#the hotels alone make a pretty long list

[bbitches]

A Year || LN4

summary: A year can really change someone in a lot of ways.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

notes: THIS IS MY FIRST SMAU SO LMK WHAT YOU THINK! also english is literally my third language and this isn't proof read/ grammar checked so mistakes are bound to appear :(

SMAU/ Written

Summer 2023

Max Fewtrell added a video to their story.

tagged: @/yourusername @/LandoNorris

yourusername posted!

yourusername Ibiza!!

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, maxfewtrell and 94,879 other

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/MaxFewtrell

user1 DJ LANDO!!

user2 y/n feeding us dj land content. she's the real queen here

user3 I thought y/n said she didn't like to go clubbing

➥ user4 maybe she's just there to be with lando

user5 bro did anyone see that video on TikTok? y/n looked so uncomfortable I feel so bad for her

➥ user6 RIGHT?

➥ user7 she's such a good girlfriend, if I were her, I would've just left lando at the club by himself lolol

user8 salivating bc Dj landooo

user9 BARK BARK BARK

➥ user10 y/n looking at this be like...

user11 does anyone know what club theyre at?!! I'm in ibiza I wanna meet them!!

➥ user12 bro leave them alone

➥ user13 @/user12 I don't see a problem 🤷

-

You never liked clubbing.

After all, you were only here because of Lando.

The music was too loud, people were pushing up against you, you never really liked to drink because you had a really low alcohol tolerance, you could make an entire list of why a club was not your go-to hang out.

"Lan," you yelled, trying to speak over the music, "Yeah?" He said, taking one side of his DJ headphones off so he could speak to you.

"Can we go back?" You asked. There was nothing you wanted more than to go back to the comfort of your hotel room with your boyfriend.

"It's only midnight." Lando said, "Why would you wanna go back? Are you not having fun?" Land asks you, but you could tell he wasn't really focused on you. You could see it in his eyes.

"I don't wanna stay any longer, clubbing isn't really my thing." You said, a hint of pleading in your tone.

"Soon, baby, okay?" Lando said, not even giving you a chance to protest before turning back to his DJ set.

You sighed in defeat, before retreating to a quieter corner of the club.

It was going to be a long night, like any other you've spent in a club, with Lando.

Summer 2024

Max Fewtrell added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

yourusername added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

Lando Norris added a photo to their story.

caption: taking pictures of my pretty girl

tagged: @/lando.jpg @/yourusername

yourusername ibizaaaa im backk

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 107,897 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/yourbestfriend @/MaxFewtrell

alexandrasaintmleux miss you! ��� by author

lilymhe ditch him for me!!! ♥ by author

➥ yourusername say less 💍

➥ landonorris ???????? @/AlexAlbon

➥ alexalbon atp im used to it

user1 both of them are so pretty its not fair

user2 no DJ Lando content?!

user3 Not even following y/n because she's lando's girlfriend, im following her bc she's Y/N

user4 that jawline

user5 why do they keep going back to Ibiza

➥ user6 litt, like, why can't they go literally ANYWHERE ELSE

user7 OMGOMGMG I WAS tHERE AND I SAW LANDO GO UP TO Y/N FROM BEHIND AND LITERALLY PULLED HER INTO HIM BY THE WAIST AHHHHHHHHHH

➥ user8 WHATTTTT

➥ user9 picture or it didn't happen

user10 dj lando...?

-

You were about to head to the bar to get another drink, seeing as Lando wouldn't want to leave anytime soon, and your best friend was probably hooking up with some hot Spanish guy, when you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne surrounding you, along with the smell of alcohol.

Lando nuzzled his head into your neck, mumbling something quietly, so quiet you couldn't hear him over the club music.

"What is it?" You said, raising your voice slightly, so he could hear you over the loud buzzing of the club music.

"Nothing." He mumbled, "Missed you, is all."

A small smile unwittingly showed up on your face, "Im gonna go get a drink. Go party."

But, Lando shook his head, "Can we go back to the hotel? I wanna cuddle." He said into your neck, instinctively pulling you closer.

You were shocked, to say the least. A year ago, he wouldn't leave the club no matter how hard you tried to convince him. He was a party animal, but now, he was asking if you wanted to leave.

You checked the time on your phone, it was barely midnight, Lando never left anything before midnight, let alone a club.

"Why, are you feeling sick?" You asked him, turning around to face him.

His arms wrapped themselves back around your waist, "What?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "No." He said, "just wanna cuddle with you."

"That's new." You commented as you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"I always wanna cuddle." Lando said.

"Yeah, but not at the extent of leaving the club early." You said.

"Can we please go?" He mumbled again, looking at you like a puppy.

You nodded after a few seconds, "Never liked clubbing that much anyway, I only come to be with you."

As Lando and you and Lando were heading towards the exit of the club, you bumped into Max (Fewtrell). "Leaving so soon?" He asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah," Lando nodded, "Going back to the hotel to cuddle with my girl." He said, raising you hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"You've really changed him," Max joked, "Lando being the first to leave? Never in a billion years."

You laughed, "Believe me, I don't believe it either."

"Can we go?" Lando all but whined.

You laughed again, "Okay, okay, lets go."

You waved goodbye to Max and led Lando out the club, and when Max saw his best friend look at you like you were the one who hung the stars in the sky, he knew you'd changed him for the better. And that his best mate was well and truly, in love.

-

yourusername sleepy boy chronicles 🤪

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 108,950 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris

landonorris at least I look cute ♥ by author

➥ yourusername can't disagree with that

user1 how does one fall asleep in the middle of packing?

user2 hes jus like us  🥺

➥ user3 relatable king

landonorris I was only that tired because you kept me up all night doing cardio..

user4 lando and y/n are so cute tgt I cannot

user5 Im convinced Lando only made it to 24 because of Y/n

➥ yourusername I mean..

➥ landonorris hey!

user6 Lando has no bad angles

user7 I SAW THAT LANDO

➥ user8 y/n is just a girl and lando is just a boy.. they need their cardio ;) ♥ by author

➥ user8 Y/N PLS MARRY ME

landonorris ❤️

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 709,897 others

yourusername is this what you do in your free time? take pictures of pretty girls?

➥ landonorris only of the ones that I love more than anything

➥ yourusername so you're saying there's more than one? 🤨

maxfewtrell Happy for you, mate ♥ by author

comments are limited

[jubshead]

𝐌𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐚

Paring: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: The only person who could ruin a vacation in Italy was your stepmother, but what if she made it unexpectedly better?

A/N: Okay, so this was inspired by the second season of White Lotus and the title is in italian because I thought the english word was too crude.

I hope this isn’t too OOC, let me know!

This isn’t beta read and english isn’t my mother language, so bear with me.

Warnings: Face slapping, Non-consensual spanking, Dubious consent, Unwanted arousal, Degradation kink, Face sitting

Word count: 3.1k

Date: Nov 05, 2024

Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome!

Masterlist | Taglist | Read on ao3

Tag list: @jmkjournalblog @thecavalrywife @yourbasicqueerie @polaris-likethestar @riosslut @maevaofendora @yippie-kai-gay @w1theredroz3

─────── ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ───────

The sun shines through the blowing white curtains and into the bedroom. The last few days in Sicily were cloudy and, as pleasant as they had been, you’ve been longing for a day at the beach. The weather today was perfect for spending time in a bikini and staying at the hotel, not visiting any tourist spots or museums.

Italy is breathtaking. College was wearing you out, spending a few weeks away from the student mentality is doing you good, and it also helps that your father is paying for everything, even if it doesn’t erase the complicated relationship you two have.

Waking up early is mandatory in every vacation and today was especially easy. As soon as you had taken a peek at the open window of your room, you got out of bed. The constant tiredness you felt from your routine had vanished a few days into the city, and you were excited to make the most of it.

Skin glistening with sunscreen, you head downstairs for breakfast. The buffet was set up on a covered balcony with the chairs outside, where you could enjoy the view of the italian architecture as you ate. Grabbing a few fruits and a spoonful of eggs, you head out to find an empty table, only to catch sight of your father’s raised arm moving left and right to get your attention.

This vacation would be perfect if it weren’t for them. 

“Good morning.” You say, settling on one of the chairs.

Your greeting goes unanswered. Your father is back on his phone and your stepmother gives you a mouth pressed smile, doesn’t bother pretending she likes you. Every time you were in their presence, you felt like throwing up. Besides the fact that your father is 30 years older than her, you still hated both of them for the affair they had while your parents were together. 

You’ve always known your father was an asshole, but adultery was the final straw. The only reason you kept in contact with him was because of your mother. The saint she was, begged you to not distance yourself from him, scared you would be alone when she was gone. How could you not grant a dying woman’s wish?

Rio was a cunt. You couldn't deny that she was attractive, however. Your father wanting to stay with her wasn't a huge surprise. It was pretty clear, though, that the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. She was obviously with him for the money, you were pretty sure she was cheating on him. Karma is a bitch, after all, and your dad’s time finally arrived. 

Eating your meal slowly, you enjoy the light breeze blowing your hair back. Cargo navy blue shorts and an open white button shirt hide away your black bikini. When you stretch your arms up, you feel eyes on you. Turning towards your stepmother, you’re greeted by sunglasses covered eyes and a similar blouse to yours, her brown hair is down. 

“I have to get some work done, so I won’t be able to spend the day with you.” Your father tells you, finally looking up from the phone.

“That’s fine.” You reply, shoving a spoonful of papaya into you mouth 

Oh, thank goodness you wouldn't have to stay with them today. 

“Rio will go to the beach with you, though.” 

Your eye twitch at that. Glancing in her direction, you see her tongue poking into her cheek and a side smile, clearly enjoying your suffering. 

“I’m sure she would like to do something else. “ You try. 

“No, no. I want you to spend time together, get to know each other.” Your father and his need to make you two close, this whole trip was about that and yet you still avoid her like you have done all these years. You have never wanted any kind of relationship with her and that wasn’t about to change. 

“Whatever.” You breathe out. 

“Come up to our room. Rio needs to change and I can give you girls some cash to go out and buy a few clothes.” Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. Spending as much time away from her as possible was one of your goals in this vacation.

He leaves his uneaten breakfast on the table and stands up. 

“Fine.” You concede. 

In the hallway, they walk ahead of you and you take a moment to watch them. Your father moves with the confidence of a rich white man with a plastic filled face. He’s in his 70's and doesn’t have the worst body, but if Rio was putting up with him because of money, it must be torture. She was clearly above his level, with black hair, slim body and defined arms. Anyone could see that. She had a powerful aura and walked with a sway to her hips. 

You look up when you realize you’re staring at her ass. 

The white door opens up with your dad's key card. Their bedroom is huge. The entrance leads to a living room with two couches and a coffee table. At the parallel wall to the entry, a large door opens to a balcony with a beautiful view of the mountains, the water constantly crashing against the rocks. Their bed is on the left side and is separated by a bow shaped wall, the other side of the room is the bathroom. It has a big counter with multiple beauty products. 

“I’m off. There’s a computer room downstairs, if anyone needs me, I’ll be there.” He hands you three hundred dollars and goes to kiss Rio. 

He holds her waist firmly and she turns her head before his lips contact with hers. She pushes him slightly back and pat his shoulders, you hold in your laugh. 

“Okay then.” He mutters embarrassed, ruffling your hair on his way out.

It doesn’t take 10 seconds after he leaves for you to turn to her and say. “Look, we don’t have to do this. I don’t want to spend time with you and I’m sure the sentiment is mutual.” 

She fake gasps at you, eyebrows raised and smirks. “Reluctant, already?” 

Rolling your eyes, you head to the bathroom to wash your hands, they feel sticky from the juice of the fruits from breakfast. You hear some movement in the bedroom and assume Rio is grabbing her bikini. The wardrobe door closes shut and you glance up in the mirror to watch your stepmother's figure walking behind you. You’re one step away from moving out of the restroom when she slips her blouse and shorts off. 

Time seems to stop as you watch her with her back to you, her ass is completely bare and you stare as she first ties the top knots of the two-piece. She bends to pull up the bottoms and you look down to your hands, your breath comes out shallowly, the image buried into your mind.

“Boo.” A voice says, her breath ghosts your ear and you try to hide your startlement. 

Looking up, you purse your lips. She’s standing a foot behind you and smiles smugly in your direction. When you turn around, her face is closer than you expected.

“What do you want?” You ask sharply.

“What do I want?” She repeats slowly, her fingers running through your hair ends. “You tell me.” She stares into your eyes and you squint, grabbing her shoulder and pushing her back.

“Fuck off.” You let out an incredulous laugh. “I always knew you were a slut, but this is beyond anything I’d have expected.” 

“Why? Are you still mad at me because of mommy?” She teases with a fake pout. 

Your entire face closes off and you take a step towards her. 

“Don’t talk about my mother. You could never be half of the woman she was.” 

“Oh, yeah? Your father would disagree.” 

The reaction is instantaneous. Your palm stings from the contact and you gape at her, surprised at your own slap. 

With your hand frozen in midair, you observe as her head turns back in your direction, her cheek is stained by red fingers and she lets out a breathy laugh, running her digits through it. 

“You are gonna regret that.” 

The apology that was about to come out of your mouth is cut off by the yank on your scalp, your body is forcefully rotated towards the sink and you hold the impact with your palms. The tug in your hair makes your back bend in an uncomfortable way and your neck aches as it’s pulled back. Rio presses firmly against your arched ass, resting her chin on your shoulder and looking at your startled face through the reflection. Her nails sink in your flesh.

“What are you doing?” You breathe out, partially scared and slightly aroused. 

“Has anyones ever told you that you’re a brat?” She avoids your question with one with her own, you feel fingers running down your waist. 

“Has anyone ever told you?” You return. 

She scoffs as her mouth breaks into a grin, softly shaking her head left to right. The digits you felt moving through your covered skin grip you with full force and move to the front of your shorts, unbuttoning it. Panic flashes in your eyes as she pushes it down. You struggle against her hold and she pulls your hair harder. 

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart.” 

Breath catches in your throat when her fingers grab a handful of your bare ass. 

“Do you know how I tame a brat?” She whispers in your ear and answers her own question. “I teach her a lesson.” 

The sound of her palm colliding with your backside echoes off the white walls and your surprised yelp follows it. The slap doesn’t hurt, you could bet Rio didn’t put all her strength into it, the worst part, for sure, is that it felt good. The sting brings a delicious burn to your skin and you prevent yourself from asking for more.

The second time it happens, you grab harder into the counter. Words seem to fail you and you stand still, this whole thing feels like a fever dream. You look up at the mirror and see Rio’s eyes completely fixated on your ass, she smoothes her hands through it and you shudder. 

The one that follows is firmer and you groan, unable to contain yourself. Goosebumps mark your skin and your body reacts to the pain, shifting uncomfortably against your bikini.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” She asks, raising her brows and giving you a maniac grin.

“Fuck you.” 

She tusks behind you and hums, slapping you three times in a row. The reaction is instantaneous and you hate yourself for pushing your ass back against her. 

“Who’s the slut now?” She asks in your ear and laughs. 

The taunting worsens your condition. Slick gathers in your underwear and you bite your lips, stressed by the way your body is reacting to your step mother. She doesn’t give you any type of relief and smacks you two more times. This torture seems to be going on forever, but you’ve only counted seven slaps. You had no idea how long it would last.

You’re about to speak when she strikes you one more time, with an open mouth, you aren’t able to contain the moan that escapes you and your face lights up like a christmas tree.

“You are so cute when you blush, sweetheart.” She tells you and licks your ear, her palm massages your sore butt and she adds. “Everytime we meet, I just want to have you all to myself.” She pulls back and looks at your pitiful position. Arched back, red ass and shorts bunched up mid-thigh, she runs tongue over her teeth. “When I saw the opportunity today, I just knew I had to take it. It’s so easy to rile you up and the fact that you hate me only makes it all the more delicious.” You shudder at her words. 

She is fucking mental. 

She surprises you for a second time with a spank. Tears well up in your eyes, the sting is worse than before and your arousal is burning you up from inside. The whole situation is making you dizzy, you feel like you’d fall down if Rio wasn’t holding you so tightly. Your neck hurts and you almost beg her to stop, but you couldn’t handle the humiliation, so you face it like a big girl. 

She delivers two more and you screw your eyes shut. One tear runs down your face and you feel Rio releasing the grip on your hair, turning you around to face her. 

“Ten slaps, that’s all. No need to cry.” She runs her thumb over your wet cheek. 

The sink presses against your backside and the cold of it helps with the burn, with your eyes still closed, you take a deep breath. You’re still in shock. 

“Did you learn your lesson?” She asks, her palms holding your wrist against your breasts. 

You stare at her for a second. Laughing at her smirk, you spit right in her face. She closes her eyes, whipping the dripping saliva with her fingers. Her entire face closes off, her patience seems to have run thin. 

She doesn’t say anything else, turns around and pulls you by the forearm. You struggle against her hold, but she’s stronger than you expected. Losing your balance when she throws you on the mattress, you don’t have time to get up before she’s upon you, holding your wrist above your head and kissing you roughly.

You hate yourself for it, but it doesn’t take more than 5 seconds for you to kiss her back. She’s in full control of the kiss and you writhe beneath her, failing to release your arms. Her tongue runs against yours and you can barely breathe from the intensity, your head spinning. 

One of her hands runs down your side to the bikini bottom. 

You suck in a breath when she separates. 

“I could eat you alive in this, couldn’t take my eyes off you at breakfast.” She tells you, licking your cheek. 

Her hand brushes the black fabric before pushing it aside, you are embarrassed by your state. Her fingers run through your wet folds, circling your entrance as you whine, desperate to be fucked.

“You are pathetic.” She says close to your face. 

Fuck your body for reacting the way it shouldn’t. The degradation turns you on even more and you feel your resolve crumbling. Rio chuckles at the intern battle she sees in your eyes. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to use that pretty little head of yours for long.” 

She rolls off of you. The opportunity to escape presents itself and you don’t move an inch, with your wetness sticking to your thighs, you just want Rio to have her way with you. She smirks at you and crawls up your body until she’s stradling your ribs. 

She doesn't put her full weight on you as she squeezes your cheeks and says. “Let’s see if this mouth is good for anything else besides being disrespectful.”

You barely have time to understand the implication before her cunt completely shadows your vision. Her bikini is set aside and she pushes her hips down, making you grip her thighs in an attempt to control her pace. Giving up on your moral high ground, you lick a stripe up her lower lips. She hums on top of you and grinds down, her juices smear on your chin and you’ve only just begun. 

Apparently you weren’t the only one affected by the spanking.

Focusing your attention elsewhere, you leave a hard bite on her inner thigh, taking your hatred on her skin. She moans and sits completely on your face, making it impossible to breathe. 

“You better get to work, sweetheart.” She mocks you and amends. “Before you pass out.”

You fully believe she’d let that happen so, with renewed energy, you grab into her butt and grind her center against your face. Your tongue circles her entrance before going in. Hearing her hand grab the headboard, you begin to move in and out. Your pace is rapid and she seems to enjoy it as she starts to ride your face. Sucking her lower lips makes her groan on top of you, so you repeat the motion and squeeze a handful of her ass, making her moan. 

With little breath, you stick your tongue out and let her chase her own orgasm. She slowly moves in circular motion and spreads her juices around your face. Her movement picks up speed and within seconds she’s bouncing against your mouth. You grip her ass tightly and feel your nose bumping against her clit. 

She becomes a moaning mess on top of you. 

For someone who can’t breathe, however, eternity seems to pass as you struggle to keep up with her. She is clearly on the edge and trying to reach her peak, so, in a last attempt to get her off of you, you run your tongue all the way up before sucking her clit as hard as you can. 

Her movement comes to a halt and you feel her body tensing up, her thighs tighten around your head and your ears ring from the pressure. Her orgasm finally hits and she shudders on top of you, breathing heavily and letting out unrestrained moans. 

She collapses beside you and you take the biggest gulp of air you can manage. Your breathing is as ragged as hers and you curse yourself for having a weakness for older women, this shouldn't have happened. 

Silence befalls you for about a minute as Rio gathers herself and you contemplate your life choices. As soon as her breathing is slower, she gets up on her knees in the bed. All your previous worries leave your mind as soon as she’s back upon you, straddling your waist and biting her lips.

She kisses you and grasps the wrists that hold her face, you press your center against hers and let out a whine when she pulls back and gets out of the bed. With a puzzled face, you sit up and ask.

“Where are you going?” 

“To the beach.” She simply says, grabbing a sun hat and putting it on. 

“What?” You rapidly blink.

“You heard me.” Her face breaks into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen in her sulking face. 

“Rio.” You whine like a petulant child. 

She comes towards you and gives you a long peck. Your mouth follows hers as she pulls away.

“Brats don’t get rewards.” She states and heads for the door, exiting the room with a witchy cackle as you throw yourself back onto the bed. 

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Uno and chill- H.HJ (part 2)

After promising posting part 2 the whole week, it's finally official hehe sorry it took so long, I was very tired. And I don't remember if Hyunjin has short or long hair in the other part so pretend that his hair just grew.

I also want to share with you that Sunday we will have an Easter special fic AND a new prompt list coming out, so stick around 😊

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, dom!reader

Part 1

Alexa, play Red Lights by Hyunjin & Bang Chan

You weren’t ready.

Months had passed since that night. That game. That kiss. Since Hyunjin flipped a hidden card with a smug grin and wrecked your life in the most delicious way possible.

But now you were in his city— Seoul.

And your job had decided to partner with his group.

Of course, the universe had a questionable sense of humor.

You fidgeted with your badge, trying to act professional as you walked into the studio with your team. Stray Kids was already there, cameras flashing, makeup artists touching up, stylists fluttering around like anxious butterflies. It was chaos.

And then you felt it— eyes on you.

You didn’t have to look to know it was him standing up so suddenly his chair almost overturned.

“UNO GIRL?!”, he said way too loud.

You froze. Literally froze in place. Several heads turned. One of your coworkers blinked in confusion. Your boss narrowed her eyes.

You stormed across the room, grabbed Hyunjin’s sleeve, and yanked him down the hall, ignoring his laughing protests.

The second the bathroom door closed behind you, you turned on him. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

He leaned against the counter like he wasn’t the problem, “I missed you too”

“Hyunjin”, you hissed “Shut up”.

Of course he didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer. “Come on. Months without a single text? That’s cold, even for you”

“You were the one who didn't text me! I left my number on that damn Uno card! But since you didn't say anything, I figured you were busy, you know. Being famous, body rolling on stages, choking random fans in hotel rooms”

His grin turned dark at that, “Oh? You remember that part?”

And before you could answer, he dipped his head, brushing his lips against your neck. His voice dropped low and wicked.

“Right here, wasn’t it?”

You inhaled sharply.

He kissed the same spot again. Slower. Then let his fingers rest lightly at your throat, the memory of his grip making your breath hitch.

Then, his voice tone shifted to lower, rougher. “Did anyone else touch you, these last few months?”

The question wasn’t fair. Not with the way his body crowded yours. Not with his hand on your skin and his mouth so close.

You shook your head, “N-No…”

He smiled. Not sweet, not soft— satisfied

“Good”

Then he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. The heat in his gaze didn’t fade.

“Wait for me when this ends”, he said simply, “Don’t run again”

And with that, he turned and walked out of the bathroom like he hadn’t just unraveled you in under five minutes.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

You were useless for the rest of the photoshoot.

Every time you tried to focus, your thoughts spun back to that damn bathroom. His fingers ghosting over your neck. The way he said ‘good’. The way he looked at you like you were still his— like you never stopped being.

Your coworkers were reviewing lists and discussing lighting setups, and all you could do was stare.

Because Hyunjin was performing for the camera like it was foreplay.

Eyes half-lidded, tongue peeking out, unnecessary body rolls paired with smirks aimed directly at you.

And he knew it.

He’d glance your way after every shot, lips twitching like he could hear your pulse from across the room. The worst part? You were pretty sure he could.

By the time the shoot ended, you felt like you had survived a silent war.

So when your phone buzzed, you didn’t even hesitate.

Unknown number: ‘Meet me at the back lot. I’m taking you home. Changbin will be out. We’ll be alone’

The text alone did unspeakable things to your already chaotic mind.

You slipped away from the team, heart hammering in your chest like you were sixteen sneaking out to meet a boy who already ruined you once and was definitely about to do it again.

He was waiting by a black van, dressed in sweats and a hoodie, mask tugged down just enough to show the smirk he wore like an armor.

“Took you long enough”, he murmured.

“I had to make sure no one saw me”

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear again, whispering the way he did hours earlier, voice dripping heat and memory.

“Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be screaming loud enough later that someone will”

And then he opened the door for you, like a gentleman.

A very, very troublemaker one.

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Hyunjin’s dorm was unexpectedly cozy. You hadn’t known what to expect— maybe something cold, minimalist, like the carefully crafted parts of his idol imagine. But it was the opposite. It was soft, warm with books stacked in the corners, half burned incense on a small ceramic dish, and blankets draped over the back of his couch like he had tried, but failed, to fold them neatly.

You barely stepped inside before he pulled you close and leaned down, his breath warm against your mouth. 

“I missed these lips”, he whispered, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss you.

But you stopped him, palm to his chest, grinning, “Wait… what about the rematch?”

He blinked, then narrowed his eyes playfully, “You’re serious?”

You crossed your arms, “A bet’s a bet. You cheated at Uno, remember?”

He groaned, “I don’t even have Uno!”

“Okay, then what do you have?”

Hyunjin sighed dramatically and walked over to a cabinet, “Let’s see… Monopoly, Jenga… ”. He turned around slowly, raising a brow, “Twister”.

You bit your lip, holding back a laugh, “Perfect”

A few minutes later, the colored mat was rolled out on his living room floor, and Hyunjin was stretching like he was preparing for the olympics.

“You’re way too excited for this”, you said, standing opposite him.

He grinned, “You have no idea”

From the very first spin, the game was doomed— not because either of you lacked skill, but because you both had absolutely no intention of keeping it innocent. Every move was a flirt, every stretch, an excuse. His arm brushed against your chest “accidentally”. You moved your hip back into his crotch on purpose, biting back a smug smile when you heard him suck in a breath.

“Left foot red”, you announced, glancing up just as he struggled to reach over you. His shirt rode up. His hips brushed yours. And when you arched just slightly against him— just for teasing— he slipped.

With a dramatic gasp, Hyunjin’s balance gave out and he tumbled forward right on top of you.

The two of you collapsed into a messy heap , him hovering above you, chest to chest, lips a whisper away from yours. A sharp breath caught in your throat as he braced himself above you, palms on either side of your head, your bodies perfectly aligned, his thighs caging yours. His chest heaved. So did yours.

“Oops. Guess I lost”, he said, not even pretending.

You blinked up at him, trying to keep your voice steady, “So… wanna know what’s the prize this time?”

His eyes darkened instantly, already leaning in, “Kiss for a kiss?”

You smirked “No”

He blinked, “No?”

“I wanna tie you on the bed”

That shut him up.

His lips parted, and for a second, he looked like he might combust on the spot. But then a delicious, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“A bet is a bet, right?”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

All the warmth of the dorm extended to Hyunjin's bedroom. The lights were low, dark wooden shelves held a variety of things. His bed wasn’t particularly big, but the sheets were soft and there were too many pillows. A small vinyl record player sat on his desk, with a stack of albums in the corner.

But what changed everything— what shifted the mood— was when he pressed a small button near his nightstand and the entire room bloomed red.

Not bright. Not harsh. Just deep, ambient red light that gave the walls a velvet tone.

He watched you from the middle of the room, already shirtless, his skin flushed in the glow like something out of a dream. 

“Just helping set the mood”, he murmured, trying to act cool but the flicker in his gaze gave him away. He was nervous but still excited for whatever was coming.

You walked slowly toward him, holding the soft tie in your hand—  the silk scarf you were wearing earlier that day.

“Strip and lie down”, you said softly, “Face up”

Hyunjin swallowed, nodded and obeyed.

He looked stunning under the red lights— flushed cheeks, tousled hair, chest rising and falling a little too quickly. You took your time tying his wrists to the headboard, fingers grazing his skin a little longer than necessary, enjoying how he shivered beneath you.

“You good?” you whispered.

He nodded, eyes fluttering closed for a second before opening again. “What’s the safe word?”

You smirked, “Let’s keep it classic. Uno” 

He groaned, “You’re mean, cold as ice”

Something he said flipped a switch in your head. “Ice”, you murmured, then leaned in, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth, “That’s a great idea”.

You stood slowly, walking toward the dorm fridge, ignoring his protests. “Where… where are you going?”, he asked, voice raw.

You didn’t answer, just pulled open the freezer, grabbed a single ice cube, and held it up between two fingers like it was something precious.

When you entered the bedroom again, his eyes widened slightly, flicking from your hand to your smirk, “Wh– what are you gonna do with that?”

You settled back on him, straddling his hips, dragging the ice slowly along your own collarbone. “Just thought we could play with some… temperature control”, you whispered, letting a single cold drop fall on his chest.

He shivered violently, a helpless sound slipping from his throat.

The next trail of melting water you traced along his stomach, circling his navel before heading lower. His muscles tightened beneath your touch. He tried to close his legs, but your body pinned him in place.

“you don’t get to squirm”, you said, licking a drop off his skin before it fell.

Then you hovered just over his cock, the ice cube now resting against the fabric of his boxers, soaking a dark patch into the thin material. He gasped, hips jerked, and you responded immediately, “Didn’t I say no moving?”

“Fuck, baby… please”, he moaned, nearly breathless, “You’re driving me insane”.

You smiled, dragging the ice up his chest again, this time letting it melt fully between your fingers and drip across his nipples. His head tipped back against the pill and Hyunjin sank his teeth on his bottom lip.

“Say the safe word if it’s too much”, you whispered, watching him twitch.

“Uno…”, he gasped, eyes wild.

You raised a brow, “Already?! Do you really want me to stop?”

He swallowed hard, lips parting but no answer came.

You leaned down, licking the water from his neck, voice sultry against his skin, “That’s what I thought”

You finally got rid of both your underwear. Then you moved, lowering yourself onto him inch by inch, cruelly slow. His entire body arched off the bed, a choked sound slipped from his throat— something between a gasp and a growl.

“F-fuck, you feel… so damn warm, baby, please…”

“Ah- ah”, you said, your hand sliding back to his throat, not pressing, just resting there, “You don’t get to move yet”.

He moaned, eyes wide and pleading, hips twitching involuntarily as you rolled your own in slow, merciless circles. “I…  I couldn’t help it”, he panted, “You’re torturing me”

You leaned down until your lips brushed his ear, “That’s the idea”

Then you rocked forward again, achingly slow, dragging your nails down his chest just enough to make him shiver. His hands strained uselessly against the scarf, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying not to completely lose it.

You kept the rhythm slow, steady, sensual. Grinding down hard one moment, then lifting off just enough to make him whimper. Every time he begged, you clenched, pulsing around him until he twitched and throbbed beneath you.

“You’re not very obedient tonight”, you said sweetly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Should we come up with the safe word?”

Hyunjin gave a breathless laugh. “God, yes. Please.”

He moaned loudly as you bounced once,  hard enough to take his breath away, before going right back to a slow grind.

 “Then, say it”

A few more moments passed in pure torture. Every movement from him, every twitch, every sound was met with delicious punishment— either a clench, a tease, or you pulling off him entirely just to make him beg.

And he did.

Over and over.

Until, finally, he cracked. “Uno. Uno, Uno. Fuck… please"

You slowed, eyes locked on his, but didn’t stop.

“Humm. That didn’t sound very convincing”

“I said the safe word”,  he groaned, hips jerking.

“And I heard you”, you smiled, devilish, “But I thought you liked someone cheating”

His mouth fell open in disbelief then you clenched again, and his head dropped back with a curse.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna die”

”I’ll stop if you want me to”

“No”, he groaned, helpless, “Please don’t stop. Please don't”

“So desperate”, you whispered, “Such a good toy”

He whimpered, fingers curling as you rode him harder now, driving him insane.

You felt it when he started to fall apart, the way he trembled under you, the way his moans turned breathless and broken.

“I’m close… I’m so close… please let me come”, he cried out.

He was trembling beneath you, wrists flexing against the silk you’d tied them with. His eyes followed your every move— hungry, desperate, and glassy with need.

“Yn…” he whined, voice wrecked.

You tilted your head playfully, “Hum?”

“I c–can’t take it anymore, please… I have to… .”

He let out a needy whimper, the kind that only made you feel more powerful. Your hips rolled forward before stopping completely, just to make him lose his sanity, still not giving him what he wanted. His eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenched hard.

“You’re being so good for me, Hyunjin”, you murmured, your fingers trailing back up to his face, brushing over his cheek and lips. He leaned into it, greedy for your touch, chasing your hand like it was oxygen.

His legs shifted restlessly under you, thighs trembling from holding back.

His eyes snapped open, blown wide with lust and submission. “Please… I want to come inside of you. I need to release everything inside you. Please, Yn… I can’t hold it anymore, just let me”

A grin curled on your lips. You leaned in, slowly dragging your hips forward, “Did I break you, baby?”, you whispered.

His hips jerked beneath you, entirely involuntary. “Yes”, he choked out, “You broke me. You fucking ruined me”.

Satisfied, you untied one of his wrists slowly. Then the other.

And then, you finally moved again, lips meeting his swallowing desperate moan with a kiss as he clutched your waist like a man drowning.

His whole body shuddered underneath yours, forehead pressed to your shoulder.

“I missed this”, he groaned, “I missed you”

You established a torturously slow pace, your hand tangled in his hair, the other pressing gently into his chest to keep him down and still.

“I’m not done playing”,  you whispered.

“God, I’ll play forever if you ride me like this…”

And when he finally came undone, it was with your name on his lips like a surrender. His body trembled as he spilled into you, but you didn’t stop. You rocked through it, pulling another whimper from him, dragging out every last wave of pleasure until he was completely spent, blinking up at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

 You followed just moments later, collapsing against his chest, both of you panting and tangled and wrecked.

The two of you stood there— breathless, dazed, ruined.

And when he finally caught his breath, he looked up with a cocky grin.

“This time”, he said, voice hoarse, “you cheated. I said the safe word. Multiple times”

You leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, “I learned from the best”

The silence stretched until a voice from the other side of the dorm wall broke it—  Changbin’s voice

“Are you done torturing him now or should I grab my noise canceling headphones again?!”

You both froze before bursting into laughter.

He looked at you and smirked, “Round 2, just to piss him off?”

You smirked back, just as mischievously, "I'm in”.

Comment in any post if you wanna be added :)

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[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 2: Own My Mind

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You might have finally admitted to yourself that you have feelings for Franco, but that doesn’t make the deep longing you feel for him any easier. And he's starting to make you question if he might feel the same longing for you, too.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Reader is a lil freak, use of YN, mentions of anxiety disorders/therapy, reader has self esteem issues

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on part one! I never expected my first chapter to get any notes let alone over 200 notes in just a few days. Seriously every single note has me kicking my feet and turning my eyes into little heart emojis lol. I’m already about 2k words into ch 3 so I am hoping I’ll finish it before I have to travel for the holidays (I will not be able to write at all while I’m gone). Also, I had a request for someone to be tagged in this chapter, so let me know if you all would like me to start a permanent tag list. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Oh it’s automatic, you know I just gotta have it

I’ll make your body a habit

You know there’s some kind of magic, uh huh

Do you wanna, do you wanna, own my mind, own my mind?

The Singapore Grand Prix was later that night. Franco did really well considering the circumstances. It was disgustingly humid, and when he was done you could tell he felt awful. You were so angry at everyone at Williams for letting him race like that. Yes, it was his job, but that was your friend out there suffering—your friend who you had just admitted to yourself yesterday that you were in love with.

You watched him from afar when he spoke to the media afterwards. His curls were plastered down to his forehead with sweat, and his skin was pale and clammy. You just wanted to hold him and tell him that you were proud of him. Instead you had to settle for keeping an eye on him in the chaos of the paddock post-race, and helping him back to the hotel with his mother.

She had to get on an early flight, so she left and you promised her you’d stay until he was okay. She was worried about him, and you were too. God, seeing him so sick broke your heart. You helped pack up his things while he took a cold shower and he emerged in just a towel wrapped around his waist. He seemed to be feeling much better thankfully, and his more playful mood reflected it.

Of course, you snuck a glance or two at his sculpted form. Just a peek at his wet curls, the water droplets running down his chest—even the scar on his collarbone that he always tries to hide. He thinks it’s ugly. You think there isn’t a single part of him that’s ugly.

You tried to ignore him and continued tidying up. “I hope you don’t expect me to tip you,” he joked.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “What else are you going to do with all your stripper money?”

“Well, if we’re stripping…” he said, slowly lowering his hand down to his hips, palming the towel. You stomped to the bathroom, out of view of whatever joke he was making. “Get dressed, you man whore,” you instructed.

You lived for the banter you all had—at times, it felt like your own language separate from the rest of the world. The audience could hear Franco’s humor, but they’d never understand it like you did.

When you left the bathroom he was thankfully (or, unfortunately) fully clothed, lying on the bed and lazily scrolling through his phone.

“I’m glad you seem to be feeling better,” you said.

“Well, better than I was, but still kind of like shit,” he responded with a sigh.

“Well, you can get some rest, I’ve got you pretty much all packed up so you’ll be ready to go tomorrow.”

He put his phone down and gave you a soft smile. “Thank you.” He paused for a moment, as if he was readying himself to say something, and looked at the floor away from you. “YN, would you… stay? Just in case I get worse, you know.”

You could tell by the color in his face that he was feeling better, but how could you deny him this small comfort, when his eyes met yours through his long eyelashes, a sliver of light from the street lamps outside cutting through the drawn curtains and resting on his face? He was so beautiful. And he wanted you to stay.

“Of course,” you said. You were going to get up from the corner of the bed where you now sat and move to the chair until he fell asleep, but instead he motioned for you to lay down on the bed next to him. Tentatively, you did, heart racing as he laid his head on your shoulder and curled his body into you.

His playful flirting was normal, but this was… different, a closeness beyond what was usual between you two. You could feel the warmth of his skin, his breath steady against you. Yes, your heart was beating, but you felt strangely calm. Peaceful. In this moment all that mattered was you and your best friend, quietly sharing a moment in each other’s presence.

Your hand, trembling, reached down to smooth a piece of his hair. He hummed in response, to which you quickly moved your hand, mumbling, “Oh, sorry.”

He just grabbed your hand and wordlessly placed it back on his head. Slowly, you began to run your fingers through his beautiful curls. You got lost in the moment, and soon enough, you felt his breath even out as he fell into a peaceful sleep. Soon enough, the stillness of the moment and the soft rise and fall of his breathing lulled you to sleep too.

You woke just as the sun was beginning to illuminate the sky outside. You had an unfortunate habit of waking up in the middle of the night—a common symptom of anxiety, your therapist had told you—but for the first time in a long time, you slept through the night soundly.

You and Franco had shifted, and he know had his arm lazily wrapped around you. You remembered the previous night and felt your heartbeat increase. It wasn’t just the feeling of his arm draped across your waist, but the feeling of…. something else. A little… morning problem.

Of course, you knew Franco couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even awake, and from your years of friendship you knew how much of a heavy sleeper he was. It was just an uncontrollable biological phenomenon. Nothing more.

But you couldn’t stay, feeling him pressed against you like that. It felt wrong and you were so nervous you could hardly breathe. So you carefully wiggled your way out of his grasp and quietly left his room, returning to your own.

Returning to your hotel room, all you knew to do to calm yourself down was to write. So you opened your journal and wrote all about the scene; the dinner, the banter, waking up next to him in the morning sunlight.

You wrote until your hand started to cramp. Then you went back to read what you had written, skimming over it, your mind only picking up on little snippets.

Lily thought I was Franco’s girlfriend, and I guess I can’t blame her. He’s such a flirt, I love and hate it. I just wonder if it ever means anything to him. I mean, he treats random reporters the same way he treats his girlfriends. What does he do when he actually wants someone?

He asked me to stay. I thought he must still be sick, but he just wanted me to… cuddle? I ran my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. He looked like an angel, so soft and innocent, resting next to me. I wanted to kiss him so badly.

But when I woke up, I could feel his morning wood pressing against me. God, it was so awkward. But I can’t stop thinking about it, what he would do if he really wanted me.

Oh no. Oh no no no. You shouldn’t write that kind of stuff. Having a crush was one thing, but thinking about him like that? It was…wrong. Franco was your best friend. Your best friend who was absolutely perfect—yes, physically as well.

You threw your journal on the bed with a grunt of frustration.

You were fucked.

Your heart beat nervously as you walked into the waiting room before your next therapy session. It had been a week or so since Singapore when you had finally admitted the truth to yourself.

Yes, you had feelings for Franco. Emotional and… physical. No, you had no idea what to do with them.

Waiting for the clock to strike the hour, you reached down into your bag to run your fingertips along the spine of your leather journal. You had been writing incessantly in it since that night.

And if you thought that your fantasies were bad then, oh, it had gotten so much worse.

You told yourself you couldn’t help it. You were ovulating. You’d been single for a while. You were a girl with needs. But you felt disgusted, basically writing porn about your best friend.

I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. In my mind, he sits on the edge of the bed like always, hand carefully placed at the top of his towel. His hair is dripping and his skin is still dotted with water droplets.

He doesn’t even have to say anything. The way he looks at me—eyes looking up through his gorgeous lashes, his pouty lips looking so lonely—I know exactly what he wants. So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

Even remembering what you wrote felt filthy. You wanted him—all of him.

I had a dream last night that Franco dominated me. We are in his apartment, arguing about something stupid, and he pushed me against the wall, kissing me roughly, like he couldn’t get enough of me. He holds me waist with his strong hands as his kisses get deeper.

“I need to taste you,” he growls into my mouth, picking me up and throwing me on the bed. Before I can react he’s on top of me, one hand holding my chin and the other fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. “Are you going to be good for me?” he asks, and I frantically nod.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking, as he pulls off my jeans and my panties with it—

“YN? You can come in now.” You’re pulled from your daydreaming by the voice of your therapist. You close the journal, embarrassed, but not without her seeing it in your hands.

“I hope you’re doing well. I see you’ve got a journal, you’ve been writing in it, I take it?” she asked as you sat down in the familiar office.

“Yeah, I have,” you answered, clutching it tightly in your folded hands.

“Well, that’s great! Has it been helping you?”

“Um… I guess?”

“Explain more.”

You paused, unable to think. All you could do was blurt out the truth.

“I’m in love with my best friend.”

“…Okay.” Your therapist also paused. “Did your writing bring about this revelation?”

You tumbled through the rest of the session, trying to explain what happened without revealing too many intimate details.

“I just feel… horrible I guess. It’s so dumb. It’s not like he’ll ever feel the same way about me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, he’s so… perfect. And I’m an anxious mess,” you laughed.

“Is anxiety that much of a barrier to being loved?”

You laughed, considering the gravity of her question. You couldn’t truly answer it. “It shouldn’t be. But I just know he’d never choose me and that’s okay. He doesn’t even know how I feel, and even if I had the courage to tell him, I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Does it bother you, not being able to tell him about all of this?”

“….yeah, it does, actually,” you admitted. "I'll never do it but... I just wish I could, you know?"

"I understand. Why not start with expressing your feelings platonically? Telling him what he means to you as a friend?"

"I guess I could do that." You didn't quite know how you'd accomplish that, but you weren't in therapy just to refuse to try anything. You wanted to do hard things. You needed to do them.

So you made it your mission, next time you saw Franco, to tell him something meaningful. You weren't sure what it would be or how it would come out, but you'd at least try.

Unfortunately, it was a while before you'd see Franco again. There were a few weeks between Singapore and Austin, and between race prep with Williams and sponsorship deals, Franco was up to his ears in work. You still talked, of course—you texted back and forth every day—but it just wasn't the same, and you missed him horribly.

You'd felt this before, the ache in your stomach that longed for his presence when you'd gone too long without seeing him. You figured it would be different now that you had finally admitted to yourself what this feeling was. You didn't expect it to be worse.

Because now that feeling in your stomach was sharper. You didn't just yearn for the mere concept of him—you wanted everything. You missed his smile. You missed hearing his voice rise and fall in intonation as you bantered back and forth. You missed his perfect curls smoothed across his forehead. You missed the feeling of his arm wrapped around you, whether in a friendly embrace or something more intimate, like you'd had in Singapore. And in the back of your mind, you missed the feeling of Franco's hardness pressing against your back, a sign of what you fantasized was a deep wanting for you, both physical and emotional.

You tried, and failed, to rein in these fantasies. But with the more days that passed, the more Franco began to feel less and less like your best friend, and more and more like the version of him you'd created in your head, desperate for you more than anything else in the world.

You wrote all of this down, of course. If you hadn't you would have lost your mind with lust. Romantic pining was nothing new to you—you'd had a boyfriend before, although what you felt for him paled in comparison to Franco—but this intense physical desire you felt was new.

You had never been satisfied by anyone, anything, before. You smiled to yourself as you thought, well, I guess it's true what they say about the quiet, shy ones.

And Franco, unbeknownst to him, wasn't making it any easier. He called you one day, the first phone call you'd had in a while, a few days before you'd be flying out to Austin for the grand prix.

"I'm sorry I've been so busy," he explained, "but the stuff we're doing is so cool."

"Am I allowed to know, or is it top secret?" You smiled through the phone.

"Well... I can't tell you everything just yet, but I can give you a sneak peek. Check your messages."

You felt your phone vibrate, receiving a notification from Franco. You tapped on the text and nearly dropped your phone. He had sent you unedited pictures from a photoshoot, and he looked fucking amazing.

His voice on the other end of the line explained, "I'm gonna be on the cover of Forbes Mexico for the race. What do you think?"

At first, you were quite literally speechless. "Franco, you look..."

"Gorgeous? Sexy? Like the most fuckable Formula 1 driver?" he teased. For a split second, you wondered if it was possible to hear a blush through the phone.

His banter inspired your own. "... not bad. I mean, you certainly give them a lot of work to do to make you look good, but they did pretty decent."

If human beings could hear a blush through a phone, you were sure the noise that Franco made would be indicative of one. "Oh, shut up and tell me I'm pretty."

A million potential responses went through your head. Make me. Beg for it. My pretty boy.

Instead you just laughed and said, "No, really, you look great. This is amazing. You know the entire internet is going to lose their minds after this drops?"

He smiled. "That's the plan."

It still hadn't been released by the time you made it to Austin, but you weren't complaining. A part of you liked having this piece of Franco all to yourself. You kept going back to the photos again and again—his glare at the camera, his arm draped over a steering wheel—you couldn't get enough.

And when he met you at the airport in Austin (even though you told him it wasn't necessary), all that want came rushing back the instant he wrapped you in a hug that lasted a little too long to be considered platonic.

You couldn’t let your thoughts go that far. You’d already crossed a line by allowing yourself to feel such… intimate emotions for him. But to even imagine that he really wanted you to? No. That was where you actually drew the line.

But unfortunately, Franco’s confusing behavior made it far too easy for you to believe that he didn’t feel the same.

You all didn’t talk about that night in Singapore, or the fact that he must have woken up alone. You’d rather throw yourself into a pit of knives than talk about it and have to bear the embarrassment, and Franco didn’t seem bothered at all, so you let it go to the back of your head, acting as if it never happened at all. Your first day in Austin was fine, mainly spent recovering from jet lag and exploring the city on your own while Franco did his media duties. You had dinner with him that night and it was like no time had passed. The banter was the same, the atmosphere was great, and you were so happy to be back in his presence again.

As he walked you to your hotel room, you remembered your promise you had made to yourself, that you’d try to practice being vulnerable. For some reason, you didn’t have it in you today. You were tired, in a good way, but all you wanted was to curl up next to Franco and wake up in his arms the next morning.

And of course, you assumed Franco would want to stay. Why else would he walk you back to your room? Maybe it was the nervousness of the implication—you and Franco, alone in your hotel room—that prevented you from saying anything, or maybe you just knew that now wasn’t the right time.

Either way, there was no moment. Franco just bid you goodnight with a wave and left to his own room.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. He just didn’t like you like that, and it was okay. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

But you also couldn't help but feel a bit...disappointed. You cursed yourself for letting your fantasies become too real. It would be weirder if he had tried something.

Still, you dealt with these complicated emotions the only way you knew how: writing. You opened the journal and began to write away, not even stopping to think, just vomiting words on the page.

We're in Austin right now. It's been...normal. Good. Which is weird, considering that last time we were at a grand prix we spent the night together. It's not like that, but I can't help but think that something is just...different. I keep thinking about what my therapist asked, about anxiety being a barrier to love. Franco has always supported me, or tried to at least. I haven't exactly made it easy for him, or anyone else, since I bottle things up so much.

But he doesn't love me, not like that, anyways. He dates models—I mean, God, he is a model now—and I'm just me. I'm not exceptionally pretty or smart or funny. I'm nobody.

I can't help but fantasize about how things could be different. I imagine us going on a fancy date. He's wearing that suit he did the Mexico photoshoot in, with the top shirt buttons undone to tease me. He picks me up from my apartment at 8 with a bouquet of pink roses (not red, red is too cliche; but I guess I can't complain, no man has ever bought me flowers). I'm wearing that dress I got the last time we visited Argentina together—the one that hugs all my curves just right, and it's his favorite color. The dinner is sweet. We savor the time together, since it's more scarce now that he's a permanent driver in F1. We've had a few glasses of wine, just enough to get us slightly giggly and blushed, our inhibitions long abandoned. In the back of the Uber he traces his hand up and down my thigh, each time teasing scandalously closer and closer to the place I need him the most. 

The ride is torturously long, but when we arrive back at his apartment, he wastes no time in getting me alone so he can have his way with me. He picks me up bridal style and kisses me through my drunken laughter, a smile on his face, too. He lovingly tosses me on the bed before taking off his jacket. I just look at him in awe. He’s so fucking perfect. And he’s all mine. He gets on top of me, kissing me gently, and no words need to be exchanged between us. I can feel the tenderness of his lips against mine, and he pauses, looking me directly in the eyes. The moment is quiet and I feel so safe and loved with him, until our lips crash together and his hand finds its place on my thigh again. It trails up and

There was a knock at your door. 

You jumped, startled. Getting up and looking through the peephole in the door, you saw it was just, of course, Franco, so you hurried to open the door.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You left your lipstick in my pocket,” he smirked, holding out the tube to you.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, having forgotten about asking him to hold it earlier at dinner since your outfit didn’t have pockets. 

“You didn’t even notice that I stole it.” It was true. You had completely forgotten about it with all your journaling. 

“Well, the shade would look good on you,” you teased. 

He playfully rolled his eyes. “It’s no fun pranking you when you don’t even notice. Keep up, hm?” Franco loved to play little tricks on you like this, and usually you played right into them, knowing that the fun of his taunting outweighed whatever consequence the prank itself would bring. 

“You’re impossible,” you said, smiling regardless. “Now, if you’re done stealing my stuff, I’m exhausted.” You went to close the door, assuming this to be the natural end of the exchange, until Franco took a step into your room and rested his weight on the doorframe.

“Not exhausted enough to skip your… journaling?” he said, looking over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit shit shit. You hadn’t closed your journal. 

“Since when do you journal?” he asked, leaning forward as if he was trying to make out the words from across the room.

If you had been smarter, smoother with it, you probably could have lied and said it was for work, then proceeded to rant about your remote corporate job which would have bored Franco to tears. But smart and smooth with it are two things that you are not.

You swiftly turned around to grab the journal and slam it closed, holding it in a death grip. Your absence from the door, however, had been interpreted by Franco as an invitation to come in. And it was clear by the urgency of your actions that whatever was in that journal was something you did NOT want him knowing.

You answered him, “I haven't been doing it very long.” There was a brief moment where you considered ending the conversation there. It was too late to formulate a good lie, anyway. But on the other hand, you wanted to do hard things and be honest with yourself and others. So you did. At least your therapist would be proud.

So you continued, “It was a suggestion from my therapist. Just helps you get your thoughts out so they aren’t all stuck in your head.” Simple enough. It was the truth, after all. He didn’t need to know what those thoughts were.

“Can I read it?”

You paused in bewilderment. “Um, no? Franco, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“You don’t just… ask to read someone’s personal journal.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s personal, you muppet!”

“Really? Stole that one from Lando?”

“It fits." You snorted. "But seriously, why would you ask to read my journal?” 

“Because I never know what you’re thinking. You’re impossible to figure out.”

“... I am?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Well why don’t you just, I don’t know, ask me what I’m thinking?”

“... I know you did not just say that.”  He made a face at you. Yeah, he was right. If you were skilled enough at communicating your emotions you wouldn’t have needed to start the journal in the first place. He continued, “You were literally dying in Singapore and when I asked you what was wrong you said you were fine.”

“Hey, I made it to quali alive,” you replied. 

“Look, I just… It would be nice to understand where you’re coming from a bit more, like… actually nevermind, forget I ever said anything.” Your confusion only lingered as Franco clearly struggled to find the words. You guess that this was how he felt communicating with you sometimes—it sucked.

“Whatever, you weirdo,” you said, your joking tone an indicator to him that you were willing to act as if this horribly embarrassing exchange had never happened. 

“Goodnight, YN,” he said as he left the room, ending the conversation like that. Now it was your turn to be confused by his actions. There was something he clearly wanted to say but couldn’t, and you let yourself wonder, just for a second, if what was happening to you wasn’t so different from whatever was going on in his head.

You let your fantasies lull you into sleep.

Again, you let… whatever was happening between you and Franco go unsaid and focused on supporting him for the grand prix. 

From the Williams garage, you cheered him on as he got another point, overtaking Alonso so skillfully. When he came back to the garage, you met him as you always did, with a smile that stretched across your entire face. Your hug this time was different, as he picked you up and twirled you around. You laughed into his shoulder, holding on to him as he spun you.

He put you down and was immediately assailed by hugs all around from the Williams team. Lily, who had been in the garage by your side the whole race, elbowed you in the side. 

“So, you and Franco are just friends, huh?” she teased. You all had become friendly enough that a little bit of banter was acceptable. 

You inhaled with a soft smile, watching him celebrate in the distance. Once again, you chose vulnerable honesty. 

“Yes, we’re just friends. But it’s…complicated.”

Her eyes widened and she turned to you, shielding you off from the celebratory scene. In a lowered voice, she muttered, “You have feelings for him?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. But c’mon, he just spun you around like a Disney princess. He obviously has feelings too. And have you seen what the fans are saying about you all?”

“No?” You were surprised the fans even knew you existed. You had cut down on social media a long time ago, knowing how much it contributed to your anxiety and self-esteem issues. You still had accounts, but all were private and hardly used, and you didn’t interact much with fans at the races, preferring to stay in the garage or in Williams hospitality to enjoy the races without worrying about what people were thinking of you.

“They love you two. Seriously, I think there’s gotta be a million teenage girls living vicariously through you.”

You laughed at her comment, not in a mocking way, but because of the absurdity of it all. None of these people really knew you, or Franco, for that matter. It just proved your point that social media wasn’t real.

So if people on social media were shipping you and Franco, then it couldn’t be true. At least, that’s the confusing logic you held yourself to. A line had to be drawn somewhere.

Your conversion with Lily was cut short by Franco approaching. “Celebratory dinner later?” he asked, still beaming. You agreed.

If you could have bottled the energy that Franco exuded all day after the race, you would have had yourself a very lucrative energy drink company. As he was packing up his things to leave the circuit, you all passed by barriers where fans were practically crawling their way to get to him, screaming his name and waving Argentine flags in the air. He tilted his head to them as you passed, and asked, “Can I?”

You were in no rush, and of course you could never deny him this moment to enjoy what he had built with all his hard work. He stopped to sign shirts and caps while you stood behind. Everyone had their phones out, filming Franco, but you knew you’d inevitably end up in the background. You just hoped you didn’t look too awkward. 

Franco turned his head back to you as the crowd behind the barrier just grew more and more excited. “You see this, YN? This is insane!” his smile stretched from ear to ear, and you just smiled in response. He climbed up the fence, eliciting a small giggle from you, and filmed the crowd below him chanting his name.

You had never been more proud of him. And you had to say it. 

So you did, after dinner when you all somehow ended up in his hotel room together again. The atmosphere was…calm. Familiar. Warm.

The conversation had reached a natural pause, and the night had gotten to that point where that space between you and him felt simultaneously infinite and nonexistent. 

He sat crossed legged on the bed, fiddling with something in his suitcase next to him. You sat on the chair only a few feet away.

“I’m so proud of you, Franco. I don’t tell you enough.”

He looked up and your eyes met. And he blushed. You had made Franco Colapinto blush.

“When did you get all sappy on me?” he asked. There was still a bit of a wall up. It was unusual for you all to be this vulnerable with each other.

“Since my best friend in the entire world is achieving all his dreams! I mean, we’re celebrating points now, but one day we’ll be celebrating podiums. And then race wins. And then championships. I believe it.”

The room was draped in a thick silence. Franco knew you didn’t throw these words around carelessly. And the unspoken implication, that you’d be there for all of it.

“I believe it too,” he said quietly. There was no ego in his statement. Only true hope.

[hauntedbyjoel]

Mine to Protect

pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: no outbreak, age gap, explicit sex, dominant behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, semi-public tension, power imbalance, gun mention, light choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, mdni word count - 1.0k summary - You hire him for protection. You don't expect the heat in his state, or the way he watches you when you sleep. One night, you tease him on purpose. He breaks.

✩⡱⋆⸝⸝♡⸝⸝⋆⡱✩

You’ve had protection details before. Your work—high-profile, public, and controversial—comes with threats. Trolls. Creeps. Journalists who don’t know how to leave things alone. You've dealt with them all. But you’ve never had him.

Joel Miller. Early 50s. Former military, former private ops, now freelancing as a fixer with more discipline than charm. He was assigned to you after an incident—an anonymous note slipped under your door, photos taken of you through your windows, a lock picked without anything missing.

You didn’t want anyone watching you. He didn’t want to be here. Perfect match.

The first day he shows up, he barely says a word. Black shirt. Gun on his hip. Scowl like it’s carved into stone.

“This isn't a babysitting job,” he says flatly. “I protect. You follow instructions.” “What if I don’t?” “Then I fail my contract.”

He doesn’t say he cares. Doesn’t threaten. Just makes it clear: you’re a job. And yet—he never stops watching you.

Weeks pass. He’s always nearby. In your shadow. In your space. Never in your way.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t flirt. But he looks. You see it in the way his jaw ticks when you wear something short. The way he always positions himself between you and any man who looks too long. The way he says “I’ll be waiting outside” when you go into a meeting—but always comes in if it lasts too long.

Still—he keeps it cold. Clinical. Always professional. Until tonight.

You’re at a private fundraiser. Expensive venue. Fake smiles. Too much champagne.

Joel stays near the exit, eyes scanning the room. He’s already clocked the exits, checked your drink, denied access to two guests on the watch list.

And you? You’re bored.

So you talk to a man at the bar. He’s harmless. Pretty. Says something about your work. Laughs too easily. You catch Joel watching from across the room. He’s still. Arms crossed. Eyes unreadable.

Back at the hotel, he doesn’t speak. You trail behind him down the hall. He opens the door to your suite. Walks in. Doesn’t look at you.

You shut the door. “You gonna give me the silent treatment all night?”

Nothing.

“You're not my boyfriend, Joel. I can talk to people.”

He turns. Something in the air shifts.

“You think this is about jealousy?”

You open your mouth, but he’s already walking toward you.

“This is about risk. That man had no background pass. No clearance. You turned your back to him. You gave him your real name.”

You flinch.

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “You’ve been watching me like a hawk for weeks and now you decide to say something?”

He stops in front of you. Inches away.

“You’re not my fucking father, Joel—”

He grabs your wrist. Yanks you forward.

“Shut your mouth.”

His voice is low. Gritty. Pulled from the back of his throat.

“Let go of me.”

He steps forward. Doesn’t.

“I’ve kept my hands off you since day one. I’ve followed the contract. I’ve watched you mouth off, dress like that, look at me like you want something—” “I didn’t—” “Liar.”

He backs you into the wall. Slams one hand beside your head. The other slides under your jaw—grips, not gently.

“You want to talk about lines?” he growls. “You fucking erased them.”

Your breath catches.

And then his mouth is on you. Not a kiss—a claim. Brutal, deep, tongue and teeth and pressure like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth.

You moan.

He spins you before you can catch your breath. Your chest hits the wall. His body cages you from behind.

“I’ve thought about this every fuckin’ day,” he mutters, dragging your dress up. “But I waited. I followed the rules.”

He pulls your panties down. Spreads you open with his knee.

“But you don’t want rules, do you?”

You moan—soft, involuntary. His hand slides between your legs. Two fingers sink in fast.

“Soaked,” he growls. “Knew you wanted it. Knew it every time you talked back.”

“Joel—” “You want it?” “Yes.”

He groans like you broke something in him—and then he fucks you.

Hard. No warning. No apologies.

Just the sound of skin on skin. Your hands braced against the wall. His palm over your mouth so the whole floor doesn’t hear you fall apart.

“You don’t talk,” he grits out. “Not unless I say so.”

You’re whimpering under him. Wrecked. Your body shaking as he ruts into you.

He grabs your throat—not choking, but firm—pulling you back against him harder, deeper.

“You let anyone else touch you like this?” You shake your head, gasping. “Say it.” “No one,” you breathe. “Just you.” “Damn right.”

He finishes inside you. Growling. Cursing. Holding you still like he owns you. But when it’s over? He pulls out. Fixes his pants. Grabs his gun from the dresser. Doesn’t look at you.

“Test me again,” he says, voice flat, “and I’ll put you on your knees instead of the wall.”

Then he walks out.

Door slams.

You’re left trembling, skin burning, mouth parted—ruined.

And still wanting more.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

How to react to you longtime girlfriend regaining her angelic wings: a guide by Charlie Morningstar, proud girlfriend of said girlfriend.

Things you SHOULD do with her new wings!

Notice them! (this is easy bc they are BIG and BEAUTIFUL with the soft grey faded colors of an overcast sky right before it rains and gives you an excuse to stay indoors snuggled in soft blankets drinking hot coco together back when everything was simpler and safe which is exactly what getting folded up in them will feel like later and- what? oh right! The list thing, um-)

Complement your girlfriend's wings! Maybe don't overwhelm her with a whole paragraph just yet though. Saying "They look nice!" works perfectly good. (waxing poetic can wait until Alone Time)

GENTLY touch the wings. But not too gently!!! Maybe hold the upper joint place, like a little handshake hello. (the feathers are attached to very VERY sensitive bundles of nerves for feeling out air pressure and drafts and stuff, Vaggie says, but they are TOTALLY NOT TICKLISH supposedly and the reason you shouldn't run your hands across them all nilly-willy whenever you get caught up in how pretty and soft they are is it messes them up and means they need preening again to make flying work right, and THAT'S why she jumps and squeaks about it. She likes keeping things tidy! That's all! No other reason. Noooope)

Things you should NOT do with her new wings!!!!!

Blow a giant raspberry right between them, where the feathers get all small and super extra downy soft, just to see what will happen.

Do the above in the middle of maybe KINDA making out....?

Tell absolutely everyone in the hotel about it directly afterwards.

Thing you WILL end up doing if you complete the above list

Spend the night on the bedroom couch: because you keep remembering the noise she made during the raspberry blowing incident, and giggling yourself and her awake about it.

Wake up in bed anyway: snuggled in your girlfriend's arms the same way you do any time you fall asleep in the wrong place and she has to come find you and carry you back with her so SHE can get some sleep too- only this time she also has WINGS!!! And her wings tuck around you so warm and strong, you'd swear you've felt this every time waking up with her before- only now the feeling is all around you, instead of just wrapped around your heart <3

You're still sleeping on the couch tomorrow though: At LEAST for the first part of the night. Or however long it takes before you stop giggling over hearing your totally an angel very serious former solider and absolutely Not a BIRD girlfriend Squawk.

Things to KEEP doing now your girlfriend has wings again!

Try better next time with the rule following??

Hope you're doing okay so far????

Help her with the preening!!

Stop giggling. Somehow.

Staring at them and spacing out is also okay as long as you say you're "acclimating" yourself to the "sudden change in a core aspect" of your life when someone catches you at it. They won't believe you- But! They'll probably just roll their eyes and let you get back to the staring. Acclimating. Whatever!

Anyway, good luck to whoever needs this! Hope this helps things go smoothly for you, Cherri Bomb!!

Also- Angel Dust, if you've read this far, then PLEASE don't tell Husk. Me and Vaggie PROMISED him not to give you ideas, and we don't wanna get banned from the bar again :(

Sincerely, Charlie Morningstar, princess of Hell, Vaggie's girlfriend (!!!)

Note from Vaggie: You're doing great sweetie. And you're lucky you're cute when you laugh, even in your sleep. P.S. There's no 'supposedly' about it, my wings are NOT ticklshkSkk .... P.P.S. from Charlie: are you suuuure? <3 <3 <3

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 31

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

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“Uhh, should we call Josh?” Mercedes asked as she, Trinity, and Bianca watched Airielle grind her ass on some random man. The three women couldn’t deny that he was attractive and if Airielle wasn’t with Josh.. they might have left them alone. 

“No. Definitely do not call Josh. And I can’t call Jon cause they’re together.” All three woman turned their head back to watch Airielle. They’re eyes growing wide as the man started sliding his hand up her thigh and towards her skirt. 

"Oh my gosh," Trinity whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. "We need to get her out of there. Now." Trinity didn’t wait for a response from Bianca or Mercedes. She marched over to Airielle. “Sis, come on.” 

“Trin!” Airielle shouted, clearly drunk. “Where you been at friend!?” 

Trinity wanted to laugh but she knew something was wrong. She had known Airielle for a year and she had never seen her get drunk like this. She wanted to call Yasmine, but Trinity knew she was home resting with her newborn son.  “I don’t think Josh would be–” Trinity started but Airielle cut her off with a loud scoff. 

“Fuck Joshua Fatu! He’s a liar!”  Trinity’s eyes widened at Airielle’s statement. What the fuck happened? Trinity thought. Airielle and Josh were good when they left the hotel room. 

Josh was pissed, He broke all types of traffic laws as he sped to the nightclub his girl was currently at. His girl that had no problem grinding her ass on another man. Just thinking about it, made him tighten his fist around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. 

When he got the text from Yara, he was pretty sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. But there it was, clear as day: a blurry video of Airielle a hazy smile on her face as she winded her ass against some other man. 

Trinity’s eyes widened as she watched Josh make his way towards them. “Who called him?!” She asked turning toward Bianca and Mercedes who both shook their heads. 

“Where she at?” Josh asked once he walked over to them. He looked out on the dance floor, trying to spot Airielle.

“Brother, just calm down… She’s drunk as fuck right now.” 

“Calm?” Josh hissed. “How the fuck can I be calm when my girl out here rubbing her ass all up on another man?!” 

“I know just–” Trinity started but Josh had walked off from her, in search of Airielle. “Fuck” She muttered and chased after him. 

It didn’t take them too long to find her. Josh’s whole body froze as he laid eyes on Airielle. She was leaning against the bar. A soft but lazy smile on her face as she talked to the same guy from the video. The guy was leaning in close, clearly enjoying the attention. Trinity felt her stomach drop as she watched Josh's expression twist into a mix of anger and hurt.

“Josh just wa–” Before Trinity could finish her sentence, Josh was already storming towards Airielle and the man. His fists were clenched at his sides, jaw tight with barely contained rage.

“Imma need you to back the fuck up.” Josh spat at the man, as he slid into the space between him and Airielle.  The guy looked between Josh and Airielle before holding his hands up and walking away. Josh turned his attention to Airielle who rolled her eyes at him. “What the fuck Rih? Whatchu’ all up on him for?” 

Airielle ignored him and turned her her attention to the bartender to ask for another shot. “I know you hear me talking to you.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Airielle responded, taking her drink from the bartender and trying to walk away from Josh. But he grabbed the drink out of her hand and slammed it back down on the counter. 

“Aye yo. You real life starting to piss me off.”  Airielle sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes again. “Stop rolling yo’ fuckin’ eyes at me.” He growled. 

“Or what?” She countered back. 

Tired of playing games with her. Josh grabbed Airielle and threw her over his shoulder. He then turned to Trinity and told her to go get Bianca and Mercedes or they would be left. 

“Josh! Put me down!” Airielle yelled, drawing the attention of the people they walked past on their way out of the bar. Josh paid them and her no mind. He was in a foul-ass mood and he dared someone to say something to him. He unlocked his rental and threw her in the backseat, climbing in behind her. “What the fuck!” 

“I should be asking you that! Whatchu’ out here grindin’ on another guy for?!” 

“Whatchu’ out here lying about how many times you fucked Yara for?” 

“What?” 

“What?” She mocked with an eye roll “You got caught, stupid. I seen it with my own eyes Joshua! You said it was a mistake! You don’t make the same mistake TWICE!”  Josh just stared at Airielle, he was confused as FUCK! He only slept with Yara once at his apartment. 

“When I ever fucking lie to you Airielle?!”

“I saw the video, Josh! I seen you walk into that room with her!” Josh just stared at Airielle. He had no idea what the fuck she was even talking about. “You know what, Imma just ask Ray to send me the video,” She said as she pulled her phone out of her clutch. Josh couldn’t stop his chuckle. “The hell so funny?!” she snapped, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him.

“You deadass believed a guy who’s been trying to get with you since you came to the main roster? Like I said, I never fucking lied to you. Never. You real-life believing him over me?” Airielle’s fingers paused over her phone screen, as she looked back up at him.  She started to feel bad as she saw the hurt swirling in his eyes.  “That shit with Tracy happened, and what I do? I got all my paperwork from court and showed that shit to you!. I slept with Yara and I tried to start over with you, FOR you! And now you just wanna believe some lame-ass dude who you went on dates with?” Josh sucked his teeth. “Forreal?” 

Airielle’s jaw dropped open, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of his words sank in. When she didn’t say anything Josh scoffed and shook his head. He slid out of the backseat and left the door open for Trinity and Bianca to slide in while Mercedes got into the passenger seat. All four girls jumped as he slammed the driver's door after he got in.  Airielle felt her heart sink deeper into her stomach, a mixture of embarrassment and regret swirling inside her as she sunk into the backseat of the car. 

The car ride back to the hotel was silent. Airielle felt like shit. She knew better than to act first when it came to Josh. And he was right, when has he ever lied to her? She had fucked up their newly reformed relationship and she was certain that he was done with her. For good this time. 

Authors Note: If this seems rushed, I'M SORRY! I needed to end this scene/chapter so I could get to the next part lol. Also.. sorry this took me so long 😫

Just a heads up... next chapter is all about Christoper and Airielle so.. please read the trigger warning and proceed with caution ❤️

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @empressdede

@harmshake @paigereeder @li-da-savage @nbanenefrmdao @alyyaanna

@theninthwonder @raya-hunter01 @abadbitchblogs @jaethaone @mzv11

@shantinextdoor @sheydnni @xmonetsworld @bebesobrielo @kill-the-artiste

@yana3sworld @bookuce @sageispunk @amandairene88 @rianasixx

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@privateeyed95 @rebelrel0987 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[princessleechan]

special treatment (m) - chapter 16 + written chapter (suggestive)

Chapter list

🖊️Chapter tags: MDNI, mentions of drinking, office au, secretary au, misunderstandings, mentions of insecurity and harrassment, virgin!mingyu, one sided rivalry, grump x sunshine, grump!reader, shy sunshine!mingyu, suggestive, light petting, a curious mingyu, a fear of heights, heated intoxicated kisses,(w.c. 1.1k)

🖊️Tag list: @tomodachiii @humankimbap @aaniag @odevote118 @minwonwoozi @ateez-atiny380 @chisskaa @ninigyuuu @sarcasticsweetlara @bemybabiibish @blaycke @lirtha97 @kwanisms @nebulousbookshelf @gyubakeries @btsdomination @gyuguys @okiedokrie-main @jrinbb @lexyraeworld @armycarat2612 @cherrylita @jhornytrash @alyssa19123456 @chanichanvhan @minhosprettywife @jeon1w @perfectiondazesworld @skittlez-area512 @bmo-bri @blvked19 @leechansprincess @livixcore @jihoonsbbygirl @darlingz99

After a flight of stairs, nearly throwing out your back, and a very long elevator ride, you finally made it up to your floor that just had to be at the very top when the gala was held at the very bottom. The weight you carried, large and limp, made no effort to ease your trip and instead dragged at your side, a wide drunken smile on his face as you lugged him all the way to your shared hotel room.

“Almost there,” you announced, straining your voice.

“How did we get up here?” He slurred, head turning left and right at the walls.

“No thanks to you,” you mumbled before swiping your room key and pushing the very large man inside, kicking the door behind you shut. 

You helped his jacket off him before letting him fall against the bed on his side, and you fell right beside him, equally tired. Although you hadn’t had nearly enough to drink as he did, you felt just as lifeless from carrying his ass up the stairs, towards the elevator, and dragging him to the room alone as if carrying on a well-deserved punishment.

You panted, resting your hand against your restless heart, until you noticed the man beside you starting to sit up, having his own ideas in mind.

“What are you doing over there, buddy?” You peered over at him.

He began rolling off the bed, crawling on the ground, and pressing his fingers against the glass on the windows. He gasped, eyes blazed with shock as the city lights took his sights to way down below, stretching his view from the bottom of the streets to where he stood long and tall, making him feel as if he was standing on top of the world. “We’re up so high…I’m afraid of heights!”

“Okay,” You dragged him back to bed where he flopped right back down, stroking his head to soothe him as if he were a child.

It made you think back to the last time you had to babysit someone. You were twelve sitting some kid about half your age and you really wanted money for new shoes in a school full of kids with the latest brands of them. If young you could look at you now.

He sighed, already feeling better. Naturally, he then moved to push his head in your lap, not noticing how you tensed up in response and just watched as he shifted his grown man body to find himself an optimal position to relax in.

You took a beat, eyes darting around the room as if checking to see if anyone else was seeing this, but remembered that you were alone, together, in a single-bed hotel room. You could not make this shit up. “Yeah…you’re gonna regret this in the morning,” you commented before returning to stroke the side of his head. “Hell, I’m gonna regret this.”

“You smell nice…” Mingyu said dreamily, causing you to snicker. “Thanks.”

“And you look so pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“But you always look pretty.” 

Your cheeks grew a little warm, not sure if you could handle more of his honesty tonight, “Alright–”

But he continued, “–Even when you’re mean and ignoring me–why do you do that by the way?”

You sighed and you began to slowly phase out of the gentle caresses, the reality dawning on you as the regret slipped through with it. “Mingyu–”

He waved his hand in the air, his grin growing wide as he bared his pretty canines that made his smile uniquely his. “I don’t understand it…but it’s okay.”

“It’s okay?”

He got up from your lap to face you and nodded sweetly as he hummed a confirmation between his closed lips. “I’m sure you have your reasons.”

He took your hand and put it back on his head, guiding you to pet him again, “For now, just do this,” to which you obliged, bittersweetly smiling at him as he was beaming back at you. 

It went on like that for several moments, just silence and him leaning into your touch while you let him and enjoying it felt the more awful. You shouldn’t even be in the same room as him, let alone petting him like a sweet puppy. The predicament you got yourself into was only something that would’ve happened if you let your guard down, which you should’ve avoided as humanly possible. Work came first and foremost and even your guilt for how you treated him, your perception of him, couldn’t be an excuse for your lapse in judgment.

“I feel safe around you,” he confessed, dazed eyes staring back at you fondly.

You let out a chuckle full of air, then shook your head at his naivety. “You shouldn’t, but ok.”

He softly pouted, “Why?”

“Nothing.”

“You always do a good job at work and have no reason to lie to me.”

“That doesn’t mean you should feel safe around me and how do you know I’ve never lied to you, you wouldn’t have known if I lied to you. That’s the point of lying,” you lectured as your hand moved away from him.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t then,” he challenged, jabbing your shoulder.

“Mingyu–”

He leaned forward, jutting his lips in a childish impatient pout. “Tell me.”

You rolled your eyes, mirroring him until you were only inches apart, watching as his eyes shifted in response and gripped the bed sheets underneath him. Your eyes teasingly moved from his rapid blinking eyes to his quivering lips.

“Because maybe…one day, you’ll just be a little too cute for me to control myself.”

You broke out in a smile with his lack of questions after. As if time stood still, he stay stationary, not dare moving an inch—with the exception of the shallow rise and falls of his chest, holding back the organ threatening to jump out of his body. Satisfied, you attempted to retreat to a reasonable distance until you felt a hand land on your wrist on the bed, pinning you in place. 

His gaze softened and drifted south of your features as his lips parted. Another arm extended toward you, his hand reaching towards your face hesitantly to hold and thumb over your chin, your amused smile fading in front of him. Not a second to waste, he closed the distance, finding your lips between his in an eager chase.

Initially, you’re startled and balled fists of sheets of your own, surprised that he’d make the first move—or a move at all. Then the bridge of his nose grazed yours, his fingers extended and splayed from your chin to your neck, and you started to feel yourself gradually succumb to his touch. Your eyes drifted close just as his peeked open, locking eyes in an incandescent heated moment that made your knees buckle, your heart thrum, and your thighs squeeze.

Taking sharp inhales, you both immediately tried finding something to grab on one another—whether it be clothes or limbs—something on your person, and crushed your lips together with no space for oxygen in between.

You whimpered softly as you felt teeth, growing only hotter as he claimed the back of your head, his tongue tracing your mouth, brushing against your tongue, and working until the only remaining sounds that could heard in the room were your hungry moans; wet, slick kisses; and the creaking of the bed as positions—and air shifted.

[blingblong55]

Now that we don't talk- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

A/N: funny enough...these two drivers are no longer with the girls in these pictures. also, this is not me telling you how reader looks like

--- F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, F1 au, F1 driver!Simon, cheating ---

A/N: watched the Las Vagas shit show of a race and then got inspired....so here's this shit mess of a fic

He was the guy every girl wanted, from the teens to the older women, yet he held your hand on the red carpet at that award show. He kissed you in yachts and danced with you in galas and ballrooms. Paraded your name when he won races. You were everywhere, from tea pages, to fan-made edits and now you're here, stuck in a hotel room, waiting for him. For the past seven months, he's kept you hidden, like you were some kind of repunzel. Never to be let out of the tower unless it was by him. He had what every driver and fan wanted in their lives, fame, wealth, social status, a gorgeous and supportive girlfriend and the way he was the best at his job. 

They always say to look for the smallest of clues, that's why, all the tabloids talked about how he 'had it all'. Now, he took out the girlfriend part and added Playboy to the list. 

Three months before you and him announced your split, he sat down with you. Told you all the truths he kept from you. Your tears well up in that pretty face of yours. "I started to see other women, that was nine months ago, in Spain, that's why I told you to stay at the hotel," his eyes too teared up. It took a lot to not slap him, scream and yell at him for being such a man slut, but you needed to hear it, needed to know the truth before the internet did. He took a deep breath, "I...there's been at least ten different women, I've slept with more but...only those ten did I take to race weekends instead of you." His eyes, full of regret look at you. "When did you stop loving me?" Your question caught him off guard. "I...I think it was a year ago but I thought it was me being anxious over that whole contract thing and having to move and...I'm sorry, I shouldn't make excuses for my actions," he looks down. 

You nod, not daring to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, R/N," his voice small. "No, I'm sorry," you respond and he looks at you confused. "What do you mean by that?" He questions you. "I'm sorry for falling in love, for being a fool and seeing myself with you for the rest of my life. I'm sorry for trusting you were sleeping alone when I wasn't there...I'm sorry I wasn't enough to make you stay...or to be patient enough and end it like a real man would," you play with your phone's edge. You look at him, finally. "Why did you keep me hidden?" He shakes his head at that question. "The times you were there, the other women were there too," he confesses and your heart stops. "...oh," your voice is small, so soft and filled with so much woe. 

"I...I guess I should go," You stand up. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you deserved, I hope you find a man who treats you like you are the universe to him, I hope he kisses you in public and I wish you happiness, I'm sorry." He stands up too and walks you to the door. 

A month later, you and him confirmed the rumour. "Formula 1 driver Simon Riley and long-time girlfriend [R/N], have announced their split on a joint social media statement." The article read. Your phone is on silent as you reread the message you put out to the world. "To the fans, it is time we confirm that we are no longer together. We have grown apart and it's time we grow up and move on to new parts of our lives. We will always love each other, together or not but our relationship has run its course. All our gratitude for the six years of acceptance, Simon and [R/N]." Your eyes glistened with sorrow as you shook your head. 

For days, you stayed indoors. Cried, looked through memories, private ones the world never saw. What did he do? He was photographed in clubs, hand on a woman's waist, drunk kisses, alcohol, tight dresses and that new title, "F1's playboy." He kept winning, getting more fame and having his name all over the world. Meanwhile, you walk the streets alone. You were there for when he was accepted in F3 and when he moved to F2, even were the shoulder he leaned on all the years he waited to become an F1 driver.  

His bed was never the same, neither was his flat. It was no longer cosy, no longer comforting after a bad or long day. His bed missed the warmth of it. His lips missed the consistent pecks after he gave you a pouty lip when you denied staying up late on race day. What did he miss the most? You, all of you and that was soon to be shown. That Playboy facade was for show, inside, all he wanted was to stop being seen with so many women. He wanted one and quickly, his team noticed. He stopped showing up at parties, and clubs and stopped talking to all the women who weren't there for official business or if they weren't a fan who asked for an autograph or picture. 

That mask only stayed on for eight months, thirteen days and four hours. He stopped showing off his wealth, dressed in only team attire, comfy clothes, or in suits and ties. His bed was empty most nights, his right cheek was no longer stained with the red lipstick you left at every little accomplishment he made. He fixed his image and unfollowed any woman who wasn't important in his career, except one, you. 

And as he did this, all you saw were the old tabloids. Him all over women. You dated off the light the media gave you, you kept your nights away from sight, fixed and resolved all your problems and then, by some cruel mistake, you saw him. Jogging by your place. For some twisted way, your heartbeat fastened. It brought you back to when you'd time him before the season started. That's where the kiss on the right cheek came from. A towel-dried that side of his face, just so you could kiss it. This happened all through your relationship. And, on some Wednesday, a friend invited you to attend the last race of the season. 

You attended, not just because of the invite but because it was a promise. "When I win most if not all races I want you to go, be waiting for me, look up to the podium because my love, that entire season will be yours," he, one night whispered to you. And there you were, in that garage, wearing a hat, his number on it as you watched the qualification. The cameras awaited to capture you and him kissing, but none of that happened, not even a glance from you to him. 

"Riley takes pole, all eyes on him to see if he breaks yet another record," the commentator said. And as he sat there, he thought of you. The good luck kiss, the pat on his helmet before any race. And holding hands when walking to the paddock. It was a ritual, something he held holy to him. If only he could prove he is the man you now deserve if he could get out of his car, run to you and confess a speech he memorised. The one that said all the truth, the one in which he tells you that just in your first year being together, he had a ring picked out, the same one he kept in every coat for when the time was right. And there was that mistake, one fatal one that cost him his Mrs. Riley. Every single second was the right time, every stare, every kiss, every laugh, the whispers, the running from the cameras, it was always you, it was always the right time when with you. 

Simon Riley, world champion, world record breaker, the man every driver wants to be this year, now claiming every single race of that season as he walked to that podium. And, in a crowd of friends, teammates, fans and cameras, he looked for you. National anthems played and as he was about to lose hope, he saw you there, the spot he told you to stand in for when the day came. You look up, and the cameras pan to you and him. That stare, oh that stare that spoke the romance no other book or poet could explain. His smile widened, gaze softened when he noticed you cried. Proud of the man who made his dreams come true. 

Maybe you weren't there for all the days he drove but that engagement ring, that symbolised you, was there for all of them. You give him a nod and his smile widens.

"I'll do it, I swear one day, I'll be added to the list of legends who came before me and when I do, I need you there, my love," he kissed you. "And when I do, you nod at me, that's how I'll know you are proud of me," he whispered. 

As the night came to an end, the photos, flashes, and signatures, all rushed to come and find you. He needed his right cheek kissed and maybe this time it wouldn't be his lips but to just feel you next to him, that fed him enough. He spotted you and as he ran to you, he stopped in his tracks. 

One month, two days and three hours. That is how late he was to you. His gaze was now filled with tears as he saw you hold another hand. A woman, looking for nothing but sex approached him and he declined. "Why not?" She questioned him. "I have a fiancé," he said coldly and moved away from her. He looked down, at a paper, written by his poetic hand, a small box, made by him with the help of some carpenter, all gripped as he swore he would not give up. Not ever, especially when he knows that in this life, he was meant for one woman. Maybe he did fuck up, maybe he will be forever alone but to know that for one second he held you in his arms, that was enough. 

He nodded and sighed, "Is it over now?" he thought. "No," your heart would've responded for you. As he turns and walks away, you look back and you notice that box. Your heart...oh that tingle that makes you feel alive. Maybe it was all in his head, maybe he wasn't late...maybe. "Simon!" you called out, the crowd too loud for him to hear you. Your friend lets go of your hand. "Simon!" you move through the crowds. "Simon, stop!" You push and run. Adrenaline, maybe not like the one he has after every race but it's still something. He walks away, getting into a car and looking at that piece of paper. 

No one heard of him for months. No one heard of you for months. 

My love, my R/N, I made a mistake. Not cheating but one that is worse, pretending I didn't call you my wife to everyone else. A vow I made in my head, a wedding night I planned one night as we made love. Truth is, no, I didn't cheat. No, I didn't sleep with anyone when I was with you. What happened was, I noticed it. I noticed how you paused your life for mine, how you took care of me, how you made sure I ate healthy, slept enough, and got used to different time zones, all whilst giving your life no attention. I was 17 when we first met, you and I, an accidental 'Hi' one that gave me the privilege of falling in love with the woman who knows me better than anyone else. I've known you for a decade now, loved you for nine of those years, and made you my girlfriend for five of them. I wore that title with pride. By the way, didn't you ever question why everyone called you my wife or Mrs. Riley? Funny how you didn't even ask me about it. I admit, I was only at those clubs looking for you, I didn't drink but pretended to, I kissed their cheeks, made it look like I kissed their lips. In my head, I was married. I am married. Called you my little wife when you patted my helmet to the mechanics, they laughed. I did sleep with other women, I confess to that but I didn't kiss them, didn't care for their pleasure, not when I promised it was your pleasure...just yours that mattered to me. Did you keep my locket? I hope you did, if not...it's fine, we'll find a new one and start fresh. I know you are wondering, why I can't let you talk as I give this speech and I know you are crying, your lips quiver as I confess. It's a reason why I haven't looked up from this piece of paper. I can't see you cry, you know that. I am begging, begging as an imbecile, to have you again. To prove that I never cheated, I lied about doing it but never did. You'd think I'd be crazy to cheat on a crazy girl like you? Baby, that was a joke, although...you are a little crazy but I still love you. I love you...yeah...yeah, I do. I know you are asking, when will this stupid man stop talking and it's now. Well, wait...just let me say this. Marry me, marry me so I don't have to pretend anymore. So...please, be kind to my bastard heart and marry me.

A/N: you know well a Kasper fic isn't a Kasper angst fic if it doesn't end in a 'but are they together? did he die? did she die?' way

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[midnightfantasiez]

[00:50AM] Taste Of You - Lee Sangyeon

SUMMARY: your boyfriend was convinced that he absolutely nailed the performance for the night, and he was also going to make sure that his partner was fully aware of every single detail he had shown on stage and finally indulge in his little reward after the show.

PAIRING: idol!Sangyeon x afab!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: possessive bf Sangyeon hihi 😃, TONS of kissing, hickeys, pretty much a hot yet soft steaming kissing scene in the hotel room and under the sheets 😀, teasing, mentions of oral (reader receiving), mentions of alcohol, Sangyeon is tipsy, dirty talk, Hyunjae makes a little cameo, petnames (baby, babe), a little spoiler on the zeneration 2 concert so beware, proofread once

WORD COUNT: 930

A/N: greetings🧍🏻‍♀️i apologise for being gone for so long irl has just been a total mess 😭 here's a little short one to make up for it; pls bear with me i haven't written in months so this ain't my best work 😭 but thanks to my precious sister wives @daisyvisions @aimeecarreros @snowflakewhispers for encouraging me & convinced me that this idea i had was doable ily 💗

Sangyeon isn’t a possessive guy. Well, at least when he isn’t tipsy or drunk. 

Sure, he is the best boyfriend one could ever ask for—caring, gentle, and the most affectionate golden retriever-like guy stuck in a big muscular man’s body. He was someone you always craved for attention, obviously because you knew he always gave the best cuddles and hugs after an exhausting day. 

It didn’t matter to him if he had the absolute worst or tiring day—he would always make sure that you were his number one priority, and taking care of you was always high up on his to-do list on a daily basis. 

Many people would think that after a show, let alone a 4-hour concert, your idol boyfriend would be exhausted and crash straight to his hotel room to sleep in until the next morning. Instead, he would bring you to the best izakaya in town, having a little romantic late dinner while chatting away until midnight before returning to the hotel room to rest.

But not this time. 

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what made him snap because for one you were certain that he was in this tip-top condition today—he made no mistake on stage, had a solid one-minute solo performance during one of the songs, and hell even hit every single one of his high notes perfectly. 

The moment he was done packing up and saying goodnight to all of the staff and managers, he quickly came to look for you and grabbed your wrist before dragging you away while conversing with one of the members. You’ll have to treat them to a meal as an apology because Hyunjae always ensured he was getting all the attention and would get sulky whenever he got ignored. (You will be blaming Sangyeon for this later on). 

There weren’t many words exchanged before the both of you were back in your hotel room, and your boyfriend immediately slammed the door shut behind you before pining you against it, staring straight into your eyes before moving his vision down to your lips.

Without warning, he instantly closes the distance between you two, kissing you feverishly as if he were tasting your soft sweet lips for the very first time. A smile formed between the kisses as he tasted his absolute favourite mango lip balm he gave you on your birthday. Taking the scent from your lips, he moves them to your neck, earlobe, and eventually your collarbone—his favourite part to suck on. 

Little by little, he began stripping you down and did the same for himself before transferring to the bed and under the sheets, kissing you nonstop and making sure that you too were devouring his scent and tongue as he wrapped his around yours.

He finally breaks the kiss off since you both entered the hotel room and spoke for the first time after meeting him backstage at the concert hall. “Tell me, how did you find the show tonight?” 

“You never fail to impress me every single time,” you panted, trying your best to catch your breath before his lips connected back to yours and pushing them deeper each second. 

“Did you like the new hair, babe?” 

“You know that black hair just brings out the devil within you- It makes me go insane every time you tease me like that-” 

He chuckled. “So my plan succeeded. Next, tell me about my solo performance. Walk it through with me, baby.”

“You’re so-” 

Sangyeon pushes his tongue into your mouth hushing you for a second. “Nuh-uh, not the right answer. Come on, you can do better than that.” 

“I- You’re insanely captivating to the point that I’m jealous that everyone else gets to see it…”

“So you’d rather I just put on a one-man show for you? Is that what I’m hearing, babe?” He now moves his kisses back to your neck, sucking them gently with the intention of leaving hickeys that will appear very visibly in a couple of hours. 

Trying your best to not dive too deep into this particular topic because you know that Sangyeon wasn’t going to let you off the hook easily—hell, he’s going to tease you about it for god knows how long if you gave in to his indulgence. 

The next time he moves his lips back up to meet yours, you quickly place your fingers onto his, stopping him from planting another kiss before you decide to turn the tables against him for a second. “Your breath stinks of whiskey.” 

It took him off guard for a second as his eyes widened with your response, but you should’ve known that your boyfriend isn’t gullible and he’s quick to catch on, and within seconds he intertwined his fingers with yours, pushing them away before going in to seal his lips again with yours.

“Not like you haven’t tasted it before anyway. Besides, you’re going to taste so much better with that hint of alcohol on you,” he smacked his lips, and he quickly gave you a little peck before he finally decided to travel down in between your thighs. 

“W-What are you doing, babe?” 

Lifting his head up for one final look, a smirk was plastered across his face, and he gave you a silent warning—whispering softly about what he was going to do next.

One that you knew that you were going to be doomed as hell. 

“Your little pussy is going to taste heavenly with the hint of whiskey on them, and I’ll make sure that you’re going to moan as loud as you can for me tonight.”

A/N: btw i am unwell after what he did during the concert....iykyk (which is also why i got inspired to write this the brainrot is horrible 😔)

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taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @flwoie @mamuljji @synthwxve @j4edo @serinebsblog @daisyvisions @aimeecarreros @snowflakewhispers (join my perm taglist here!)

[burntb4bydoll]

hcs for tokio hotel when they’re jealous? i know george would be clenching his jaw SO hard and gus would have such a hard ass side eye

UGH I LOVE JEALOUS BOYS. SO HOT.

Tokio Hotel when they are jealous headcanons

Bill Kaulitz

•SO MANY DIRTY LOOKS OMFG

•hes literally looks like this 🤨

•obviously not at you, but at whoever hes jealous of.

•he sees someone else ‘stealing’ (in his words) your attention away for him and he immediately comes up behind you and hugs you from the back

•pda is not usually his thing, so yk somethings up. You can practically feel his jealously radiating off of him

•if you continue the conversation with the other person, he’ll get impatient and start to leave wet kisses down your neck. And hes making eye contact with the person while doing it

•loves getting you worked up by whispering in your ear

• “babyyyy~ lets go home so I can play with you, hm?”

• “ive been thinking about getting you alone all night…why dont we ditch this asshole and go back to my house?”

Tom Kaulitz

•if anyone’s getting jealous its definitely him

•You’re his. He doesn’t want anyone else to have you.

•definitely takes a more passive aggressive approach

•he wraps his arm around your waist and grabs you by your chin to kiss you right in front of the other person

•then he’ll just casually look at them after and go “oh hey. I didnt notice you here, my bad.” AND HES SMIRKING WHILE SAYING IT. HES SUCH A LITTLE SHIT

•he’ll ask them such ridiculous questions

• “arent they so pretty? Im lucky, I get to date this angel.”

• “wouldn’t you like to take them out on a date? They’re a real sweetheart, very nice to go out with.”

•LIKE SIR?? WE GET IT. THEY CANT HAVE YOUR S/O. CALM DOWN.

•will randomly stop talking to make out with you?? The other person ends up walking away because they were just sitting there watching Tom shove his tongue down your throat💀

Georg Listing

•silent type of jealous

•he’ll just watch the situation unfold. UNLESS they start getting a little too bold, then he’ll step in

•his jaw is basically locked shut. Hes sucking his cheeks in with frustration every time he sees you smile or laugh at whatever the person said

•eventually he gets sick of watching and hell walk over to where you guys were standing. He wraps his arm around your neck lightly and pulls you to rest your head under his chin

•then he turns the attention away from you and starts a conversation with the person instead

• “hey, who are you again? I don’t think I recognize you. Oh me? Yeah, Im their boyfriend.”

•he wont let anyone flirt with his s/o, especially when its right in front of him🙄

Gustav Schäfer

•LORD HES SO PETTY ABOUT IT

•literally giving them the biggest stink eye anyones ever seen

•if looks could kill, they would be long gone

•he stands next to you with his arms crossed, occasionally scoffing at whatever the person’s talking about

•he’ll chime in every one in a while to correct them on something just to make them look stupid. Again, hes petty😭

•LOL HE WOULD FAKE LAUGH AT WHATEVER JOKE THEY MAKE BUT ITS ONE OF THOSE OBNOXIOUSLY FAKE LAUGHS

•after a while the person is still not getting the hint that you’re taken, so he’ll put his hand on your ass and lead you away from them before you could finish talking

[winchesterwild78]

A Little Bit Stronger 

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Language, body image issues, Dean being a dick, John being a dick, angst, light smut, assault

A/N: I was stuck in traffic on my way home today and my playlist started playing the song “A Little Bit Stronger” by Sara Evans, and it got me thinking about a story where the reader had dated Dean for years, they broke up and she’s dealing with the loss of their relationship. She’s learning how to move on, and she’s slowly getting better. Then out of nowhere, the green eyed hunter pops back into her life. Mention of Supernatural characters, but doesn’t follow the timeline. 

I’m not sure how long this will be. Maybe a chapter or two, or maybe one really long chapter. 

All work is my own, I don’t give permission for it to be taken or posted anywhere else. Feel free to reblog. 

Minors DNI 18+

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

You pulled the blanket over your head when your alarm went off. Turning over after turning it off. Not feeling like getting up or going to work. Let’s be honest, you didn’t feel like doing much of anything lately. 

Knowing you were going to be late you slowly climbed out of bed. 

Getting out of bed used to be so much easier when you had something, well someone to look forward to. 

You met Dean Winchester and his younger brother Sam about 10 years ago. They were on a hunt, the same one you were on too. 

Of course you’d heard all about the Winchester Brothers. The ones Hell itself couldn’t hold. They were feared and respected in the hunter community. 

You remember the night you met them, like it was yesterday. That was the night you fell in love with Dean. You were pretty sure he had fallen in love too, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

You were working on clearing a vampire nest, when these two giants came in and tried to take over. 

You and Dean lunged at each other, both thinking the other was a vampire. Dean’s machete swiped against your collarbone, causing a gash to appear, and you to pass out. 

“Dean, she’s not a vamp. Stop! You’re going to kill her!” You remember Sam yelling before you passed out. 

Before Dean got that slice in, you were holding your own against him. 

You woke up a few hours later to the soft whispers of the brothers, and the hum of an air conditioner. 

When you went to sit up, you realized you didn’t have a shirt on. Just your bra. Grabbing the blanket and holding it up, you looked at the brothers. “What happened, where am I, and who the hell are you?” 

Sam offered a soft smile, Dean sat with a tight jaw. “I’m Sam and that’s my brother Dean. You’re at our hotel. We brought you here to patch you up. When you and Dean were fighting, his machete cut you pretty bad. You passed out from blood loss, so we brought you here.” 

Your eyes blinked a few times before talking, “You’re Sam and Dean Winchester?!” The boys exchanged a quick glance. Sam questioned, “So you’ve heard of us. Which means you’re either a monster, demon or hunter.” 

“I’m Y/N, a Hunter. My parents were hunters and used to hunt with Bobby and Rufus. I grew up in this life, like you guys did.” 

“Well, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. I have to ask though, why are you hunting alone?” 

“Oh, my parents retired so to speak and are living a quiet life together, my brother is married, with kids and a “normal” life. My boyfriend and I just broke up.” 

You noticed the older Winchester kept his distance and his eyes locked on you. When you mentioned a boyfriend his jaw tensed more. Normally when someone is staring you down it makes you uncomfortable, but with him it made your heart race and your cheeks flush. 

You’d occasionally make eye contact with him and you were completely mesmerized by his piercing green eyes. He would shift in his chair anytime you looked at him or bit your lip. 

“Well thank you guys for patching me up. I need to get going though. Where’s my shirt?” That’s when you realized your pants were gone too. “And where are my pants?!” Panic filled your body. 

Did they take advantage of you? Sam and Dean saw your panic. That’s when the eldest Winchester spoke. His voice was gruff and sent a shiver through you. 

“Hey, calm down sweetheart, your shirt was ripped and covered in blood, your pants were too. We didn’t think you’d want to sleep in clothes covered in blood.” 

Embarrassment rushed through you. “Yeah you’re right, sorry. I’ve just met my fair share of bad people. I didn’t mean to accuse either of you of anything.”

Dean stood and stepped closer to you, “it’s okay. Just know we would never hurt you.” 

You were lost in each other’s eyes when Sam broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Guys I’m gonna grab some food. I’ll be back soon. Y/N, you like burgers?” “Yes, that sounds great. Thank you.” You softly smiled. 

Sam left, closing the door behind him. Leaving you and Dean in the room together. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes. Then you broke the silence, “Um, Dean. I really need some clothes. I can’t just walk around in my bra and panties. I don’t want to traumatize you or Sam.” You chuckled softly, but you meant it. 

Sam and Dean were good looking and you’d heard about “Dean’s type”. You were far from it. Where he liked thin, flat stomach, busty women, you had a stomach, extra weight in places, you were thicker than most, and your breasts were slightly different sizes. 

Dean looked at you, tilted your chin slightly and whispered “You could never traumatize me.” Red filled your cheeks and you bit your lip. 

Was Dean Winchester really flirting with you? Most definitely not. Maybe he just sees you as an easy screw, cause you’d give in to him in a heartbeat, but you’d never been a love them and leave them person. 

You pulled the sheet up more and tried to look away. Dean kept his hand on your chin, “I’m so sorry I hurt you sweetheart. I would have never hurt you if I knew you weren’t a monster.” 

Feeing brave you stood up, sheet still around you, you touched his cheek, “I know Dean. It was an accident. I do still need some clothes though. Maybe a shower too.” 

Before your brain could process what was happening, Dean leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “So beautiful” he whispered. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower. You can borrow some of my clothes.” 

Your mind was racing. Dean Winchester just kissed you. What the hell was going on?! 

Your heart was pounding in your chest and ears as Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the bathroom. 

“Dean I can do this myself, I’m not that injured.” You tried to protest. “I know, but where’s the fun in that.” He winked at you. 

Holy shit! Dean is flirting with me and that kiss oh my god. I never thought a single kiss could make me instantly wet. 

You smirked at Dean, “What’s your plan Mr Winchester?” “Whatever you want Ms Y/L/N. I know what I want, but it’s up to you.” 

“Dean I don’t know what to say. I’m not like the women you’re usually with. I can’t do one night stands.” 

Dean stepped closer to you and pulled the sheet away, your breath quickened. He leaned down and crashed his lips to yours. Pulling your body flush to his. Your hands went behind his neck and into his hair. Moaning in his mouth you felt your body responding to his touch. 

When his lips pulled back he said “Then don’t.” 

That night Dean and you had sex in the shower, on the bed and the couch. You stayed with the boys after that. Your relationship with Dean deepened. 

About three years ago you and Dean were talking about how your parents were able to get out of the life and live normally. You explained to Dean it was a hard process and one that took a lot of work on their part. They eventually made it. 

Laying in Dean’s arms was your favorite place to be. Your head was on his chest and he mindlessly ran his fingers up and down your arm. 

“I love you baby. So much. Marry me?” You gasped softly and leaned up, “Dean, do you mean it?” “Yes, sweetheart. I want to marry you and have children with you. If your parents could do it, I’m sure we can too.” 

Tears streamed down your face, “Yes, Dean. I’ll marry you.” Dean pulled you into a kiss. When you leaned back he slipped a small diamond on your finger. “It’s beautiful, baby.” 

He kissed you again. The past few years with Dean had been amazing. You both learned to navigate your love while you hunted side by side. Sam had found someone too, Eileen. She was his perfect match. The four of you were great together. 

There was however one obstacle in your life, John Winchester. You’d met John a few times over the years, and each time the tension was palatable. You tried your best to charm him and get him to approve of your relationship, but he refused. He said you were nothing but a distraction and a way for Dean to pass the time after a hunt. The words hurt, but nothing could prepare you for what was to come. 

The morning after Dean proposed, he called Sam and told him he finally did it. Sam and Eileen were over the moon. Then came the phone call that scared you the most. Dean had to call his father. 

Dean sat beside you on the couch and called John. “Hello, Dean.” John’s gruff voice boomed through the line. “Hey dad, I need to tell you something.” “Dean if you’re about to tell me you fucked up and got Y/N pregnant I’ll beat your ass.” Dean’s eyes went wide, “What?! No, dad, she’s not pregnant.” You scoffed when you heard that. “Well, then what is it son?” “Dad, I asked her to marry me. She said yes. We’re getting married.” 

There was silence on Dean’s end of the phone. The only sound was your heart pounding in your ears. 

You reached for Dean’s hand and he pulled away, getting up. He started pacing the room, his jaw tight with anger and frustration. You knew John was saying something to him, because he was nodding and would occasionally let out a “Yes, sir.” 

It seemed like hours before Dean hung up. When he hung up he looked tense. “Dean, what did he say?” “Don’t worry about it.” He snapped. You flinched at his tone. Dean had never spoken to you like that before.

You looked down at your lap and fidgeted with your hands, “Okay, Dean.” He stormed outside and slammed the front door behind him, making you jump. You were determined to find out what happened, and if Dean wouldn’t talk to you, then you’d go straight to the source. 

Taking out your phone you dialed John’s number. A few rings later John answered, “What do you want, Y/N?” “Well hello to you too, John. I wanted to know what you said to Dean. He was mad and left.” “Good, he came to his senses. Look, you’re a nice girl, but you’re not right for Dean. He doesn’t really love you. The only woman he’s ever loved was Lisa. She’s a better match for him than you could ever be.” 

Your breath caught in your throat, he’d never mentioned Lisa. “John, why are you so cruel? Dean loves me and we are getting married, whether you like it or not.” John laughed and you growled in frustration. “Keep thinking that, sweetheart. I need to go. Have a nice life, Y/N.”

He hung up and you were fuming. 

You tried to call Dean but he didn’t answer. As the night wore on you slipped further into despair. Did Dean leave me? Was John telling the truth about Lisa, and does Dean really still love her? Why won’t he come home? 

You softly cried until the tears wouldn’t fall. You curled up on the couch and fell asleep. Around daybreak you heard Dean stumble in. You sat up looking at Dean. He was drunk, and you noticed the faint smell of perfume and you saw a hickey on his neck.

“Dean, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” “Aww don’t be like that sweetheart, I was just having some fun. It’s been too long since I had any fun.” Your heart clenched at his words. “Dean, I don’t understand. What’s going on with you? You left without saying a word, came home drunk, smelling like another woman and you have a hickey. I thought you loved me, wanted to marry me.” 

“Well you thought wrong. I was wrong. This (he motioned between the two of you) was fun while it lasted, but I think it’s time to move on.” You sat stunned, speechless. “Dean, you don’t mean that. You’re drunk and not thinking clearly.” “No sweetheart, that’s where you’re wrong again, I’m thinking very clear. You were right all those years ago, you aren’t my type. I mean maybe if you lost a little weight and actually tried to be pretty.”

You let out a gasp, and before you knew it you slapped him across the face. Your heart broke. “Dean, why are you doing this? What the hell happened?” “I’m finally thinking clearly, my dad reminded me that I’m truly in love with Lisa and she’s the mother of my child, Ben. I owe it to them to make it work.” 

“Dean, please don’t do this. How can you just walk away from us?” “Easy, I’m packing and moving in with Lisa and my son. I spent last night with her and it felt good to be back in her arms.” You felt sick to your stomach. 

Dean walked into your shared room and grabbed his duffel bag and started packing. You sat on your bed and watched him pack, silent tears falling. With each item he packed your heart broke more. As Dean put the last thing in his bag he glanced over at you. With a tremble in your voice you tried one last time, “Dean please don’t walk away from us. I love you, and I know you love me. Please don’t do this. We can figure this out.”

Dean just looked at you and grabbed his bag. You followed him to the door, “Dean, before you go, here.” You slid the ring off your finger and handed it to him. His eyes filled with sadness as more tears fell from yours. “I’ll always love you, Dean.”

He turned and walked out the door. You collapsed on the floor.

It was 3 years ago today that Dean Winchester broke your heart. You’re slowly getting better, but days like today, anniversary days are hard. You moved in with your parents temporarily, got a pretty good job working at the office your brother worked at, and now you had your own place. 

As you opened your closet to get dressed for work you glanced over and saw the t-shirt Dean loaned you the first night you met. Your fingers lightly brushed over the fabric and the happier memories came flooding back. 

You’d kept in touch with Sam and Eileen. They had since gotten married and had a little boy. They left hunting and Sam went back to law school, becoming a lawyer. You’d occasionally ask about Dean, and Sam would tell you he was okay. You also found out that John had died in a car accident about a year ago. You knew Dean would have been devastated. 

You got to work about 10 minutes late. Sitting at your desk your mind wandered to the thought of Dean. You missed him so much, but with each passing day you got a little bit stronger. You knew you’d never fully get over him. He was the love of your life and you were supposed to marry him and have his children. Now he’s in the arms of another woman. 

Your friend from work, Libby invited you to the bar with her and a few other colleagues. It was Friday and it had been a long week. At first you weren’t going to go, but decided to drink until you forgot him. You went home after work, changed and caught an Uber to the bar. 

You decided to wear your jeans, low heel boots and a nice top that revealed just enough. You put your hair up in a messy bun and applied some light makeup. Stepping out of the Uber you saw Libby at the door. “Hey, Y/N! So glad you could make it.” She pulled you into a hug. 

You and the rest of the people in your group settled at a table at the back of the bar. Drinks flowed and you were starting to get tipsy. One of your male colleagues, Ryan, came out too. He’d flirted a few times with you, but you never gave in. You, Libby and a few other girls got up and started dancing. Libby leaned into you and said “Don’t look now, but Ryan is watching you.” You glanced over and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You smiled at him. “Yeah, I don’t know.” “Come on girl, it’s been 3 years. You can move on.” You hadn’t thought about Dean all night, now he’s all you could think about. 

“I’m, um, gonna get some air.” Libby nodded sadly. She knew how much you had loved Dean and how much it broke your heart. You grabbed your jacket and walked outside. Taking out your phone you scrolled through the pictures of you and Dean. You sighed sadly, “I miss you so much Dean. I miss how happy we were, how in love we were. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you.” 

Tears started to flow freely. 

You stood outside a few minutes longer looking at the pictures of a happier time. The sound of a voice pulled your attention up. “Hey ya sweetheart.” That voice, you knew that voice. You looked up and saw Dean standing in front of you. He looked good. You were speechless. 

“How are you? You look good, sweetheart.” “Dean…I…” Your words stuck in your throat. He stepped closer to you, and his thumb brushed your cheek. “Still as beautiful as ever.” 

Fury filled your body after what he said, “Dean, what are you doing here?” You stepped away from him. “I was here at the bar tonight with some work buddies and I saw you. I needed to talk to you. It’s been too long.” 

You scoffed, “It’s been too long?! Dean, you’re the one who walked away, not me. You threw our relationship away. You proposed and then the next day you slept with another woman and left me for her. Oh and let’s not forget I found out you had a kid I didn’t know about. I heard you were engaged again, Congratulations. I hope you and Lisa have a wonderful life together.”

You started to walk away, but Dean grabbed your arm, “Baby, please.” You tried to free yourself from his grip, “Don’t baby me. You lost that privilege when you chose another woman over me. It’s taken me 3 years to finally get to where I am. I don’t cry myself to sleep every night, and I don’t question my worth as much anymore. I was doing all of that because of YOU! I gave you everything, EVERYTHING! I loved you. I wanted to marry you and have your children. Goodbye, Dean.”

As you started to walk away you glanced at him one last time, “Just so you know Dean, I still love you. I wish I didn’t, but I will always love you.” You walked away, heading towards the bar so you could get your Uber. You needed to get away from Dean. Just being near him made your heart clench with pain and love. 

Dean stood frozen, he had been keeping a secret from you he desperately needed you to hear, but would you listen? Would you really care? 

Just as you reached the door, Dean grabbed your arm, “Y/N, please I need to tell you something.” You turned and looked into his green eyes, you saw pain, sadness and love. “Y/N, I love you sweetheart, I was a fool to push you away. I want to come home to you. Please baby.” You’d waited 3 years to hear him say that, but your heart was scared. You wanted him to profess his love to you, but was he being genuine? You were afraid what would happen if he wasn’t, you couldn’t bear to get over him again. 

“Dean, it’s too late. You’re in love with Lisa, she’s your fiance and had your son. I can’t and I won’t compete with that.” He stepped closer to you, “Sweetheart, she’s not my fiance, we broke up, and Ben isn’t mine. She said he was, but he isn’t. I ended things with her because I realized I wasn’t in love with her. There’s been only one woman in my life that I truly loved, well love. Because I still do. I love you.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say. You said some really horrible things to me.” “I know, but I knew if I didn’t you wouldn’t let me go. I’m so sorry. I‘ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix this, fix us.” “Then why did you do it, Dean?” 

“When I talked to my dad that day he played into my fears, my fears of losing you, of our children having to grow up without you or me. He also told me it was safer with Lisa and that Ben was mine. I’m sorry sweetheart, I believed him. My life has been miserable the past three years. There hasn’t been a single second where I didn’t think of you.”

You scoffed, “Then why did it take you three years?! If you were that miserable, why did you warm her bed for three years, while mine was cold? Dean, I can’t do this. Please just let me go.” You turned as the tears started to fall. 

Making your way to the front of the bar, you called an Uber and waited out front for it. Standing outside waiting, Ryan came out of the bar to talk to you. “Hey, Y/N, leaving so soon?” “Yeah, I’m just tired and need to go home.” Ryan touched your arm, “Hmm that’s a shame. I was hoping to have gotten at least one dance with you.” You smiled softly as a blush filled your cheeks.

Ryan was a good looking man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t fantasized about him. Maybe it was the raw emotions you were feeling, or the bravery brought on by the alcohol, but you leaned into Ryan and placed a kiss on his lips. He pulled you closer to his body and his hands went in your hair, deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth. 

As the Uber pulled up you and Ryan climbed in. Not able to keep your hands off each other. Once in the car, Ryan started kissing your neck. You leaned your head back and as you looked out the window you saw Dean standing on the sidewalk with a look of shock and sadness on his face.

A few minutes later you and Ryan were walking into your apartment. The two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Clothes began to fly and hands roamed. You moaned into his mouth as his body hovered over yours. You hadn’t had sex with anyone since Dean. 

Trying to push Dean out of your mind you decided sex with Ryan would help. As things heated up between you and Ryan, you grabbed a condom from the side table. Ryan slid it on and pushed in. You gasped at the feeling. He definitely didn’t give you time to be ready or adjust like Dean did. Ryan was rushing, you tried desperately to chase your release, but it felt like Ryan was only concerned with him. Stop! Stop comparing him to Dean! He’s not Dean, he will never be Dean.

Tears began to fall. You were about to tell Ryan to stop, but his lips crashed on yours in a forceful kiss. He wasn’t gentle at all. His thrusts were hard and angry. You weren’t enjoying yourself. Trying to slip your hand between the two of you, so you could get off, proved to be the wrong move. Ryan became angry, “What the fuck are you doing?!” “I’m trying to get off too.” “No! You don’t get to touch yourself. I’ll get you off.” “Well, you’re not going to fucking me like you are.” Ryan slapped you across your face. 

You screamed in pain and tried to push him off of you. “Get the fuck off of me!” “No! You don’t get to start this then tell me to stop.” “The fuck I can’t! Get the fuck off NOW!” Just as you were about to knee him, you felt Ryan being pulled away. 

When you looked up you saw Dean, he pulled Ryan off of you and punched him over and over. “She said get off of her! Don’t you ever fucking touch her again or I’ll kill you! Now get the fuck out!” Dean growled. 

You’d grabbed the sheet and pulled it around you. Ryan grabbed his stuff and left calling you a whore under his breath. As soon as he was gone Dean was at your side, “Are you okay, sweetheart? Did he hurt you?” The tears started to flow freely as Dean pulled you into his arms. His sweet, protective arms. You buried your face in his chest and cried as he held you. “I’m sorry Dean. I left with him to make you jealous. This is all my fault.” 

“No baby, this isn’t your fault. You’re okay now, he’s gone.” “And you’re here. Protecting me like always.” “I’ll always protect you, sweetheart. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.” 

Dean helped you up and you went to the bathroom to clean up and check your face. There would be a bruise, but things could have been so much worse. You got cleaned up and dressed, when you walked back into your bedroom, you saw Dean laying on your bed with his boxers on and nothing else. “Come on sweetheart, get some sleep. I’ve got you.” He offered his arm and you curled up next to him. You laid on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as you drifted off to sleep.

When Dean was sure you were asleep, he placed a soft kiss on your head, “I love you, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” 

Part 2…..coming soon

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[yxtubers]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

matt sturniolo x reader (fluff)

summary: everybody knows that they like each other, so matt decides to finally do something about it

warnings/notes: kissing? one use of Y/N, pining (sort of), happy ending

requested?: yes! number 19 “c’mere…” and number 29 “them being in denial but everyone else knows they are in love” from my dialogue and actions prompt list

also requested by others ↴

- matt and the reader being really good friends who clearly have feelings for each other and are always flirty towards each other, and after he goes on tour he realizes how much he needs her and just kisses her once hes back

- friends to lovers with Matt where they share secret kisses and affection and when his brothers ask whats going on he just realizes he needs to confess to her? :)

> > >

It’s always been painfully obvious how much you and Matt liked each other. Chris and Nick knew it, Madi and Nate knew it - hell, even the viewers could tell there was something more to your friendship than meets the eye.

The more you two hung out, the more the tension grew. It got to the point where Nick and Chris had began avoiding being alone with you two - unless the other was there to prevent them from being a third wheel. All of this was so evident to everybody. Everybody except, of course, you and Matt.

The triplets were on tour for the past few weeks.

Matt had been face-timing you pretty much any time he could - he would tell you about his day, you’d tell him about yours and remind him just how much you missed him, to which he would reply “I miss you too. I’ll be back soon”.

Almost every single call ended with an “I love you”.

Chris and Nick would just look at each other and shake their heads. Your obliviousness was cute, but becoming increasingly annoying to both of them.

How could you guys not realize that you liked each other?

Matt hung up another call from you, setting it down with a giddy smile on his face. He made eye contact with his brothers, only to blush immediately upon seeing their faces. They knew. Of course they did - everybody did.

“What?” he asked.

Chris just raised his eyebrow at him as if to say ‘seriously?’

“You both are so stupid,” said Nick before turning around and entering the hotel bathroom to shower.

This only made Matt’s face grow hotter as he looked at his younger brother for an explanation. Chris only shook his head as he looked at the ceiling for a moment.

He came up and patted Matt on the shoulder, giving him a pitiful look. “You gotta tell her, dude.”

And in that moment, Matt knew he was right.

It felt like everything in him just clicked. Like all the hidden, longing glances he’d send your way, and the small kisses of adoration he’d place on your forehead - finally made sense. He wondered how he held off for this long. Maybe he enjoyed having you to himself, keeping your secret and private conversations about the future close to his heart. They felt special - you were special to him.

But it was high time that he told you that instead of keeping it behind closed doors where only your tired, sleepy ears would hear. Where you would forget his declaration of love come morning. He needed you tell you, to make you hear it, to make you remember.

Matt fell asleep with a jumble of anxiety and excitement - or maybe they were the same thing.

That night, he dreamt of you.

- - -

He remembered it so vividly. It was practically engraved in his head forever.

You were sitting on the docks, staring out onto the water. Your skin glowed beautifully in the sun, your eyes sparkling with the reflection of the water. Something about the afternoon sun complemented you so perfectly.

He recalled wanting to stare at you forever.

“What’s going on up there?” your gentle voice called.

He appeared beside you then, sitting right by you, his shoulder brushing yours. Everything in your body was yelling at you to scoot closer, to press your arm against his. And so you did.

Matt could sometimes still feel your fingertips brushing his hair out of his eyes, even to this day. He could never get enough of how soft you were around him - how much fragility you treated him with. It was almost as if he was special; and to you, he was.

“Just thinking…” he replied, his words trailing off as he looked down at your hands. Your hands which were dangerously close to his.

His finger twitched needily, their desire to entwine with yours becoming unbearable.

“About?”

Your smile was infectious, and he could’ve help but join in soon after.

He shrugged. “Nothing in particular,” he responded.

Yet you both knew. You knew there was something in the air that day - something electric; intoxicating. He wanted to be closer to you, not that it was possible. Your elbows were glued together, and your eyes never left each other’s for even one second. Somehow, he still wanted more. He wanted you to be his, and him yours.

But he never got the chance to say it then.

- - -

Yawning, you checked the time on your phone. 11AM. Usually you would call Matt in the mornings. He would tell you how cute you looked all sleepy and grumpy, and you’d tell him to shut up before brushing your teeth together on face-time.

Today though, he didn’t answer.

You tried to suppress your disappointment as you brushed your teeth alone, the sound of the water being the only thing to keep your mind occupied.

Matt was always a constant in your life. No matter the time or day, he was there with open arms, beckoning you to him. There was never a moment where you were alone - both figuratively and literally.

He was your home. Only yours.

Some days you would use your spare key to get into the triplet’s apartment just so you could sleep in Matt’s bed, enveloped in his scent.

It’s not like it was the first time you’ve slept there. You and him shared a bed many times.

Today was one of those days. Walking out of Matt’s bathroom, your teeth feeling fresh, you began to make your way to his room.

You smiled as you were reminded of a vivid memory with him.

- - -

It was a week before he was set to go on tour. You were sitting at the edge of his bed, waiting for him to show you the new clothes he bought.

Kicking your legs back and forth, you playfully groaned at him to hurry up. His laugh reverberated throughout your chest, traveling from the bathroom straight into your soul, your heart clenching at the sound.

You could listen to it forever.

“Alright, alright. Whatd’ya think?” he said as he emerged from behind the closed door.

Your eyes dropped to his arms and chest, admiring his new sweater. The clothing hugged his body perfectly, engulfing him in what looked to be a really comfortable fabric.

Admiring how well the color matched his eyes, you almost didn’t notice his hand waving in your face.

“Hello? Anybody home?” he joked.

Eyes meeting his once again, you smiled. Somewhere in between there though, your gaze managed to fall on his lips for a split moment - a split moment that he did not miss.

Matt swallowed harshly, suddenly feeling self-conscious under your stare. To you, he looked like the most handsome thing in the world. The way his hair fell in front of his eyes, obscuring his view - the way his fingers twiddled with the sleeve of his new jumper - everything. It made him look all the more beautiful to you.

“You look pretty,” you said, eyes never leaving his.

He blushed before mumbling a quick thank you - making sure to add in the fact that he wasn’t pretty; he was a boy.

But in your eyes, he was the prettiest.

- - -

Your trip down memory lane was interrupted by the sound of keys jingling. The boys weren’t supposed to be home for another 2 days.

The thought made you worry. Had something happened? Was there an emergency? All of a sudden all you could think of was Matt. Had he gotten hurt?

Rushing down the hallway, you were met with a pair of frightened blue eyes. He hadn’t expected you to be here. He wanted to mentally prepare before he came to see you - but apparently he had no choice. This was happening now.

Your heart stopped in it’s tracks, breath hitching at the sight of him. He was absolutely breathtaking.

“Matt?” you breathed out.

Seeing him in the flesh made your head feel fuzzy. You hadn’t seen him in weeks - to be honest, it felt more like forever. You almost forgot how nervous he made you, how your legs turned to jelly around him - how your stomach erupted in butterflies every time he gave you that signature smirk.

You knew you missed him, but it surprised you just how much.

Noticing that his cheeks were dusted a rosy pink, you presumed it was from the heat - or perhaps from the tension in the room.

Matt dropped his bags onto the floor, his keys clashing down straight after. Footsteps advancing towards you, he began to make his way to you, a newfound confidence coursing through his veins.

Before you had a chance to speak, his hands were on either side of your face, pulling you in. It felt like he was a magnet, and you were a piece of metal being drawn to him.

Lips meeting in a flurry of desperation, you sighed in relief.

It’s as if him kissing you made you realize that he was real; and that he came home to you.

You ignored the scratch of his stubble as your hands flew to the back of his neck, the other one burying itself in his brown curls. This was better than you could’ve ever imagined.

Matt pulled away first, his breathing uneven and quick. His hands remained on your cheeks, thumb rubbing across your jaw momentarily.

Your eyes were still closed, relishing in the excitement of the moment.

Once you opened them, you were met with a dopey smile and an adorably blushed face.

“That was-“ you said, taking a breath.

“Yeah,” Matt finished, resting his forehead onto yours. His breathing was still rapid, but it was calming down, as well as his racing heart.

Your hands gently tugged his palms away from your face, holding them in yours instead. His wish came true as he finally laced your fingers with his. He felt like he could explode right about now.

Matt lifted his head so that he could look at you.

“Where did that come from?” you said as you giggled.

Matt simply smiled at you. “It was a long time coming. I should’ve done it sooner.”

It felt like you two stood there for hours, just longingly gazing at each other. Matt bit his lip in thought, his eyebrows creasing.

“Y/N?” he said.

You hummed in response, your eyes drooping at how content you felt.

“I love you.”

He had said it before, of course - but this time, you knew what he really meant. All the emotions he had been bottling up came flowing out with every syllable that left his mouth. You could see it in the way his brows were knitted together, in the way his hands squeezed yours, rubbing circles into your skin shamelessly.

“I know,” you said. “I love you too.”

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck before pulling him in. This was all you had wanted for the past two weeks. Just him.

“C’mere,” you said, hugging him tightly.

His arms found refuge around your waist, tugging you unimaginably closer. He breathed in your scent, finally feeling at home. God, he was hopeless.

Fingers wrapping around your waist and hips, he practically squeezed the life out of you as he held you to him. He never wanted to let go, and he was starting to think that maybe he wouldn’t.

“I missed you,” he mumbled against the crook of your neck. His voice was muffled, but you could still make it out.

“I missed you too.”

At last, he got what he wanted. He was yours, and you were his.

- - -

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@lollibumblebee

@dwntwn-strnlo

@gracietaylorsversions

@20nugs

@thetriplets3

@sunshinewwx

@gwenlore

@gabbylovesreading

@ssturniolo

@opheliaofficial07

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 1

Chapter Links: Chapter 1 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–-- A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Arriving in Hell had been a difficult adjustment, but you figured that was likely by design and not some personal failing on your part.  You'd stumbled out of the gates of Hell right into the aftermath of what you now know was an extermination; alone and terrified amidst the burning rubble and mutilated corpses that littered the ground.  

You were lucky in a sense, even though it didn't feel like it at the time.  Everyone is usually pretty busy in the days immediately following an invasion from Heaven, too occupied looting bodies for valuables and deleting the newly deceased from their phone's contact list to give much attention to a new arrival.  The Gates of Hell were usually swarmed by traffickers looking for new merchandise and mid-level thugs looking to make an easy deal for a soul or two, so you were able to slip through the cracks and wander the outskirts of Pentagram city largely unnoticed while most of the sinners were either still in hiding or sleeping off their celebratory hangovers.  

Initially, you stuck out like a sore thumb, clad in the baggy dress that you'd been buried in; a garment that had likely been looted from your Grandmother's closet based on the large shoulder pads and unflattering mauve color.  You figured that your family had deemed all the dresses you actually owned and liked as too inappropriate for funeral garb, which aligned with how they usually regarded your fashion choices.  The fabric was uncomfortable, starched stiff and itchy against your skin, so you didn't feel any guilt about using your newly discovered claws to shred a slit into the back of the skirt to make room for your long and incredibly poofy tail.

Upon further examination in the cracked glass of an abandoned store front, you discovered that you also now possessed a set of rounded black ears atop your head and large, dark smudges around your eyes that made it look like you'd slept with mascara on for a week straight.  

The powers that be had, apparently, found it suitable for you to spend the rest of eternity living as a raccoon.  

And while you greatly preferred your animal form to many of the other, more intimidating body shapes prowling the streets of Pentagram City, looking what most people would consider adorable wasn't necessarily a desired trait in Hell.  Wide-eyed prey animals were quick to disappear, materializing weeks later on posters outside of strip clubs and porn theaters.  

You'd darted from the predatory glances of other sinners, spending your first nights in Hell sleeping curled up behind back alley dumpsters; tearing through the freshest smelling trash bags for scraps of food with a voracity that surely made your Raccoon forefathers shed tears of pride.  

Repeatedly choosing to wander down the least sinister looking streets had inevitably led you to the heart of Cannibal Town, an antiquated borough that looked like it had been lifted straight out of the background of a classic movie.  Naively, you had assumed that the more polished appearance of buildings and fixtures meant that the area was safer than the dilapidated city center you had wandered in from.  That notion had been quickly dispelled when you stumbled across a group of middle aged women sitting on a park bench, merrily chatting as they took turns ripping hunks of flesh from an obviously human leg with their sharpened teeth.  

Thankfully, the abundance of readily available, post Extermination sinner flesh kept the cannibals well satiated and dissuaded them from making you the victim du jour.  That, and the fact that more than one cannibal had gleefully admitted to you that they found raccoon meat too gamey for their liking. 

You'd managed to secure a job fairly easily, with numerous businesses looking to fill vacancies from recent employee murders.  In the end, you'd settled on working at a small butcher shop a couple blocks away from the main promenade.  You'd been unwillingly charmed by the store's on the nose name, ‘Time to Kill’, and the fact that it supplemented your meager paycheck by providing you with a small room above the storefront to live in.  

Hal, the owner of the store, was a heavy-set man with a bushy mustache that wouldn't look out of place attached to a broom handle.  He'd been admittedly skeptical about your potential as a butcher when they had to tuck a bucket into the back room for you to throw up in after the first half-dozen times you'd hurled when breaking down your first carcass.  

But you'd slowly grow accustomed to the grizzly task, focusing on the fact that you were cutting up meat and ignoring that it was likely human in origin.  Hal was pleased by your hard-working nature, but mostly he was thrilled by the fact that you didn't help yourself to a five-finger discount like the rest of his employees did.  

“Seriously,” Hal had said, his mustache twitching in displeasure .  “They're eatin’ all the fingers!”

Day after day passed without much distinction, working from sunup ‘til sundown hacking up bodies for pennies on the dollar.  It wasn't much of a living, but since technically you weren't even living at all, you did your best to be content with your lot in death.  

After all, it was your discontent in life that had landed you here in the first place.  

And if waking up in literal Hell wasn't a wake up call to turn over a new leaf you didn't know what was.  

You were coming up on the first anniversary of your arrival in Hell and the citizens of the Pride Ring were all in a tizzy trying to stock up on supplies to last through the impending Extermination.  Drug dealers were working double shifts to keep up with demand and the liquor stores had long since sold out of their top brands and had switched to selling bathtub gin to supply their customers with.

The line outside of Time to Kill was already wrapped around the block by the time you had flipped the deadbolts, barely managing to escape being crushed by the door as it crashed open; a densely packed group of cannibals rushing inside.  You'd fled from the crowd into the back workroom, taking up your post at a carving station with a cleaver in hand, ready to do your part to supply the hungry masses.

The hours bled together as you skinned and chopped, filleted and ground; so focused on the tasks before you that you didn't realize your coworker had been calling your name until they slapped their hand firmly down onto your shoulder.

“You okay?” They asked, glancing at your dewy face with concern.

“Oh- yeah, I'm alright,” you assured them, placing your cleaver down across the cutting board and wiping your bloody hands on a nearby towel.  “What's up?”

“It's your turn up front,” he said, gesturing towards the front of a store with his stubby thumb.  “Ms. Rosie is here.”

“Ms. Rosie?”

“Yeah, she's the Overlord here in Cannibal Town,” your coworker explained, elbowing you out of the way to take your place at the cutting station.  “Fresh Meat deals with the Overlords- shop rule.”

“Oh,” you murmured nervously, wandering over to the sink to wash your hands.

“Might want to hurry up, there!” one of the other workers called over her shoulder as she dropped a bunch of bone fragments into an awaiting bin.  “Your chance of survival decreases every minute you keep an Overlord waiting!”

You slammed the handle of the faucet to the off position and quickly took off to the front counter, your coworkers laughing raucously at your expense while you frantically wiped your hands dry on your blood-spattered apron.

The politics of Hell were still largely unfamiliar to you.  But even though you did your best to keep your head down and nose in your own business, you'd gleaned a little knowledge from snippets of overheard conversation in the butcher shop.  You weren't entirely sure what Overlords did exactly, but you knew that in order to become one you had to be powerful.

So it was with great trepidation that you stepped into the front of the store, doing your best to hide how absolutely terrified you were, but knowing your stiff legged gait and tight smile likely gave you away.  

The tall, elegant form of Ms. Rosie wasn't what you'd been expecting.  While dressing up was the norm in Cannibal Town, Rosie took it to a new level; looking as though she never let a fabric less expensive than silk grace her form.  But despite the absolutely enchanting picture her elegance painted, the aura of raw power she exuded prickled your skin and caused your tail to poof up in an instinctual, and utterly useless, bid for intimidation.  

“Well, look at you!” Rosie drawled, her dark eyes widening in delighted surprise as you approached the counter.  “It's been a while since we've gotten someone new in town.  Where've you been hiding, sweetheart?”

“Uh- my room, mostly,” you manage to stammer out, nervously smoothing down your ruffled tail fur.  

“That's a real shame, keeping a cute face like yours all cooped up!” Rosie cooed.  “How long ya’ been living in my part of the city?”

“Nearly a year now, Ma'am.”

“A whole year?” Rosie gasped.  “You weren't kidding ‘bout keeping to yourself, huh?”

Not really knowing what else to say, you opt to helplessly shrug before reaching for an order pad and pen.  

“So, uh- what can I get for you today, Ms. Rosie?”

“What's still available?”

“I won't lie, it's pretty slim pickings right now.  But I was just working on a pretty nice looking rack of ribs if you're interested.”

“Ribs it is then,” Rosie smiled, patiently waiting as you disappeared to the backroom and returned with multiple wrapped bundles of meat, all cinched together in a stack with fraying twine.  

“Thank you, darling,” she said, passing the stack of meat to one of the well-dressed attendants waiting beside her.  “Add it to my tab, will ya’?”

“Of course, Ma'am,” you agreed readily, sliding the sale record underneath the cash register tray for Hal to deal with later.  

“Oh, and sweetheart?” Rosie called out, catching your attention, as you moved to assist the next customer in line.  “If you make it through Extermination Day, make sure to swing by and visit me for tea sometime, will ya’?  I'd really like the chance to get to know ya’ better.”

And despite every neuron of common sense and self-preservation screaming at you to decline the invitation, you gritted your teeth and quickly nodded your assent; swallowing thickly when Rosie bared her teeth in a delighted, feral smile.  

You knew better to say ‘no’ to an Overlord.

[xenith-eats-stars]

me and my buddy @cartoon-leafe came up with a ton of those “she [X] on my [X] till i [X]” memes, so here’s all of them

under the cut bc it’s a pretty long list

she 5 on my nights till im at freddy’s

she asriel on my photoshop till i flowey

he old on my man till i yaoi

she megalo on my vania till im stronger than you

she W. on my D. till i gaster

she tomo on my dachi till i life

she spring on my lock till i failure

she insane on my clown till i posse

she scott on my pilgrim till i defeat her 7 evil exes

she team on my fortress till i 2

she nagito on my komaeda till her rhinestone eyes are like factories far away

she tally on my hall till im hidden in the sand

she I/ on my Me/ till i Myself

she cicada on my days till i pack my stuff

she ink on my machine till i bendy

she X on my men till i mutate

she dwell in my vault till i fallout

she W on my M1 till i believe in magic

she Jack on my Skellington till im the pumpkin king

she amazing on my digital till i circus

she Honda on my Odyssey till i get chills, theyre multiplying

she Hazbin on my Hotel till i get redeemed

she Monty on my Gator till i wanna rock and roll

she pound my head till im against the kitchen floor

she hammer on my car till i explode

she pyramid on my head till im silent

she dungeon on my dragon till i roll a nat 20

she 9 on my 11 till i never forget

she laplace on my angel till i hurt people? hurt people!

she poké on my balls till i catch ‘em all

she rock and roll on me all night till i party every day

she lady on my bug till im miraculous, simply the best

she Miles on my Morales till im like what’s up danger

she ink on my splat zone till i splashdown

she calamari my inkantation till i stay fresh

she ebb on my flow till i dont get cooked

she anarchy my rainbow till i catch her later

she [[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]] on my [[KEYGEN]] till i become a [[BIG SHOT]]

she birds are singing on my flowers are blooming till kids like you burn in hell

she autism on my spectrum till i disorder

she obsessive on my compulsive till i disorder

she golden on my freddy till it’s me

she appreciate my skeleton till i can feel my mind unweave again

she animation on my meme till i headbop

she Chappell on my Roan till im hot to go

she azumanga on my daioh till i america ya!

she project on my diva till i mega mix

she little on my shop of horrors till i feed her to a plant

she watt on my pad till i lemon

she pop on my team till im epic

she fire on my paw till i alone will save our clan

she legends on my arceus till i make the first pokédex

she ponder my orb till i ruminate

she migrate my coconut till i swallow

she stardew on my valley till i farm

she visit my friend till im the visiterrrr

she my on my little till i pony

she swipe left on character ai till i ask her a question

she Mandela my Catalogue till i will know her greatest fear

she scarlet on my violet till i time travel

she star on my platinum till i the world

she hatsune on my miku till im the #1 princess in the world

she miracle on my musical till im alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

she harpy on my hare till i bury all her children