this group was different. Not even the group itself, but a certain someone. A beautiful man with strawberry coloured hair, almost cold eyes but with the warmest smile you've ever seen. You tried not to stare at him too much, but he was so captivating that your eyes longed for the sight of him. As the tour ended you were actually glad you don't have to see him again, because even if he would found you attractive (which you tought was impossible) starting to date with a foreigner would be complicated. But as you were packing your stuff, ready to leave, a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Hi! Loved the tour. I'm Nicholas, here's my number. I'm going to be here all summer if you'd like to go out sometime" You don't even know why you accepted it. If you start to have strong feelings for him, saying goodbye at the end of the summer will be the hardest thing for you. But he was too charming to reject.

EJ

You always loved kids. Probably that's why you volunteered to help at a summer camp. The only thing you never tought would happen there is finding the most beautiful man you've ever seen. When you first went to the camp on Monday to prepare some games for the kids you found help in a tall, brown haired individual called Euijoo. He was incredibly kind to you, making small conversations everytime you had to work on something together. Small conversations turned into deep talks everyday after all the kids left and you finished cleaning. Just sitting on the stairs, eating some leftover food, talking about everything and nothing. By every passing day you found yourself liking him more and more. On Friday he asked you out for dinner, proving that he felt the same.

Yuma

What is better than a vacation with your friends spent in a different country? Obviously nothing! That's what you and your friends tought when you booked a hotel in Japan for the whole summer. You just wanted to take a long, deserved break before college starts again. And next to the beautiful hotel you were staying at was an amazing cafe where you could get your morning coffee. That's where you met him. Beautiful hair, beautiful skin, shining eyes. It took him a week until he gave you his number and asked you out. He introduced himself as Yuma, and he was living close to where you were staying. So every single minute when you weren't with your friends, you were with him. The only problem was when the time of your departure came closer and closer. By that time both of you fell for each other. You couldn't beleive that you had to end it here, leaving him just as the summer leaves too. But you want to try, you beleive in your feelings. So maybe it will work for the two of you. Maybe....

Jo

Why did it take you so long? You started working with him at the beginning of summer. You shifts almost always the same. Both of you being introverts, at first you barely even talked to each other, but as time passed by, work getting more and more boring, conversations started to spark between you two. He was quite. A cute smile on his face. Shy. But when you talked, you felt like he understands you like nobody else in this world. So why did it take you so long? Why didn't you go to grab an ice cream after the first time you had a good talk? Why didn't you asked him out right after you realised you had feelings for him? Why didn't you kiss him right away when his lips looked so inviting? Why did you have to wait for so long. Now there's barely two weeks left of summer, and by the end of it, he'll be gone. He's moving away for university. You love each other. You did this whole time. If only one of you would have been braver, you could have had the whole summer to make memories, to kiss, cuddle, live like two young people in love. So why did it take you so long....

Harua

That day seemed like a nice day for a walk alone. However, the hot weather left you in need of something cold. That's when you decided to go and buy some ice cream. You were about to make an order when you looked at the guy who was giving out the ice cream. He looked at you with the brightest smile you have ever seen, brown hair falling perfectly on his forehead, eyes scanning you from head to toe. The mutual attraction at first sight was obvious. After you asked for the flavours of ice cream you wanted you were just about to pay when he suddenly told you to wait a little. He quickly found a pen on a table close to him and wrote something on a napkin that he gave you after you payed the price of your cold sweet. "My name is Harua. That's my number, maybe you can call me, if you want to. My shift is over at eight."

Taki

When the two of you first met, you were on a vacation with your friends. You were walking on the beach when a guy came to all of you. He seemed nervous and a little embarrassed that he had to speak infront of all of your friends but he tought you looked amazing and if he didn't ask for your number he would be regretting it for the rest of his life. "Hi my name is Taki" he started and looked directly in your eyes "I think you look really good and... Would it be okay if you gave me your number?" You were shocked. You didn't expect someone to be so straightforward, but you found him interesting and cute, of course, so you did give him your number. And he called you that evening asking you out for the next day, and after that date you had to admit, that giving him your number was one if the best decisions you've ever made.

Maki

Although the two of you went to the same school for years, you were never really close. You barely even talked. Until you got a project together nearly the end of your last year. While working on it you realised how much interest you both share and you started to hang out. As friends. But both of you started to have stronger feelings for the other. And, being the brave man he is, at the beginning of summer he asked you out on a proper date. It didn't take long for you two to start dating. It seemed normal, like nothing could separate you two. Until you saw that both of you were accepted to your chosen university. It would be a good thing, if only they weren't in completely different countries. But still, you decided to make the most out of the summer: spending all your free time together, going on your dream dates, sharing sweet love confessions. You even started to think that things can still work. It's just a few years spent thousands of kilometres away from each other. Your relationship can survive that....right?

[twoidiotwriters1]

Chapter 1. Fun Times & Potty Rooms

Summary: Dearest Gentle reader, as another season starts so do the surprises. Masterlist // Next Chapter Words: 1,517 Listen to: What's Up? -by Non 4 Blondes A/N: Don't forget to leave feedback, please! -Danny

Dear Diary,

Mother insists I write even though she knows this isn't what I meant when I said I wanted to write. I'm not a self-referential lady who enjoys talking to herself; in fact, I believe it is quite silly and embarrassing. But alas, I am writing. To myself. 

Why, you ask? Well, for the first time in my five-and-twenty years of living, I'll spend some time away from home. Mother thinks it's time I do so, otherwise I'll be a perfect stranger to other royals and no one will know of me once I become Queen. When I said in jest that it was my intention, Mother didn't laugh. Which hurt plenty, because she usually laughs at the nonsense I spit. Which means she must want me to mingle and socialize. Lord have mercy on all of us.

Mother used to be just like me when she was my age, but she is so regal nowadays that you wouldn't believe she used to trip over armour and set fire to gentlemen's suits. My father fell in love with Mother because she was fire, he often jests.

Are these the things one writes in a diary? I must admit I'm doing this with half a mind since I'm also watching over my twin brothers, Richard and Rowan, and my younger sister Marie, so they do not fall off of the moving carriage. I wish I were more like Marie, graceful and charming, she's all dad. 

I'm boisterous when careless, with my head in the clouds and unable to land swiftly... How is this journey to England going to change that? A bunch of mummies live in that palace. My maid said they are the most rigid crowd I'll ever meet.

The fun awaits.

Benedict rises from his slumber tangled in two different bodies, with the sun streaming down on his face and immediately heightening the dormant headache. When he props himself up, the man on his right rolls over groaning and covering his head with a pillow, then the woman on his left curls away from him, pulling the covers closer to her bare body, baring Benedict and showing the marks all over his body. He used to find satisfaction in them, but lately, the day after his love affairs has been causing him a most unpleasant irk.

Maybe it's time to... settle down?

Benedict shrugs off the thought with a grimace. A boring aristocratic life accompanied by some sensible woman sends him reeling, it's all a bit too serious, and deep within his heart, he's always felt that he could not possibly abandon this type of life. Such a wide variety of companions to love... Why would he quit it?

No fun at all.

You step out of the carriage and your foot slips. Helped by the footman, you give him a soft thank you and offer him a kind smile, but he doesn't look up at you at any moment. You sigh, realizing this trip is bound to be exactly what you imagined.

Your siblings hurry after you and you chastise them. Even though you're around the same age, the twins are just entering their twenties, therefore it's hard to make them understand being loud and bold isn't cute anymore. Your sister holds your arm as she looks up at the castle with curiosity.

"Ample..." Marie says bemusedly.

"All that wasted space," you sigh. "They don't have toilets here, so you'll have to go in your room in a pissy bowl—"

"Y/N," your mother, Queen Amelia, stops beside you giving you a look. "Don't even think about complaining in the Queen's presence... but call it a potty if you are to be funny. Pissy bowl makes you sound five."

You and your sister giggle, which makes your mother send a conspiratory wink your way. A lovely woman. Your father, King Nicholas, comes up the steps and presses his hands to your backs, urging the two of you to enter the castle. 

"In girls, it looks like rain..."

"Are we to spend all of our time indoors, then?" Your sister pouts. 

"That is less than ideal, considering Y/N is here to be outdoors for a change, but I suppose it depends on the weather," your father glares at the sky. "England wishes to give us a proper welcome."

"No, thank you!" Marie picks up her pace.

"I spend time outdoors," you argue under your breath.

The man smiles. "Let me rephrase, then. To meet new people and spend time with them outdoors."

As you enter the wide hall you're welcomed by the Queen of England and her many children. A few are closer to your age, but you do not like the way the male part of the bunch eyes you and your sister. Or the way the Princesses look at your brothers, for that matter.

"Your Majesty, Queen Amelia of Genovia. King Consort, Nicholas Devereaux, and their children— Princess Y/N Devereaux, Princess Marie Devereaux, and the Princes Richard and Rowan Devereaux."

While the girls curtsy and the boys bow, the queens greet each other. Queen Charlotte spares a brief glance toward your father and a little 'hmph' escapes her lips with no further comment. King Nicholas, a man with a sense of humour, glances your way and pretends to loosen his cravat anxiously while gulping, which makes you giggle.

"Ah, Benedict, there you are," Violet surveys her son over the teacup she's holding. "Took you long enough to join us. Where have you been?"

"Morning, Mother, I apologize," he smiles and sits next to Gregory. "I woke up early and walked around Hyde Park hoping for inspiration to strike."

"Seems to me you were the one striking," Colin mutters across the table, eyeing his brother's neck with a grin. Benedict pulls his cravat higher up and glares at his brother to keep quiet.

"Benedict, did you hear the news?" Hyacinth speaks, almost shaking with excitement. "A royal family is attending the first ball of the season!"

"There is always some royal family at balls, isn't it?" He retorts without interest.

"The Queen and King of Genovia are staying in London for the whole season," Anthony says carefully. "Along with their two daughters and sons. I expect you to keep the family name as pristine as ever."

"Is this why you're here and not at home with your wife?" Benedict asks. "You came to scold us ahead in case we were planning to make a fool of ourselves?" Anthony doesn't dignify the question with an answer, he looks at his brother with a steely glare for a few extra seconds before he goes back to his food. Like I care about flimsy princesses, Benedict thinks with disdain.

"Whistledown says this will be the first public appearance of Princess Y/N!" Hyacinth continues, unbothered by her brothers's lack of excitement. "I wish I were old enough to attend the ball..." She turns to Francesca and Eloise. "Will you try to befriend her for me? She must be your age."

Eloise scoffs. "Befriend a princess? If she's anything like ours, she'll be all night fanning herself looking down at every poor mortal that dares walk within her breathing distance."

"They're not quite like us," Colin points out, just as fond of gossip as his sister. "Ever since Queen Amelia ascended to the throne, Genovia has been known for their... er... forward thinking."

Benedict snorts. Whatever royalty considers "forward thinking" is not even halfway there. Eloise, however, leans on the table wanting to hear more of it. "What do you mean, brother?"

"Women are encouraged to get higher education. They participate in sports, hunts, arts— and can wear male's clothing—"

That pulls a gasp from their mother and Eloise, although they're both different sounds in nature. Violet blushes and replies in a shy voice. "Oh, well... if it works for them..."

"They're well on their way to becoming a leading nation," Colin continues excitedly. "Which is why the Queen has invited them. Whistledown made a joke last month... something about England living in the Dark Ages and being the reason why people branch out and leave the country, claimed that Genovia would double in size thanks to us... it was quite merciless."

Anthony shakes his head. "You let women do stuff they're already doing in the privacy of their homes and call it revolutionary. Please."

What would the Queen of Genovia think of people like Benedict? Maybe he should visit the country, perhaps this very season, he would try anything just to escape the usual horde of debutants and dull social events...

"Well, there is a great deal of difference between having to be private and choosing to be," Francesca argues. Benedict smiles at her, a silent compliment he gives every time she outwits Anthony.

"There are other things happening in Genovia, it's not all about women," Colin shrugs it off. "I was just giving an example I knew would interest Eloise the most."

"And which ones were left out of your consideration?" Eloise grins.

"The potty rooms," he states, making Gregory choke on his tea.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@babypink224221 @Booknerdlife @djsporks @lght-roastcoffee @marii-ren @mythical-goth @omgsuperstarg @creepytoes88 @sarahskywalker-amidala

[mrssnivellussnape]

not my gif, creds to original owner(s)

Indiscretion

Requested by Anon: ‘ANGST PLEASE🙏’

An: you got it! I tried a different take on this one with Severus. He’s a little softer I guess. Lmk what you think!

Pairing: Severus Snape X Reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst, infidelity, cursing

“Took you long enough.” Admittedly hadn’t been the first words you’d expected to hear. Maybe loving words, or an offer to help remove your outer robes, surely not complaints.

You softly shut the door, turning around momentarily to be sure the lock was latched. You didn’t say anything in response to his ignorant expression, though, that didn’t mean it hadn’t bothered you.

Severus took note of that and chose to change the topic, “Did you remember this time?” He asked.

You didn’t answered before pulling out the aged, yet crisp, oak-barreled wine you’d brought with you. “I made sure not to leave without it.” You supplied.

Nothing else has been said as you followed Severus to the kitchen. He’d set the table, lit candles, and there’d been a tune playing from somewhere within the walls of the house. The only thing missing was the piece you’d brought with you.

You both sat down, with Severus helping you to your seat, “How was your day?” You tried inquiring. Although, Severus hadn’t seemed as if that was what he wanted to hear.

“It was consumed by petulant children I’d rather not talk about.” Came his curt answer. “I can assume yours was spent well?” He’d noticed your expression briefly change.

Again, you hadn’t responded, except this time he wasn’t going to let the question hang in the air. He knew it hadn’t been a good one, your lack of punctuality being a factor.

“Y/n?” His voice was both stern and concerned, yet his face remained impassive.

A heavy sigh was heard across the table and you sat back into your seat, “Nick and I didn’t have the best day.” You admitted.

Severus had to keep from showing the lack of distaste he held for the aforementioned man.

Nicholas Bradbury was a man Severus wasn’t very fond of. It wasn’t due to anything other than pure jealousy. His job at the ministry hadn’t been what Severus was jealous of, no. Nor was it how much wealth he seemed to obtain. The only reasoning Severus had to back up his hatred, was the matching wedding ring you adorned on your left ring finger.

“I see.” Was his simple return.

You didn’t hold back from rolling your eyes, though, “Honestly, Severus, can we not do this tonight.” You were tired of the same tirade that would somehow inevitably be slipped in on these nights.

He could sense that you weren’t appreciative of his tone, still that hadn’t held him back. “Do what?” He countered, “Talk about how unhappy your husband makes you?”

The room felt as if any ounce of contentment that had been inside, had left. It wasn’t a blow to the face, exactly, but you hadn’t been expecting him to be so abrupt with his words. You knew Severus was tired of the sneaking and lying, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t agree.

You’d started seeing Severus amorously months back.

You two had stumbled upon each other at random on a late night out.

He’d happened to be at The Leaky Cauldron - already appearing in an intoxicated state. You hadn’t come toppling in, but you’d stumbled onto him on his way out. He’d caught you in his confused daze - not understanding how you appeared to be more inebriated than he had.

He’d felt bad, oddly enough. Your cheeks had been tear stained, and when he followed them to your eyes, they’d shown how swollen they were. You were, undoubtedly, a mess; yet something in Severus couldn’t let you go. A room for the night had been offered and despite you being frazzled and dizzy, you’d accepted.

It began as a nice gesture that had soon become a regret once the two of you were alone in the dimly lit space. The light casted off of the oak wood furniture, creating a warm ambiance within the room. The fireplace had already began to roar as it quickly started to heat the two of you.

You’d traveled over to the mirror attached dresser and had taken your outer clothes off.

You’d made note of the mysterious stranger you were now seeing in the mirror. His hair was long, as were his slender, dexterous appearing fingers. His attire was both put together, and unkempt.

He intrigued the curious part in the back of your mind, although you knew it wasn’t right, and you needed to know him.

As if his own mind had been in tandem, you hadn’t noticed he was then behind you, standing a short distance away.

The rational part of you had been gone long before that specific night, you knew it wasn’t right and you still ignored it. Whether you’d come to regret in the morning hadn’t been a thought. You had been tired of your thoughts and needed something for the moment.

At least, that had been the plan.

One night of passion turned into months of more drunken nights, slipped kisses; moans and whimpers of more.

Your secret was known, not that it could be called that, or that you’d cared. Severus had given you things - feelings, that your husband hadn’t. You had felt bad on certain occasions, and then Severus would have you forgetting once more.

Brought back to reality, “Oh, so now me having a husband bothers your?” You scoffed. He’d tried bringing it up before, but you’d negate it with the fact that he’d already known. “You hadn’t seemed to mind any of the other times we’ve been together, recently.”

“When are you going to be honest with yourself and admit that that man can do nothing for you?” His words spewed out like sounds of hatred and his face had contorted into one of disgust.

You now stood to your feet, there was no appetite left in you. You had come on an empty stomach and it appeared as though you might’ve been leaving the same way. “Where, in your mind, did you think this was going to lead to!” You shouted.

Severus couldn’t be serious; he knew you were married. There had been no plans for the future, no promises of leaving and starting something anew. The base of your relationship had been built on being sneaky and lying - hiding in the dark and only telling each other.

It was his turn to rise to his feet now, “How can you be married to a man you hate?” He was now yelling.

“That doesn’t concern you.” You countered.

Severus adamantly shook his head, “No.” he argued. “You don’t know how to love anyone but yourself. You’re a selfish woman. You’re too scared to admit to yourself who’s right for you, and who isn’t.”

“As if you’d be the one to tell me that.” Came your low words.

Your demeanor shifted and he saw how the same woman he thought he’d come to know, was now nothing short of a facade. Your eyes had taken on a dark look and your eyebrows were sat angrily.

“We were never meant for a happy ending.” You promised. “Did you think this was some kind of fantasy world? You thought I would leave my husband for a man like you?” You were stepping closer to him.

He knew how fast a person could change. He’d seen both men and women use what they have to get just what they need; it was an evil world they lived in. “I should’ve never helped you, I knew against my better judgement. You’re nothing better than what you think you are. You’ve already ruined yourself for me.”

You stormed towards the door, because no matter the rude words you’d said to him, he was right. You’d cheated on your husband, you’d stooped low and stepped out. Severus would always have a part of you.

You weren’t going to let him know, though, “What made you think I ever cared for you.” You rhetorically asked. “You’re a sad, lonely man who’s never had love. I can so easily see that. Forget how we once were, you mean nothing to me now.”

Severus went to open his mouth, looking unusually defeated. He didn’t know what to say or was expected to say - nothing according to you. He hadn’t expected the night to go as poorly as it had.

He watched as you didn’t gather your things, instead taking nothing, and leaving everything except your love.

[devflamme]

Nicky

Summary: Just a theory about how Agatha actually killed Nicholas.

Words: 1052.

Pairings: Agatha Harkness & Nicholas Scratch, Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal.

Warnings: Child death. And also – I used Google Translate for the Latin phrases since I haven't studied Latin in a while; I'm v e r y rusty.

English isn't my first language / Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Agatha stops stirring the cauldron once she hears the hurried little steps of her boy coming down the basement of the cabin. She smiles softly, waiting to hear whatever Nicholas has to say – Rio had been teaching him how to take care of the plants in their garden, and the boy had been doing a wonderful job; Rio just could not stop praising him all the time. Her little brilliant boy.

“Mama! Mama!” Nicholas walks to Agatha, waving his chubby hands at her, smiling at her. Agatha drops down the spoon, placing it neatly beside the cauldron, and gets down on one knee, the boy running to hug her tightly. Agatha always had said to Rio that Nicky liked her more, and Rio always scoffed and rolled her eyes – ‘he probably does, beloved, since you are both too similar in every way’. The boy pulls back from the hug, looking at Agatha with his eyes sparkling. “Mommy showed me how to take care of the carnations this time! She said I’m doing well, but she had to go out for a while… Can I stay here?”

“Of course, my love,” Agatha says, smiling softly. She gets on her feet again, walking to the corner of the crowded basement and pulling out a chair for Nicky to sit. He sits down, swaying his feet back and forth, making gestures with his hands. Agatha laughs, going back to stir the potion in the cauldron. A healing potion, since Nicky had been getting sick lately. “What are you doing, Nicholas?”

“Oh! I saw mommy doing this when she was taking care of the flowers,” He answers giddily. Agatha looks at him and notices a small spark of dark blue magic on his fingers. She tilts her head, looking intently at NIcholas’ hands. The boy lets out a surprised yelp, and Agatha jumps from the noise. “Look, mama! I have magic just like you and mommy do!”

Agatha lets go of the cauldron. She walks to Nicholas, putting herself on her knees again and looking at him, proud but scared. The magic on his fingers had the same tone from his eyes – a dark tone of blue, but also soft; childish and free. She ruffles his hair, his giggles echoing in the basement. “You’re powerful just like me and your mommy, my love. But you need to take care.”

“Why?” Nicholas asks curiously. Agatha sighs softly, looking away for a moment, before she feels one of Nicky’s hands on her shoulder, pulling her back from whatever feelings she had at the moment. “Why, mama?”

“Well, my love…” Agatha whispers, her hand caressing Nicky’s plump cheek lovingly. “When you are a person like us, with magic, people want to harm you.”

“But why would they want to harm us? We haven’t done anything wrong…” Agatha feels her eyes welling up with tears, but she holds them back, not wanting to seem vulnerable in front of her son. Not wanting to seem vulnerable in front of anyone.

Agatha Harkness… You have practiced the darkest of magics.

You were born evil. I ought to have killed you the moment you left my body.

Agatha coughs softly. “We haven’t, darling, exactly, but people like us are outcasts. We’re… hated by others who do not understand us, who do not understand our history.” She explains, and Nicholas smiles, understanding. Agatha ruffles his hair again, and the boy giggles. “But… It can’t hurt to teach you how to use your own magic, my love.”

Nicholas’ eyes sparkle, and he smiles so big that Agatha has to laugh, his smile contagious and toothy just like his mommy. Rio says that he is most similar to Agatha, but Agatha can’t help but see some of the woman’s characteristics in him, too. His feet sway front to back, almost kicking Agatha as the boy couldn’t hold his enthusiasm. “Really, mama? Can you teach me?”

“Of course, my darling.”

Agatha shouldn’t have agreed.

She shouldn’t have agreed to teach him magic. Her boy’s screams still echo in her head– ‘mama, stop!’ – every time she has to look at his corpse, stashed away in her bewitched basement as she searches and searches and searches for a way to bring him back before Rio finds him. 

“O mors, reduces eos in planum, nam rogo te…” Agatha whispers the spell, hoping that Death would hear her, but at the same time, hoping she wouldn’t. Necromancy wasn’t her best skill. She had to get better – to get better takes time, but she does not have time. She needs her son back now. “Please…” Her sobs echo down the basement, tears dripping down on Nicholas’ face, gray and dry, just like Evanora.

Agatha pulls back, scrambling on her feet, her knees scraping against the floor. She sobs desperately, hands covering her face as she couldn’t look at Nicholas’ corpse anymore. She could only see every single life she took because of this damned ability – what Rio saw in her as something good, worthy, was actually the motive of her doom. 

Her old coven.

Evanora.

A thousand unknown witches.

And now, her baby.

Agatha’s sobs were unstoppable – but she tried to get back on her feet, to mumble the same spell over and over; necromancy wasn’t her best skill, after all.

She looks at the corner of the basement mid desperate whispering – a black, thick book floating away in a mysterious aura. The Darkhold.

Agatha swallows back her cries, finally finding what could be the solution of her demise, and runs to grab the book, leafing through its pages quickly. She had read the Darkhold before in Rio’s presence, but it had not taken the toll it was taking on her now; maybe because of Rio herself. But now… each word she read, the weaker she felt, like the book was siphoning her energy away.

“Obsecro, o Chthon, adiuva me in hac resurrectione, accipe me, sed reduc eum–” Just as Agatha whispers the spell, that sounded more like begging, she faints on the floor, a numbing feeling on her fingertips.

When she woke up, Nicholas was nowhere to be seen. Death had finally taken him from her grasp, from her protection, from her love. Death, after so many centuries of loving her, cherishing her… betrayed her. Left her. 

Left her to rot.

[joojeans]

hi sno! im just wondering who do you think would be the boy dad or girl dad among hyung line? imsoo sick im already thinking of them as the father of my children (i dont think id ever want to have kids...) thank you <3

&team hyung line: girl dads vs boy dads

k: k is such a boy dad. i think he would get nervous with a little girl because he would be so afraid of accidentally hurting her sdfjsfs :( but a little boy! he would be k's shadow. he'd take him with him to run errands, to walk the dog, even to work if he's able. he would make it his duty to turn the little guy into a miniature version of himself. he'd even have him double team you (the mom) with matching pouty faces when k wants to go for ice cream but you've said it's too late. because how can you say no to both of them at the same time? he's the cool dad 99% of the time so you usually have to be the disciplinarian but he can step up to the plate if and when he needs to. fake beefs with his son about which one you love more.

fuma: equal parts girl dad and boy dad. with a little girl, he's spoiling tf out of her and treating her like she hung the moon in the sky. it's a stark contrast to how he'd raise a little boy—making sure he corrects even the smallest misbehavior. he teaches his son about nutrition and being active from a young age so he doesn’t have to struggle with it later in in life while also playing video games with him when they get back home. his little girl is his princess and he buys her pretty things and snuggles with her mid-day if she wants him to. his little boy is expected to help with dinner and cleaning up and he watches his words a lot more carefully. it's not that he doesn't hold them to the same standard so much as it is letting the mom take the lead with the daughter while he takes the lead with his son. he will still make sure his little princess isn't acting crazy. she just gets away with a little bit more until her mom's around.

nicholas: he's a girl dad and i'm so sad about it !! he's the softest dad, carrying her around as much as she wants. he will cave to anything she asks for and if mom says no, he'll give it to her in secret. paints her tiny nails :(( her freedom of expression is very important to him so he'll be walking around the grocery store with her dressed fully in costume if that's what she wanted to wear that day. he's good at disciplining her, but in the gentlest way possible. he'll use a soft voice and puppy eyes to make sure she doesn't feel like he's angry. she's his heart for real. he comes home and no matter what kind of day he's had, he finds her first thing and spends quality time with her, only to make your heart swell with that much more love for him.

euijoo: both pt. 2. with a son, he's dedicated to raising a polite, well-intentioned young man. he has many heart to hearts with him as he's growing up to make sure he understands that just because some boys may act this way or that way, it doesn't mean that it's right. makes sure he understands how to treat women and be mindful of their struggles. his daughter is his sunshine in a sometimes stormy world. he's so protective of her. if she trips or hurts her finger or someone at school makes her cry, he's falling over his feet to make sure she's okay. makes sure to warn her about "how boys can be" and will give a stern look to any boy around her so they know to be on their best behavior with his daughter. good at talking either of them through any misbehavior by making them understand exactly why what they did was wrong and how they can handle it better next time. will watch them carefully when the situation arises again, a proud smile and words of praise when they navigate it successfully.

[aplaceinthedark]

prologue: JOURNEY to the OAKEN GROVE

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm.

Word Count: 1,011

CW: supernatural themes, character death, off-screen carnage, mind control, male dominating a woman's will

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm.

FEATURED CREATURES

@ladyveronikawrites @lilhobgobbler @deathblacksmoke @cookiesupplier @thatchickwiththecamera

Long ago, in ages past, all living things commanded infinite power and roamed unchecked across the land. They were as spirits and could speak and perform strong magic. Though in time, an evil had spread across the land, and it was decided that the world’s magic needed to be protected.

That’s what a lot of children in this part of the Shenandoah Valley was told, as part of some tales told by their Grannies. But not miss Elin Young. When she was a child, she was taught that those were selfish practices.

“Darkness only sought to make all creatures equal,” her granny told her, “and to share their power totally amongst all things…” But still, some creatures wanted to keep their strengths secret, and concealed their divinity, leaving the world lifeless and dull. Only the wise Watcher of the Woods remembered how the world had been, and could guide others to true Enlightenment.

Elin Young had done a lot of things most people would have been ashamed of in her past, but it had all been in the name of that such True Enlightenment, she told herself. She had sacrificed much in the journey, but she had remained strong. There was no way anything would stand in her way.

At least that’s what she tried to tell herself as she bled out into the cold, dark earth.

As that same ancient dirt beneath her leeched the warmth from her bones, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth it in the end, if this was the end she was receiving. Lying on a bed of pine needles, her body torn asunder, was not what she envisioned. It was not what the Watcher of the Woods had promised her.

It had been exactly a year and a day since the disastrous summer solstice, when a new Vessel was supposed to be Hollowed and Imbued with the Black Stag’s might. Instead, the Towering Man had stolen that might and kept it for himself, selfishly hoarding it from her Family. Through that year and a day, Elin remained strong, her belief telling her that the Revered Father would return to reclaim his stolen crown.

But earlier this dark night, the Family had tried to summon the Black Stag and instead was met with the form of a beast: a pale, silver-furred Grim whose eyes danced with glee when he saw the meal that had assembled before him. The congregation tried to scatter and she knew that they were being picked off, judging by their screams.

Elin had escaped the Grim only to have a brush with the second of the horrors of the Shenandoah Valley. Luckily, the Drowned had been preoccupied with his own victims, lured to him by his siren song, and then torn apart by his teeth and claws. Elin had pressed on, certain that she would soon find her way out of the woods.

Finally, she had felt certain that she was near the edge of the woods, when she had run into a familiar face. “Nick! Oh my god, thank goodness I found–”

Elin had barely gotten those words out when she felt herself freeze, and before she turned around, she swore she could see Nick’s eyes glow green in his stony face. Against her will, she started moving back into the woods. In horror, she realized that Nicholas was as he trailed behind her, directing her further and further in, until they had reached the place where the old and twisted oak tree grew.

There she was forced to kneel down. She, however, was not forced to plead for mercy, but she did anyway. Her only warning of what was to come was the creaking of trees and the rustling of leaves as the tree… moved.

And one of the people she sacrificed in the name of True Enlightenment came face to face with her.

AFTER ALL YOU’VE DONE TO ME?

said the new Watcher of the Woods.

DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK THE PAIN YOU CAUSED ME WOULD SEND ME TO AN EARLY GRAVE? DID YOU ACTUALLY THINK I COULDN’T BREAK THOSE CHAINS AFTER ALL THE HELL YOU MADE ME OVERCOME?

And then the new Watcher shifted his face into something vaguely familiar, and the young woman wept from fear at last. In front of Elin stood the man she betrayed to the Revered Father, who two years ago she had coerced into the woods.

Elin bowed her head and cried, “Please forgive me! I never wanted to do those things! They made me do them! I still love you!” She was willing to say anything, even lie through her teeth, if it meant she could walk out of this alive.

And the Watcher knew this, because he laughed before saying, 

YOU WERE THE REASON I WAS CONSUMED BY THE DARK; THE REASON I WAS CONSUMED BY THE BLACK. I ALMOST LOST MYSELF IN ALL THE LIES YOU TOLD, BUT I’M BACK NOW, AND STRONGER THAN YOU’D THINK.

Noah Davis was a sweet boy when she first met him. His mother had just died, but he still had a spark in him. A spark that the Revered Father coveted, and would eventually claim. And maybe that’s why he was unrecognizable as he flung her around.

And now, as he leaned over her, she knew the humanity had really left him.

THERE’S A LOT OF HOLLOW SOULS OUT HERE IN THESE WOODS; A LOT WHO WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU BURN. AND IF YOU DO SEE YOUR SO-CALLED “FATHER,” TELL HIM I’VE GOT A MESSAGE FOR HIM.

And he left her to die, there, alone.

Despite her faith, despite all that she sacrificed, she died unfulfilled. The only thing she held onto in her black heart was the hatred for the man who left her to die, who cheated her out of what she had been promised. She was glad that the Black Stag had taken his heart, for he could never know love again.

And if he did… well, nothing in these woods ever truly stayed dead.

tysm for reading! Next part coming soon!

[howlingday]

mafia!au: la familia arc no son exactamente una honorable o compuestas de heroes, pero tienen principios, protegen a comercios y pequeños pueblos de ataques grimm o de ladrones siempre y cuando se les pagué, no limitándose a sólo vale teniendo conexiónes y propiedades en vacuo, mistral y hasta cierto punto atlas ,desafortunadamente no todo es perfecto, ocurrió un ataque en un pequeño pueblo en mistral con un grimm mas fuerte de lo normal destruyendo el antes conocido kuroyuri, es algo que suele pasar en está línea de trabajo, así que nicholas arc va personalmente junto de su joven hijo quien insistió en acompañadorlo con el pretexto de aprender mas del trabajo familiar solo siendo una excusa para no estudiar. Juntos van a ver el actual estado del ex pueblo antes ser saqueado por los bandidos y quien sabé talvez acabar con el problema de raíz hasta que su hijo encuentra una joven niña de aproximadamente su misma edad sucia y desnutrida, presuntamente una sobreviviente del pueblo, su hijo insiste en salvarla y bueno no llegó tan lejos sin aprovechar las oportunidades.

Hola howlingday!, me alegró mucho de que respondas mis preguntas y publicaciones, admitió que también me gusta noras'arc otra razón por la que sigo tus publicaciones y esta se trata del típico líder de la mafia y su guardaespalda.

Mafia! AU: The Arc family are not exactly honorable or composed of heroes, but they are principled. They protect businesses and small towns from Grimm attacks or thieves as long as they are paid, not limited to just having connections and properties in Vacuo, Mistral, and, to a certain extent, Atlas. Unfortunately, not everything is perfect; an attack occurred in a small town in Mistral with a Grimm stronger than normal, destroying the previously known Kuroyuri. It is something that usually happens in this line of work, so that Nicholas Arc personally goes with his young son, who insisted on accompanying him under the pretext of learning more about family work, only being an excuse not to study. Together they go to see the current state of the former town before it is looted by bandits and who knows, maybe nip the problem in the bud until their son finds a young girl of approximately the same age as dirty and malnourished, presumably a survivor of the town. His son insists on saving her and, well, he didn't get this far without taking advantage of the opportunities. Hello, howlingday!, I was very happy that you answered my questions and posts, admitted that I also like noras' arc. Another reason why I follow your posts and this one is about the typical mafia leader and his bodyguard.

--------------------------------------------------

D'aw, shucks~! And thank you for the prompts! Y'know, I think I could cook something up with a mafia/gangster style AU. It's a pretty interesting AU idea.

Uh, if there's anyone out there who actually do have connections to certain... legitimate organizations, please note that this is a parody and draws inspiration only from fictional works of the same setting, such as the Mafia and Yakuza video game series, Lackadaisy, and the Godfather.

--------------------------------------------------

Nora exhaled a yawn through her nose. She hated jazz clubs, always did. They were so slow and boring. But Mr. Arc and Jaune were right there. Last thing she wanted to do was ruin tonight for them. She looked around for anything, anyone, that would liven up tonight. Sadly, nobody was that stupid.

The music died down in the lounge and the audience clapped for the young performer from Atlas. Nora'd heard about Atlas, nothing that made her interested in going to visit. Nothing but cold winds and colder people, and she's met some pretty cold people in this business.

"What'd you think, Nora?" Jaune asked, looking up to her from his comfy seat.

"Uh... Pretty good, I guess." She said, scanning around still. She then sighed and looked down. "But I think it would be a lot more fun if there was a boxing ring, too."

"Boxing and jazz don't got too well together." Papa Arc chuckled. "Believe me, I've seen it for myself."

Nicholas "Papa" Arc was the top dog in the city of Vale. When everyone else was trying to set up business in Mistral, competing with the Spiders, he stayed in Vale and made a family business grow without much competition. Sure, there were still a couple rival factions still around, like the Torchwick and Xiong family gangs, but they were pretty small-time compared to the Arc crime, er, "legitimate business" family.

Before this life, Papa Arc was a huntsman, barely making ends meet in a kingdom that taxed the bread off the family table, thanks to that bastard, Vanille. On one of these jobs, he found a girl who survived a horrible Grimm attack and brought her home. Tired of being thrown around, Nicholas Arc, along with some friends of his, decided to set up a business, a charity, if you would, that would clean up the dirt and grime staining this beautiful city. It took them almost ten years, but here they were now, sitting pretty in a jazz club with lien left to burn.

"Enjoying the show?" A familiar voice asked. Before Nora could see, she was already in front of Jaune and reaching into her jacket. "Whoa, whoa! Easy there, sweetheart! I won't bite." Roman Torchwick puffed on his cigar, blowing smoke into her face with a devilish grin across his lips. "Not unless I feel like it~."

"There's no smoking in here, Roman." Papa said. Roman rolled his eyes and put out the offending piece on the top of his cane. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a friend of one of the performers tonight." He stepped around Nora and sat next to Papa and across from Jaune. "A miss Honey Wine." He shot a smirk at Jaune. "I think she'd like you. You look like her type."

"R-Really?" Jaune gulped. Nora put her hand in Jaune's way. He pushed it down. "What's she like?"

"Jaune, go get some fresh air." Papa Arc held his nose and waved his hand. "This smoke ain't good for ya."

"Oh, uh..." Jaune looked between his father and their sudden guest. "Sure thing, Dad." Jaune got up and walked down the stairs from the balcony lounge. Passing a bunch of boozers and oglers, he made his way up the stairs and out to the street. Nora stayed right by his side, walking following him to the car. Before he got in, Nora tugged him away to the alley. "Everything okay?"

"No, it's not okay." Nora scowled. She then put on her dopiest smile. "What's she like?" She scowled again. "Do you hear yourself? Roman Torchwick is a bad guy, remember?"

"I know, but..." Jaune furrowed his brow. "What if isn't all that bad? Maybe he came by to make up with Dad."

"He isn't, Jaune. Trust me." She made a deep frown. "There's something about him that just makes my skin crawl."

"Jaune." The two looked over to see Papa Arc standing by the car. "You good?"

"Yeah, Da- Er, sir." Jaune nodded, getting a chuckle out of his father.

"You're still my son." His gaze turned to Nora. Without saying a word, he got the response of her shaking her head. She ran up to the car and checked under the carriage. As she did, she saw a pair of shoes, fancy looking boots, walking around from the other side. Getting up, she saw a young woman with multi-colored hair carrying a parasol under her wing and approaching Papa Arc.

"Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're-"

Nora didn't finish her sentence as she was struck hard in the cheek by the woman who was now making a beeline for Jaune. He backed up to a dumpster as the stranger made her aggressive stiletto charge towards him. Nora grabbed her arm, only to immediately fall through her. Some kind of semblance, Nora thought, as she was suddenly beaten into the ground, face-first. She pushed herself up, seeing Jaune was still under attack.

The dark-and-light-haired woman tossed away her parasol cover, revealing a hidden blade. Nora tackled her from behind, forcing the two into the stones of the alleyway. Flipping the assailant around, Nora reared back a fist, only to find Jaune underneath her. Stunned by the confusion, Jaune chopped Nora in the throat with a knife-hand, making her roll over in pain.

"Enough!" Papa Arc barked. "You made your point, Roman."

"I knew you'd see it my way." Roman Torchwick chuckled. "Neo, heel."

As the woman gave a faux salute and skipped up to the two older men, Jaune helped Nora to her feet. As she rubbed her throat, she saw Papa Arc coming at her with a fury in his eyes and a hand clenched tightly. She knew a punch was coming when she saw it, but it never landed on her.

Jaune took the hit instead and fell back against the dumpster. Nora looked between them, bewildered. Papa Arc shook his hand, flexing his fingers as he breathed out. Roman Torchwick and "Neo" simply looked on and laughed. Or, at least, Roman laughed. Neo just stood there with an even more unnerving smirk.

"Still hard as a brick." Papa Arc groaned. "Clean yourselves up in the car." He looked to Roman and Neo. "Can she drive?"

"She can do a lot of things." Roman answered. "Driving is a bit menial, but it's not something she can't do." He looked to his accomplice. "Neo?"

Out of thin air, the woman brought out a driver's cap and gave another faux salute. She then walked into the driver's seat and started the car. She waved her hands as if to say, "Ta-da~!"

The three entered the car together with Neo driving, Roman sitting passenger, and the Nora sitting on the far end from Papa Arc with Jaune in the middle. The drive was a bit quiet at first, but soon after, Papa Arc and Roman started talking. Well, at first it was Roman and Jaune talking.

"What do you know about me, Jaune?"

"What?" Jaune asked.

"Me. Roman Torchwick. If you haven't heard of me, then you've been living under a rock for years!" Roman tapped his cigar outside the window, ashes flying by in the wind.

Jaune looked to his father and, getting no response, he looked to Nora. She shrugged.

"Uh, well, you're Roman Torchwick."

"Yeah, I just said that." He waved his hand for Jaune to continue.

"You're... You're a gangster."

"Well, that's one way to put it." Roman half-nodded, half-shook his head.

"My dad says, uh..."

"...Yes? Go on?"

"Tell him, Jaune." Papa said. "I won't hide it."

"...He says you're a street-punk who lies, cheats, and steals, and will do anything to make a name for yourself."

Roman pursed his lips. "I would prefer that second half be said more like, "does anything to survive," but you're not wrong." Finishing off his cigar, he tossed the stub out the window. "I'm also going to be your dad's new best friend."

"What?"

"See, Jaune Arc of the Arc family, I know things. Not exactly everything, but I know just enough to be your dad's friend. I'll be over for just about everything; tea parties, birthdays, goodnight kisses..." In the rear-view, he made waggled his brows at Nora, making her fists ball up. "But mostly I'm just going to be there to tell your dad when something is a good idea or a bad idea. For example," he turned in his seat, "how much do you know about the Spiders?"

"They're a crime family in Mistral." Jaune answered. "They're killers and thieves who run drug rings, sex-trafficking, and-"

"You don't need to give me the rap sheet, Jauney-Boy. I already know all of that because I used to work for 'em."

"What?!" Jaune and Nora shouted.

"Sheesh, inside voices, kids." He winced. "But yeah, they're looking to come into town to set up shop. And that list of things you said? They're bringing all that with them."

Jaune felt his chest tighten. Nora resisted the urge to calm him like she'd always done since they were younger. Not while Torchwick was in the car.

"And just so you know, there's even worse new, too."

"Worse than the Spiders?"

The air became a lot harder for Jaune to breathe, so he rolled down his window. Papa Arc scowled and shot a glare at his son. Roman was drinking the fear in like it was his favorite drink. Nora was constantly looking between the three men, and occasionally at Neo whose smile was even worse.

"Tell me, Jaune," Roman leaned in, "have you ever heard of the Xiao Long family?"

[oh-saints]

Fellow engineer here! Thank you for not writing us off ❤️ Can you do an F1 engineer and that's how you meet Ruben Dias or Mason Mount?

i'm sorry this takes AGES but here's to you fellow engineers <3

paddock

rúben was only supposed to enjoy another favourite sport of his over the weekend in monaco and she was only supposed to drag george russell from the william’s garage, for the driver hung around too much with alex albon. but life, as we know it, never made it as simple as it seemed.

rúben dias x f1crew!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: good god, this has been sitting for far too long... time to let this out! mainly inspired by pictures of rúben watching f1 in monaco and as usual, i happen to always write around dawn so ofc this is not beta-read.

request still open & you can drop them here!

goddamn it, russell.

the young british racer was infamously known for his mischief way of life, pranking people here and there whenever he wasn’t driving his racing car, and—unfortunately—you happened to be on the other end of his antics, more often than not.

as the junior engineer to someone who didn’t bother to hide his distaste towards rigorous technical discussions, your job sometimes required you to flip the entire paddock upside down to hunt george down until he finished all of the nitty gritties he’d rather bypass.

it was another case of haas team finding out mick hang around in mercedes’ garage a while ago. except for you, it was more of a weekly case.

as soon as you spotted the bright blonde locks amongst brown heads, you forced your feet to move faster because your supervisor’s wrath wasn’t something you were fond of. especially when you were now tired from hearing it’s been weeks and you still can’t get him to work together with you? endlessly every weekend.

“george william russell!”

at your shout, alex albon and nicholas latifi immediately went into a disperse. they knew george was due for a wee bit of finalizing this weekend’s machinery, but the brit managed to coax them into playing with him, and now that you were barrelling towards them, they didn’t want any part of it.

you were already using george’s full name, anyway. definitely time to run for the williams racers.

“alright, alright,” the youngest between the racers, groaned. “I’m coming, okay?”

you didn’t say anything else as a response to that, other than dragging george by the hand.

“I said I’m coming, okay!” he shouted at you this time but you paid no heed. he wasn’t the one rolling your paycheck anyway. “let me grab my tumbler first, jesus.”

george stashed your fingers away before he walked away from you. only then did you realise that everyone’s eyes had been directed towards the quarrel between you and george, and you had never felt so small in your life.

this was exactly why you insisted on working behind the scene, despite your immense love for motor racing since childhood.

“hi, there.”

you were so startled that you jumped on your feet, almost knocking off someone in front of you that definitely looked like an important guest, suits and all.

“I’m sorry,” the man continued with a soft chuckle, and you melted in your place at the sheepish grin plastered on that gorgeous face. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

your eyes couldn’t help themselves when they scanned the hanging lanyard, indicating he was a guest of this side of the paddock. when your vision went back up, you noticed he was now flashing a full-watt grin—he’d caught you checking him out. well, sort of.

you coughed yourself while you straightened your spine and feet, in order to regain your composure, but before you could open up your beak to reciprocate his effort—you love a good banter—george shouted for your name from a far.

“let’s go!” with his wicked smile, george knew what he was doing to mess up your chance on scoring what could possibly your big shot

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“hi again, there.”

the meeting had ended well—it always did because george actually knew what he was doing and his feedbacks were always valuable. he was just too lazy to sit through the meeting, dealing with technical jargons and everything. so now you were back to the paddock, just in time for the mechanic’s pit-stop practice.

you had stepped aside, giving the performing team more space so they could work more freely under countless eyes of the VIPs and paddock-club owners who were interested with the whole ordeal. so certainly, you didn’t expect the man from earlier to sneak up behind everyone’s back so he could reach you.

it seemed like he had a knack for surprising you.

“oh, hi,” but you didn’t want to complain. you’d be too shy to come up to him if you had the chance, anyway. “fancy seeing you again, monsieur.”

seeing you weren’t giving off a bad signal whatsoever, he stepped in closer to you, which meant closer view to those fit, bulging arms he was folding in front of his chest now. you were about to remind yourself to breath when he spoke up, “you certainly look like you belong here more than william’s.”

“and white certainly looks better on you than blue,” you had been mentally taking note about the white Mercedes shirt he was now dangling messily over his own beige shirt, but you didn’t mean to say that out loud. realising your slip of tongue, you averted the conversation elsewhere. “sorry i haven’t had the chance to introduce myself.”

“rúben,” he replied after you said your name, welcoming your extended hand. “i’ve got to say i’m impressed with your garage more than william’s or mclaren’s.”

you had to remind yourself to breath and act normal after you felt his hands. it was pretty much what you imagined them to be—damn, you were swooning over a hand? that was the first. “why’s that?”

“well, beside the fact that you’re here?”

chuckling, you had to give this man a kudos for sporting no-nonsense. this indicated he knew what he wanted and for you, that was a very sexy aspect a man could possess. “here i am thinking to give you a pass to let you watch the race from here,”

rúben couldn’t help but laugh at your playful banter. you were exactly how he thought you to be and god, isn’t this refreshing? all these models on his DMs were giving him one-dimensional conversations. “oh no, i’ve blown my chances!”

you found it impressive that rúben was able to make you laugh effortlessly, despite the lame joke. is it because those big, brown eyes? “if you promise to be a good boy, i might cancel what i said.”

“of course i will, mother,” he stood up straighter, hands were now behind his back, in line with the act he was putting on.

the attractive gummy smile was still attached to the face, though.

“i was saying that mercedes’ better because i spot some different equipment and tools and other things i don’t see on other garages and it’s interesting you’re a part of why it runs smoothly here.”

“alright, alright, here’s your headphone,” you rolled your eyes as if you’d heard enough of the same pick up line, but in truth, you were trying to mask your palpitating heart from the last part of his sentence. “please stay behind this line right here and do not, at any circumstances, use the mic here. i’ll be very busy during the race so if you need anything, you can ask nicola here.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

the silver arrow gained 1-2 deadlock till the end of the most legendary street circuit and the whole team erupted in cheers. it’d been a long while since they’d last done it here, and it meant more for you because you got to soak in the experience as the lead engineer for george russell. another achievement unlocked for you, to stand winning amongst those brilliant group of men as your teammates.

the euphoria almost blinded you and swept you away to join the rest of the crew in the side line as the cars pulled up for post-race procedures. until you forgot your sunglasses so you could look up to the historic podium, and that was when you realised rúben was still standing not far from where your working post was.

the reality dawned on you.

“you’re still here.”

he did not move an inch from the post you’d designated for him, not far from you. he’d seen you working, through ups and downs of a stressful race. while deep down you felt ashamed he must’ve seen you cursing and cussing like those words were water to your tongue, you were more touched at the fact that he was waiting for you.

waiting for you while you worked, waiting for you while you celebrated with your teammates. all without imposing—the paddock had seen and invited so many celebrities inside, and the guests would jump as if they contributed to the win the team was achieving. but rúben wasn’t like that, at all, and you could feel whatever wall you were trying to put up, obliterated at that second.

noticing you were too stunned at whatever sight you were witnessing, rúben walked up to you. “you think i’m going somewhere?”

“well, would you wait? until the podium’s finished?”

you knew you were shooting for the stars because this man was a VIP guest, albeit for another team on the grid, but heck, you had to try. it’d been a while since the last time a man intrigued you the way rúben had been doing.

it’d been a while since the last time rúben felt the same way too. “for you? absolutely.”

you didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the longing feeling of a man sweeping you off you feet—you’d grown steel since being surrounded by men almost 7 days a week—that fueled you brain, and fuck did you not want to know. rúben’s cliché answer was enough of a reason for you to reach for those muscular, long arms hidden under his shirt and pulled him to join the crowd heading towards the podium.

you laughed as carlos’ manager spotted you dragging rúben almost like a ragdoll and the carefree, out-of-pressure laugh brought a wide smile to rúben’s face. he liked this, a woman handling stares thrown at them like a second skin to you, more than he’d like to admit. and maybe, he needed this more than he thought he would.

rúben used his huge, muscular figure to maneuvered you to his front, protecting you from push and shove from people around you both just because they wanted to see their favourite racer lifting the trophy. such gesture would usually scare you because you’d gotten used to such treatment during your trip to the club, but this time, you couldn’t help but melt under his ministrations.

feeling you getting comfortable, rúben dared himself to shoot for the stars this time. he dipped down, levelling his lips to your ears so you could hear him despite the loud atmosphere. “ditch the party tonight and have a dinner with me.”

it didn’t take you a second to respond, “where do you have in mind?”

[stealerofthe2ndbraincell]

what are your top 5 in9 episode endings?

Oooh I loved thinking about this, thank you! It was great re-examining these episodes specifically through that lens.

Honourable mentions to The Last Weekend and Bernie Clifton's Dressing Room. With the former I'd feel like I was repeating myself a bit.

5. The Bones of St. Nicholas

When making this list, this was tied with BCDR but I feel like TBOSN is incredibly underrated so I thought I might as well.

With the frequent flashes back to different "Warning's" Jasper was given in regards to his fate, this episode could have easily felt like it was spoon feeding details to you. Imo it avoids that completely.

I really like the decision to not make whatever supernatural force is involved explicit in nature or even that malevolent. Granted the motorbike accident with Posy and Jasper's hanging still happens, but the narrative doesn't seem to paint them as a result of evil intent.

We as the audience get to see exactly how Jasper ended up in that situation and, although his actions to reach St. Nicholas' jawbone were quite extreme, it still feels understandable how Jasper never picked up on those clues even when they're in your face - similar to the audience. He's realising what's going on at the same time as the audience.

I think this ending does an excellent job at using those flashbacks to give the audience just the right amount of information without forcing it down your throat and removing the mystery entirely.

Finally, the last bit of Jasper hanging from the tower as the other shoe drops (>:) ) was superb.

4. To Have And To Hold

The concluding shot of Adrian in chains reaching for the pot noodle is fully seared into my mind.

This isn't an ending I would call that positive, considering the surrounding circumstances and context. For example, Agnes telling Harriet that she should have left Adrian to die and reminding her of how long her torture went on for at the hands of him really reflects how not happy of an ending it is. Things are definitely better, but Adrian is still present. That uncomfortable air never vanishes.

However, it is an ending that is incredibly satisfying regardless. I think a lot of it has to do with Nicola Walker's excellent performance and that chilling recollection of the marriage vows she does before the final revelation of what has become of Adrian.

3. Mr. King

Describing it as the "ending" is pushing it a bit as the whole reveal actually takes up the last 7 minutes of a 29 minute episode, but I do really love how this one ends so I'm taking some liberty with that. lol

I love the Wickerman-esque ritual so much.

This ending makes sure to take what it's doing seriously, because otherwise it would be at risk of not matching the menacing atmosphere it contains. For example, the reveal that the criteria Alan had matched for this was having good dick and being "uncut and still sheathed" would be easy to take as ridiculous if the scene did not take it as seriously as it did - with that doll being stuffed down his trousers really driving that home.

The costume design for this ending twist is absolutely incredible. The children's masks still manage to remain intimidating within the context of the ritual sacrifice even though they are clearly made from arts and crafts materials children that age would realistically use. Winnie's entire "Mother Womb" outfit is genuinely horrifying and I'm mildly surprised they were able to get away with that in front of the child actors cause that would give me nightmares at that age. Finally, Alan's "Mr. King" mask used in the ending is so excellently made with tons of little details that I love: the little eye slits where all you get to see of his face is truly how terrified Alan is in that moment, the crown and facial hair being made seemingly from wheat to tie his sacrifice even closer to the incoming harvest etc etc.

This whole ending blends the two concepts of childish and intimidating really well where it doesn't feel suddenly dissimilar to how children talk and behave but remains so chilling and distressing throughout. Poor Alan wow.

2. The Stakeout

I love myself some vampires, what can I say more than that?

This ending contains probably my favourite twist of the whole series and reveals it in a kind of similar manner to TBOSN and achieves it's goal in a similar way - Varney's reveal of him listing down different vampire tropes that apply to him that have been scattered through the episode feels both in line with how the episode discusses tropes and never feels like it's spoon-feeding information to the audience. It also doesn't give up all the tropes seen within the episode. Just 5 that most people, and Thommo, would recognise.

The sudden shift in characterisation of Varney doesn't feel too far gone personality wise to what we've seen so far and yet he's suddenly so much intimidating.

This is even before he goes absolutely HAM on Thompson's neck. That entire feeding bit is so good. Varney feeding on Thompson is a little too long and a little too detailed for it not to discomfort the audience a bit and I love that.

(Btw it's described as very "homoerotic" in the official Inside Inside No 9 podcast, so take that as you will. I have an entire thing in my head that I could write up about how queer this entire episode is but that's unrelated and a bit rambly lmao)

That final bit with Dobson is also superb. For as little screentime as he has, Malik Ibheis as Dobson is such a great physical actor. There is that immediate impression of Dobson's absolute feral nature at this point which is done very well.

And it all feeds back to the beginning little monologue again! Love that.

1. Wise Owl

God I adore this episode.

And I especially love this ending. It's an instant tear jerker, I love it, I love Ronnie. 5 stars no notes. <333

That final sequence in the whole 70's PSA format as Ronnie grows, whilst Wise Owl is yelling the same insults desperately and pathetically is so impactful and also so different to the rest of the series in my opinion.

(Also with it keeping that style on the "Get Stuffed" final line makes it seem like Ronnie isn't even looking at his father/Wise Owl when he says it, which is perfect to me.)

In9 isn't exactly a stranger to more positive endings or an ending where a hateable individual is punished by the narrative, but Wise Owl feels a step apart, it truly feels hopeful in a way I can't say the other endings have.

I still think this episode would be really good if it had gone with a more messed up ending as I think the episode forebodes a bit, however I believe that final confrontation and the final animated sequence really makes Wise Owl as incredible as it is.

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Team RWBY investigates Rumors of a Figure appearing during Grimm attacks and disappearing immediately after, locals claim they were wearing the armor of Nicholas Schnee.

Weiss: Normally I'd say something about how this should be left to the professionals-

Yang: But it's your Grandad?

Weiss: Well- Yes, but also we dealt with a lot of stuff in our first year at Beacon, so this is really par for the Course.

Ruby: Yep! I hope JNPR does well on their own investigation.

Blake: Ren did seem to be acting weird whenever the Archer was brought up.

Yang: I mean, they're obviously connected somehow. Two rando's show up, kick Grimm ass, and disappear without a trace? At around the same time?

Ruby: Hey, We are gonna talk about what we see here with JNPR, so we'd better pay attention to our own mission.

Blake: Right!

Weiss: Of course!

Yang: ... So where do we begin?

~~~~~

Blake: Why are there so many Grimm! This is ridiculous!

Yang: And I thought the Breach was bad!

Ruby: Hey! Keep your chins up and eyes forward! Focus on staying alive and keeping civilians safe, that ghost should show up at some point

Weiss: Easier- Said than- It feels like they're focusing on- AAAH!

A Massive Ursa brought it's claws down on Weiss, too quickly for her to block. She flinched, preparing for the pain of being slashed.

It never came.

Her grandfather's armor was grappling the beast, throwing it to the ground before stabbing through it. The figure extended it's hand, Summoning Glyphs sprouting all across the ground, bringing Ice-White Grimm that devoured the attacking monsters.

And, just as quickly as it began the fight was over.

Weiss: ...

Ruby: WEISS! WEISS! Are yooooouuuu .... Uhm. Hi? We have a few questions for you?

???: ...

Yang: Not much of a talker, huh? Can you sign, or can you write?

???: *Steps closer to RWBY, studying Weiss and Ruby in particular*

Blake: Sir, that's close enough.

???: *Stops*

???: You look just like your mothers when they were your ages. Thank you for upholding our name's legacy. You've made me proud, Weiss.

The figure then dissolved, pooling in to a silvery puddle that wound it's way across the ground faster than any of the team could keep pace with.

Yang: HEY!

Ruby: GET BACK HERE! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN! AH! Come on! really!

Blake: ... Weiss? you alright?

Weiss: ... That was my grandfather. I- I know it was. That was his voice, his fighting style, that- that- I know that was him.

Yang: Are you saying we've seen a ghost Weiss?

Weiss: Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying.

[wreckmetoji]

Zero to Sixty

 A fic in which the persistent man frequenting your diner takes you on a drive

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Transmasc!Reader 

content warning. transmasc!reader, streetracerAU!Wolfwood, profanity, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, soft wolfwood, i want him to put his fingers in my mouth

i saw a tiktok of a guy drift racing and his user was nicholas. literally what do you want from me

minors DNI

9.9k words

Late night shifts sucked.

It was a mutual understanding that in any backwash shithole town, anything opened past eight at night was only ever populated by the occasional insomniac or rebellious group of high–schoolers that think they're cool for drinking lukewarm black coffee. Not exactly favorable when your wage completely depended on tips, but you had to make the best of it. You were new at the diner, fresh meat, so of course they'd give you the shifts no one wanted. A few more weeks of this and you should be in the clear, but the struggle was even making it that far on pennies and pocket change.

A less than favorable position to be in, not knowing that your pockets would have run dry halfway through your venture to the coast, but this was merely a bump in the road that was your grand adventure to broaden your horizons. Or at least that's what you tried to tell yourself.

So here you were. Staring in the face of a middle aged burnout diner "chef" telling you he didn't want to actually cook anything past a certain time despite the fact you were both scheduled to close. Useless fucker.

With a shake of your head, an obvious roll of your eyes, you reached down to the rows of coffee stained mugs resting ugly and chipped against the back counter. Taking the rag over your shoulder, you decided you'd at least try to look busy just in case anyone actually came in on a Tuesday at ten pm. Unlikely, but you weren't about to get an earful from a gaggle of particularly mean old women again.

The end of your shift was just around the corner– your useless chef counterpart having already left for the evening. He wasn't interested in staying if there weren't any tips to pool. Nut up and be a man, he said, you're capable of handling yourself, kid. If you were in his position you might leave all the same, but it didn't irritate you any less that he even had that option, or that you just weren't confrontational enough to tear into him for leaving you alone in the middle of fucking nowhere to close a diner you've been working at for less than two weeks.

Deft fingers worked at the cash register, clicking the archaic buttons with animated ticks and chimes, before a set of blinding headlights pulled into the parking lot. You narrowed your eyes, inquisitive as the car pulled up close to the front door, obscured by the partially closed blinds. The headlights shut off, and the sound of a car door opening and closing made your mind jog back into action.

Shit. You forgot to lock the front door.

Worn out sneakers slid against the cracked tile below, scurrying over to the door in an attempt to reach it before this enigmatic stranger could beat you to the punch, even if it meant tripping over yourself in the process. It seemed that whatever deity was in charge of your fate was feeling cruel this evening, as the moment your fingertips ghosted over the cool steel lock, the door was being pushed open with a chime.

What an awkward situation you've managed to wedge yourself in, you think, swallowing thick as you stare up at the tall man that was stepped halfway through the door, brow arched in a silent inquiry. He was broad shouldered, leather jacket half unzipped revealing an unprecedented amount of enticing pectoral cleavage with how low cut his white v-neck shirt was.

"Uh... you open?" He asked, voice gruff around the edges like it was strained. You weren't sure if it was the trance you'd found yourself in watching the slight sway of his rosary when he shifted, or because you once again realized you wouldn't ever be able to stand up for yourself even if you tried, but you simply found yourself gaping for a beat or two.

"Yeah, we're... I mean– I was just closing up, but–"

"Great," The man interrupted, pushing through the threshold of the door completely and making his way over to one of the split leather barstools. Your eyes narrowed at his air of arrogance and had half a mind to tell him to scram. Or at least you'd like to.

Huffing out a sigh, you rolled your eyes for the nth time that evening, rounding your way around the stretched out bar countertop to stand face to face. Now that you got a better look at him, he was...moderately handsome. The scruff on his chin added some kind of rugged allure to the entire bad boy ensemble he seemed to have going on. Though maybe that was just the small-town fever talking. The lack of eye-candy in this place was a cardinal sin.

"A menu?" He asked, and you had to repress another eye roll as you steeled yourself for the headache of a conversation you were about to have.

"If you haven't noticed, the cook has left for the evening," You explain with much more patience than you felt brewing inside, but it was quickly whittled away by the aggravating arch of the stranger's brow and the curl at the corners of his lips. "So you can choose between pre-frozen pies, two hour old coffee, or milk that expires tomorrow. Other than that, you're shit outta luck."

Sure, part of you should probably be putting a little more care into the first conversation you've had with a person outside of your coworkers today, and probably the only chance you were going to get at receiving a tip, but you'd trade freedom for a couple of dollars in your pocket.

Lucky you, this enigmatic stranger seemed to have some sense of humor, the smug smirk on his face growing marginally as he leans back in the creaky barstool. 

"'Yer really sellin' me on the two hour old coffee," He mused, hand patting against the countertop twice before leaning back in. "I'll take one of those."

With a tight lipped smile, you gave a quick nod, turning on your heel and reached for the pot of coffee you had yet to dump out for the evening, noting that the machine wasn't even on by this point. You couldn't remember exactly when you had shut it off, but surely the coffee itself was less than lukewarm by this point. Part of you wondered if you should turn on the warm function for even just a minute or two, but that meant you had to be here a minute or two longer than completely necessary. He was the one that decided to come in two minutes from closing, after all, so he can deal with ice cold coffee. 

Grabbing a mug, you set it on the counter with a frustrated and ungraceful clink, filling it up nearly to the rim with what was left in the coffee pot. Turning back to the man at the bar, you were in absolute shock and awe to see him cupping his hands in front of his face, in the middle of sparking up a cigarette. It took you a beat or two to wonder if he really had the audacity, and wonder what fucking era this idiot was from. 

"You do know it's not the eighties anymore, right?" You spoke incredulously, fingers still wrapped around the handle of the mug. The look he gave you was inquisitive, like he didn't quite understand what you were referring to, before he was tucking the zippo back into his leather jacket pocket. With a scoff, you decided to pick your battles for the evening, setting the mug down in front of him, some of the contents splashing over the rim and splattering the otherwise clean countertop. You weren't getting paid enough to argue with some smug asshole about smoking indoors when you were already supposed to be locked up for the night and on your way home.

"So," He began, words muffled around the cigarette between his lips, "Haven't seen you 'round here before. New to town?" Lithe fingers reached up, trapping the cigarette between his index and middle finger, inhaling deep before pulling it from his mouth. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't a little attractive, but again, that was probably the small-town fever getting to you again. 

"More like passing through," You explained, eyes locked onto the motion of the man's free hand reaching for his coffee, lifting the rim of the mug up to his lips. Glancing away, you decided to busy yourself with reorganizing mugs on the counter that were already in perfect order. He seemed to catch this too, the subtle smirk not quite obscured by the ceramic.

"Mm, passin' through, huh?" He inquired, surely a rhetorical question, before taking a slow sip. Lowering the mug, he delicately placed it on the counter, fixing you with a look you couldn't quite decipher. "Ain't exactly a pleasant place for someone like you to be making a pit-stop in, let alone stop to make a few bucks."

You could feel your brows crease at his words, eyeing him with a guarded expression. Taking a moment or two to gather your wandering thoughts and racing heart, you decided to deflect the statement, try to let it roll off your back, but something told you this guy was a lot more perceptive than he let on. 

"Yeah... The city is more my style," You said, voice sounding more tense than you wanted it to. Not that it mattered, considering the look he was giving you from under his brow told you that you were both aware of the real reason.

"You seem like a city boy," He played along, something you were moderately thankful for, even if his comment did seem somewhat backhanded at first. "Too pretty for a place like this."

His elaboration made you reel for a moment, a befuddled expression on your face as you blinked dumbly at him. His face was neutral, eyes trained on you as he brought his cigarette up to his lips again, as if he was expecting you to say something in return. When you didn't, he gave a shrug of his shoulders, exhaling deep, plume of smoke curling and twisting in the space between you. With a small wave of your hand, you cleared the smoke from your face, shooting him a less than amused expression before rolling your eyes and busying yourself with your closing procedures again. A tense silence fell over you as you worked at the register- though the ambiguous man seemed unbothered by your outwardly guarded demeanor, shoulders slack, forearms leaning on the countertop as he indulged in his coffee and cigarette. When you noticed it burning dangerously low, you found yourself sliding an empty mug in his direction, wanting to avoid him potentially putting it out on the counter. Not that it really would have mattered, considering it was already riddled with cracks and holes, but you had some sort of integrity with keeping the place as clean as you could. He gave you a nod in thanks, stubbing it out at the bottom of the cup.

Just as you had finished counting the bills in the register, you saw him stand out of the corner of your eye. Upon glancing over, you could see him fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, flipping through some bills. 

"Oh-" You called out, earning a quick glance in your direction. "Uh... Don't worry about it, I've already counted the register so... It'd just complicate things. It's only a buck 'n a half anyways." With a wave of your hand to emphasize your intentions, he stood in place for a beat longer. 

"If you say so," He shrugged, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. "I'll never say no to free coffee."

"I'm sure it was awful anyways," You joked, the barest of smiles curling at your lips for the first time since he walked through those doors. He snorted in response, tipping his head and shrugging. 

"Wasn't horrible, as far as two-hour old coffee goes."

Shaking your head in response, you found yourself huffing a small amused laugh, removing the half-apron tied around your waist and tossing it beside the register. You watched him shift in the corner of your vision, though he didn't move to leave right away, instead standing in place and glancing out the half-obscured windows towards the parking lot. 

"Didn't see another car in the lot," He mentions, and you could already tell where this was going. "Need a ride home?"

You huffed a laugh again, though this time more sardonic, shooting him a disbelieving expression. He seemed nice enough, but you'd rather be overly cautious than dead in a ditch somewhere.

"No, I'm good. I don't take rides from strangers that barge in two minutes to closing," You stated, leaving no room for discussion on the matter just in case he decided to be pushy. He only smirked. 

"Damn, should've come in a minute earlier," He teased stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he gave you a quick once-over. When you didn't concede, he took a slow breath in, then nodded, taking a step and a half back towards the door. "Alright then, city-boy. If you insist." Taking another step back, he gave a wave of his hand, pulling the door open with a chime and retreating towards the parking lot. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, an unexpectedly amused smile on your features. Perhaps it was because everyone seemed so standoffish to you thus far, so having someone engage in a conversation with you was a nice change, even if he was a bit odd in a way you couldn't quite place. 

With a heavy sigh, you went to clean up the little mess that was made. You were shocked to see a twenty dollar bill sitting on the counter, no doubt left behind by your local enigmatic stranger, making you hum out a small noise of intrigue. you stuffed it into your pocket before tossing out the stubbed out cigarette and washing both mugs by hand. You took your time, considering you were already forced to stay nearly a half hour past your shift, it really didn't matter. You wiped the counters, swept up the floors, didn't bother mopping for a second time, though tried your best to make it at least look presentable. Well... as presentable as this diner *could* be. Shutting off all the lights, you padded your way over to the door with a resigned sigh, pulling it open with a chime. You were immediately met with a car in the lot just a few spaces away from the front door, driver's side window rolled down to reveal the same man patiently waiting, eyes closed and arms lounged back behind his head. You immediately considered heading back inside and exiting through the back, but you supposed if he was going to murder you, he probably would've been a little more alert. And, admittedly, you were intrigued as to why he'd decided to nap for a half hour in the diner parking lot. 

Keeping him in your peripherals, you locked up the door, the resounding click seeming to stir him from relaxation. You glanced up just in time to see him stretch an arm out, resting one wrist on the wheel, the other half hanging out the window. He shot you a knowing expression, lips curled in a smug smirk, obviously finding some amusement in your puzzled and cautious disposition. Brows furrowed, keys clenched tightly in your hand, you stepped away from the door and headed across the parking lot- opposite to where the man was parked. What you didn't catch was his surprised expression, the fumble of his keys being pulled out of the ignition, and his haste to open the car door and approach you.

"Hey, y'know you don't have to be so stubborn," He called out, not even shutting the driver's door behind him as he took long strides to meet your pace.

"I already told you I'm not taking a ride from a stranger," You say pointedly, glancing up at him in the corner of your eye. Though you couldn't deduce exactly why, you stilled to a halt, taking in how his pace met yours exactly, staying a few steps away so as to not seem intimidating. "Listen, I appreciate it, really, but... Stranger danger, 'n all that."

You were expecting him to have some kind of negative reaction, at least in your previous experiences, and gripped your keys a little tighter inside your jacket pocket. Instead, he seemed to huff an amused breath, stuffing a hand in his jacket pocket, that unfortunately familiar smirk curling at the corners of his lips once again as he holds out his other hand.

"Name's Wolfwood," He says, catching you off guard for a moment, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood." 

Even though you were aware of exactly what he was doing, and the fact he was even being cheeky about it, you couldn't help but find it somewhat charming. Endearing, even, if you were to use the term loosely. That much was obvious in your immediate reaction, consisting of a sigh and a small smile, disbelieving but bemused nonetheless. Your eyes glance up, catching his umber gaze in a more personal connection. His smirk spread, widening slightly, seeming to think that he had won you over. 

"It was nice meeting you, Nicholas," You say softly, leaving him stupefied in place as you spun on your heel and walked. You felt a little better about the encounter, now knowing now he was just an idiot with no negative intentions. 

"What's your name?" He called out, not seeming to follow after you as he'd already done, and instead letting you go your separate ways for the time being. You scoffed, unbeknownst to him, unbelieving and amused by the audacious personality of this enigmatic man.

"Guess you'll have to find out," You say over your shoulder, never once stopping your confident strides down the sidewalk, leaving him standing in place.

Sure, it may have been uncommon for the townsfolk here to even approach you, let alone leave exuberant tips and offer friendly rides home after your shift, but you had a feeling men like Wolfwood just liked testing the waters, dipping their toe in, see what they can get away with. He didn't necessarily seem bad, but more bad news. You've had your fair share of run-ins with people that held themselves the same way Wolfwood did, knowing that leaving them in the dust would shake them off. Guys like Wolfwood didn't take kindly to rejection.

Or, at least you thought.

It turns out Nicholas D. Wolfwood was more tenacious than you had originally anticipated. It had been a few days, granted, but you didn't expect his familiar sun-kissed face pushing through the creaky door of the diner in broad daylight halfway through your shift so many days later. Your conversation was brief, something along the lines of guess you can't get enough of me. He didn't agree nor disagree, only smirked and asked if he could actually see a menu this time. You obliged with a tight smile, mostly leaving himself to his devices after you had taken his order and promptly delivered his food. For once, you actually had other customers to attend to. 

Perhaps tenacious wasn't the correct word, you thought to yourself upon seeing the stack of bills just a little too great to simply pay for a meal in the place he had been sitting, now occupied by empty space and even emptier silence. Presumptuous, you think with a huff of amusement, arching your brows at the torn piece of paper with a phone number scrawled on it resting at the bottom of the stack of bills. Your eyes dart up to the door, briefly scanning over the parking lot- for what, you aren't quite willing to admit- before shaking your head. Flipping the paper over in your fingers, you roll your eyes, crumpling it up and tossing it in the receipts bin beneath the register.

This seemed to be your routine, one you became quite familiar with much to your chagrin. At some point you began to take it with a spoonful of sugar, because hey, at least Wolfwood was a half decent conversationalist, and he left you more than decent tips. At some point he had become comfortable enough to reach over the counter and tuck the folded bills into the pocket of your half-apron, shooting you a much too casual wink. His excuse was he didn't want any of it to go to the unenthusiastic chef, but you pondered the credibility of that statement considering his behavior thus far. 

In his time frequenting the diner, you found out Wolfwood enjoyed cars. You could have assumed that much, considering you had gotten a couple glimpses at the one he drove a few times now, and although it was old it was in undeniably good condition. Sleek, black, shiny enough you could probably see your reflection in it if you got close enough. You'd never had much of an interest, favoring other hobbies that didn't revolve around toxic masculinity quite to that extent, but on a particularly slow day you humored him. 

"So. Cars," You sigh, leaning over the counter with your arms crossed, eyes drooping from the double shift of constantly being on your feet. Anything that paid the bills, even if you were mentally and physically exhausted.

Wolfwood hummed behind his mug of warm coffee, umber eyes peering at you over the rim of his tinted sunglasses. Resting the ceramic down, there was an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Mhm. Cars," He says in return, being smart about the fact he knew you had no idea what to even begin talking about on the subject. You scoffed, knowing he wasn't going to simply talk about something unless provoked, and even then it was a tossup. Touché.

"So... is it just, like, a hobby?" You inquire, holding your hand out, palm to the sky, as if emphasizing your question, hoping he would elaborate further past your question. Luck seemed to be in your cards, earning a shift in his expression as he glanced off, pondering his answer. 

"More like a job."

"So you're a mechanic or something?" You sound unconvinced, taking in his appearance. You had never seen him dirtied up, covered in oil, and you don't want to stop and think about why your jaw tightened and your gut clenched at the visual in your head. 

"Not really," Is all he settles on, lifting the mug back up to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he takes an awfully smug sip of his drink.

You scoff, rolling your eyes as your hand falls back to the countertop. After his first few times coming in, you felt much more comfortable giving him glimpses outside of your attempt at a customer service, well-mannered mien. He seemed to enjoy your attitude, or at the very least be amused by it.

"Well then what do you do, exactly?" You crack, pushing yourself from leaning, palms curled around the edge of the countertop. The hum of florescent overhead lights occupied the empty space, the tick of the wall clock reminding you how close you were to nightly freedom once again. 

"I keep tryin' to show you," Wolfwood muses with a shrug, "You're the one bein' stubborn."

He doesn't have to elaborate for you to understand what he's talking about, considering you couldn't count on both hands how many times he had offered to drive you home from work. By this point, you thought of it more a battle of wits than anything. A game, or maybe an ongoing joke that was going on just a little too long, toeing the line between a joke and being a serious proposition. You breathed in deep, heaving out a heavy sigh as you locked eyes, neither willing to be the one that cracked and looked away first. Rolling your tongue over the back of your teeth, you raise a brow, forcing the knowing smirk down the longer you stared. 

You wouldn't admit it, but you'd come to... somewhat enjoy his presence around your otherwise dull work. Enjoy him.

He was quick to catch the crack in your façade, a dent in the armor you had built around yourself so well that had kept him out until this point. So, Wolfwood smiles, leaning back in his barstool, and straightens his back. He looks just as confident as he did every time, and maybe it was because your feet were sore and your calves ached from standing all day, but you had already made your mind up before the question even came out of his mouth. 

"So. Want a ride home?" 

The exhaustion from the day must have caught up to you with the way you smiled, the way you breathed out an airy little laugh as you hung your head, shaking it more so at your inability to stick to your guns rather than his continuous insistence. 

"God," You sigh out, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was unchanging, cocky and confident as it was every time, but you both knew he had you this time. "Fine. Yeah, fine. You can drive me home."

You had been half expecting a celebratory cheer, or at the very least some snide comment along the lines of took you long enough. Instead, he simply gave a nod, reaching into his back pocket to procure his wallet, flipping through some bills. He knew the drill by now- knew that the coffee was free so close to closing, knew that you wouldn't want to mess up counting the register, but he always felt the need to toss a twenty on the counter as he stood. Today was no different, and you couldn't help but be a little perplexed by it. He got what he wanted, why was he still trying?

"See you in a bit, pretty boy," Wolfwood mused, reaching over the counter to grip your jaw between his thumb and forefinger. It was a fleeting touch, calloused fingertips sliding away just as quickly as they had landed there, and you could only watch him leave with red-faced bewilderment before losing sight of him once he exited through the front door. You gaped, lips parting momentarily, before clamping your jaw shut and shaking your head, taking the half-drank coffee over to the small sink and washing it by hand. 

The entire fifteen minutes of your closing procedures felt like tooo long and not long enough, anticipation and anxieties clawing at your throat as you swept and mopped the cracked tile floor. God, why did you agree to this? What if he was some murderous psycho killer? What if he was some creep stalker that just wanted to know where you lived? Thoughts rolled over you in waves, drowning out rational thinking and leaving wake for a dry throat and heart palpitations. Your hands shook as you tugged the front door open with a ding, eyes quick to land on the all too familiar black car parked a few spaces down from the front door. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you turned in place and locked up, steeling yourself with a deep breath as you shoved your hands into your pockets.

By the time you had turned around again, Wolfwood was leaning over the passenger seat, cigarette hung loosely between his lips as he gives a light shove, pushing the door open enough for you to let yourself in once you look the car. Perhaps it was you postponing the inevitable, dragging it out as long as you could, but you found your gaze roving over the sleek black paint. With the neon shine of the diner sign, you could indeed see your reflection in the paint. A white stripe ran down the expanse of the car just above the chrome trim, the letters G.T 350 scrawled in bold between the small gap. A chrome snake was stamped on the side, and your steps slowed to read the bold chrome COBRA underneath before finally circling the front and getting to the passenger door. 

It was low, low enough that even you had to duck a bit to climb in, settling into your seat awkwardly as you carefully pulled the door shut behind you. Knowing nothing about cars, there wasn't much you could comment on, although a quick glance around could tell you this was far from stock. Metal arches encased the two front seats, the back seats completely removed to make way for a welded metal box, obscuring your view of what lay behind it. Hanging from the mirror was a rosary, mahogany wooden beads dangling low, cross still swaying back and forth from the motion of you entering the car.

Wolfwood was patient, an amused smirk slightly shielded by the fingers clasped around his cigarette. He watched you, watched you take in your surroundings, the confusion evident on your face as you peered at the metal bars running through both the front and the back of the car. You were at a lack of words, both from the nerves and the lack of knowledge, so all you did was vaguely gesture to a couple of the bars running overhead. 

"Roll cage," He said smoothly. As if you knew what that was.

"Address?" A simple question, but something about the nonchalant way he said it had you questioning why he was so eager to drive you home in the first place. When you blurt out the street name and number, he seems to pause in thought, humming a low sound. "Alright."

He motioned to your seatbelt, and with an unamused arched brow, you were quick to note that he most certainly wasn't wearing his own. You give him a once over, eyes raking over his relaxed posture and casual demeanor. That at least put some of your anxieties at ease. Reaching up over your shoulder, you grip the seatbelt, pulling it over your body and pushing it into place with an exaggerated force, locking eyes with him as it clicked. All he did was snicker, turning the key in the ignition as the car rumbled to life.

It was a muscle car, an old one, and despite not knowing anything about them, you could tell from the purr and rumble it was tinkered with, yet in immaculate condition. It didn't sound standard, but what did you know?

"How good are you with speed?" Was the question that broke the silence, urging you to glance up at him with a perplexed expression.

"Thought you'd wanna take your sweet time now that you finally got me in here," You sass back.

He smirks, hand on the stick shift– next to which sat some kind of lever– putting the car in reverse as he slung his arm around your seat, peering back over his shoulder, backing out of the space. It was for show, you know it was, considering there wasn't a single other car in the lot for him to look out for. "Oh, I'm gonna. But that doesn't answer my question."

A statement as bold as it was confusing. You were certain you must have looked stupid as your gaze trails from his face, down to the hand he'd placed back on the gear shift, then out the windshield. The car rolled forwards, slow and steady, only fueling the disconcerting feeling that began to settle in the pit of your stomach. Seeming to sense your unease, his hand moved, clapping against your knee twice as he fixed you with probably the most genuine expression you've received in the entire time knowing him. It was softer around the edges, kind in a way you couldn't quite describe, and in that moment you knew you could trust him with... whatever it was he was trying to get at.

"I... guess I'm fine with it?"

"You don't sound too sure 'bout that."

"I'm fine with it," You corrected, settling back into the seat as his hand moves to clasp at the glasses sat on the bridge of his hooked nose. Removing them, he folded one side in, tucking them in the low cut of his v-neck shirt, before adjusting himself in his seat.

"Alright," He chuckles, sounding a bit too smug for your liking. "If you need to hold on, there's a bar."

With a brief motion of his hand, your eyes follow, looking at the piss poor excuse for a handle hanging flimsy just above the door. Simply due to nerves you were tempted to preemptively grab on, unsure of what exactly he had in store for this simple drive. The other, more rational, part of your brain won through for once, telling you the chances of him putting you in immediate peril were slim to none, considering his car would also be victim to any catastrophe that may occur.

The car pulled out from the lot, cruising down the street– the opposite direction of your house, you might add– at a disappointingly average speed. With the way he had been talking, half of you had expected him to floor it right from the get-go. Brows furrowed, eyes on the road, your hand that had subconsciously reached up and gripped the seatbelt loosened, falling into your lap. It took a minute or two to get off the side streets, the car rolling up to the last red light in town before they began to wind through the mountain loop roads. Motion in your peripherals catches your attention, and you were familiar enough with Wolfwood to recognize it as him reaching for the pack of cigarettes he kept in the inner pocket of his jacket. The spark of a lighter made your ears perk up, cherry burning red, blending with the traffic light bathing the two of you. 

Tension eased from your shoulders, the scent familiar. You found yourself inhaling deep, heaving a soft sigh, gaze flickering out the passenger side window to see the last sparse buildings on the edge of town. Wolfwood spoke, though in your moment of serenity you hadn't heard exactly what he said. Before you could turn your head, or hum the inquisitive noise rising up in your chest, the red surrounded you turned green, and your back was slamming into the seat behind you. 

Squealing tires and the smell of burning rubber overloaded your senses as Wolfwood accelerated, car flying past what little there was of town and headed off towards the mountains. Voice caught in your throat, one hand shot up to grasp at the seatbelt, the other grabbing at the flimsy handle above the door. The closer you came to the bend, the further your heart crept into your throat, and the speed in which you were going, you knew he most certainly wouldn't make a successful turn. You closed your eyes, braced for impact, but the squeal of tires gripping the road was the only thing you heard, and your shoulder colliding with the side of the door was the only thing you felt. 

Momentarily winded- from the shock more than the impact- your eyes shot open, desperately clinging to reason and safety. You watched the car skid around the corner, eyes shooting down to the movement of Wolfwood's hand push the e-brake back down and reach towards the gear shift again. The increasing speed was slightly more gradual this time- slightly- giving you a mere second to catch your breath and gasp for air, unknowing to your exclaimed Jesus fuck! Wolfwood barked a laugh, finding amusement in your adrenaline fueled terror. Capable hand swerved the wheel, steadying out the tires on the road as you approached the next curve. 

It was a constant state of fight or flight, though freeze seemed to be your body's most preferred reaction, save the white knuckle grip tightening on both the hand bar and your seatbelt. Every slide around every corner, every acceleration that sent your body back in your seat, had your stomach and heart doing flips. At some point, though you couldn't pinpoint when, sheer terror had turned into something a little more fuzzy, a little more addicting. There was still a spark of fear in your eyes, but more overwhelmingly there was intrigue, excitement. 

"There it is!" Wolfwood exclaimed over the rev of the engine, the screaming tires, and before you could think better of it, you braved a look at him. Umber eyes were glancing at you in his peripherals, brows pinched in cocky triumph. What he was so pleased about, you couldn't say, but the look in his eye alone had you trembling in your seat.

Both of his hands were steadied on the wheel, one for control and one for stability, before his hand shot down to the brake again, pulling up and sliding the car around another tight corner. More than a couple times as the car slid, you thought your door was going to collide with the rocky mountainside or slide into a ditch, but he always managed to keep it steady, keep it smooth, and suddenly you understood how cars weren't exactly a hobby for him. 

Reaching the peak of the mountain, Wolfwood flicked at the stick shift, slowing the car to a reasonable speed before pulling onto the shoulder, the purr and rumble of the engine filling the space  your labored breaths didn't occupy. You were shaking, trembling like a leaf, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your hands slowly and hesitantly released their respective grounding purchase. Perhaps it was the last vestiges of fear that had you unbuckling your seatbelt, pushing your door open, swinging your shaky legs out as you struggled to rise to your feet. You didn't close the door behind you, instead taking a few steps over to the metal meridian at the mountainside, hands clamping around the cool metal to help hold you up. 

Your ears were filled with the chirp of crickets, the idle rumble of the car behind you, and a sharp, pitchy ring. Taking deep breaths, you willed your heart to calm, though your body was slow to follow behind. Your mind trailed back, the way your stomach flipped over every hill, around every corner, Wolfwood's capable hands keeping the both of you on the precipice of something much more dangerous. Oh God, the way his fingers curled around the wheel, the way they engulfed the shift stick, that look in his eye when you let yourself freefall and embraced the feeling.

Crunching gravel grabbed your attention, wide eyes trailing up from toe to head, locking eyes with Wolfwood as he stood beside you. One of his hands was in his pocket, the other pinching his half-finished cigarette between his middle and forefinger, chest rising as he inhaled deep. You found yourself mimicking the motion, breathing in deep with him, holding it for a moment. His brow raised, barely perceptible, tipping his head as he inched a step closer. He reached out, cigarette burning low between his fingers as he offered it to you. 

You didn't smoke, not past a social puff or two when drinking, but you found your hand reaching up to accept anyways. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the idea of having your lips around something that had previously been between his. 

Only when your fingers were a mere scant inch away from accepting, he pulled it back, gaze unwavering as he stared at you, into you, eyes roving over your face, then your body. You could only watch with rapt attention as he placed it back between his lips, inhaling deep again. This time it seemed deliberate, seemed focused, anticipation rising up your throat as he took another step into you. The free hand tucked into his pocket slid from its place, bridging the small gap between you by cupping your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks and coaxing you to open up. 

"C'mere," He murmured, trails of smoke spilling from the corners of his lips as he leaned down. Your eyes fluttered, lips parted, and in that moment with your heart still racing and your body still vibrating, he could ask you to do anything and you would without question. 

Smoke filled your senses as he pursed his lips, blowing into you, filling your lungs and your nose and your mind with everything that was Nicholas D. Wolfwood. You breathed in, the second-hand smoke burning your lungs before he closed the distance, chapped lips locking with your own. 

He tasted like coffee and cigarettes, something that would normally make you recoil, but you found yourself melting into it, legs wobbling for a completely different reason now. A noise bubbled up in your throat, soft and airy and light, as you exhaled through your nose. Smoke curled around the two of you in an intimate dance, wisps dancing and dissolving into thin air before your gaze fluttered shut completely, letting yourself freefall for the second time that night.

Hands reached out, both yours and his, yours clasping in the thick leather of his jacket lapels and clenching tight, willing him to step closer, press into you, consume you whole. He was already a step ahead of you, flicking his cigarette into the gravel before an arm came to curl around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. The calloused fingers digging into your jaw and cheeks pried a little harder, keeping you open and pliant as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, flicking against your own with a kind of expertise that made your stomach flip. A soft, airy noise passed your lips at the intrusion, one of your hands shifting up, desperate for purchase, something to ground you. It settled on cupping the back of his neck, fingertips carding through the short dark tresses there.

You felt your legs shake, felt your knees threaten to give out from under you when his arm encasing your waist shifted down, strong hand taking a fistful of the meat on your hip and tugging you into the line of his body. The small, surprised little noise you emitted must have amused him, feeling his lips curl at the corners before he pulled away a scant inch, tongue slow to return back between his lips. 

"Fuck you taste good," He purrs, thumb sliding down from your cheek to press into the plush of your bottom lip, pushing so the tip of his nail tapped against your teeth. You had half a mind to part your lips for him, let him probe, encourage him. And you did, kind of, parted your lips imperceptibly, jaw hanging open enough for him to fit the tip of his thumb between your teeth, only for you to gently clamp down. It was cheeky, teasing, half-mast gaze staring up at him through your lashes. The hum he emitted was pleased, yet intrigued. Using the leverage of the thumb between your teeth, he hooked his index finger under your chin and tipped your head back, leaning again.  

It was a strange sensation, the possessive nature of his grip mixed with the soft of his lips against the corner of your mouth trailing down, the scratch of his stubble sending a shiver from head to toe. Your eyelids flutter, unfocused as you stare up at the clear starry sky above, fingers winding tighter in the back of Wolfwood's hair. He returned the action with a nip at your jaw, canines sinking into your skin enough to make it sting, eliciting a gasp from you. Ever the opportunist, his thumb probed further, pressing the pad into the center of your tongue. His mouth worked back up, warm words falling on deaf ears as he breathes against you, into you, sealing his lips over yours again in a kiss that was more teeth and tongue than lips. 

He must have felt your legs shake, the weight of you leaning into him for support, because the hand squeezing at your hip moved down, passing the swell of your ass and cupping your upper thigh, coaxing you to wrap your leg around him. You oblige this time, though end up gasping into his greedy mouth when he displays effortless strength in hiking you up, winding your legs around his hips, and resting you down against the metal meridian overlooking the cliffside. 

The press of him against you, the solid plane of his chest bumping against yours, the half-hard tent in his pants you nearly mistook for a belt buckle pressing into your lower stomach, a rumbled out groan coming from between his lips when your legs wound around him tighter, pulling him more firmly against you.

"Shit," He murmured against your lips between heated kisses, "Y'er eager, huh?"

Normally your first instinct would be to knock him down a peg or two if he sounded so cocky, but the aftershocks of adrenaline were coursing hot through your body, leaving wake for burning desire you'd been pushing down for far too long just to seem like you had the upper hand. You nodded, humming a noise of affirmation, tapering off into something a little filthier when you felt the roll of his hips, angling his hips down. When you moaned low, that seemed to be enough to kick him into action. 

Both hands slung under your thighs, tugging you close and pulling you up, carrying you back towards his car. Your heart thudded in your chest, anxiety rising like bile in your throat at what was to come, unsure how exactly you could bring up something so detrimental this far in. That, coupled with the tender squeeze of your heart when his hand cupped the back of your head, protecting it from potentially getting bumped against the arch of the door while he climbed in with you in his lap, had you second guessing your own hubris of flying so close to the sun.

"Relax," Wolfwood said low, seeming to catch your sudden unease. Feeling brave, you glanced up to meet his gaze. 

His eyes were dark, umber brown blown wide, nearly black, and despite him looking like he was ready to eat you alive, there was a kindness swimming behind it all. So, when he spoke low, an intimate husky timbre, you believed him. "Don't gotta do anything you don't wanna do. Jus' tell me." 

Only managing a nod, he mirrored the action, fingers trailing from their position at the top of your head and gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He was slow to pull you in again, as if he was waiting for protest. When he wasn't met with any, he indulged, though a little less messy and a little less hungry. This time, he worked you open, eased you into it, placed both of his hands on either of your knees straddling his lap and palmed upwards. The touch had you sinking, tension easing from your body as you lowered yourself more firmly into his lap. You were met with the hardness straining against his dark jeans, the zipper pressing up between the apex of your thighs. You moaned, small and hesitant, and he nipped your lip, a silent command to not hold yourself back. 

One of his hands shifted up, ghosting higher between your legs, and suddenly your nerves came to a tipping point. Eyes clenched shut, brows furrowed, you feel the heat of his hand pressing up against your pelvis.

"Nick-" You gape, sucking a sharp breath between clenched teeth, preparing for the worst. There was a pause in the pressure of his touch when he clearly didn't find what he was looking for, a falter, and you were ready to stumble out and run before his touch glided down, two fingers pressing firm against the crease in your jeans. Your hips kicked, a gasp ripped from your throat when his fingers probed a little harder, cunt leaking from months of neglect. His movements were smooth, languid, urging your thighs apart just a fraction wider as his touch grew more bold.

He hummed an appreciative noise, tongue passing over your jaw, then biting down, his touch working in small circles. "Keepin' secrets from me, pretty boy?" 

His lack of negative reaction had your heart soaring, nerves dissipating in an instant. You must have looked surprised, stunned in the moment, because he huffed an amused breath against your warmed skin while his hands worked at the button of your pants. Feeling the need to clear the air, ask your questions, your lips parted, question hanging on the tip of your tongue, only to have the hand delving into the front of your pants punching the air from your lungs, winding you. 

A deep, gravelly groan- something more akin to a growl- came from the depths of his chest when he felt the patch of wet in the crotch of your underwear. "So fuckin' eager," He mouthed against your cheek, swiping a stripe down, then up, hand coming up high enough to slip beneath the band and work his way back down. You could barely breathe, skillful hands working your stiffened clit between his index and middle finger. It was too much, yet too little at the same time, hips bucking into the touch desperately seeking more friction, more fullness.

Hazy eyes cracked open just in time to catch the shift of his free hand running over his own pants while he worked you so expertly, the heel of his palm dragging hard against the defined line straining against dark washed denim. Despite the confidence in his demeanor, he looked messy, hair tousled and lips parted, eyes trained on you with a sense of reverence that made you whimper. You watched his jaw tighten, watched the tendons in his neck flex when his fingers trailed low, catching on your weeping entrance. He was met with eager compliance, sliding your hips forwards on his lap, sending you leaning back against the steering wheel, inadvertently causing his fingers to dip deeper. 

You were wet, impossibly so, head tipping back and eyes sliding shut as Wolfwood worked deeper, caressing the spongy spot inside you with effortless ease, like he knew exactly where to touch you and how. The pitchy noises falling from your lips had him humming low, adjusting in his seat to push his hips forward, fingers stroking faster, curling. 

"Shit. Fuck. Up," You heard him mutter, though gave you no time to process the request before his fingers slipped out of you. You jolt, whining petulantly, only to have both of his hands grabbing at your ass and hiking you up. You complied, thighs burning at the angle you were kneeled at, hips arched, sun-kissed fingers curling into the band of your pants and underwear, sliding down. 

It was clumsy, clumsier than you'd like to admit, sliding them down to your knees just far enough to reveal the slick sticking to your thighs. You kept your ass up, hips arched, as Wolfwood fumbled with his own belt. You found it endearing in some way, how his fingers slipped a couple times taking out the prong, pulling with a hurried impatience. He didn't even bother undoing it all the way, working his button and zipper quickly after. 

You nearly sputtered when he hiked his pants down to sit at his mid-thigh, cock standing proud between you with a silent intimidation with the size and girth. It wasn't completely insane, but considering you'd had nothing but a humble vibrator and your own fingers for a good hot minute, it had your cheeks warming with anxious anticipation. This made him chuckle, cocky and gravelly and deep, but you couldn't find it in yourself to snap something back at him. 

A hand on your hip urged you to settle back into his lap, shuffling a bit to find a better angle. You tucked your knees up, back hunched as he pressed you more firmly back against the steering wheel, suddenly thankful for the lack of surface area providing a horn. He seemed to read your mind, one hand under your thigh and keeping you bent, the other gripping the base of his cock and sliding against the sopping wet crease of your cunt. "Thank fuck for six-bolt," Wolfwood mused, but you were far too occupied watching the slide of his leaking tip caressing your swollen clit to process or care about what he was talking about. 

His palm was hot under your leg, hiking it up a little higher, your muscles screaming from the angle of your knee pressing into your chest. He continued to tease, tapping the weight of him against you, enjoying the wet smack against your clit. You startled, yelped, bucked your hips with a depraved whine, hoping that he would get the idea and just fuck you already.

The hand holding the base of his cock angled it down, thumb pressing at the center as he pulled his hips back, pressed the tip into you, slowly sliding forward. Your breath caught in your lungs, trying desperately to arch into him, push him deeper, faster, but the hand steadfast against the meat of your leg kept you locked in place. 

"Fuck," He groaned out long and low, fingers digging into your skin and pulling you into the upwards thrust of his hips. He was teasing you with it, you know he was, your eyes glassy from both frustration and overwhelming pleasure. His other hand locked onto your hip, pulling you down closer, just a little faster, until he was fully seated inside of you. You were already trembling, clenching around him, and you could feel his cock kick inside of you, a punched out sound coming from between his clenched teeth. 

From the way Wolfwood had been handling you, you expected him to start out slow, ease into it, torture you a little bit longer than necessary just for a little payback. That certainly wasn't the case, not with the way he pushed your thighs up, pinned you against the wheel, and fucked his hips up into you with reckless abandon. You cried out, eyes slid shut, hands scrambling for purchase on anything they could. One hand curled around the smooth edge of the dashboard, short nails digging into the thick leather finish, the other coming up and grabbing at the handle above the driver's side door. 

Wolfwood was ruthless, weeks of obvious interest and yearning poured into each roll of his hips, each pull to meet every thrust, the frantic grip and release and caress of his hands against your bare skin. You could barely keep your eyes open, struggling to keep them parted as you panted, gasped, moaned for him, the smell of sex filling the car, fogging the windows. Umber eyes locked onto the part of your lips, glossy and kiss-plush, spit slicked, his jaw hanging slack as he fucked into you.

"Fuck, baby," Wolfwood growled, the term of endearment making your pussy clench around him a little tighter. He huffed a noise, his hand trembling imperceptibly as it left your leg, coming between your legs, swiping quick lines back and forth over your clit in an attempt to push you closer to the edge. With the falter of his hips, the stutter in his thrusts, you could tell he was close. "C'mon, pretty boy- give it to me."

His commanding tone had your head swimming, lightheaded and floating. The coil in your gut wound tighter, needing more, anything more to push you over the edge. 

Your hand left the dashboard, reaching out and curling nimble fingers in the collar of Wolfwood's low cut shirt. Twisting the fabric in your grip, you tugged him into you, earning a surprise noise quickly muffled by your greedy open mouth. He returned the fervor, letting out a long groan as he pulled you down, keeping you bouncing on his cock as your climax hit you. 

Brows arched, tongue eager, you mewled and whined into his mouth as your body trembled, cunt clenched, your slick and his pre-cum coating your inner thighs and dripping down. He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, a shuddered breath leaving his throat, a low moan, hips snapping up once, twice, continuing to fuck you even as he filled you to the brim. Everything slowed, your legs shaking in his grip, cheeks ruddy and face hot, sticky and high and satisfied beyond relief. 

He panted against your lips, exchanging heavy breaths for a moment or two longer before he leaned in again, stealing you one last time with an open tenderness you didn't expect from someone like Wolfwood. You parted, heart still racing, slowing in the silence that stretched between you as you caught your breaths. The only noise between you was a grunt from Wolfwood as he pulled you up and off his softening cock, his gaze trailing down to the slow drip of your shared fluids making a mess out of his jeans and car seat. He exhaled, smirk curling at the corners of his lips as he helped you pull up your underwear and pants. 

Urging you over the console, a flat palm collided playfully with your ass, making you jump and nearly hit your head on the bars stretching overhead. You glance back to glare, but he was too occupied tucking himself into his pants to catch your ire. Lucky him. 

You settle into your seat, thighs still weak and trembling, fingertips red and sore from how tightly you had been gripping the hand bar. Weakly, you grasp at the seatbelt, struggling with shaky hands to clip it in. Wolfwood was quick to reach over, hand engulfing your own to steady it, helping you get the clasp in with a quiet click. His hand came up, gently caressing your chin much as he had at the diner earlier that night, before grabbing his carton of cigarettes and shaking one loose. Your eyes slide shut, head back against the headrest as you hear him roll down the window and spark up, smell the familiar brand you've come to call comforting, then the rumble of the car engine as Wolfwood starts it up and pulls away from the cliffside shoulder. 

The drive towards your house was muss less action-packed, surprised to see Wolfwood actually doing the speed limit compared to how much he seemed to be doing earlier. It was quiet, favoring the low hum of the radio. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, you found, both of you simply satiated, satisfied, relaxing in the presence of each other. 

When Wolfwood pulled up in front of your house, he left the engine running, leaving you to think that maybe this was it. Maybe he got what he'd been wanting from you, and maybe this would make things easier when you eventually got to leave this shitty town. You unbuckled your seatbelt, though once again he was reaching out, grabbing your hand. He leaned over, taking the buckle from you and tucking it back in its place. An off gesture, you think, but when he comes back he's holding your chin in the palm of his hand, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your lips. It was chaste, long, but when he pulled back you could see an unfiltered kindness in his eyes. 

"See you tomorrow?" He asked, and your heart swelled, chest rose as you inhaled deep. 

With a smile, a soft amused breath, you nodded. 

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

[myfairkatiecat]

Keefe (for bingo)

AHELDHKAUSHDKJAAHJSSHAKSBDKHSKSDSHAJAHDLDUSBSKSJSHALSHDHSKA

OK I CONTRADICTED MYSELF A LOT SO LET ME EXPLAIN

this is my favorite character of all time in any media, right up there with Anakin Skywalker from Star Wars, Nicholas & Nathaniel Benedict from TMBS (showverse) and Lancelot from bbc Merlin. Actually probably slightly above all those characters which is SAYING SOMETHING.

Is he comic relief? Yes.

Would I be his friend? Yes.

Has he done nothing wrong? Yes!! No he’s done many things wrong he’s so precious to me ok but the law he’s broken the law I love him so much he literally betrayed his friends I will always love him he has sooo much to answer for I’m glad Sophie forgives him after she chews him out she should chew him out longer but I suppose Fitz does that for her He has so many apologies to make but like he’s also done nothing wrong look I’m aware of my blorbo’s mistakes he’s honestly not as problematic as the tumblr fandom makes him out to be sometimes, and I MEAN that, but he’s also not as perfect and sweet as the eleven year olds on Wattpad make him out to be. He’s a LOT okay, you can’t analyze Keefe Sencen without the everything

Are my opinions unpopular? Yep! The other keefe girlies hate my opinions bc I acknowledge his character flaws and the Keefe haters hate my opinions bc I acknowledge the fact that he’s NOT an antagonist and actually has a lot of really good traits, and that’s NOT me making excuses. Also what are y’all on about saying he doesn’t get held accountable for his actions, like yeah Sophie forgives him pretty fast but not until she’s yelled at him, and the rest of his friends do NOT bounce back to normal (Fitz)

Do I relate to him? Yes, unfortunately. I have Fitz’s trauma and Keefe’s coping mechanisms (they aren’t good coping mechanisms but they’re literally mine)

Is the fandom wrong about him? Yes, the Keefe fans and Keefe haters alike. Don’t flatten this guy there’s SO MUCH THERE. (I’m not talking about my Keefe-negative mutuals—if I follow you, you didn’t flatten his character, I am very serious about Keefe Sencen)

Do I want to adopt him? YES I mean I’m literally his age but if I was old enough to adopt him I totally would, get that kid away from Cassius Sencen and kill Gisela Sencen. Honestly tho I’d settle for an Elwin adoption, dad!Elwin rocks

Did he need less screen time? *sighs in resigned Keefe fan* probably…objectively…yes…

Did canon do him dirty? I debated filling in this one. Because Shannon has made him a SUPER complex character. But also I swear if the ending of stellarlune isn’t the last time he steals something from Sophie to carry out a reckless plan he told no one about, I’ll riot. Don’t give him forward character progress and then erase it! If it’s a momentary relapse of bad habits I’ll allow it but I’m starting to want Shannon to let Keefe grow from all of that. Cause she keeps letting him get better—and then slip back. (Which isn’t unrealistic and I can work with!! I love him! But SHANNON PLEASE)

Do I want to study him? I want to get a full on PhD in this guy’s character arc actually

Did he need more screen time? Heh. Uh. Objectively NO. But also this amount of page time has allowed us to learn so much about his character complexities?? Like I’m torn between missing the other characters and eating up his character arc. Currently I’m gonna hope book 10 expands the other characters more bc I need more of them and 9.5 can feed my Keefe brain

Would I hit him with a golf cart? Listen my friend made this bingo game (hi Bods, if you’re reading this) and I know exactly what the actual intention was behind this square. But like. I want to slightly run into him with a golf cart. Just enough to slightly injure him and make him rethink his life choices (affectionate) (actually in the words of@phtalogreenpoison “I’d like to microwave Keefe. Just shortly”)

Does he need therapy? OH MY GOSH YES. I have thought this about other characters but SPECIFICALLY KEEFE HOLY GUACAMOLE GET THAT GUY THERAPY

Is he insane? Define insane. But I love him anyway (what is going on in his head half the time 😭)

Am I rotating him in my head 24/7? WELL YOU’VE READ THE POST WHAT DO YOU THINK

Do I have so many headcanons? Oh you guys don’t know the half of it. I have. So. Many. SO MANY

Is he wasted potential? Uhhhh I have too many thoughts on this to actually put it on this post. Genuinely love what Shannon’s doing with his character, like I said. But at some point she needs to. Address the things. Or he just becomes a guy with all these complications introduced that just kinda sit there and continue to change and grow and Keefe is the complex character to end all complex characters but Shannon you need to DO SOMETHING WITH THE MASTERPIECE OF A CHARACTER THAT YOU HAVE CREATED

The amount of bingos holy moly

Anyway

Keefe means a lot to me

Thanks for the ask anon!

[understandableparadox]

I think a fundamental problem with a lot of vampire media is that a vampire is not supposed to be a zombie. it is supposed to be a human who surrendered to their own vices and flaws. the flaws of cowardice in the face of death and the vices of pleasure and gluttony.

which is why vampires can be made very versatile. As much as I don't really like Twilight, it is still a story of dealing with vices with creatures that fundamentally have allowed themselves to be dominated by them.

which is why i really like the movie Renfield.

THATS RIGHT YOU BITCH ASS MOTHERFUCKER YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO READ A SCATCHING BITCH AND MOAN SESSION ABOUT THE SATURATION OF SHITTY VAMPIRE MOVIES BUT NOW YOUR TRAPPED HERE READING MY THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS ON A NICK CAGE MOVIE, SIT DOWN SWEETHEART IM NOT GONNA BE DONE YAPPING FOR A FUCKING COUNTRY MINUTE

Renfield 2023 is a movie starring Nicholas Hoult, Nicolas Cage and Awkwafina.

Renfield if you do not know is the fanatical familiar from the original bram stokers dracula movie. the human who in exchange for aiding dracula in their dark dealings would perhaps gift him with the same dark curse, making renfield a fellow child of the night.

This movie takes place Years afterwards after a very serious battle with the last vampire hunters of the modern day and age. Dracula has suffered Severe damage from the fight and has Renfield aid him in taking refuge within the depths of an asylum while he recovers.

Here we get into the meat and potatoes of the movie, as much of a sin as it sounds, it does focus on nick cage as dracula but instead on nicholas holt as the aforementioned Stooge prime renfield. Renfield, between his random killings in order to sate the blood lust of his master, becomes more and more acquainted with the new modern world, undergoing the most harrowing journey of them all...

Therapy. 

Renfield over the years has lost his spark of mad fanaticism and is worried not only with his relationship with Dracula but his relationship with himself. Aiding at least one by attending an abusive partners support group to find victims. Mostly abusive partners and criminals.  

This is very notable because it's already setting up the original themes of vampires. Your cowardice and your vices. It sets up Renfield as a true coward whose vice is his love of dracula, or more exactly his desire to  Be Like dracula. Enough so that even though he wants to feel better about himself- to feel less like a monster- he still follows dracula's demands in killing people who he has decided to pass judgment on. 

Oh sorry i forgot a detail, renfield is a power ranger and his morpher is eating bugs. He gains some vampire powers everytime he eats a bug and does some john wick shit but thats not my deal, i dont care if renfield can do a sick back flip and punch a guy (complete fucking lie, the action scenes in this movie are so god damn rad sometimes, please watch this movie, please please please!!!)

The movie splits into a couple of different story lines. One being Renfield attempting to balance his burgeoning need to have a functioning moral compass and his romance with awkwafina character, rebecca the detective. Rebecca the detective attempting to balance both the rash of murder cases and a rash of mob related crimes in order to avenge her father, and the mob themselves attempting to figure out who is wiping out their foot soldiers. 

I'm not going to harp on the story for long so let's start talking about renfield. 

Renfield is a hypocrite, and it's made apparent throughout the film that he is a hypocrite. Despite wanting to be a good person he is still a murder. He has doomed multiple people to die across the world. He left his wife and child to be with dracula. He has done so much to cut himself off from his own humanity that it's almost insane that he wants to run back to it because Dracula has not yet answered renfields desire to be a true vampire. 

This all is blended into the idea of having dracula be a parallel to an abusive narcissistic partner in a relationship. Which in all accounts throughout the movie is true and we're going to bounce back and forth from that for a bit so buckle up bud. 

The main ire of the movie is that Renfield wants to push his problems that he has gained away onto Dracula without acknowledging his roles in them. Again we see that cowardice. Renfield cannot stand to see his own faults. He listens to Dracula both out of fear and admiration. At the start of the movie I mentioned that Dracula sustained heavy hits from the last vampire hunters. Well I forgot to mention how he survived. Lets go ahead and listen in Real Close to what he says 

The hunters had dracula dead to rights if you can dare to pardon my puns. Trapped in a binding circle, burning in holy flames and about to get skewered through his heart. The dialogue is specific, Dracula makes no specific promises but notes that Renfield is complicit and that regardless of whatever Dracula has done, he is still his greatest ally. We play on that cowardice and that vice. That desire to be near dracula or be like dracula contrasted with his fear of the repercussions of his actions. 

Snap back to reality and we see that Renfield is still struggling with this. He does not want to face the repercussions of his actions so he continues doing as instructed by Dracula while also indulging in his vices, his desire for escapism by delving into all of these new things. Vigilantism, pushing his problems onto dracula, pretending that he is at the moment capable of having a new life while still using dracula's powers to attain it. 

Ah but now we need to introduce the main concept of this film. That being the portrayal of Dracula as an abusive partner with narcissism. Dracula plays on renfields, and says it with me in class, Vices and Cowardice. He knows what to say to make Renfield back down. He knows all his fuck ups and exactly what renfield wants, that being to have a simple life with dracula, but not in a gay way of course, we still have to have a straight romance sub plot, i mean its insane to think that renfield wants to bone dracula its not like dracula promises to be his salvation while he is suspended in air in a soft whispery voice while renfield stares at him with all the gale of a oculerly enlarged puppy but hey what do i know? I unironiclly read isekais, my media literacy must be that of a brain dead lemur. 

We can see this played out in this scene here

Dracula knows how to keep the hook in renfield's mouth both taught and loose enough to keep him at the perfect level of knuckle dragging dejection to ensure that he runs back begging. In that while yes he is right that renfield at so many points gave in to his own desires and *coy eye to the audience as I listen to them scream “vices” at me.*. He has begun to make an earnest attempt to become a better person. Better late than never. 

Thus renfields true growth is him rejecting that which made him so close with dracula, the rejection of what makes a vampire and vampire. He embraces his cowardice by both admitting to what he is and now allowing himself to push his own crimes onto dracula, and then standing up to dracula, and then rejecting his vices when once again dracula makes him the same offer. To be that same shield towards himself and his own shortcomings rather than deal with a life without a master. Despite it being possible in the future coming with the promise of being a full vampire like himself. 

Look guys, let's not juggle bowling pins and call it arm wrestling, Watch Renfield. Its a good movie and nick cage is fucking awasome, thanks.