#turns out you can get a lot of writing done when you have shitty fucking wifi

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[samthestrangerthingsfan]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, lots of parallels, reader is a lil down on herself but don't worry, eddie is down bad for her.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed and smoking, smut!! 18+, minors DNI.

AN: do i write 90% of my fics based on what pops into my head when i hear a certain song? yeah. also this is only half edited bc life. enjoy bbs <3

“Okay, okay,” You laughed. “One more hit then I’m tapped out, Eds.”

Eddie grinned, speaking through a half-held breath. “Oh no, Sweetheart. New stuff hittin’ a little too hard?”

You inhaled deeply, passing back to him what was left of the joint. It went straight to your head, and you flopped back, laying comfortably on Eddie’s bed.

Eddie inhaled, following suit, making your body bounce as he hit the mattress.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Feel like I’m fuckin’ flying.” He grips your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Don’t let me float away, okay?”

You smile at him, taking in how fucking beautiful he looks under the dim lights in his bedroom.

“Never. You’re stuck with me, Eds.”

He looks down at you, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. He took you in like he'd done 100 times before. Eyes trailing from your nose, to your eyes, landing at your mouth.

So fucking beautiful.

“Good," he breathes, pulling you in closer. "Just the way I like it.”

Eddie let go of you hand, only to wrap his arm around you and pull you into his chest. He placed a kiss to the crown of your head, "This okay?"

It's all I want. You think.

"Or do we have to get up and go watch that cheesy chick-flick I promised we'd watch.

You sighed, fiddling with the hem of your denim skirt. "I'd stay here all night if you let me."

That's all I want. He thinks.

Eddie leans back a bit, looking down at you. He's not sure if it's the weed making his so emotional, but he swears he could cry just looking into your eyes. "What am I gonna do if one of these dates you keep going on works out? What if someone takes you from me?"

He tries to sound relaxed, but the truth is, the thought keeps him up at night. There’s gonna be a guy that steals you away from him one of these days. Someone who can give you everything he can’t, someone brave enough to open their mouth and tell you just how much they love you.

and it'll crush him.

The laugh that escapes you is a cynical one, "Eddie, I've been on three dates with three different men, and I've gone home alone each time."

"So?" He asks.

"So," You scoff. "It means no one is interested in doing anything with me."

It’s true—to you at least. The guys you’d gone out with were either not looking to be tied down, or ran once they met you. The last guy thought you’d be easy because ‘the freak’s best friend has to be a freak herself right?’

The dates were a distraction for you. As your heart pined over the one guy you could have it all with, it was breaking too. Eddie hadn’t made a move on you—ever, and you weren’t brave enough too.

So the two of you sat in limbo, completely unaware that the other person was right there with you.

Eddie sits back, releasing you from his arms. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" You ask, sitting back as well.

"That. Act like you're the problem, and not these shitty fucking dudes you keep going out with.” Eddie tried to control his tone, but his temper got the better of him. He cursed at himself for it.

Jesus H. Christ, Munson, get it together.

You push back from him fully now, "Eddie, the common denominator is me. I-I'm fucking broken or something."

“Stop that.” He seethed.

It’s a command—a tone you've heard him use with Steve, or Dustin, but not you.

Never with you.

Eddie stood as you sat up, hanging your legs off the edge of the bed.

"What--"

He turned back and got to his knees right in front of you.

“Stop talking about yourself like that. It’s fucking ridiculous.”

He was close to you, and with him on his knees, his gaze was just at your eye level. “You’re not broken. There's nothing wrong with you, you’re—you’re fucking perfect.”

“Eddie…”

“No, no, just…just shush for a second.” Eddie moved his hand to your cheek, his thumb sweeping across it gently. “You think all this shit about yourself and it’s just not fucking true. I wish, for a second, you could see yourself how I see you. I fucking adore you.”

You feel the warmth of his breath on your nose. His large hand on your cheek warms you, and you lean into the touch, closing your eyes.

Everything is Eddie in this moment. He’s invading every sense you had.

It’s overwhelming.

You can feel your eyes brim with tears. “You don’t have to say that, Eds. I’m okay. I’m just…I’m lonely, that’s all.”

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. He watched you, he saw the tears hidden beneath your lashes. How could you not see it? See how you were…everything to him?

His mind stopped for a moment, deciding whether or not to take the leap, to risk it all and not run for once.

Fuck it.

“I’m right here, Princess. I’ve been right here.” He leans his forehead on yours.

You exhale his name, “Eddie,”

“What,” he’s quick to ask. “What is it, Sweetheart?”

Your on fire with how close he is to you. But he doesn’t mean it, not in the way you hoped he would…does he?

Your eyes open, seeing his beautiful brown ones searching your face for some kind of clue as to what you’re feeling. You clasp your hand on top of his. “Please,” you beg. “Please don’t say things you don’t mean just to make me feel better. My heart can’t take it.”

He laughs softly, bringing his other hand up. He’s cradling your face gently, “Oh, Honey. You have no idea just how much I mean it.”

Eddie is overwhelmed with you. You’re everywhere, and he can’t fucking think straight. Probably a good thing right about now, because he’s about to do something he never thought he’d be lucky enough to do.

“Can,” he clears his throat. “Can I kiss you, Baby?”

With zero hesitation, you nod, earning a chuckle from Eddie.

“Gotta use your words, sweet thing.”

“Yes,” it comes out as a plea. “Kiss me...please.”

Warm warm warm.

It’s all you feel when he leans in. Then his soft lips are on yours, all the while he’s holding you as if you’d be the one to float away.

Eddie kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times. Like he knows your lips and the pattern that drives them crazy. He’s trying to tell you everything he’s been too afraid to say since the moment he met you.

There’s no one but you.

You’re everything.

I love you, please, let me love you.

Regrettably, you pull away. Breathless from the kiss, but also how surreal this moment is.

“I-I,” you sigh, touching your forehead to his. “I’ve wanted to do that for forever.” It comes out as whisper. As if you’d scare him away if you said it too loud.

Eddie smiles, a relieved laugh passing his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

It’s quiet for a beat, Eddie is looking at you so softly and with such care.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says with all of the conviction in the world. “My pretty girl.”

“Am I?” You ask. “Am I yours?”

He nods, "If you want to be." He moves his hands, resting one on each thigh. He rubs them absentmindedly, likes he's trying to flatten the goosebumps that had prickled across your skin. “...and I’m yours. You've got me, Honey.”

Eddie's grin was still a shy one. You brush your hand across his face, pushing back any stray hairs. "Eds?"

He grips your wrist gently, placing small, tender kisses along the inside of it. The gesture is so simple, but it sends a heat through you like you've never experienced before.

"What is it, pretty girl? Whatever you want, whatever you need...it's yours."

You intertwine your fingers with his smoothly, "You, Eddie. Need you. Wanna make you feel good, Eds."

Now it was his turn to get goosebumps.

"Fuck, Angel. You can't just say that to me." He breathes.

Your bedroom eyes blink twice, "Please?"

A strangled moan vibrates from his chest, "Who am I to deny the fair maiden what she asks for?" Eddie stands, holding out a hand for you.

You're pulled to your feet by him, and he's looking at you through a brand new set of eyes. "One problem with that though, Princess. You come first."

You gasp as his hands take purchase of your ass, pulling you into him. "If anything, and I mean anything is too much, or too weird, you tell me, okay?"

You're nodding again, and he tuts at you. "Uh-uh. Words, baby."

Your arms fall around his neck and you press your body against his. "Yes, sir."

"Ho-ly-shit." He moans. "Yeah, I'm gonna kiss you now. Cool? Cool."

He's hungrier this time, kissing with teeth and tongue as his roaming hands explore your body.

"Eddie, Eddie..." You breath through swollen lips. "Too many clothes."

"You a mind reader or something?" He jokes, ripping the t-shirt from his body. His body was a work of art in more ways than one, and seeing it now, like this, made you crave it all the more.

You watch as Eddie falls to his knees, "Can I?" He asks, pulling at your skirt.

"God, yes."

He unbuttons the fastener, pulling the distressed denim down until it's pooling at your ankles. Eddie then came face to face with your black-lace covered heat.

"I-I'm dead right? I've died and now I'm at the pearly gates."

Your hands cover your face, "Eddie! Stop!"

He stands quickly, "No, baby, no. God, please don't hide from me." He pulls your hands away gently.

Your shirt is next to go, and so is the matching bra. Eddie pulls his pants down, leaving his boxers on.

"Lay down for me, Princess. Wanna take care of you.”

The timber of his voice makes you tremble. Once your comfortable on the bed, Eddie climbs on too.

“Now, I know this is all new, and we’re figuring things out as we go, but…” Eddie pauses, laying on his stomach between your legs.

He starts kissing his way up your legs. “I’ve been dreaming of eating this pussy for a long, kiss, long, kiss, long time.”

You’re so turned on you can barely speak, but you manage to get out a quiet. “Well what are you waiting for?”

Your thong is thrown into parts unknown, and Eddie starts to feast like a man starved.

“Eddie, fuck—“ his tongue explores your heat. His hands hold onto your hips as you grind down onto his mouth.

“Uh-uh, don’t hold back. Wanna hear you, Princess.” He dives back in, lips sucking on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He slips in one, the two fingers. Pumping and curling them slowly until he finds the spot that makes you see stars.

The fire in your belly is growing and you feel your legs start to shake. “Holy fuck, Eds—Eds I’m gonna cum!” Your hands take purchase in his hair, giving it a sharp tug as you feel the heat engulf you.

Eddie eats your pussy, drinking you in as you cum.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” You release your grip on his hair as you come down from your high.

Eddie crawls up your body, kissing you. You taste yourself all over his tongue. “Don’t be sorry, Baby. Let’s me know you’re enjoying yourself,” he kisses you once more. “Plus, I kinda like it.”

You’re both breathing heavy.

Now it’s his turn.

Your hands touch his shoulder, pushing him gently. “What’re you doing, pretty girl?” He asks softly.

When Eddie’s leaned back against the headboard, you pull his boxers off. Pink, uncut cock springing from it's confines.

God damn...he's fucking huge.

"Gonna ride you, Eds. Let you feel what you did to me." You climbed on top of him, "Can I do that? Can I make you feel good?"

Eddie's nodding, not sure what part of you he wants to look at more.

"Uh-uh," you tease. "Use your words, Handsome."

"Fuck," He breathes. He palms your bare chest, moving the pads of his thumbs over your nipples. "Do whatever you want to me, use me, I'm yours." He leans forward, hot mouth latching to your other breast.

You sit up, allowing Eddie's hard length to slip inside your aching cunt. The sheer stretch and size is enough to snatch the breath from your lungs.

"Eds...Eds, shit. S'big." You moan.

His eyes close as he bottoms out inside of you, "So tight. Fuckin' pussy was made for me, she wants my cock. Won't let it go. She greedy, baby?"

You adjust to his size filling the void inside you. Eddie hold your hips as you begin to ride him, helping you to keep a steady rhythm.

"Look at you, Princess. Cock-drunk already, hm?" He teases.

Eddie is whispering praises as he fucks up into you.

Such a good girl.

Taking me so well.

My pretty girl.

Mine.

Eddie's pace quickens, and you feel the tremble return to your legs.

"Eddie, fuck, I--"

"I know, Honey. I can feel it, feel you squeezin' me. Let go, Angel. Go on, cum for me."

His words are like a spell.

You cum harder than you did on his mouth, and this time, it's his cock that's drenched in your essence.

"Gonna cum, Sweetheart. Where--"

You're entirely lost in everything Eddie. "Inside me, Eds. Fuck, please cum inside me."

"Shit, shit, shit." Eddie's moves become erratic. Sloppy thrusts chasing his release, and when he does, he all but growls in your ear.

He's breathless and spent, but his arms wrap around you. Eddie holds you, softening inside you. He kisses the center of your chest, the trail making its way across your shoulder, up your jaw, and to your lips.

"Hi." He says quietly.

You giggle softly, "Hi."

"So uh, not sure if this is a good time or not..."

You kiss his nose, "Hmm?"

"I-I...I love you. I don't know, just felt like someone should tell you, might as well be me." Eddie's big brown eyes search your face for any sign of regret or discomfort.

Nothing.

You kiss him deeply, "I'm glad you told me, otherwise I'd be sitting over here, in love with you, looking all silly by myself."

Eddie holds you tighter. "You, you love me?"

You giggle, "Edward Munson. I love you."

He pulls you closer, "You love me." It's a statement now.

Eddie lays his head against your bare chest. "I'm gonna get you cleaned up in a second, Sweetheart. Just wanna hold you for a little."

Rubbing small circles on his back, you kissed the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Handsome."

[captainreecejames]

Just Friends || MV1 Oneshot

part of the my ex is a footballer series [masterlist] [my ex series masterlist] [max smau]

pairings max verstappen x reader with some ex!ben chilwell x reader in the smau part, danielle campbell is the faceclaim but reader is not described in this part so imagine however

word count 5.2k

warnings talks about depression, injuries and blood dealing with hands, hospitals and medical stuff, mentions of jos verstappen, cursing, angst and fluff, not proofread so probably shitty writing and mistakes

notes this took longer than I initially imagined because i was stuck on how to get it started, but after a good nights sleep and words of encouragement from @coff33andb00ks I got this puppy started. This fic includes Adrian Newey as the point red bull person so I could avoid horner and max as an almost dog dad because I'm a dog person. It starts in the middle of the 2022 season and goes through the 2023 season. If there is enough interest, I might continue to write these two together because I really enjoyed it and there is more to explore.

songs to listen to while reading you're losing me-taylor swift / so long, london-taylor swift / same mistakes-one direction / lose you to love me-selena gomez

You met Max on accident, according to you. When you talked to your father about it years later, you would learn it was no accident. 

><

He was golfing with Adrian Newey and more coworkers but had forgotten his wallet, so he asked you to drop it off.

Now you knew he worked at Red Bull, so really it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you would eventually meet Max Verstappen, but you walked into the country club expecting to meet some older man, not the reigning Formula 1 world champion. 

How'd Max know who to approach? Your father had shown him a picture of you so he would know who to look for. While you were searching the lobby, Max had come up to you, saying your name.

You had plenty of experience meeting famous people, even one’s who knew your name before meeting (perks of dating a football star) but it was still a shock. 

The meeting consisted of shy words and you fumbling around your bag for your father’s wallet and that’s it. No matter how much experience you had with famous athletes, it would still be weird meeting them. You wouldn’t see Max again for a few weeks, he was busy with races and staying in Monaco.

The next time would be at the base, once again you were dropping something off for your dad. This time it was lunch that he just insisted he needed, not whatever was being served in the cafe that day. 

You stood in the lobby, waiting for your father to get out of a meeting, admiring the trophies on display when Max came up to you. 

He will argue in the future that you admiring his trophies made him interested, and that he wasn’t over a little bragging if it got the attention of a pretty girl. That argument ignores the scheming that your father and Adrian had done, from complaining about your lack of interest in the sport to complaining about you needing to get out more. (Your lack of interest in the sport wasn’t true, just that you preferred Ferrari over the local team.)

So with the subliminal messaging from your father, Max was interested in you.

“I thought you didn’t really like the sport,” he said coming to stand at your side. 

You jumped slightly, not expecting anyone to approach you. “Why would you think that?”

“Your father.” You turn to him with a confused face and Max decided to clarify. “He talks about you a lot.”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t listen to half of what he says.”

“Really? Even when he talks about the chassis?” His words are teasing and you think he’s flirting with you.

“Maybe that you can listen to.” You shrug, turning back to the cabinet. “He’s really just jealous that I prefer Ferrari.” 

Of fucking course, the Italian team. “A fan of Leclerc?” You can hear the bitterness in his voice and it shocks you a little how quickly he changes his mood.

“He’s okay,” you shrug again. Max thinks that your nonchalantness is annoying, why can’t you just admit you find Charles hot and move on.

(Hidden in the stairwell, Adrian and your father are a little nervous. They can tell that this isn’t going as well as hoped.)

“Schumacher has been my favorite, but I think of the current drivers its Vettel.” Now Max realizes that the two of you are standing in front of Sebastian’s 2010 championship trophy, and he feels a little embarrassed he didn’t realize sooner. “I’m a little bitter he didn’t win the championship with Ferrari.”

There are more “chance” meetings, but the conversation flows much easier now. Like the dinner at Adrian Newey’s house and after, when he has to give you a ride back to your new place because your parents don’t want to leave yet. Or the time when it’s suggested that you give him a ride to Luton airport because it’s on your way to London. Or even the holiday party at the end of the year where he has to give you a ride again because you’re tipsy and shouldn’t drive. 

It’s the airport drive when you both realize that you’re being set up by Adrian and your father, which causes a lot of awkwardness between the both of you during your goodbyes.

You go back home a few days later and scold your father for the set up. You don’t need another relationship right now, you tell him. He says he knows, but Max makes you happy in a way he hasn’t seen in years and that makes him happy. Your mother reminds him that you need to be happy without a man first and he says he’ll give up the endeavors to push you on to Max. If Adrian happens to come up with any more ideas that's not his fault, the man is a genius afterall.

The holiday party is more of an accident than anything, your father and mother leave much earlier than you, and so you are stuck with Max to drive you home.

He complained about the hotel he was staying at, so you offer him some time in your apartment to get away from fancy places and he takes you up on it. And now that you're home, it does’t seem like a bad idea to have another drink, just to take the edge off of having Max in your place. 

“Would you like another drink?” you offer while making your own gin and tonic. He stares around at the quiet kitchen, taking in the place that feels very you. “Or perhaps some tea?” He shakes his head no, eyes catching a picture of you hugging Ben. It’s an old picture, from when Leicester City won the league and you’ve only recently dug it out of the box it was sitting in. 

“I thought you were single,” he says, picking up the picture to examine it closer.

“I am,” you answer, turning around from the counter to look at him. You’re about to ask him where the question came from when you see what’s in his hands. “That’s from 2016, when Leicester City won the league.” Max nods like he understands, but he doesn’t.

“Who’s this?” he points to Ben.

“Ben Chilwell.” Maybe if you’re just vague enough, he’ll drop it. He doesn’t.

“Okay,” he draws it out. “Who is he to you?”

Not much of anything anymore, is what you want to say. You settle for something vague again. “A friend.”

“Looks like more than a friend.” Is Max trying to provoke you or something? He can tell you’re growing frustrated with him and it makes him feel guilty. “Sorry, I just, don’t know much about your life before here.”

You sigh, deciding that alcohol probably isn’t the best drink for now. You move to the kettle next to the stove, opting for tea to help calm you down. 

“Ben and I dated until a couple months ago, I moved back home right after we broke up.” He nods along with your story and you continue the tea making process. “Ben and I were childhood sweethearts, together since we were like 14 years old. So that makes,” it takes you a minute to do the math in your head, “12 years together.” You don’t turn to see what Max’s face looks like. A lot of people during your relationship with Ben were in awe of how long you were together, but there were some who thought it was silly and childish. Who stayed with someone they were dating since 14? (Apparently not you.)

You thought it was romantic up until a few months before the break up. Childhood sweethearts, best friends to lovers, boy next door, all tropes you loved in books and you were living it in real life! Until it wasn’t. Until you moved in the middle of a pandemic to a new city with no support system and became depressed. Until Ben needed support you and you couldn’t make yourself see that giving him everything was leaving you with nothing. 

It took an intervention from your parents to see that you were depressed, and an offhand comment about marriage from Ben to see that the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere new.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t want to marry me.”

><

“I’m just not sure I’m want to marry her, yet,” Ben says to the group. There’s a pause before he says yet, like someone made a face and he’s trying to placate them.

What the fuck? you want to ask. You want to scream it, really, because what the fuck does he mean by that? You’ve been together for over ten years, he’s said since Leicester that he only wants you, for the rest of his life. And now... now he doesn’t know? How the fuck do you not know? How can he not know? It makes you angry, the most emotion you’ve felt in probably months and it’s anger at your boyfriend.

Your grip on your glass is tightening, turning your knuckles white with the force and you worry the glass will shatter in your hand.

It does, but you don’t feel it. You don’t hear the glass shattering in your hand or on the floor, don't feel the splash of ice, gin, and tonic on your legs.

What you feel is something akin to clarity, because you’ve been living in a fog for months, probably the two years you’ve been in London and now you know how Ben feels. If he doesn’t want to marry you now, he probably won’t ever want it.

It takes your friend coming over and putting a hand on your shoulder for you to realize that something is physically wrong. That your hand is bleeding from glass cuts and you’re standing in a puddle of water and alcohol and some blood.

Emma says your name a little louder to grab your attention and now people are staring at you, wondering what’s caused the glass to shatter in your hand. She ignores them, pulling you across the room so she can take care of you.

Unfortunately, the glass is too deep and you have to be taken to an emergency room, where the nurses and doctors fuss over your hand. They ask you questions about how it happened, you explain that a glass shattered in your hands. They're suspicion is eased when Emma corroborates your story. It's soon after that you're allowed to go home.

All this time, Ben hasn’t come running into the room desperate to find you, and that reminds you why you’re here in the first place. Because Ben isn’t sure he wants to marry you.

><

“That’s how you got the scars on your hand?” Max is gentle when he takes your hand in his, holding it so delicately like you might break. You nod, but don’t pull away from him. His touch is soft and it makes you feel something you haven’t felt in a while. His hand turns so you can see the own scar on his hand. “I got this one from Jimmy, my cat.” He lets you run a finger over the scratch on the back of his hand. You run your hand over it one more time and Max get’s goosebumps from your touch.

You look up at him from your hands, your eyes roaming his face and seeing how sincere he is. It makes you nervous. 

You pull your hands back, stepping away to grab a mug for your tea and busy your hands with something besides his own.

Max can see you close off on him, but the story isn’t over yet. “What happened after the hospital?”

><

“Are you going to tell me why this happened?” Emma asks finally, walking with you out of the ED. She’s stayed the whole time, occasionally popping out to call your other friends and update them on the situation. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell her, but you know what she’ll say: 'break up with him already, it’s not going anywhere and you’re obviously hurting over this. '

It’s not what you want to hear, you love Ben so much because you’ve always loved him, he’s all you’ve ever known and it used to be so good, so you know it can go back to being good.

It has to. You need it to. 

So you try to laugh it off, say that your grip is much stronger than you thought and that there must have been a hairline fracture in the glass.

But Emma doesn’t buy it. She lets you try to joke your way out of this, lets you laugh uncomfortably as she stares at you, and then pulls you to a halt at the corner. Your uneasy smile falls and you sigh. You know better than to try and hide this from her. 

“Ben said something,” it’s a whisper, like the quieter you say it makes it hurt less. She waits for you to continue, knowing that you’ll explain if she doesn’t push too hard. You take a deep breath, hoping that the air will do something, anything to make it easier to say out loud. “He’s not sure if he wants to marry me.” You hold the pause like he did, adding the yet in a pointed tone. With how much Ben has hurt you, you still want to spare him the criticism. You love him.

Emma immediately goes off, like you know she would, so you tune it out. It’s nothing you haven’t heard in the last year. 

The traffic light turns green, and you begin your walk back to the carpark, looking around the spaces to find your friend's car.

“YN!” another voice shouts. It’s Ben. 

He’s jogging to you across the lot, eyes a little wide like he’s been panicking for a while. “Why didn’t you grab me before leaving?” He means to direct the question to Emma, but he’s looking at you and you feel like he’s blaming you. “I was looking for you across the house until someone finally told me that you left for the emergency department. I was worried sick.” He looks it, you think. He does care. He wouldn’t look like that if he didn’t care. “You weren’t answering your phone, and-“ he cuts himself off as he stares at your hand. “What the hell happened?”

Oh- he doesn’t know. 

“She heard you,” Emma answers. You want to stop her, explain for yourself so you can just go home and sleep.

“What?” Ben asks, confusion across his face for a second before he realizes. You heard him. You heard him. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”

That’s his excuse?

“That’s your excuse?” Emma takes the words from of your mouth, but not the anger from your body, you clench your bandaged hand, wincing when it pulls at the stitches. Ben is still looking at you, but you’re unable to read him. “She wasn’t meant to fucking hear that?” Her voice is shrill and it grates on you because of a headache, but you know she means well. “You know what, fuck you Ben Chilwell! Go fucking rot in ditch!” With that she pulls you away from him, rushing the two of you towards her car so she can drive you to her home.

><

“That’s his excuse?” Max’s tone is just like Emma’s on that night and still you want to defend Ben. Your relationship is long over with the footballer, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love him. 

“I was a mess then,” you tell him, pouring your water into the cup, “I wouldn’t want to marry me either.”

“But he loved you, and you don’t say something like that about someone you love.” Max looks angry next to you, and that scares you even more. Not because of his anger, but because he clearly cares so much and you’re not sure if you deserve it. 

“Listen to me,” Max grabs your arms, pulling you to face him in your small kitchen. “Friends, boyfriends, people who love you-“ (Do his hands squeeze you harder on friends or boyfriends?) “They don’t talk about you like that behind your back. And also they notice when you’re gone, when you’re hurt, when you aren’t’ yourself.”

“But he was also hurting,” there are tears in your eyes from his words because you believe them, but also you still love Ben.

“And so were you, clearly. Yet you could tell something was wrong with him and he couldn’t see it in you?” Max has known you for only a few months, and has spent even less time physically with you, but he sees you and the way your brain works so clearly and that’s really scary. He must see something in your eyes because then he backs off, taking a step away to put distance between your bodies and space to breathe.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I didn’t mean to get so intense.” You shake your head, trying to put away the thoughts of his beautiful blue eyes staring into your own. “Just sometimes, I really want people to know that they deserve better.”

“No, it’s okay.” You pull the tea bag out of the water, looking down for the tiny plate to leave it on. “You’re not the first person to say that to me and you probably won’t be the last.” He nods, watching you spoon sugar into the tea. “But thank you for saying that, sometimes," you pause, "sometimes, it’s good to be reminded.”

><

Your friendship grows from there, but it doesn’t evolve into anything romantic. You’re clearly still healing from Ben and no matter how much he thinks about you while he’s in Monaco or off at a race, you need time.

So instead your flat becomes his base when he’s needed at the factory. He can leave clothes and toiletries at your place without worry, he can sneak a nice home cooked meal from you or your parents when he’s there, and he doesn’t have to deal with shitty hotel mattresses. (Even though it’s a Five Star hotel.)

He meets your friends when a girls night overlaps with some sim testing. They really like him and can see that his awkward charm has pulled you in.

You meet Danny Ric at the beginning of the 2023 season, when Red Bull decides to make him their reserve driver, and the two of you are like two peas in a pod. (On the plane back to Monaco Danny asks him when he’s finally going to ask you out.)

(Max shakes his head and tells him that you two are just friends, because that’s what you need. Just friends.)

Max invites you to the Monaco Grand Prix, but you decline, not interested in the media scrutiny that comes with that particular race. You say yes to the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, but after he peaks at the invite list he tells you it’s probably not the best idea. You agree with him when you finally get him to tell you why you're uninvited. The Silverstone Grand Prix is during a girls trip, and with how busy it gets, you both drop the subject for a while. 

When Max clinches his third championship in Qatar you finally decide that you need to go to a race. The next one is in Texas, but it doesn’t work with your schedule so you get the passes for Mexico.

><

The Mexican Grand Prix is the perfect race to join. It’s Checo’s home race, so the focus is on him instead of Max. You stand to the back of the garage, hiding from view on Friday and Saturday. Occasionally you’ll talk with some engineers you’ve met before or share a few minutes with Adrian, but most of the time is in hiding Max’s drivers room with him. 

Most of Sunday is spent talking with the stars in the garage, explaining why you’re here and how you know people. You avoid any interviews with Sky Sports, knowing that somehow they’ll bring up Ben and Chelsea’s current run of form, something that you just can’t deal with. 

So you stay in the back of the garage, celebrate the podium in the back of the crowd and don’t wait up for Max to finish media duties, instead heading back to the hotel. It hurts to hide yourself away, you want to be the first to congratulate him on a win, or comfort him after a loss. But it’s for the best, you try convince yourself. You're just friends.

Max isn’t bitter about the decision at all. Being noticed at this race is a beacon to all fans that you are something to someone, and no matter how much he maybe wants that to be true, you’re just friends. Besides you have dinner with him and a few of the drivers and their own significant others, so really what more could he ask for?

After the season is over he’s back in Milton Keynes to finish up some things before heading out to start his holidays. Most of them will be spent with his family in Belgium or in Monaco, so he is determined to at least spend a day with you before leaving. He wasn’t planning on it being at a dog shelter.

><

“I think I want a dog,” you had told him while in Mexico. You’d spent a year alone in the flat (not counting Max practically moving in when he was needed at HQ) and things were too quiet for you. 

“Okay.” You were relaxing in his driver’s room before Free Practice 2. You’re both on the couch, him with an iPad going over some data and you with your feet up on his lap researching shelters on your phone. The domesticity of it all was frustrating.

“Are you allergic to dogs?” you ask. You know about Jimmy and Sassy back in Monaco, and he really doesn’t seem like dog person at all, but his opinion on this matters to you. His opinion on the most mundane and trivial things now matter to you. He doesn’t pay rent and so he doesn’t get the final say on anything, but if it makes life easier in Milton Keynes, you want to know what he thinks.

“No, I just prefer cats.” You nod, scrolling through the shelter’s website, looking at dogs and trying to decide which one looks like it needs love the most. “Lewis knows a lot about dogs, you can ask him about it.” It’s hard to get the sentence out, because Lewis having a say in something about your life just isn’t right. 

You shake your head no. “Lewis Hamilton doesn’t sleep in my spare bedroom.” It’s the same argument you make every time you suggest changing something in flat, and while it annoys him that you won’t take any money to pay for small stuff, it still makes him smile. 

“What do you think about this one?” you show him a picture of a Jack Russell Terrier, coincidentally named George. 

“If you get him you need to change his name.”

“Why?” You ask in fake offense. “I think he looks very much like a George.” But you move on anyway, terriers are too active for your lifestyle, you wouldn’t be able to give him the love he deserves. 

You keep on scrolling, feet still in his lap, him still looking through his iPad. You gasp suddenly, pushing yourself up and moving your legs so you can sit on them, much closer to Max. “Look!” you shove your screen in his face. “They just rescued a corgi with puppies! I love corgis!” He can see the excitement in your face and knows that he won’t ever say no to you if you look like that again. 

You pull your phone back, reading through the description quickly. “We are keeping Mama and puppies together for a few weeks to ensure health, puppies will be available for adoption in December. Please register interest.” You're pulling out your laptop to send an email when you're done.

Later that night, when you’re trying to sleep you admire how he let you rant about this dog that you’re getting. You love how he always indulges you on topics about your flat; you love that he’ll watch a shitty tv show with you and listen to you rant about the characters. You love that when you ask him questions about racing he answers with so much sincerity and interest that you can’t help but want to know more. You love so much about him that you think you might love him. 

No, you know you love him.

><

That’s how you got here, with Max at a shelter picking up a tiny corgi. Max has been carrying the collar and leash and necessary paperwork as you play with the small dog, contagious laughter falling from your lips.

“Think I should name him Charles, what do you think?” You look up from the ground, eyes so bright and happy. The smile on your face is teasing, but he misses the name because it hits him.

He’s in love with you.

He’s unable to answer you with his sudden realization, because the only words he can think of are “I love you” or long strings of curse words. 

You think he doesn’t like your joke and try to back track right away. “I’m kidding, obviously. I’m not gonna name him Charles.” Still Max only stares. “Is everything okay?” You stand up, still holding the puppy in your hands. “I promise I’m not going to name him Charles, but I’m sorry for the joke.” The puppy barks in your arms, snapping Max out of his trance. “What do you need, little one?” You ask the dog, momentarily forgetting Max’s presence. That’s what he needs, just a few seconds of you not looking at him to get his thoughts in line. He can’t be in love with you, because you don’t need a boyfriend. Just friends. 

Except he can be in love with you. Because you make him smile all the time, because you offered your spare bedroom to him so he didn’t have to deal with a shitty hotel mattress, because you send him pictures of cats you meet on the street, and let him over explain when you have questions about races. You deal with his mood swings when Jos contacts him. (It’s more than just dealing. You comfort and distract and do anything he needs.)

And maybe you do need just a friend still, but he can still love you.

It takes 20 minutes for you to finish up the paperwork for the shelter, which Max spends playing with the dog and he decides maybe he could be a your dog person. 

The ride back to your place is short, your minds replaying the same moment when you asked him what you should name the little puppy sleeping in the back. You feel bad, like you've insulted him; he’s trying to come up with a way to tell you what he’s realized.

Nothing happens that night, and nothing happens when he leaves for Monaco the next morning. 

Texts between the two of you comprise of pictures of Denny the corgi, Jimmy and Sassy the cats, and updates on how people liked their presents. It feels off, but you have no idea how to make it feel right.

On December 30th, you plan to catch your flight to Nice, but your father gets into an accident and you can’t leave your mom to deal with everything on your own. You say sorry to Max repeatedly, tell him to wish everyone there a Happy New Year and focus back on the quiet life with Denny. 

On December 31st, you wake up to the smell of coffee and toast. It’s alarming because no one else is here, so why does it smell like breakfast?

You push open the door cautiously, forgetting for a moment that Denny is there, so he sneaks out the tiny crack. “Denny! No!” you whisper-shout, hurrying after the little guy, all regard for your own safety lost. You find him in the arms of Max, licking his face and wiggling his butt with untamed excitement. “Max?”

“Hi, schatje.” His smile is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he is here. You approach the two slowly, grabbing Denny from his arms to put him down. 

“What are you doing here?” Denny paws at you, reminding you that he needs to go out and do his business. 

Max ignores your question, instead pushing a mug of coffee into your hands. “Take this, I’ll take Denny outside.” He grabs Denny from the floor again, making his way to the front where you have his leash hanging up. “Be right back, schatje.” You can only nod at him, watching the two walk out of the front door.

They’re back in two minutes, enough time for you to put out Denny’s breakfast and drink some of your coffee in peace, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that Max is here. The door opens and Denny comes rushing in, Max close behind. He hangs up the leash with his keys, then turns back to you with a smile.

Max takes his own mug, leaning his back against the counter to watch you. “Why are you here?” you ask again. 

“You said you couldn’t come to Monaco for New Year’s, so I thought I’d come here.” He says it so casually it irritates you. “Plus, I can take some work off of you or your mom when dealing with your Dad.”

Oh, he’s being sweet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I want to help someone I love.” He says that so casually it catches you off guard. Thank god you didn’t have anything in your mouth or you would have definitely spit it out.

He smirks over his cup, watching you splutter for an answer to his simple confession. “You… you love me?” He nods then puts his mug down. A few steps over to you and he grabs the one in your hands, putting that down next to his own. With his other hand he moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You want to ask what he’s doing, try to stop this before it can even start, but Max is determined. (You’re grateful for that.)

There’s almost no space left between the two of you, just enough really for him to be able to look at your face while he asks if this is okay. A gulp, a breath, and a nod later he’s dipping his head down to yours, closing the distance, and kissing you. 

Your eyes close instantly. Your hands travel to their own accord, reaching up to lock around his neck and keep him close. Your ears ring for some odd reason and your nose can only smell coffee. You can taste red bull on his lips and you wonder how long he's been up.

The kiss is soft and slow and over before you really have a chance to appreciate it.

You open your eyes to see him, his lips spread in a wide smile that has you blushing. “Been waiting to do that for a while.” That has you blush even deeper, but he doesn’t let you dip your head to hide it. “Seriously, schatje. I love you.”

“I love you too.” It’s a whisper, but he doesn’t miss it with how close you are. But even if he had missed it, you’ll say it so many more times in the future that people get sick of it.

[beyond-the-raining-field]

I have some things to say.

to begin: Neil Gaiman sucks. I loved and looked up to the man because of his work, because I thought his writing was amazing and Good Omens helped me through the toughest time in my life. the recent news however, does change my opinion - as at should for EVERYBODY. I feel disappointed by the Good Omens fandom. I do not think making yourself the victim publicly is at all okay. The women are the victims. If it does turn out to be fake: that’s good. But it does not change the fact that the power imbalance was there and would have affected how the relationship worked from the beginning. No matter if it is fake, right now saying “but how will I enjoy ___” is not okay . I understand, I do. I love Good Omens and I will continue to love Good Omens because it is a piece of media that matters so much to me.

I admit I have gotten of point. To get back on track let me make it simple and clear: You can not say “believe the victim” then go on to say “but Neil Gaiman is a good person…”. He is not. Yes it is wonderful that he has supported queer and trans people but you, I have to say, are not a good person for saying it if it depends on who assaulted - ASSAULTED - someone. No, PEOPLE. Two GIRLS.

Neil Gaiman is not a good person.

You can separate the author and the work, I am doing that with Good Omens as I have done it in the past but you canNOT support and endorse HIM.

And to end it off, if it turns out to be false: good. But he met one of the girls when she was 18, and waited for her to be of age. That is not something good men do.

Believe the victims, it doesn’t matter that you looked up to him. He did something bad, horrible, tragic and disgusting, admit that and talk about it to bring awareness.

And I would like to add: It is hard - and nearly impossible - for me to let go of Good Omens and The Graveyard Book. The Graveyard Book is the only book my father read to me as a child that stuck with me and led to an obsession. The obsessions have died down. If you own his books and enjoy them you are not a bad person, his writing is good. If a book means a lot to you, you are not a bad person. You are only a bad person if you make excuses for him. His is a shitty human who is a good author. Fuck him, but you owning his books doesn’t make you a bad person. Just refrain from buying NEW work.

And if it does turn out to be false, yes it eases the entire fandom. He is still sketchy in my books because as far as I know he cannot prove he has not done anything and got with two very young woman as a much older man.

An updated opinion: Neil Gaiman most likely did it. The amount of tales from people who - as young women - met him and had horrible interactions or stories of friends of his employees. He, most likely, has always been a bad person who simply uses the themes he does to make himself seem like a good person. This is not ours to mourn, it’s ours to take action and keep characters you happen to love alive in yourself instead of something HE did. Or, get rid of your stock. Up to you. It’s 1 am and I am distraught by the news but I’m not denying anything because given every piece of proof to show that he most likely did it, denying it is a bad thing to do and is a horrible name for the fandom.

[forsakenwitchery]

It's been a long time since I've really ranted about something on here but like.

HOTD is just… On another level of bad? At some point this season, I got so tired of getting angry with the writing I just straight up started laughing at almost every single scene. I managed to find a sliver of enjoyment in the shitshow what S2 turned out to be. Not anymore.

Small costest backstage at the end because I felt like looking at myself smiling after writing all this down lol

Having seen some and read about some E8 leaks I'm just… I guess I'm checking out. What they've done to the Greens and specifically Aemond this season is Merlin's 'Morgana suddenly full evil' level of shit writing. And I can't handle yet another favorite nuanced character of mine being stripped of any nuance by the shit writers. But at least with Morgana there was a lot of her, and with Aemond it's 2 minutes of peak character assassination per episode and it isn't cutting it.

I feel so bad for Ewan and the rest of the Green actors who gave it their all - and in some scenes you can clearly see Ewan giving his all trying to fight the shitty writing, but there's only so much an actor can do with a script so bad.

Like when in ep. 5 everyone kept referring to Aemond as if he's suddenly Satan incarnate (Alicent, Daemon ahhh pretty sure there was someone else this episode ‘cause I remember three characters) I knew they decided to flip the switch with Aemond suddenly going full caricature villain (and yeah he was no saint BUT LIKE BBQ-ING HIS BRO?) with no proper buildup for it but HOLY SHIT I didn’t think it would be ‘blink and he’s full on sociopathic villain’. And the way they really did try and hammer that point home with him yanking Helaena now is just… Fucking wild. But like, he wasn’t wrong with dismissing Alicent who turned out to be the biggest traitor on TG this season (RIP S1 Alicent). He’s not wrong in saying they need Dreamfyre. But the show sure did go about him technically not being wrong yet showing it in the worst way possible very... head-on and with lacking any nuance. It truly feels like Condal & Co just couldn’t handle how popular Aemond became in S1 and gave him as little screen time as possible while simultaneously trying to make him as unsympathetic and suddenly 180 as possible. Which just doesn’t work without the proper buildup if you stop to think for even one second.

Then we’ve got Alicent who drilled it into her sons’ heads they’ll be dead unless they fight Rhae and now she’s also 180 and doesn’t understand why they want to fight and turns out to be the biggest traitor basically surrendering her children, the city and her brother to the woman whose husband killed her grandchild. The fuck did S1 Alicent go? Can we see her? Is she in the room with us? You know, the one jumping Rhae with the knife for Aemond? By all means, she and Aemond should have had a dynamic akin to Cersei and Joffrey’s if they were dead-set on making Aemond pretty much THE (only) villain in the show (which should have been about everyone being a criminal lmao). But like… We came to THIS? THE FUCK. THE FUUUUCK. Like imagine for one second Cersei pretty much throwing her kids to their enemies. This is. I don’t know which level of bad writing is this. We’re so far past the rock bottom at this point, the bottom doesn’t exist, the depths this season has reached don’t even have a proper name.

Then we’ve got Helaena. All season I’ve been waiting to see more of her. All season. And I waited. And waited. Her being the Dreamer sounded cool on paper. And they just ended up using her as a device to show ‘Aemond bad’ again? And HELP DAEMON? And like... to spoil the end of the story for those unfamiliar? THE FUUUUUUUUUUUCK. THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Like damn, I knew they were baiting us with the promo and I knew it would be OOC for her to want to fight but at the same time I was kinda hoping at least she’d want to? Like she’s sane in the show. Her son was beheaded in front of her eyes. I kept hoping this show would have at least ONE female character actually willing to fight, but no. The balcony scene was good. But in spite, not thanks to what the writers clearly meant for this scene to be. Phia and Ewan really did give this scene their all and try to add nuance where they just once again tried to write Aemond off as a dick.

I haven’t seen the Aegon scene but apparently, they tried to make him look dumb again? And since there’s no rush to vacate KL in the show, why the hell didn’t he try to at least take his daughter with him? Like we get it, show, you hate the Greens and therefore all the Greens hate each other apparently (not buying it no matter how much you’re selling it tho), so him not bothering with Helaena is like okaaaay suuuure (not), but HIS KID? He was the hightlight of the first part of this season, and now we're... back at it again. Yay.

Also tbh I hated Daemyra as a concept in S1 as a ship but I LOVED their dynamic if it makes sense. It was truly interesting and both characters really shone in their shared scenes, so when Rhae’s arc this season started to feel like Groundhog Day I really missed Daemyra since at least their push and pull with Daemon made her feel more alive and interesting idk. But like. Their reunion scene looks like a grand meh? Daemon looks like he cares. Rhae came off to me like she doesn’t give a single fuck about him. Rhae in general was one of my fave characters in S1 and now it’s just. Huh? Them trying to saintify her absolutely ruined the character for me, she’s just so bland now which with her amount of screen time just… Doesn’t make for a very compelling show.

So. Yep. Those are my thoughts and feelings. tbh I don’t even know when I became so attached to the Greens. Like maybe it was in spite of the show trying to ruin and ignore them. Sort of like when you start rooting for the underdogs. But now I just feel really hollow and drained and sad for the actors. On both teams tbh, ‘cause like… What even is the point of this show anymore? There’s no war. Aemond is the only one who’s willing to wage it and the show villainizes him for it. Even in ep. 8 Rhae still says she doesn’t wanna fight the war. What did we spend 8 episodes, then, on aside from some character assassinations?

What’s the point if you don’t really feel anything towards most of the characters? Not even anger or apathy? ‘Cause like, I couldn’t care less when Rhaenys died. I’m sure when Jace kicks the bucket it would be the same. If the characters themselves can’t be bothered (where’s the aftermath for Blood and Cheese ffs?), why and HOW the hell should the viewers care? I’m sure they’ll find a way to make even Helaena’s death as meaningless as possible with giving her zero agenda in the matter.

I truly don’t think I’ll be watching S3. I don’t think I have it in me to witness how they screw up the Greens even more than they already did. It’s not even fun anymore how dumb the show is, it’s just draining. Motivations and relationships changing 180 between episodes or even during them (sometimes even during scenes), major events not phasing anyone and having no consequences. Characters the show chose as THE main characters living in Groundhog Day with nothing to do. We’re supposed to just believe the characters are suddenly completely different than they were weeks/months ago in show’s time just because the show says so. HOW ABOUT NO?

I’m only holding out hope for Daeron but at this point? I’m sure he’ll have a total o 1-2 minutes of screen time each episode as well and they’ll ruin him somehow, too. Still funny though how him and Aemond are both 16 which I’m sure is just another writing plot hole but on the off chance it isn’t… The only cool and redeemable thing the show can do at this point in my eyes is make Daeron and Aemond twins. You know, at the very least to give Ewan the screen time he deserves AND give him some better material to work with. But ah well.

At this point I’m choosing to more or less ignore everything that’s happened in S2, ‘cause the sure itself sure as hell ignored 2/3 of it, so why can’t I. Honestly, I want to do a full Helaena and Aemond cosplay, not a costest, if not for any other reason than to freaking forget S2 ever happend and maybe do some scenes which should have been in it, shippery or not. tbh I wasn't even shipping Helaemond until I saw Ewan and Phia's interviews about them and I was SO HYPED. And Tom's interviews. I was so hyped for siblings interecting in general and I feel like both the actors and the audience were done dirty in the worst way possible.

Also also the last thing I want to say is that it's super sad to see viewers turning on Aemond because it's so clear that's what the show wants everyone to do and neither Aemond nor Ewan deserve it. That's very telling of how badly he's written this season, he's not a villain you love to hate, he's just there for people to hate him. I hope at least Ewan doesn't get hate for his character, but we all know some people are braindead enough to project characters onto actors, so... :(

ALSO ALSO ALSO I don't really feel like fighting over this show because I don't think it deserves any more of my nerve cells, so should anyone decide to come at me for this post don't bother, I'll just reply with print screening this part. But it's kinda funny how tumblr seemed to have an actual war over this show when the show straight up refused to commit to anything.

To everyone who has read thus far – here, have some cute backstages from our costest. I’m sure we could all use a hug and a laugh. I know I could.

[look-me]

“𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑺𝑺”

masc!reader x dealer!abby

warnings: using of weed, idk what else

ーー

au: please don't mind any grammar mistakes and please cuz english its not my native language. ps. i never write a smut. also i'll probably won't correct any mistakes cuz i'm too lazy for it

(this story is shitty how can y'all read this 😭)

part 1

part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been a week since you kissed Abby, and the two of you haven’t talked at all. You’ve tried to ignore her whenever you could, but still, you didn’t want her to notice. For example, every time she replied to one of your Instagram stories, you would ‘respond’ by just liking her messages. You wanted to hang out with your usual friend group, but they got mad at you after seeing you leave with Abby that night. They accused you of being a fake friend, of stealing Abby from them—especially one friend of yours who, as you later found out, had a big crush on Abby since the first time she saw her.

“You can’t do that, Y/N! What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re my friend! Why would you do something like that to me?!”

Today, you’re hanging out with some other friends who came into town to see you after you explained what your ex-friends did and what happened with Abby after you left with her. They were shocked. They didn’t know Abby at all, but after you showed them some pictures of her, they just said,

“Y/N, she’s hot and all, but she’s a player. Don’t get attached. Just stay friends with her if you don’t want to cut her off entirely.” After that, they insisted you hang out with them to distract yourself from her.

Now, you and your friends are in a parking lot, vibing to the music blasting from the car speakers, while some other people give you and your group judgmental glances. Your friends are smoking and drinking, screaming their lungs out, singing along to the songs. While you’re laughing at their antics, you notice a girl with black curly hair, long red nails, makeup on, dressed all in black—tight top, tight pants. It’s Julia.

A long time ago, you had a little crush on her because she used to shower you with compliments, was always there for you, and every time you two hung out, it ended in a make-out session. But after you told her you were catching feelings, she started ghosting you, saying she wasn’t ready for a relationship because she had just gotten out of one. You later found out she was lying the whole time, and from that day forward, you started hating her.

-

"Hey," she says with that fake, innocent smile.

Fake ugly bitch.

Why does she have to ruin your moment right now?

"Hi," you mutter, not even looking her in the eyes as you sit on the ground.

"It's been a while."

"Yep," you reply, barely caring about what she says.

"Listen," she starts, her hand sliding onto your thigh, caressing it and moving up and down, dangerously close to your pussy.

You're about to push her away when—

"Hey chicas!" Manny calls out.

"Hey, Manny," she smiles, turning her head towards him.

"What are you two up to?"

"Oh, we're just talking and having fun."

"That kind of fun?" he asks with a smirk.

The girl laughs at Manny's joke and then says,

"I wish."

You whip your head to look at her, your expression dead serious and disgusted, silently screaming: Why the fuck would you say that?

"By the way, aren't you Mike's sister?" Manny asks.

"Yeah, how do you know him?" you respond, your voice clipped as you shoot him a serious and irritated look. It's not your fault you come off as mad, but Julia's presence is grating on your nerves right now.

"You know, he gives me things when my best friend can't," Manny says casually.

You roll your eyes, already tired of hearing that same old story. Every time someone says they know your brother, it's always because of the same damn reason-he's a dealer, and you're so over it.

"Okay," you reply, clearly done with the conversation.

"Okay, chicas, I'll leave you two alone now.

See you later," Manny says, heading off.

The second he's far enough away, you round on Julia.

"What the fuck was that? What's your problem?" you snap, roughly pushing her hand away from your thigh.

"Omg, Y/N! I was just joking," she protests.

"No, fuck you. You know what you did to me-treating me like I was your girlfriend, telling me l was yours, making out with me, and then saying you didn't want a relationship. You have serious fucking problems for saying that shit in front of him when I don't even know him. And you say it like it's nothing? Do you even realize how much that hurt me? Are you fucking stupid? Why are you even here anyway?"

You and Julia are in the middle of a heated argument, voices rising as you go back and forth. Your friends are still chilling with the music blasting, completely unaware of the tension between the two of you. Julia’s face is twisted with frustration, but you’re too fed up to care.

Meanwhile, Abby is at home, watching some random movie to pass the time when a notification pops up on her phone:

Manny - 2 new messages.

“Hey, pendeja”

“Wanna hang out when I’m done with some stuff?”

A new notification interrupts:

*NEW MESSAGES*

Manny: Do you know Mike’s sister?

“Isn’t she the girl you told me about? They look similar by your description.”

*image.*

Abby quickly taps on the notifications, her curiosity piqued. The image loads, and her stomach drops. It’s a picture of you and Julia, her hand resting way too high on your thigh. Abby stares at the image for a moment, her jaw tightening.

She replies instantly.

Abby: Where are you?

“In the usual parking lot we hang out at with Owen, Jordan, you know.”

“You still want to hang out?”

“Yeah, I’m picking up the others right now, be at your place in 10.”

“Okay.”

Ten minutes later, Manny pulls up at Abby’s house, and soon they’re walking through the parking lot. Abby’s eyes are scanning the crowd until she spots you, her expression darkening.

Manny heads your way, shouting, “Hey, told you I’d be back so—” He stops mid-sentence when he sees Julia kissing you, her lips pressed against yours as a soft moan escapes her. Abby freezes, her vision tunneling, anger flaring up inside her. Her fists clench as her heart pounds in her chest.

Just then, your friend Micheal calls out from the car, unknowingly saving you from the situation, “Y/N! Wanna try this drink? It’s fire!”

You push Julia away from you, wiping your mouth quickly, and stand up, turning to head toward Martin. But just as you reach for the drink, a hand snatches it away before you can grab it.

“You’re not drinking tonight,” a cold voice says.

You look up to see Abby standing in front of you, her blue eyes burning with barely-contained anger.

“Abby? What are you—“

“Shut your mouth and walk,” she snaps, throwing the drink aside before grabbing your arm. Her grip is firm, leaving no room for argument as she pulls you away from the group, forcing you to walk with her.

Your heart races as you glance back at your friends, then at Julia, but Abby doesn't care. She’s got you now, and there’s no escaping whatever comes next.

"Abby, stop."

"Manny, give me your car keys. I'll be back in a minute."

"Sure," he says, handing Abby the keys without asking any questions.

"Get in the car, Y/N."

"Abby, let me go."

She opens the car door and forces you inside. As she takes the driver's seat, you try to open the door, but she's already locked it.

"Abby, what's wrong with you? Open the fucking door!"

Abby doesn't respond. She starts the engine and speeds out of the parking lot.

"Abby, slow down!"

After twenty minutes of speeding, Abby pulls over in the middle of nowhere-no lights, no houses, just darkness all around.

"Fuck! Abigail!"

She turns on the interior light, and you look at her, scared of what might happen. You don't know if Abby is a violent person or not. Her eyes are filled with fury, and you can see she's seething with anger.

"We need to talk. Now."

"No, we don't."

"Oh yeah? So you think it's okay to ignore me and treat me like l'm a stranger?"

"Wha-"

"Don't play dumb, Y/N, and don't make any excuses. You're not even drunk."

The silence between you two grows heavier.

"Why did you stop talking to me after we kissed?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"What do you mean?"

"Abby, you have a new girl with you every two seconds. You're always having sex or making out with them in a blink of an eye." You sigh before continuing, "I felt-and still feel-like a sex toy to you."

"You're not."

"Yeah, like I can really trust you on that," you say sarcastically, turning your face to the window. "I should've never told you about my feelings. We can't work together."

"Y/N-"

"I fucking hate you, Abby. I hate having feelings for someone who would probably just use me however she likes!" You spit out, facing her again.

"I've told you many times that I don't like how you talk to me. I'm serious, Y/N. Stop."

"Abby, seriously, fuck you."

At that, she grabs your neck, nearly choking you, and pulls you two inches away from her face.

"Oh yeah? Then who is that girl? And why was she kissing you and moaning into your mouth? Why was she almost touching your pussy moments before I showed up?"

After the last sentence, you try to understand how she could have seen that, and then you connect the dots. She’s Manny’s best friend. But how?

“How do you—”

“Manny sent me a picture.”

Fuck you, manny

“It’s none of your business who she is, and I didn’t try anything with her.”

“Then why didn’t you push her away from you?” Abby says, tightening her grip on your neck slightly.

“I was shocked. She caught me by surprise.”

Abby doesn’t answer. Instead, she keeps her intense gaze fixed on you, trying to see if you’re lying.

“I was just trying to distract myself from you. Now you’re acting jealous, calling me yours, but are you mine?” you say

“What do you think?”

“You aren’t. I think we both know that, Abigail.”

Just then, your phone starts ringing with a photo of a curly haired woman —Julia — popping up.

Abby recognizes the girl and stares at you, clearly unimpressed by the timing.

“Don’t you even try to answer.”

You ignore her and answer the phone, putting it on speaker.

“Hello? Love?” Julia says, and you remain silent.

Abby looks at you and whispers, “Love? Really?”

“Julia, what do you want?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I saw that girl taking you away from me while we were talking.”

As Julia continues talking, Abby starts giving you hickeys on your neck, causing you to moan intentionally. You’re so focused on the sensations that you stop listening to whatever Julia is saying.

“Are you okay, love?” Julia asks, her voice tinged with concern.

Abby pulls her head away from your neck and grabs your phone from your hand. You try to fight her, but you know Abby is hundred times stronger than you.

“She’s busy right now,” Abby says before hanging up on Julia.

“Abby, what the fuck?”

Abby doesn’t answer. Instead, she pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, which contains a joint and a lighter.

You know where this is going to end.

Abby leans back in the driver’s seat and brings the joint to her lips, the tip flaring orange in the complete darkness. The only sound is the faint crackle of burning paper and herb as she takes a long drag. Smoke fills the air, swirling around her in lazy spirals, barely visible in the faint moonlight that seeps through the windows. The deep, earthy scent of cannabis mixes with the musty smell of the old car seats, creating an almost comforting atmosphere. Abby exhales slowly, the smoke pouring from her mouth and nostrils, diffusing into the blackness outside. The silence is profound, with no hum of traffic or distant chatter, only the occasional rustle of wind through unseen trees. Her eyes are half-closed, her mind drifting as she stares out into the void, feeling an odd sense of peace in the isolation. She takes another drag, the glow from the joint briefly illuminating her fingers before once again merging with the surrounding darkness.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Abby remains silent.

“Are you really smoking while we’re arguing?”

Still.

“I’m done with your bullshit, Abigail. Let me go.”

As you say this, Abby rests the joint between her lips, freeing both of her hands.

Abby’s hands clutch the car’s armrest. With a sudden, rough motion, she yanks you toward her, forcing you onto her lap. You gasp, startled by Abby’s intensity as your bodies collide in the confined space of Manny’s motionless car. She removes one hand from your waist to grab the joint and exhale the smoke.

“I told you many times to stop calling me by my full name,” she says, gripping your neck and pulling you closer to her face.

“And I told you many times I’m not any of your bitches, Abigail.”

“You’re mine, Y/N.”

“Fuck you.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” she says, closing the distance between you until you’re just two inches apart.

“Too bad you made me mad,” she whispers.

You’re about to respond when her phone starts ringing. The caller ID shows ‘Manny.’

Abby rolls her eyes and throws away her joint as if it’s nothing.

“What do you want?”

“Abby, I need my car. Owen needs to grab something from home.”

“Fine.” She hangs up. Without missing a beat, she turns her head and locks her gaze with yours, her icy blue eyes filled with a silent warning.

“Don’t you even try to go back to her when we’re there again,” Abby says, her voice low but firm, every word laced with intensity.

You meet her stare, unimpressed. “You’re so annoying, Abby.”

With a sigh, you move to open the car door, slipping off Abby’s lap and sliding back into the passenger seat, feeling the shift in the air between you. Abby’s eyes never leave you, even as she shifts back into the driver’s seat, jaw tight, hands resting on the steering wheel, as if bracing for whatever comes next. As soon as you settle back into the passenger seat, Abby shifts the car into gear, her fingers tightening around the wheel. The tension in the air is thick, unspoken words hanging between you as you drive in silence. The dark, winding roads stretch out before you, the headlights cutting through the night, but neither of you says a word. Abby’s eyes flick over to you a few times, but she stays focused on the road. Her jaw is set, frustration simmering beneath her calm exterior. You lean against the window, your breath fogging up the glass slightly, arms crossed as the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the tires on the asphalt become the only sounds. Minutes pass, feeling like hours, until the familiar sight of the compound appears in the distance, its fortified walls and the glow of lights signaling you are back. The tension shifts, replaced by a looming sense of inevitability. The car rolls to a stop near the entrance where Manny and a few others are waiting, standing in the dim light as they speak amongst themselves. Abby kills the engine and sits there for a moment, staring straight ahead. “We’re here,” she mutters, her tone curt. You shoot her a sidelong glance but don’t say anything. You push open the door and step out, the cool night air hitting your skin as you stretch, shaking off the weight of the car ride. Manny notices you and gives a short wave, walking over with a grin on his face.

"Hey, took you guys long enough," he jokes, but he quickly notices the tension radiating from you and Abby.

Abby climbs out of the driver's seat, standing tall as she slams the door shut. Her eyes briefly meet yours, but she quickly turns to Manny. “We had some things to discuss about.” she says, her voice flat.

Manny raises a brow, sensing the atmosphere between you, but doesn’t press it. “Well, glad you're back. i’ll take owen at home home, we’ll be back in 10.”

After Manny finishes talking, you move to walk back to your friends when you feel pressure on your waist. It's Abby, her large, veiny hands gripping you firmly. She leans in, her voice low and steady.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, leave me alone," you reply, trying to pull away.

"Calm down, princess. I haven't even started with you yet," she whispers into your ear, smirking. Then, without warning, she presses a kiss against your neck, and it makes you freeze in place.

Abby lets you go, but she stays close, walking beside you with that familiar intensity. From a distance, one of your friends notices Abby’s presence and immediately makes her way over. Without hesitation, she grabs your arm, pulling you away from the tension. Abby lets you go, her hand sliding off your waist as she begins walking next to you, her presence still heavy in the air.

"Come hereeee" she says, her voice light and carefree as she leads you toward the others. The music from the speakers pulses through the empty parking lot, and soon enough, you’re moving to the beat, your friend helping you shake off the tension as Abby watches from the sidelines, her gaze never leaving you. As the beat of the next song thumps through the speakers, your friend throws her head back, laughing. She leans into you, resting her head on your shoulder, her laughter light and carefree.

“Oh my god, I’ve never had this much fun in so long,” she says, still giggling, her words slurring from all the excitement. You feel her happiness infectiously sinking in.

Abby Standing off to the side, arms crossed, her jaw clenched tight, she watches you with a growing intensity. The sight of you laughing, vibing, and lost in the moment with your friend pushes her to the edge. Her patience snaps, and she starts walking toward you, the determination in her stride cutting through the music. You can feel the weight of her presence approaching, the air around you thickening.

She's had enough.

When Abby reaches you, her large hand grips your arm—not harshly, but firm enough that you feel the seriousness behind it.

“We’re done here,” Abby says, her voice low and commanding. There’s a tension in her words that sends a chill down your spine. She’s barely keeping it together. Abby isn’t going to wait for an answer, and before you can think too hard about it, she’s pulling you away from the music, away from the carefree vibe, and into the shadowy edges of the parking lot. You open your mouth to protest, the frustration bubbling up inside you, but before you can say a word, Abby steps in close, towering over you, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of control and desire.

“Not even a word,” she interrupts, her voice low and unwavering. Her smirk pulls at the corner of her lips, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just wait till we get home,” she adds, her tone dripping with a promise that makes your pulse quicken. It’s the kind of tone that says it all:

I’m going to make you regret that.

You stand there, frozen, caught between defiance and the undeniable pull Abby has over you. your friends’s voice a distant hum as Abby’s presence overtakes everything. There’s no escape from the intensity in her eyes, and you know whatever is waiting for you at home is going to be something you won’t forget easily. After a moment of tense silence between you and Abby, Manny walks back over, catching sight of the two of you standing close, the tension still thick in the air. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything at first, sensing the shift.

“Oye chicas, you guys good?” he asks with a playful smile, his voice casual, but there’s a knowing edge to it. Manny has been around Abby long enough to pick up on her moods, and right now, he’s smart enough to stay out of it.

Abby barely glances his way, her hand still lingering on your arm. “Can you take us to my place?” she asks, her voice steady, but there’s no mistaking the undertone of command. It’s not really a request, and Manny knows it. He looks between the two of you, his gaze lingering on Abby for a beat longer. He doesn’t ask why or what’s going on—he doesn’t need to. Manny knows Abby better than almost anyone, and he can tell exactly what kind of mood she’s in.

“Sí, claro,” he says with a nod, keeping it simple. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask the questions swirling in his mind. After all, Abby is his best friend, and if there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s when to mind his own business. You steal a glance at Abby, her smirk still lingering, and your stomach tightens with a mix of anticipation and nerves. Manny leads the way to the car, and you can feel Abby’s gaze burning into you the whole time. Whatever’s coming, you’re not going to be able to avoid it. You slide into the backseat with Abby beside you, the car ride feeling heavier than it should. Manny stays quiet up front, the silence only broken by the low rumble of the engine as he drives, and you’re left wondering what’s going to happen when you finally get to Abby’s place.

-

who knows what is going to happen next👀

[tallymonster]

Careless Whisper ❤️ AO3 link ❤️‍🔥

Summary: Zesstra is a stripper and she just got off work. She turns on her computer and watches a very steamy streamer.

THIS IS PURE SMUT TRASH, IT IS NOT SERIOUS. If you come to my asks being an asshole, your ass will get BLOCKED.

A/N: there's a lot of emojis and out of character speak going on here. Do not take anything written here seriously, this was done for fun. Consider this a love letter to my friends on the Astarion Brainrot discord and to the ones who let me use their Tavs in this wild idea I had one day when I got too stoned and started to write on Google docs. Might be a one off, might be a thing, who knows?? Either way, enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day 😘💕

@cursedhaglette who let me use Halia (goldengalhal)

@tragedybunny who let me use Sera (SeraQueen)

@micropoe10 who let me use Colette (EcoGirl)

@just-a-refrigerator who let me use Elora (slutty_songstress)

And @bhaalbaaby who let me use Penelope

Thanks guys, I love love love you all 💕

Zesstra flops onto her bed with her laptop and a giant glass of wine in her hand. Another shitty day at work, but what's new? Being a dancer at the Fae Cabaret wasn't the ideal thing, but fuck, if the money wasn't worth getting her ass slapped for 10$ extra dollars in her tip pile.

Today though, was the last straw. The creepy rich dude who comes by every once in a while came by tonight, and did his same bullshit. She could practically recite his opening line “Hey gorgeous, why the sour face?” followed by a stupid smarmy laugh.

Zesstra smiled, put on the fake giggle, and slapped his shoulder. Next, he buys her the cheapest mixed drink, and of course, he gets himself an expensive glass of whiskey he never finishes.

She tries her hardest not to roll her eyes after he makes some degrading comment about her coworker, grimacing while he rants about some meeting with important people she doesn't give two fucks about.

Whatever, that's all in the past now. Tonight was about Zesstra, of course. It's her blessed time off and she was going to spend it the only way she could truly enjoy it.

Zesstra turned on her computer and went through her socials. The public one for family and close friends, some messages from the girls at work, nothing too exciting.

Then she flips to the slutty socials, the ones where she can post pictures from work. She answers some messages on her pay per post site, adds more lewd photos from her various shopping sprees, and scrolls for a few minutes. Messages pour in offering her the world for a few seconds of her attention, but there's really only one place she wishes to be.

Zesstra thinks back on the one bright spot in her nights. A regular she only knows as “The Lawyer”. He's a good looking elf, perfect silver hair, gorgeous face, dazzling red eyes that lock onto her as she walks the floor of the club.

He usually doesn't say much, but when he does Zesstra swears she’s heard that silky voice somewhere before. She put that thought to the back of her mind. Tonight was about seeking her own pleasure.

Clicking through the streaming sites she visits on nights when the images of him won't leave, she finds that her favorite creator, an asmr streamer called ProfaneDelight, just began his stream. Zesstra clicks on his name and pops her headphones on. She drinks more of the wine, and closes her eyes as his voice begins to fill her ears.

“Good evening, darlings.” She watches as he enters the frame of the video, his tight red shirt and black pants hug his body. The camera is at the most unfortunate angle, since it won't allow her to see his whole face which she assumes matches the delicious sound of his voice.

“Have you been waiting all day for me?” He huffs softly, a small laugh follows, “What a good audience you are…” His breathy tone sends shivers down her spine.

Zesstra kept her eyes on the screen as his hands come up to the desk he stands behind. She notices the black leather gloves with red piping along the edges that cover his hands.

“You know I can't stand to be away from you.”, his voice drips, seductively. “I bet you think of me while you do the most boring things.”

Zesstra can't help keeping her eyes locked on his hands, she tries not to, but her mind starts to imagine The Lawyer’s hands there instead.

“Do you get excited when you see time passing by as I get closer to coming back to you?”

His right hand comes up to the top of his shirt, slowly undoing a couple of buttons. A breathy sigh followed his hand as it lowered itself down his torso. Zesstra bites her lip in anticipation, taking another slow sip from her wine.

Her eyes follow his hand as it comes to a stop at the waistline of his pants. The heat rises to her cheeks when she sees the outline of his cock as the gloved hand cups it.

A strained groan escapes his lips, she can already feel the effects of his seduction working on her body. Her cheeks are heating up just by watching these slow teases.

Zesstra swallows more wine, watching as he opens his shirt more. The pale skin of his core seemed to shine in what appears to be candlelight. The soft yellows of the light bathe his body, the shadows cast highlight the muscles that are slowly exposed.

“Ah ah aaahh” he teases, “if you want more…you know what to do, darlings.”

Zesstra smirks mischievously, the money she earned tonight would be put to great use right now. She types a quick message and before she could type it she hears the ping of a donation from someone called goldengalhal.

goldengalhal sent 20$ “Starting off right, love. There's more where that came from 😘”

Zesstra rolls her eyes and sends her 25$ donation, 5 more than whomever that is. Back on the screen she sees her name and message pop up.

TestyZesty sent 25$ “couldn't wait to come home, looks like I got here just in time…”

He laughs and begins to slide one of the gloves off near the microphone. The soft scratching sound of the fabric rubbing against his pale hand sent more shivers through Zesstra’s skin.

As the glove comes completely off his hand, he taps on the mic, Zesstra sighs contentedly and licks the wine off her lip. She notices his fingers, and does a double take. They look familiar? She pours the last bit of this bottle into her glass and leans back to watch more before jumping to conclusions.

“Looks like we have someone who came by at the right time…little TestyZesty…my dear, what are you so testy about? Anything I can help with?” His lips curl into a little smirk, “I hear I give wonderful stress relief…”

Zesstra shoots up on her bed, her wine swivels in the glass and almost spills due to her abrupt reaction. “No fuckin’ way.” her jaw drops and she begins to type her response. Suddenly, another donation pings, this time from a SeraQueen.

SeraQueen sent 50$ “I had a bad day at work, can I get a little love too 🥺”

“Of course, dear. Hope your day can improve now that you're here, my Queen.” he responds with all the sweet words they all love.

Zesstra scoffs, “Biiiiitttttch, please.” she giggles and sends her message. As soon as it pops up on screen, she hears his melodic voice begin to read it.

“Work, irl shit. Life sucks, then you die. You make it better though.” she sees a small smirk on his lips, Gods, she would kill to suck on those lips. “Oh, don't be so nice to me, Zesty…you make me want to be nice back..” He draws out the last bit of that sentence, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.

The second hand comes up and begins the same languid dance of slipping the matching glove off. Bit by bit he takes the glove off each finger, a soft moan flows out of those pretty pink lips when he finally releases his hand from the offending accessory.

He strokes the microphone with his fingers as more soft, breathy moans leave his lips. “You're all so eager to get me exposed aren't you? All these adorable messages just for me?”

“You have no idea…” Zesstra grabs the second bottle of wine that sat on her nightstand, she unscrews the top and drinks straight from the bottle. More images of her Lawyer pop into her head, but her mind decides to think of the way he ran his hands all over her when she took him into the private rooms at the back of the club a couple of nights ago.

No matter how many times she's been told not to let people touch her, she can't help letting him do it every time they're alone. He was paying for the whole experience, of course, but sometimes she wonders what they would get away with if she were the one paying him.

She snaps out of it the moment she hears another donation ping from an EcoGirl.

EcoGirl sent 150$ “do you like to garden? Because I have a hedge that needs tending 😏”

“Oh no, little love. I can't mess up these immaculate hands…then how would I be able to make these streams?” He giggles a bit and stands to remove his belt. It's like a little game of back and forth comments and donations from different people.

Among the many she notices a comment from a slutty_songstress “how do I get you to sing for me? bet you make wonderful sounds 👀”. He apparently noticed that one as well, he reads it out and huffs into the microphone.

“I don't usually do private performances…most of the time I’m the one getting the dance done for me…” A skewed smirk grows on his face, as if he's trying to play coy.

Zesstra’s mind begins to fire off with unhinged horny thoughts. She would do anything to give this man a dance he would never forget. People do love her aloof drow attitude, who’s to say he wouldn't?

Before she could stop herself, she drops another donation.

TestyZesty sent 100$ “what kind of dancing? Are you going to the ballet or stopping by the Cabaret? maybe I'll see you there? 😘”

Another cheeky comment, sure to get his attention. He laughs again, and bites his lip. “Well, I do enjoy both, but I do hold a special place in my heart for the girls at the Fae…have a few in mind actually.”

Within seconds the chat is flooded with questions on who the girls could be. Zesstra sees a few of her coworker’s names flash up on the screen, most notably, Penelope, the pink tiefling with a huge fan base, and Nym the other drow girl who worked part time at the strip club.

Some even mentioned Nym’s brother Sorm, but he had given up the cabaret after finding himself a job as a model after one of his regulars hit it big during Faerun Fashion Week.

Penelope and Nym are Zesstra’s friends and friendly competition. Most nights where the three of them work, they'll place bets on which one of them will get hit on first (Penelope), which one will get a four figure tip (Nym), and who can get the client the most drunk within 30 minutes (Zesstra).

She giggles as the comments keep flying, eventually, one commenter names her!

“Have you seen Zesstra?? She's kind of a bitch but total dommy mommy energy 🥵”

Zesstra cackles like a banshee, “That's right, babes, fear me!” She takes a long drink from the bottle, amused that someone out there thought of her.

Back on stream, the delightful treat in front of her sucks his lip and releases it with a pop, “Darlings, I will never kiss and tell, but I do know one of my little friends is here right now.”

Zesstra sputters into her wine glass, she cannot believe what she just heard! Is he trying to imply that he's a possible client of the Fae??? There's no way, he's probably talking about the ballet that her cousin Octavia is a part of. But then again, how many of those girls sit in their room after a performance and flick their bean to this shit?

She chuckles the thought out of her head, and focuses her attention on the screen. She starts to type a message when a donation pops up.

goldengalhal sent 200$ “I do ballet, maybe you’ve seen one of our performances? I'm the prima ballerina at the Gate’s Performance Hall.”

“Good for you, goldengal. I do appreciate the arts, and I do love dressing up for the occasion, but….there's just something about the girls at the Fae that gets me going…”

Zesstra’s brain short-circuits. “OH MY FUCKING GODS.” Could he be one of her regulars????

Another donation. EcoGirl sent 50$ “CAN WE GET BACK TO THE MATTERS AT HAND?? our boyfriend is still wearing a shirt. 👀”

Zesstra laughs and sends her donation, TestyZesty sent 69$ “i agree with EcoGirl, can we get back to these pressing matters? In particular, the rest of those buttons 😏” An amused chuckle comes out of his lips, he stands and Zesstra could see him lean in closer to the microphone.

His hand slides down his chest, following along the line of buttons at the front of his shirt. The almost hushed sounds flowed from his lips. A strained groan here and a breathy moan there. Zesstra’s skin prickles under his teases.

His hands linger on the buttons that hold his shirt closed, one by one he begins to slide his fingers over the closures, his pale skin becoming more visible by the second. More soft whines and moans fill Zesstra’s ears, the vibrations pooling down in her core.

He leans over and speaks directly into the camera “I hope you all are pleased with yourselves, I don't usually let you all have this much power over me, but I figured with it being Lover’s Night, I would give my little pets a treat.”

He blows a kiss to the camera and begins running his hand down his neck, slowly trailing his hand down his now exposed chest. A low groan, almost a growly noise flutters out of his throat as he pulls the rest of his shirt open. The red silky looking fabric hung off his shoulders as his hand lingered on his waistband.

“Shall I keep going, lovelies? What do you think?”

The messages fly on the left hand side of Zesstra’s laptop screen. One after the other they compete for his attention until another high donation drops.

Slutty_songstress sent 200$ “off with the shirt, please (respectfully)”

“Well, my songstress, since you asked so politely…” The last word is drawn out, he lets his shirt drop from his shoulders, his hand throws it off and palms his cock again. He sucks his lip into his mouth, Zesstra could see what looked like a fang pop out the right side.

More breathy moans fill her ears as she begins to remember earlier in her night, when her bright spot waltzed into the club. She watched as the Lawyer walked up to the bar, he leaned on the counter and began to text furiously. Zesstra didn't usually feel so flustered because of a client, but the way he looked at her was not usual of the other patrons.

When she walked up to him he looked straight at her eyes and smiled. “Hello, beautiful.” She smiles back and leans over the bar, letting her shoulders drop, pressing her upper arms together to puff out her chest. The little game of playing it cool failed under his gaze.

They talk for a while before she hears her name being called, at the same time he checks his watch and notices the time. “I’m late to a very important meeting. Looks like we have to part ways, gorgeous. Maybe next time, we can have some time together? Perhaps away from these prying eyes?”

Zesstra could never properly hear him, no thanks to the loud ass music Alfira played behind the DJ booth, but she was pretty good at reading lips by now.

He slips her a note and winks as she bends down seductively to shove the little scrap of paper inside her platform boot. The moment ruined by Nym, who comes to pull her up on stage. Soon after she finishes her set, she pulls the little note out and reads it.

Zesstra’s jaw drops and sees that it's a business card for one of the most elite law firms in Faerun. It was a plain white card with his name, Astarion, and number written on it. On the back there was a note that read “I helped you once before, don't hesitate to ask again.”

She had given him her landlord’s number when they were trying to pull some shady shit and not fix her leaky shower. One call from “her lawyer” and it was done.

Seems like this was her chance, and given the amount of alcohol she's drunk so far, Zesstra decides to text the number.

“Hey, Astarion. It's Zesstra. Pretty bold of you to give me a business card.” She hits send and throws her phone on the nightstand. She'll check it later, he was probably busy at that meeting he mentioned.

Back in her room, she snaps back to reality yet again when she hears the sound of hundreds of messages scrolling past. Apparently in the time that she was in her daydream, her streamer had already undone his pants! She scoffs and types out a message.

TestyZesty sent 123$ “Holy shit, I looked away for five seconds and you sluts got his pants open??”

Zesstra hears the sultry voice reading her message out loud with a little wince at the end, “I guess if you were paying attention, you wouldn't be surprised.”

Her throat feels dry, she clenches and swallows. “You're all so sweet, letting me ramble like this…I wish I could see your face when you let me do whatever I want to you.”

Zesstra was already extremely turned on from seeing her crush earlier and the way she could feel his eyes studying her reactions.

“Touch yourself. I know you want to.”

As if she was being compelled to, her hand begins to trail down her center, slipping into her tiny shorts. She feels her wetness coating her fingers, her body opening up under his commands.

“Be good for me, I could be really good for you…” he slips his pants down, and she hears them hit the ground. His hand moves up to his waist, pulling at the fabric of his skin tight boxers, his cock very clearly hardened by this point.

“Oh fuck…” she slips her shorts completely off, spreading her legs on both sides of the laptop sitting on her bed. Her left hand goes back to work herself open while the right is tugging her bra up to play with her nipple.

“Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want, darlings.”

Another flood of donations and messages ring out, Zesstra wishes they would all just shut up and enjoy the show, but it's all part of the game.

EcoGirl sent 100$ “pleeease, I need to see this man cuuuuummmmmmm 🥵”

“As you wish, dear. Any particular way? Or is it the dealer's choice?” his voice drops as a sharp exhale escapes with a pout, his muscles tense and release as he runs his hand over his cock.

“Tell me how you want me to.” a sigh, and a moan, “I really wanna come for you all, you've been so good to me tonight..”

Two donations come in at the same time, each opposes the other.

SeraQueen sent 350$ “love the teasing, keep going, we love anything you give us”

goldengalhal sent 420$ “fuck your hand. Let us see your cock leak.”

“Ooh, the war begins…So direct, goldengal, and sooo generous…thank you, love. I do like what SeraQueen adds though, maybe I can give both of my generous beauties a compromise?’

He runs his left hand down the front of his boxers more, his breath hitches and stutters. His fingers teasing the length of his cock. He pulls the camera and the microphone down a bit and flops into the chair behind him.

TestyZesty sent 422$ “you look comfy, just how I imagined when I think of riding you when I touch myself.”

Zesstra had to take her hand off her tit to type that, but she could tell it had an effect on him. As a stripper, she could pretty much tell when any of the patrons got too excited by the dance. This guy clearly loved the attention he got doing these streams in more ways than one.

He begins to pull his boxers down, teasing them all with how slowly he was inching the fabric off. As soon as his cock is freed, it bounces back, bobbing with a twitch. “Is this what you think about, Zesty?”

TestyZesty sent 100$ “ fuck yes. I want to milk you, you drive me crazy.”

A pleased hum that turns into a moan follows as he runs his hands up his thighs, digging his nails into his skin. Zesstra can see the red scratch marks grow bright against his pale skin. Gods, she would love to bite down and see how pretty he would look bruised with little love bites all over.

He wraps one hand around his cock, the other continues to work his way up his toned chest, tweaking a nipple as he begins to lazily stroke his cock.

TestyZesty sent 100$ “get yourself nice and hard, I wanna have a good image of you underneath me.”

“Let me give you a better image then, darling Zesty…”

Zesstra is rewarded with a louder moan, he strokes himself a little more, grabbing a bottle off camera with his other hand. He flips the top and drizzles what looks like lube all over his cock.

EcoGirl sent 50$ “yesyesyesyes get it nice and slick, daddy. I would suck you all day if you let me.”

SeraQueen sent 240$ “you have the prettiest cock, so thick too”

��Oh EcoGirl, you like it when daddy fucks his hand? Would you like it to be your cunt instead? Maybe you and Sera can share?”

Zesstra clenches around nothing, she can't take it anymore and reaches down to fully indulge in herself. She begins to circle her clit, stroking slowly, trying to imitate the movements of his hand on screen.

His hand now coated in a combination of lube and precum slides up and down his hardened length, the muscles on his thighs flex and he lets out more breathy moans. “Let's see who can get me to come all over their beautiful tits, I do love it when they're covered with my come, bouncing in my face.”

Zesstra strokes down her pussy, her slick entrance is so desperate to be filled by him, to be the only one bringing him pleasure. She lets herself wander to the place in her mind where Astarion is the one making her mewl underneath him.

goldengalhal sent 300$ “faster, I love it when you can tell how desperate you are to come.”

He huffs and does as he's told, his hands find their places on his cock and on his balls, both working in tandem to ruin him for the audience. With one hand he strokes himself more, building up speed. His other cups his balls as his fingers spread, moving down towards his frenulum. He arches his back, thrusting into his hand more desperately.

Zesstra wants him to cry out for her like this, she wants to be the one to make him feel as good as he does for her, all she can bare to think of is his cock sliding inside her, splitting her open and taking what he wanted.

Waves of pleasure crash into Zesstra as she watches him stroking his cock faster, she can see how everyone's words affect him. The way his chest stutters as he's getting closer to his own high. His hips thrust up into his soaked hand, seeking release, his breaths growing more ragged and strained.

Zesstra's fingering herself in time with his thrusts, she lets the images of Astarion flood back into her head, his hands all over her as she grinds herself onto him during her dances. She rubs the heel of her palm into her clit faster as she feels herself getting closer, the moans and breaths in her ears pushing her closer to the edge.

“That's right, come for me…let me fill you with my come, get you nice and full for me. Have my seed drip down your legs as you go about your day…” a stutter followed by a strained groan “fuck yourself faster, I want to feel you come for me.”

Zesstra feels herself winding up more, the tension ready to snap at any moment, when she hears his moans grow louder and more primal. He's desperate to come and she would do anything to get that to happen. She keeps her eyes locked into his hands.

With her free hand she sends the last donation she thinks she can type before the lust fully takes her.

TestyZesty sent 69$ “come for me, gorgeous. Let me see you come and coat your beautiful skin.”

“Yes darling… gods, I'm so close… are you gonna come too, Zesty? Come with me, sweet girl.”

As if on command, Zesstra can feel herself crossing over the precipice, her body writhes and clenches as her cunt squeezes down on her fingers. She rides her orgasm out as she hears him panting and whining.

“Yes yes fuck you're so tight and wet, I can't take it anymore, fuuuuck…” he twists his hand on the rise of his hand, giving the head a bit of a squeeze. He thrusts into his hand with little shallow movements, his fingers from his other hand grip on his balls as he fucks his hand.

His body is clenching, tensing up more and more as he pushes himself over the edge, his cock twitches as he comes. The thick liquid coats his hand as it drips down. His body shudders as he keeps fucking his hand through his climax.

His moans stutter and his hips tremble. His waist and stomach are coated with his come, an obscene display for such a composed subject.

“Looks like I gotta clean up here, darlings.” he pants with a small laugh, his breath shallow and chest heaving. “For my little messenger, I hope you liked it. Expect a response from me soon, pet. Good night, loves.”

The stream ends, Zesstra thinks that little sign off was strange, but everyone has their thing. As she's coming down from one of the best orgasms she's had, she hears her phone ring and notices that Astarion has actually texted back! His meeting must've just ended, perfect timing.

When she opens the message, she nearly dropped her phone from the whiplash from throwing her head back. As plain as her own red eyes could see, was a short text. “You were pretty bold tonight, yourself, testyzesty…” Zesstra gasps, her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “OH MY FUCKING GODS?!?!”

She immediately feels her hands trembling wildly. All she could think about was him, and it turns out that it was. Zesstra’s brain immediately blanks out when her phone rings again. “Did you mean what you said? Do you really want me like that?”

She quickly types a response and sent it back “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Come now, dear. Don't play coy.” his response reads, “Pretty easy to figure out it was you, not many girls mention seeing me at the Cabaret. Thought you were trying to drop a hint? Figured you recognized my voice from earlier?

Zesstra didn't even think about it, the club is so fucking loud, her mind races at the fact that now she knows that he definitely got off to her watching him. “Did you always know?”

“No.” he replies.

“So then…you meant to give me your phone number tonight?”

“Yes. Let's just say, you intrigued me. Besides, you're not the only one who has a public and private life. I was hoping to let you in on my little secret eventually, but it seems life had other plans for us.”

Zesstra cannot believe what's going on right now, her mind is racing through the hundreds of times he's come through the club. The sudden departures and strange late night meetings, it all makes sense now. There were never any meetings…well, not with other lawyers at least.

“So….what happens now? I know who you are, you know who I am…do we keep going down this path or do we split ways?”

“I think you're a rather curious little kitten, why don't we see how far down the rabbit hole we can go? I'll send you my address. Let me know what you decide on.”

Zesstra bolts out of bed, she puts on the skimpy dress that hangs on the bathroom door. She slips it on and gathers some things before running to the door. As she makes her way down the stairwell of her building, she gets his address. She bites her lip and replies “I’m on my way, see you soon.”

[howlinchickhowl]

Ristretto - mini update

Hey! So, uh. I've been working on the next chapter of Ristretto for a good long while now. I'm finding it challenging because it's a lot of spice and that's one of the things I find hardest to write well. The next chapter, May, the lusty month of may, is planned as basically a five + 1 of fucking, and I have completed one section! So I have decided what I am doing for this chapter is mini updates by section here on tumblr, and then whenever I have all the sections complete I will update on ao3. In all honesty I just feel like I need the boost of actually posting something right now.

If you remember this fic and want to read the updates separately as they come, great! If you would rather wait and read them all in one go as one whole chapter, also great!

If you have no idea what Ristretto is, it's my coffeeshop AU I have been writing forever and a day and you can read from the beginning here.

And now without further ado!

Chapter 9(a) - rated E

May

By the time Ian closes the store, Mickey has taken to the break room for a nap, and Ian completes all of his nightly cleaning duties to the sounds of him snoring deep and rhythmic. When he’s done Ian shakes him awake and is treated to a full ten minutes of Mickey yawning and squinting like a sleepy baby while they gather their shit and lock up. They walk to the L and it seems to dawn on Mickey just when they’re getting on the train that he doesn’t actually know what Ian has planned, or where they’re going.

He gripes when Ian refuses to tell him, makes a few guesses but doesn’t get anywhere close. When they get to their stop he looks confused, wary, like maybe Ian’s playing some sort of trick on him. But he follows all the same. 

They get off at 47th and cut back across the 90 towards the maze of streets they both sort of call home. Ian leads them through Fuller Park, past the train depot, and the little league field.

“I peed on first base here once.” Mickey tells him, with a childish sort of pride, hooking his fingers into the chain-link fence and stopping to stare out at the spot in question.

“Why?” Ian stops beside him, watching his face as he looks, remembers. Mickey shrugs, like he doesn’t know why, but there is a faraway look in his eyes that suggests that this is not really the case.

“Bet you were a little terror.” Ian jokes, bumping Mickey’s shoulder with his own.

“I was a Milkovich.” Mickey smiles, licks his teeth, kind of feral, and pushes off from the fence. “We got far to go?” He asks, and Ian shakes his head no, pushing off as well and steering them across the little patch of green adjacent to the field so they can hang a right onto Normal.

A couple of blocks and a couple of turns later and they’re there. A road of empty homes, a tiny ghost town in the middle of the night. It’s eerie, actually, Ian thinks as they walk. They reach their destination, two doors down from Lip’s new place, a little square box of a home with faded gray walls, an overgrown front yard, and, crucially, a shitty back door with a broken lock.

Ian leads them through the little wilderness of the yard around to the back, jiggles the handle a little in the way that he has figured out gives him the quickest access, and ushers Mickey inside.

The electricity is out but Ian is prepared, he reaches over to the counter and flips on the camping lantern he had set there for this exact purpose. It’s not bright but it gives off just enough light for Mickey to see the selection of snacks Ian has set out next to the sink, the array of candles he has prepared on most of the other surfaces, ready to light, and through the open door into the next room where he has set up a little nest for them.

Mickey’s back is to him and he hasn’t spoken yet, and it’s making Ian kind of nervous. Was this a weird thing to do? Was it too much? Maybe he should have talked to him about it before? The seconds tick by and neither of them speaks and Ian’s heart starts to pound like that time he and Lip had boosted a car and ended up in front of a cop car at a red light, holding their breaths and hoping like hell that the car hadn’t been reported stolen yet.

Sucking in a deep breath he moves past Mickey and starts to light the candles, just to give himself something to do.

“It’s not much, I don’t know, I thought…”

He trails off, holds his lighter to the wick of a dusty teddy bear shaped candle Debbie had been throwing away and chances a glance at Mickey, nervous, but unable to stop himself from trying to figure out what he’s thinking.

Mickey’s eyes roam around the room, taking in the sight as the newly lit candles cast warm flickering shadows over his impassive face. They land at last on Ian’s, reflections of the flames dancing against the black of his pupils.

“It’s private.” Ian shrugs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow, drags his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment and nods.

“Private, huh?” He asks, stepping closer so their bodies brush against each other. Ian reaches around past him to light another candle, no noise but their breathing and the soft swish of his sleeve against Mickey’s.

He lights the candle, and the one next to it, placing them gently back in place on the counter, and when he turns his head towards Mickey he is right there. Their faces are inches apart, so close he could count the individual freckles on Mickey’s eyelids, could extend his tongue and lick the tip of his nose.

Their eyes lock onto each other’s and his breath is suddenly coming in shallow little huffs that blow the stray hairs hanging over Mickey’s forehead up.

“Tell me Gallagher,” Mickey’s voice is hushed, a low rumble of a thing that gets Ian’s nerves tingling as Mickey squares up to him, getting his body even closer and laying assured hands on Ian’s belt buckle. “What do we need somewhere private for?”

His eyebrows tick up again, suggestive, knowing, and his fingers find stronger purchase on Ian’s belt, the backs of his first knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of Ian’s stomach while his thumbs trace the outline of the buckle. Ian sucks in a sharp breath, Mickey draws in his own, long and slow and he waits.

Ian moves first, slamming his face into Mickey’s with enough force to push him back into the counter and latching his lips onto Mickey’s with almost desperate fervor, and after that it’s pointless trying to say who is kissing or grabbing or undressing whom.

Tongues and lips and teeth all slide and catch and drag, Ian pulls Mickey’s jacket down his shoulders, Mickey gets Ian’s pants open and shoved down over the swell of his ass. They move as one frenzied unit, pulling and grabbing and pushing and shoving, until Ian’s pants are around his ankles and they are tripping and stumbling and laughing into each other’s mouths trying to stay upright.

Mickey grabs a fistful of Ian’s shirt and yanks it up in an entirely ineffective attempt to get it off him, growling when he is unsuccessful.

“Fuckin’, take your fuckin’ shirt off asshole.’ Mickey yanks again and Ian pulls away just enough to get his shirt over his head, tossing it blindly and praying it doesn’t land on a lit candle and start a fire. He should be more careful, he knows, but he can’t focus on anything but Mickey right now, Mickey who is looking him up and down and licking his lips like Ian is a big juicy steak he’s looking to devour.

“Fuck, yeah.” Mickey breathes, getting both his hands on Ian’s traps and sliding them, firmly, down over his chest until just his fingertips are brushing over Ian’s abs. He rests there, and the muscles in Ian’s stomach jerk under his touch.  

“This is the most of you I’ve seen all at once.” Mickey tells him, breathless, giddy, running his eyes up over Ian’s chest and shoulders and then down to where his hands are resting, plucking gently at the elastic waistband of his underwear, index finger rubbing idly over the little thatch of coarse red hairs that line it.

Ian leans in to drop a kiss on his open mouth, slack and wet and eager against Ian’s own. He moves over to leave kisses against his cheek, his jaw, nosing up behind his ear into his hairline and breathing in the scent of his skin, intoxicating and so intense just there that Ian can hardly bear it.

“You want to see more?” He asks, pushing the flat of his tongue against the skin of Mickey’s neck and dragging, slowly, as Mickey shivers against him.

“Wanna see it all.” Mickey’s voice catches as Ian flicks at his earlobe with the tip of his tongue, and he shoves his whole hands down into Ian’s shorts, palms flattening over his hips and fingers digging into the flesh of his ass in retaliation. The movement pulls them right in close, and Ian’s cock ends up shoved right up along the length of Mickey’s where’s it’s hard in his jeans.

It’s like a whole series of flashbulbs go off in Ian’s brain, one after the other. Flash. Flash. Flash. His whole brain lighting up with the contact, a full-body shudder running through him, forcing his breath right out of his chest in short little vocal puffs that he can’t contain. He shoves his forehead into Mickey’s shoulder and breathes there, letting the soft, musty scent of Mickey’s skin soothe him until he has a better hold of himself. 

Mickey’s fingers twitch, urgent, and it is that impatience helps Ian focus, helps him find it in himself to drag his mouth up Mickey’s neck, take his earlobe between his teeth in a sharp tug and then whisper.

“Take them off then.”

That’s all the permission Mickey needs, he shoves Ian’s shorts down and the two of them are off again, hands and tongues and lips everywhere at once. Ian gets distracted running his hands all over Mickey’s back and shoulders and waist, feeling the warmth of his skin seeping into his palms and getting lost in the sensation so much that he barely notices Mickey huffing and puffing about having to take off his own pants, since Ian isn’t gonna do it for him.

They laugh together when he can’t get enough room to open his fly button. Ian leans his hips back to make some space and gets with the program enough to help Mickey get his jeans and underwear down until there is a matching pool of fabric restricting his ankles as much as Ian’s. And then they laugh again.

“Should probably take our shoes off.” Ian murmurs, pressing kisses to Mickey’s lips, pressing the whole length of his body along the whole length of Mickey’s and trying not to hyperventilate at how good it feels to feel him.

“Later.” Mickey grunts, shoving his hand between them and grabbing hold of Ian, firm in the way he’s come to learn that Ian likes best. He slides his tongue sloppily into Ian’s mouth in time with his thumb rubbing over the head and it’s almost  enough to make Ian’s knees buckle.

“Mickey.” He tries to say, muffled against Mickey’s lips, hindered by his seeking tongue and his clever little hand starting to stroke.

“Mickey!” He succeeds this time, firmly, grabbing whole handfuls of Mickey’s ass and pulling him tight to Ian’s body, trapping his hand between them and halting his movement with a grunt. Mickey’s answering huff is petulant and it’s pure instinct that has Ian pulling him in even harder, letting his fingers pull at Mickey’s ass-cheeks so that they part, exposing him to the open air, letting him feel it until his panting breaths turn vocal and he stops trying to move.

Mickey’s eyes catch on his, they’re dark with want, pupils blown wide enough that Ian can barely make out the blue in them. Up to now their encounters have been marked with both an overwhelming intensity of desire and a level of humor Ian never knew could be a part of sex. Sex has never really been fun in this way, before. Fun in the way where you get your rocks off and it feels really fucking good and someone thinks you’re hot and that feels amazing or you’re super high or out of your head and everything you do is fun. But fun like this, stupid fun where you’re held captive by your pants and your lover won’t let you do anything about it kind of fun, that’s a new thing. That’s a Mickey thing. It’s the best thing Ian’s ever had.

But now it feels like they are teetering on the edge of something else, something new. Not wholly new to Ian, he’s dangled his feet in these waters a couple of times before, and the heat in Mickey’s eyes suggests that it’s not his first dip in this particular pool either, but new for them, together, and just the thought that they might be on the same page, compatible in this as well, it’s a whole new thrill. 

 “I had a plan.” He tells Mickey, low and serious, letting his thumb rub over the swell of one ass cheek, feeling the fuzz of the surprisingly light colored hairs that grow there. “Got a mattress all set up in the next room, comfy pillows, soft sheets.”

“Not a fuckin’ princess Gallagher.” Mickey grumbles, and Ian clenches his fingers harder, pulling his cheeks further apart. He can’t see, but from the sharp grunt that Mickey lets out he can tell the tension is starting to stretch his hole open ever so slightly.

“No.” He says, easing up just a little.  “Just thought you might appreciate getting fucked without getting carpet burn on your ass.”

Mickey’s mouth turns up in a smile that is somehow equal parts flirty, filthy, and sweet, and his tongue flicks out over his lips slow, tantalizing.

“Awful thoughtful of you.” He tilts his head up into the space below Ian’s chin and Ian shivers as the flat of his warm, wet, tongue slides over the underside of his jaw.

“Yeah, I’m nice like that.” His focus is split, the sharp spikes of Mickey’s stubble following the path of his tongue like tiny electric shocks against the sensitive skin of his throat, but he manages to loosen his grip and slide the fingers on his right hand all the way into Mickey’s crack and stroke them up and down a couple of times, fingertips catching gently against his rim as they move.

“Hmm.” Mickey sucks in a slow breath, and Ian can feel all the muscles in his ass twitch, uncontrollably. He likes that. “Other ways too.”

“You think I’m nice?” Mickey’s teeth join the party, scraping over the hinge in Ian’s jaw, adding a new sensation to the wet and sharp in a way that makes Ian’s knees threaten to give out. Ian rewards him by allowing the tip of his middle finger to sink in, breeching the tight circle of muscle just enough that it clenches around him. Just enough that he can now officially say he’s been inside Mickey Milkovich.

A soft vocal puff of breath blows out against Ian’s neck, wet with saliva and just a little itchy where Mickey’s been working it over with his lips and tongue and teeth. 

“What’s that?” Ian inclines his head, pushing their temples together. He pushes his finger a little deeper and then pulls it back almost immediately, Mickey’s body moving with him, unconsciously trying to keep him in. Mickey grunts. Ian pushes at his cheek with his nose, lays soft kisses on his cheek, against the corner of his lips. “Say you think I’m nice, Mick.”

He gets at Mickey’s lips, hot and wet, slides his own over them, breathes a hot breath into his mouth, swallows the breath that Mickey gives him back. He lets his finger push back in, as far as it will easily go.

“Mickey.”

Mickey kisses him, one sweaty hand coming up to grip at his shoulder and the other grabbing him at the hip. He kisses him dirty, lips and tongue dragging hot over Ian’s own, slow and wet and it’s so fucking hot Ian makes a sound he’s never heard outside of porn, like a grunt and a moan had a filthy high-pitched baby and it gets Mickey grinning against his mouth until he’s basically kissing teeth.

“Nice guy, huh?” His lips pluck at Ian’s again, nose bashing nose as he draws his head back so their eyes can meet. “That what you think you are?”

“What else?” Ian shrugs, drawing his finger, still resting just inside of Mickey’s ass, in tight little circles, just the tip really, swirling around, feeling his walls, the heat, the jolt of Mickey’s muscles as they pulse at the contact. He could just stay there forever, just rubbing at him, feeling him, but at the same time he’s desperate to get a rhythm going, add more fingers, taste him, get something else inside him, he wants everything all at once and it’s like he’s just feeling too many things, he can’t take it.

He buries his face in Mickey’s neck and clenches his hands, one holding steadfastly to Mickey’s ass-cheek, one spread so that he can keep his finger inside, but still clenching against the sheer strength of what he’s feeling.

It’s a lot, he thinks, as Mickey gasps against his ear, he must be pulling at him pretty hard, dragging him from the inside. He tries to relax, tries to think about releasing his muscles and slowing his breathing, think about things that calm him down. Soft music, going for a run, the sound of Mickey’s voice lately.

“Mick.” He about manages to grind out against the flushed pink skin of Mickey’s shoulder. “What else?”

“What, if you ain’t nice?” Mickey’s voice is soft, kind of high right there against the shell of his ear, soft lips mouthing at his earlobe as small warm hands run up and down his sides in slow, firm strokes. It must be clear to Mickey that Ian is on the brink of falling the fuck to pieces. He manages a juddery kind of nod, face still buried in Mickey’s skin, hands still fighting to tense, and he feels Mickey’s chest rise and fall in a deep breath, feels him relax his body against Ian’s.

The kisses that follow are gentle, soothing, along his hairline, down his forehead, over his cheeks and jaw, and punctuated with that sweet, husky voice, not quite whispering, but not quite talking aloud either, talking him down with each pointed breath.

“Well you’re really fuckin’ hot. So there’s that.” Kiss. “Funny. When you’re not trying to make a dumb pun joke.” Kiss. “Strong.” Kiss. “I like that you’re strong.”

He can feel it working, feel himself settling back into his skin, his heart slowing back to a regular (if aroused) rate. He manages to press a kiss into the ball of Mickey’s shoulder and is rewarded with a questioning “hmm?”

He gulps in a breath and focuses on relaxing his hands, soothing his thumb over Mickey’s almost certainly bruised ass-cheek, retracting his finger in a long, slow, slide that has Mickey’s breaths coming in short sharp vocalisations, almost giggles, like the sensation is more than his body can bear.

He drags his face up to Mickey’s for a kiss, and as he melts into that mouth it’s like he’s fully back inside his body again. He can feel every place where his skin is sticking to Mickey’s, pulling in little painful drags as they move against each other. He is aware once more, of Mickey’s dick, resting, a little twitchily, beside his own, pressed between them both and dribbling into his pubic hair. Ian enjoys how wet he gets, can’t help but reach between them to feel along the sticky length of him and give a couple of short tugs, coating his fingers in pre-come and sucking in the little huffy breaths that Mickey puffs out as he does.

“What else?” He asks, dragging his hand back around and sliding his finger back inside, crooking his knuckle to stretch out the rim a little before diving properly in.

“Fuck.” Mickey breathes against him, and Ian swallows it, his words, his breath, the intoxicating smell of him swirling inside Ian’s mouth and resting against his palate.

“What else?”

“Jesus Christ you uh.” Ian licks at his lips as he is trying to form the thoughts, a little more sensation, wants to see if he can get Mickey to shake out of his skin just the way Ian almost just had. “You kiss good.”

He licks him again, closes his lips over Mickeys in a reward of a kiss, rubbing at his rim with the tip of his ring finger, testing the waters to see if they’re there yet. Mickey’s moan is loud, fills Ian’s mouth with its neediness as he throws his arms around Ian’s shoulders and presses himself as close to Ian’s body as he can get. Second finger it is. On the next draw back, he pushes two in. Mickey’s whole body shudders against him.

“Mickey.” He loves the feel of Mickey’s entire weight hanging off him, pressed against him, clinging to him like he’s a life-raft and Mickey’s adrift at sea. “What else.”

Mickey whines, and it is such a sweet sound. Ian buries his fingers as far as they will go and swallows the noises his lover makes.

“Christ, Ian, I don’t know, if I say you’re nice will you stick your fuckin’ dick in me?”

If he’d thought laughter would break the horny spell he’s under, he would have been wrong. He’s so turned on he’s not quite sure what to do any more. He’s laughing straight into Mickey’s mouth and buzzing with desire and fighting the instinctual thrust of his hips all at the same time, so many sensations warring for attention he hardly knows how he’s still standing up, except that Mickey’s body is supporting his as much as Ian’s own is supporting Mickey’s. And God does he want to stick his dick in Mickey, more than anything he thinks he’s ever wanted. There’s only one thing stopping him.

He pulls his mouth from Mickey’s and unceremoniously drags his fingers out of his ass, grabbing a cheek in both hands and squeezing.

“Not without lube.”

Mickey rolls his eyes, leaning back in, but Ian stops him short with a hard smack and pushes him away.

It’s only when he makes for the little nest he’s set up in the next room that he remembers his pants are still around his ankles and he’s still wearing his boots. It’s Mickey’s turn to laugh as he very narrowly escapes tripping over his own feet.

“Shut up and get your shit off.” Is all Ian says, working on freeing his feet and admiring the lines of Mickey’s body as he hops about pulling his own boots off and shaking his legs out of his pants until at last he’s standing in nothing but his socks, a mile and a half of pale skin lit only by the soft glow of the candles and making Ian’s breath catch in his throat.

He has to kiss him again. His pants have barely hit the floor and he’s got Mickey gripped by the hips and is smashing their lips together even as Mickey’s shit-eating grin gives way to open-mouthed laughter.

He keeps kissing him as he uses his body to move them through to where he has stashed the lube, keeps kissing him as he backs him toward the mattress he has topped with piles of blankets and pillows gathered from every corner of the Gallagher household (and washed on a super high heat to remove any trace of Frank that might have been lingering), keeps kissing him, though not with a whole lot of finesse as he lowers them both down horizontal and reaches blindly around the side of the mattress for his little kit of supplies, and Mickey just keeps kissing him back.

Back when Mickey had first come around the Tamp and Grind, refusing to order his drink the way he wanted and barely looking Ian in the eyes some days, he would never have imagined, in a million years, that Mickey loved kissing as much as he does. But he really fucking does. He’s almost always the first one to lean in, and never the first one to pull away, he leads with his lips, a total kiss slut, and Ian loves it, loves that he is maybe the only person to know it. He kisses him and kisses him and gets hold of the lube and kisses him and vows that he will never deny Mickey a kiss when he wants it. He deserves all the kisses.

Although maybe he needs to take a breath, his thoughts are getting a little loopy.

He gets the lube on his fingers and fumbles around beneath them, sliding two straight back in to Mickey’s hole without much pre-amble and smiles when Mickey gasps beneath him.

“Yeah?” He asks, not really pulling his face back from Mickey’s, their mouths still connected though not quite in a kiss.

“Fuckin’ warn a guy” Mickey murmurs, lipping at Ian’s bottom lip a little, not quite a kiss, not anything really but some contact.

“How’s this for a warning?” He brings his ring finger into play, running it along Mickey’s rim to position it in the sort of ridge formed by his other two fingers and pushing, just a little, before pulling back again.

Mickey sucks in a deep breath, blowing it back out warm over Ian’s mouth as the finger slides in next to the others. There are so many sensations, warm breath on his face, soft hairs against his cheek threatening to tickle, sticky skin pulling against his own wherever they move, and the sucking heat surrounding his fingers, Ian revels in in, how completely physically consumed he is by this man, how absolutely lost he is to anything outside of his body and Mickey’s body right now.

He twists his fingers and pulls out a little before pushing back in, trying to give him a little stretch on every move, he grins at Mickey, thinking about why he needs the stretch, and Mickey’s returning grin is filthy and harsh.

“You gonna fuck me Gallagher?” He grunts as Ian makes his two main fingers into a scissor inside of him.

“Uh-huh.” Another kiss, another thrust, and now Mickey’s hand is worming in between them to grab at Ian’s dick, firm and sure in a way that makes Ian jolt.

“Think you got what it takes?” He starts up a stroke, nice and light, not letting his hand catch where Ian is sticky from pre-come, and Ian gives him a couple of thrusts in time with his fingers and fuck it feels really fucking good.

“Fuckin’ know I do. You’re desperate for it.”

Mickey licks his grinning lips, thumbing at the head of Ian’s dick.

“That right?” He squeezes a little, and Ian jerks.

“Fuckin’ greedy for it, you think you can take it?” He needs a condom, where did he leave them? He knows it was close by. He throws his arm out over their heads, feeling blindly as he sucks on Mickey’s lips. He comes up triumphant, waving it between their faces with a grin which Mickey returns, eyebrow cocking up toward his hairline.

“Only one way to find out man.” Mickey says, and all at once they are moving together, getting the packet open, getting Ian suited up and ready, and then both of their hands are there, covering him together, guiding him together, until he is finally sinking into the sucking heat of Mickey’s body and the both of them stop breathing for a minute as he slides all the way in.

It’s like time stops still. Like the whole world shrinks down to just him and Mickey and the points of contact between them, the heat that surrounds his cock and the light hairs tickling his elbow where it is bracketing Mickey’s arm, the short bursts of air that are passing between them as they kind of gape open-mouthed at each other, adjusting, feeling.

He thinks he could stay there like that forever, just locked inside Mickey for the rest of time, and be perfectly content with his lot in life. Mickey, though, he senses, is about to get restless.

He opens his mouth, no doubt to give Ian some patented Milkovich sass, so Ian takes his moment, right before Mickey speaks, and strikes, pulling out almost all the way in one swift movement, before grinding his way back in, pushing even further when he bottoms out so that Mickey’s hips tilt up off the mattress and a short grunt comes punching out of Mickey’s mouth.

He seems to like that move, so Ian goes with it, adjusting his weight so that he is able to grab hold of a seductively thick thigh in each hand and push upwards, holding Mickey’s weight so he can pull out again and grind back in, using every ounce of muscle control he’s worked so hard for to tilt his hips at just the right angle and push himself forward at just the right pace to get Mickey’s knees to twitch and his thighs to clench around him.

He goes at it like that for as long as he can, sweating and gasping and rolling his hips, rewarded for each thrust with a soft breathy ‘uhn’ from Mickey and the occasional half-hearted bite to his jaw or his ear or, at one point, his nose, though he does wonder if that was just bad aim. He doesn’t know how long he manages, maybe a minute, maybe less, before he starts to get that tight feeling in the base of his spine and his toes start to tingle and clench. His movements grow less smooth, less sure, jerking forcefully instead of gliding with purpose and he hopes he’s done enough to get Mickey there as well because this is apparently going to be a short performance.

‘Mick,’ he manages to gasp, eyes zeroing in for a second on a sweaty lock of hair that’s dangling out of place, ‘Mick, I’m—’, the force of his breaths blows the hair away again and Mickey’s face, flushed and glistening with sweat, comes back into focus.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Mickey says, hushed and dark and right there with him, thank fuck. Glassy eyes lock onto Ian’s for just a second before Mickey’s reaching down between them to get a hold of his own cock and the sensation forces them closed, head tipping back, hips jolting upward with a force that nearly knocks Ian sideways. He pulls back, bringing Mickey with him so that he’s resting back on his knees, Mickey splayed basically in his lap. He does his best to grip Mickey’s hips despite the sweat and his waning co-ordination, juddering through the last thirty seconds of thrusts as Mickey urgently strips his cock, bringing himself to the edge and throwing himself off it seconds after Ian shudders and jolts and grinds to a seizing halt. He empties into the condom with great heaving groans, laughing as Mickey’s face twists up in bemusement at the noises he makes. A whole body shiver runs all the way through him and he leans into it, shaking his shoulders and head like a dog, spraying sweat everywhere and arching his back into a stretch.

It’s only when Mickey grunts and gives him a half-hearted kick against his right side that he realizes all of this movement is probably a bit much for the man he’s still inside of thirty seconds after he’s blown his load.

‘Fuck.’ He breathes, running his hands over Mickey’s hips in a way that he hopes is at least a little soothing. ‘Sorry.’

Mickey’s whole body seems to go limp, legs flopping down, head tipping back onto the mattress as his breathing slows. There is a small bruise starting to come through just beneath his clavicle, a dark blue just beginning to bloom, and Ian is struck with the overwhelming urge to taste it.

He tips forward, softening cock slipping out with the movement and earning another grunt out of Mickey, whose hands are covering his face now but who adjusts his body to the shifting weight of Ian leaning down over him. He brings his arms down around Ian to run light fingers over his back as Ian mouths gently at the darkening mark. They catch their breaths with soft touches and light kisses, Ian can hear the slowing thud of Mickey’s heart beneath his skin and he tries to match his own against it, breathing slow into his chest, contemplating what it might feel like if they were to somehow become one single being.

Mickey’s fingers in his hair tug him back to reality, and his brain suddenly starts whirring in a different direction, one that plants the seed of worry as he goes back over the last half hour, cataloguing everything he could have done different, better.

“Sorry.” He says again, propping his chin up on Mickey’s chest so he can look up at him. “That was—I can do better than that.”

Mickey waves a dismissive hand between them before planting it back in his hair.

“Nah,” He says, twisting a damp curl just starting to form around his middle finger, “you’re a fucking stud Gallagher.”

It’s dumb, and it pulls a groaning laugh out of Ian, but it’s enough to quiet his doubting mind and he buries his face in between Mickey’s pecs as the both of them give in to a few giggles.

“I can do better, though.” He says eventually, “I got a bit overwhelmed but usually I don’t just lose my shit like that.”

Mickey pulls at his hair, forcing him to look back up and meet Mickey’s eyes, cool and sharp, assessing Ian as they look him over.

“Alright,” He says at length, dropping his head back and giving Ian a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder, “well give me a minute to get the feeling back in my legs and you can prove it to me.”

...

part b coming soon??

[pattypanini]

Danny Wagner x Reader

Hard Strokes

Summary: The bar cart girl at Danny's routine golf course grabs his attention during a frustrating game, but could a date by the pool relax him?

Word Count: 3k

Taglist for Oneshots

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is @mar-rein12 and I's first one shot. This was a fun one to write after writing the series for so long. We will continue to write LAYLOM and one shots. If you have any ideas let us know. Please enjoy our first one shot, Hard Strokes.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), DANNYS NOSE 🤤

Danny’s POV

Fuck. You were playing like shit today. You throw your golf club into the luscious green, yet again in anger. As if it couldn't get any worse, the hot bar cart girl drives past for the 5th time today. She’s probably judging you for your shitty playing. You were only on hole 8 and were almost into the 50s.

It was a hot one today, considering it was mid-July. Your sunglasses slipping off your face, everytime you look down to line up the ball with your club. You could feel the sunburn on your tanned cheeks and sweat penetrating through your white golf shirt. You feel impossibly gross mixed with the anger of your horrible performance. Only 10 more holes to go. 

You sigh and swing at the ball again, of course missing. You double over, hands on your knees and take a deep breath. You are about to call it quits until she pulls up to you. 

“Hey!” She says enthusiastically, with the brightest smile on her freckled face. You whip around to face her, to see her sitting there in the golf cart staring, patiently waiting for a response. 

“Hey.” You say, a little pissy. You take the opportunity to take her in. She was dressed in a little white, pleated tennis skirt with a pink polo tank top. Her hair was put up into a slicked back ponytail, sticking out of her Titleist visor. Despite the heat, she still managed to look so perfect and put together. 

“How about a drink? It’s scorching out today, you look like you need a refresher,” she winks at you, grabbing a beer out of the cooler and shaking it in your direction. 

“Nah, I don’t deserve it,” you chuckle a little, in self-pity. 

“Oh come on, treat yourself! I’ll drink one with you, if that will make you feel better.” She smiles sweetly, and you can’t help but give in. 

“Ugh, okay. You’ve convinced me.” You tease her reaching for your wallet. “I’ll have two beers. What kind you got?” 

“PBR and corona.”

“I’ll take the two PBR.”She reaches into the cooler and grabs them. Her ass sticking out of her skimpy skirt, as she reaches over to the passenger side of the cart. 

“That’ll be $9.” She hands them over to you, as you hand her a twenty dollar bill with your empty hand. 

“Thank you, here you take this one.” You hand her the one beer, she reluctantly takes it back. Her fingertips grazing the back of your hand. 

“A-are you sure?” She says as she takes it out of your grip.

“1000%, also, just keep the change.”  She stares back at you in silence. You crack open your can, taking a large sip. You turn to walk back to your golf cart when you hear her voice again.

“Wait… I didn’t catch your name!” Oh her sweet, innocent voice. You turn back around to face her. 

“Uh, I’m Danny. What's your name?” 

“I’m Y/n.” She shoots you a big smile, showing off her perfectly straight white teeth. 

You smirk at her, “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” When you finish that sentence, you notice her cheeks flush. You find it quite amusing how easily you’re affecting her. 

“Oh, thank you. You have a nice name too. I’ve definitely seen you around before, you come a lot?” She cracks her own beer open, taking a sip of it. 

“Yeah, I’m here every weekend.” You stop talking and there's a moment of silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of golf balls being hit in the distance. 

“Um… my shift is actually almost over,” she looks done at the apple watch adorning her wrist and then looking back up at you. “ Do you want to meet me at the clubhouse at 3? Grab a little something for lunch?”

You give her a warm smile, “Yeah, yes. I’d, um, I’d love to! It's probably about time I wrap it up anyway, I’m playing like shit today.” She giggles a little and you feel warmth spread throughout your chest, and noticeably feel your heart rate quicken. What a beautiful noise.

“Ok sounds good! I’ll see you then!” She hits you with a wink, and drives off toward a small group of older men. 

You stand there in shock at the previous interaction, shaking your head trying to rid the thoughts plaguing your mind. She was gorgeous. 

You turn back around to your cart and drive over to the next hole. 

—

The next 30 minutes go exactly how you expect, horrible. You end up not finishing the game because you were just so fed up with yourself. It’s been a while since you’ve played this bad. It was almost three o’clock anyway, so you would soon be meeting up with Y/n. You hop onto the golf cart and whip over to the clubhouse. You know she is there already because a golf cart with a light pink steering wheel cover is sitting outside. 

You smile to yourself just thinking about her. You jump off the cart and slip into the main entrance of the clubhouse, walking down the hall to the restaurant area. You turn the corner and see her sitting at a two top, talking to some elderly men at another table. You halt your steps, taking a moment to admire the radiant smile on her face. You’re sure you’ve never seen anyone more beautiful. And she invited you to lunch? 

She hears footsteps behind her, whipping her head around, her silky, shiny ponytail flowing along. “Danny! I’m so happy you came! How did the rest of your game go?” She smiles brightly at you, almost in awe.

You cringe a little thinking back to how you were playing earlier. “Eh, I didn't really finish. It’s hot as fuck out there.” You hope she doesn’t catch your white lie. “Besides, I needed to get lunch with you.” Now, that you were being truthful about.

You watch her eyes light up, a nervous giggle escaping from her plump lips. “Yeah, haha. Wanna order some food?”

“Yes, I’m starving.”

—

After you both order your food, you getting a burger and her getting a salad, you realize you’re getting lost in conversation with her. Y/n is very easy to talk to, and she is really funny. Throughout the next hour, there's multiple times you almost spit out your beer or choke on your burger. When you both finish up your meals, you are saddened by the fact you inevitably have to part ways.

“Y/n, I really enjoy talking to you.” You admit to her, a blush forming across both of your cheeks. 

“I like talking to you too Danny,” She says back to you, her lips curling into a beautiful grin. You watch her hesitate for a second before she opens her mouth again, “Did you want to come back to my house? My house is right over there by the tree line.” She points over her shoulder. 

You contemplate for a second, no doubt knowing how this night was going to end if you did go over there. “Are you sure? I-I don’t want to intrude.” Of course, you wanted to go over there. You just didn’t want to seem too eager. 

“No, no you wouldn’t be intruding at all. I want you to come over.” She gives you the cutest little wink and you can’t help but cave.

“Ok, then! Let's go.” You reach your hand out for her to grasp and she accepts. “Let me just pay the bill, Y/n.” 

“Oh no need. Aaron’s got me.” She looks over to the kitchen area. Aaron, the head chef, sticks his head out the door to wave. She smiles and waves back. You quickly run ahead of her pulling the door open for her. You both hop on the golf cart and she drives you back the trail to the houses that are located on the golf course. 

The feeling of the air breezing through your hair was refreshing from the hot day you just had. She pulls into her driveway, putting the cart in park. It was a very secluded area despite being in the same area as other houses. The house was lined with trees and gates, giving her lots of privacy.

“This is a really nice place y/n. Is it a lot to live on a golf course?” You hop out of the passenger seat, being able to get a better view of her beautiful house and the landscaping. 

“I have no idea, I don’t pay for it. Some random man does. In exchange, I go to his Christmas Eve parties as his ‘girlfriend.’” She says laughing. 

“Oh, really?” You say trying to not sound judgemental, but you can’t stop your face from contorting into a surprised expression. 

“No, my dad owns the place so it's daddy’s money you could say.” She says grabbing her keys to unlock the door. She opens the door and you are met with a stunning interior. She drops her bag and turns to you.

“Do you wanna go for a swim? I have a pool out back. Come on, follow me.” She starts walking to the sliding door. She opens it, stepping outside. The backyard landscaping is just as incredible as the front. Large rocks are placed as stairs leading down to a garden with flowers and vegetables. A huge underground kidney-shaped pool is placed right in the middle of the yard. Why does one girl need such a big pool? 

As you follow her down the stairs you realize you're missing something. “Um, I actually don’t have swim shorts…”. You hate to kill the mood. Hell, you’d do anything to see the girl in a bikini. 

“And…” She stares at you with a blank face. “Who said we were gonna wear them anyway?” She takes a few steps toward you. “I mean, unless you would rather me be in a bathing suit.” She says pulling on the collar of your shirt. You can’t help but shake your head anxiously. You feel your cheeks start to blush and you’re hoping she doesn’t notice.

“No, no, no bathing suits are fine with me.” A smile appears across her face again. Her hands go down to the bottom of your shirt and begin to pull it up. You help her finish her action and pull it all the way off. “Wow Danny, if I knew you were hiding that under there this whole time I would have invited you sooner.”

Your eyes widen at her words. Usually, you were the one to make the first move, but her dominance was making you shy. You wanted to impress her, to make her want you. You gulp from the nerves. 

“Don’t be shy Danny, can you help me undress now?” You obey her immediately. You kneel down in front of her, moving her foot to place it on your knee. Feeling a little bold you lean down and kiss her leg softly before untying her shoe and slipping them off her feet. You pull her skirt down and bring her shirt over her head. You take a step back to look at her in her white bra and panties. She’s so gorgeous. 

“That's no fair Danny, I can’t be the only one in my undies.” You begin to kick off your shoes and socks and before you can get to your pants she kneels in front of you. She slowly pulls them down, leaving you in only your boxers. As she goes for your boxers, she leans forward and places a soft kiss onto your noticeable bulge, making you twitch beneath her. She notices and continues to pull your boxers all the way down. 

“Now your turn, y/n.” You say looking down to her. Before she can let you, she runs and jumps into the pool. She emerges from under the water, her head bobbing just above the clear water. 

“The water is so refreshing,” she says, pulling herself up to sit on the pool ledge. “I’m waiting for you Danny, you better come join me.” You look over her body and see her wet see-through undergarments, revealing everything you wanted to see so badly. You wanted everything off so badly. 

You smirk and drop yourself into the pool and swim over to her. You brush your hair out of your face and slot yourself between her legs in the shallow end. You feel desperate but your hands immediately slide into her thighs and around her waist towards her bra. You feel around and quickly unclasp it. You hear a gasp come from her.

“Daniel, when did you learn to do that? Are you a dirty boy?” She smirks, pulling the bra off her chest.

“I will if you want me to be.” Your hands attach to her thong, that's now clinging to her wet skin, and pull them to the side. Your thumb begins to make small light circles on her clit.

“Take them off, Danny. Please.” She sounds so sweet when she begs. You grab the small piece of fabric and pull them off her.You place your hands on her tanned thighs and peel them apart. You look her up and down, fully admiring every part of her. You take your finger and glide it up her glistening folds. 

“So wet, baby. Fuck.” You bite your lip, as you admire her wetness. 

“Maybe it was from the pool.” She says in a sarcastic tone.

“I can tell the difference, baby.” You lower your face to be level with her cunt. You feel her hands wrap into your wet hair, pulling your face to bury it in her pussy. You feel her pussy grind onto your face, but not just your mouth.

“Put that nose of yours to use Danny, big noses are good for many things.” You were taken aback, but weren’t going to withhold that from her. 

You tilt your head down, pressing your nose up and down into her clit and dart your tongue into her pussy. She was a mess above you. Her hands are clenched hard around your curls, moans and curses flying from her lips. 

You break away for a moment, “All this from just my nose, are you going to be able to handle my cock baby?”

“I need it now, please Danny.” She practically whimpers out. You turn her around so her stomach is flat against the warm concrete, her ass up in the air. Her round ass being directly in your face, is the perfect opportunity to give her a nice smack upon it. She yelps after the blow, followed by the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard. The sound alone makes you want to cum. You take a step up onto the embedded ledge underneath the water, to get a better angle. 

You lean down to whisper in her ear. “Are you ready for me, darling?” She presses her ass up against your hips, giving you the answer to your question. You line yourself up with her entrance and push slowly into her, filling up all of her small pussy. You reach forward grabbing a chunk of her hair. 

“God, you’re so fucking tight. I love the way it feels around my cock. Go ahead baby, squeeze around it won’t ya?” You feel her clench her muscles, and it fuels you to start fucking into her. You start off slow, not wanting to hurt her or surpass her limits. 

“Danny, don’t hold back. I know you want to let loose on me, I promise I can take it.” That's all the encouragement you need to go harder. As you pick up the pace, the water beneath you begins to splash  all up on your stomach and her back. 

“It’s almost like you knew I like it wet.” You tease her as you continue your assault on her pussy. 

“I can make it wetter if you can fuck me right.” She says as she looks back at you.

Your eyebrows raise and you release her hair. You take your right leg up onto the side of the pool to get a better angle, fucking her harder and deeper than before. She begins to claw at the concrete beneath, trying to hold onto whatever she could. 

“Harder.” She yells out. You don’t hold back and slam yourself into her. You can hear the skin to skin echo into the air. The water sloshing around you even more now, threatening to escape the pool. 

“Danny… oh, fuck. You feel so good. You fill me up so much. I wish I could take another one of you at the same time.” 

God, you're so close. She’s pushing you close to the edge. “I’m gonna cum baby, you want me to pull out?”

“No, fill me up. I want it leaking out of me into the pool. I’m so close” With that you cum hard inside of her. You watch as it starts to seep out of her, so you fuck it back in with a few more thrusts. “Oh god Danny I’m cumming keep going daddy.” You ride out your climax and fuck her hard now pushing her over her edge. You feel her clench around you hard, followed by many moans. 

You pull out, sitting down on the ledge in the pool you just fucked her on. Breathing heavy you both take a moment to catch your breath. Y/n turns her body around to sit up and brings you into a kiss. “You should come over more often Danny.” She says with a giggle.

“Danny? If I recall you just called me something else.” A huge smile spreads across your face. 

“Oh shut up, Daddy is close enough to Danny.”

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

TAGLIST FOR ONESHOTS

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Absolutely you should add smut were all whores here

"Hooked"

Sorry been really busy and I am still very busy and ai hate it so much cause I don't have the energy to write anymore after a shit ton of work and sleepless nights just to meet the deadline. Anyways, I will try to do the requests, enjoy ✌️

Hope you lot understand, sorry. 😔

Warning: smut (you already know)

Idk what is in here cause I didn't proof read, hope the wait was worth it tho? Don't come at me, I just wanted to get a fic out cause I've been dry the last few weeks. Enjoy ✌️

I always noticed Arthur's brother, Charles, would always stare at me when he gets the chance, especially when visiting tutur at the f2 paddock. He wasn't really like this back then, but then again, I had a massive glow up, my ass is big, hair fluffy, face of an angel, and body sculpted by the Gods to be perfect for any man. During our earlier days, Charles never reqlly paid me any attention, apart from the occasional hi and hello, nothing. He would just walk past without even a glance. But now, it seemed that every chance he got, he would stare at me and sometimes bite his bottom lip and give me those "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you beg me to stop" eyes.

Like right now, I feel a pair of eyes burning through the back of my head as I walked with Arthur to the ferrari hospitality. Without looking back I already knew who it is, and being the brat I am, I decided to be a little shit and put on a show. Accidentally dropping my wallet as I pulled it out of the pocket of my jeans that hugs my ass way too tight. Making sure I bend over more than required to get the wallet, and continue walking as if nothing happened.

—

After Arthur won his first race of the season, I couldn't contain my excitement, I jumped on him my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck and giving him little kisses on his cheeks.

"Oh my god, I'm so proud of you tutur."

I basically shouted at him so he could hear me over the noise of his team celebrating.

"Merci, couldn't done it without you flaunting your ass at my brother the whole day."

He said with a laugh as he urged me to get off him. He looked behind me and smacked my ass and laughing harder as I let out a small squeak.

"Looks like someone wants to celebrate with you."

He said close to my ear as he turned me around only to be met by Charles gaze that had a glint of something. I looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"Hi."

I said as I turned back around.

"I will spoon feed you your own shit."

I said to Arthur, trying to sound menacing but he just laughed.

"Arturooo!"

Charles said as he hugged Arthur.

"Can I borrow y/n for a moment?"

"Hehe just return him before the party."

"Of course."

"Huh? D-don't I get a say in this??"

I asked confused as Arthur just laughed as Charles dragged me somewhere.

"W-where are we going? And what exactly d-do you need me for?"

I asked nervously as his gripped tightened.

"I had a shitty race unlike Arthur, and I need you to help me with it."

He said nonchalantly as we arrived at his motor home, he pushed me in before getting in himself, he locked the door.

"A-and h-how wou-"

I couldn't finish my sentence as he pulled me to him and attached his lips to mine, kissing desperately as if it was his last day on earth. He pushed me against the door his hands tapped my thighs, urging me to jump. I obeyed and jumped, his strong arms holding me up as my legs wrapped around his waist and my hands that were feelings his biceps now pulling at his hair and clawing on his back, drawing groans from him. Biting and licking my bottom lip his gripped tightened on my thighs causing me to moan against his lips. His tounge entering my mouth with no warning, our tounges now dancing a ballad of groans and moans. Our kiss getting more desperate and sloppy by the second due to the lack of oxygen catching up to us. We pulled from each other, foreheads resting against the other and thin string of saliva attaching our lips.

"Let's go to my hotel room, it's better."

He said between heavy breathed as he put me down, but I leaned on him heavily almost falling as my legs seemingly turn to jelly.

"I didn't know you liked me?"

I asked surprised.

"You're the only outlet available."

He said with a laugh.

"But you might just be the best one yet."

—

As we arrived in his hotel room, he locked the door and put the do not disturb sign on the outside knob.

"What n-"

He attacked my lips again before I could finish my sentence.

"Now, you're going to be a good boy and listen and do everything I tell you."

He said as he pulled back, his hands on my cheeks.

"O-okay."

"Good, now get on the bed and undress for me."

I obeyed, getting on the bed and undressing 'til I'm naked.

"You were always my favourite, y/n."

"Huh?"

"Among all of Arthur's friends, you were always my favourite, did you know that?"

He asked as he got on top of me now only in his boxers. He body looked heavenly, his abs, his biceps, everything made me want to go feral. To lick his muscles after a gym session or after racing, to taste the saltiness of his sweat against tounge. To see him breathing heavily as he looks at me with tired eyes, to hear him say my name in a breathy whisper.

My thoughts got cut off by his mouth on my neck, kissing, biting and licking, leaving marks.

"I always thought you'd taste good. Addicting."

He mumbled against my neck, as his actions became rougher I began to squirm, trying to push him off, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

"Ngh~ mhmmm~ no, s-stop. Please."

"I would stop, amour, but your moans decieve you. Do you really want me to stop?"

He asked as he began to pull away but not before biting hard.

"Mmm~ ngha n-no."

I said as my squirming slowed down, missing his mouth on my neck, missing his bites I pulled at his neck.

"You can try all you want, you won't win, y/n."

He said is a breathy voice as he continued to resist my pull.

"I'm going to fuck you raw, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He whisper against my ear as he bit it.

"Y-yes."

"Good boy."

He began to remove his boxers, I looked down excited to see what I would need to fit in. My eyes widened and I let out an involuntary moan as I saw his size. Very thick, with prominent veins and atleast 9 inches.

"Y-you're gonna kill me."

I said, now afraid of what would happen once the behemoth is burried in me.

"You can take it, and you will."

He said with a laugh as he spread my legs even more and grabbing the lube from the bedside drawer. He covered his fingers with the lube and putting one in me slowly, drawing moans from me. A second one went in and he started scissoring, the burning sensation slowly disappearing as he put in a third.

"Please, n-need you."

I said sounding desperate with my eyes closed and biting my lip.

"Are you sure?"

He asked sounding worried.

"Y-yes, f-fuck me, please."

I said as I began to squirm.

"Fine."

He covered his cock in obscene amounts of lube, hopefully enough. He got on top of me as he lined his cock with my hole, the head slowly going him, the burning, stretching sensation coming back worse. My hands fly to his back, pulling him to lay on me and clawing at him. He groaned as he felt the pain on his back and he slowly went deeper, we were both our of breathe now and he wasn't even half in.

"F-fuck, my self controll is not that strong, I'm seconds away from just fuck, just slamming into you."

He said against my ear, hot breathes fanning over.

"I-i-i don't m-mmmind."

I said with a chuckled as my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in further.

"You m-make me lose myself. Fuck"

He slammed into me without any more warning, I scream at the top of my lungs. He groaned as my clawing got more erratic, I felt something sticky on my fingers as I continued clawing. His groans became more frequent as he pulled back slowly and ramming back in.

"F-fuck, ngha."

He groaned as he bit my neck hard, leaving bite marks.

"P-please, f-fuck."

I couldn't finish a sentence nor a single thought as my mind short malfunctioned. Tears flowed freely from my eyes and he stayed still for a bit, catching his breath.

"You okay?"

He whispered in my ear.

"Mmmngh"

"I'll say, you're fine then."

He said with a laugh as he started to pull out, and go back in slowly. Slowly gaining more force and speed until he was just ramming into me, the bed squeaking after every thrust. He head burried in my neck, biting and leaving my, his hands exploring the sides of my body. My hands still clawing at his back, earning a groawn each time. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"I don't w-we can make it f-for Arthur's p-party."

He said with a breathy chuckle as his assault on my ass did not ease a bit.

"Mmngg mmm ngh"

I could not form coherent words or anything, my mind completely blank apart from him, the feeling of him, the taste of him every about him. My body is tired, but he doesn't seem the least bit tired.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum."

He groans as his pace became more erratic, sweat dropping from his hair onto the sheets as he bit my neck, earning a moan from me. Our bodies sliding past the other. His hair sticking to his forehead, his back now slippery, my hands slide down, struggling to hold on. He let out small hisses of pain, due to the sweat coming in contact with the marks on his back.

"F-fuuuck"

He came deep inside me, burrying his face on my neck and biting roughly, with the last amount of energy I had left, my body began squirming trying to push him away, but he was much stronger he held my hands down and grinded his him against my, drawing out the pleasure. I felt his cum dripping out of my hole while he's still inside. By this time I already came more than 4 times, the feel of his cock pulsing inside me brought me unfathomable amounts of pleasure, knowing I'm the one he's with the one he's fucking.

"We need to do this again."

"Mmm"

"You do know, when I said again, I mean right now, right?"

He said with a laugh as his cock stayed hard inside me, after a few seconds he began to move again. Starting slow, my mind numb and body tired I couldn't do anything but let him, as he continued biting and licking my neck, my hand going up to his hair and stroking it.

"Y-you can say no if you don't want to anymore."

I don't what came over me, but my energy suddenyl came back after his words.

"You won't last as long as me, Leclerc."

I pushed him off me and made him lay on the bed as I began to ride him.

"You can try, but you won't succeed."

I said as I leaned down and made my marks on him.

"We both know, you just want to fuck me, but I'll have you hooked."

Idk what I wrote, cause half of this shit didnt get save so I had to rewrite, hope you enjoyed it ✌️

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Always

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x GN!Hunter!Reader

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert.

Author’s Notes: I’m writing this the day after I swore I’d never do angst. Ironic, huh. I’m working on getting more power across in my words- hopefully that shows.

Anyhow, this is set after <S2 SPOILER> John dies saving Dean. Obviously, given the nature of his passing, Dean can’t talk to Sam about it- but in this story he has someone he can talk to.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! ❤️❤️

As always, all notes are very much appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: This is angst at its finest. A 16+ audience would be preferred on this piece.

“What if, for just once in your life, you manned up and actually talked to me?” My voice is loud. It’s booming, and it’s borderline angry. My hands are balled into fists at my sides, and my jaws clenched.

I’m just so done. I try so hard with Dean, and I’m always patient. When he doesn’t want to talk, I don’t pry. I’m there for him whenever he needs me, however he needs me, wherever, at any hour, without so much as a second thought. I’ve never faulted him for not being able to say “I love you,” or for not being gentle when I need him to be. And I will always do these things.

But I am not okay with being told to “Stop fucking doing that,” ‘that’ being me trying to ask him if he’s okay. I let him get away with a lot of things, maybe more than I should, but outright cussing and waving me off? That’s too much.

So fine. We’ve been yelling at each other at least ten minutes now. Far too loud for a shitty motel with paper thin walls, surely, but right now I need him not only to hear me, but to listen to me.

He’s stood down after that last question. His shoulders slumped from their tense posture, his jaw no longer clenched. He’s trying so hard to retain his scowl, but I see the tick in the corner of his mouth. I see the way that his beautiful green eyes start to water.

No matter what cruel things he said to me, I refused to retaliate. He can swear at me all he wants, but he won’t get the same treatment in return. Because nothing can take down the thick walls of the elder Winchester like human decency. Something he’s never properly gotten from anyone- his own father included in that omniscient “anyone.”

“So?” I ask, my hands still fists. I won’t back down until he does, I can’t give him the chance to roll his eyes and turn away like he would with anyone else.

“I-,” his voice gets caught in his throat. “Cause I’m no man, sweetheart. Certainly not man enough for you.”

“Cut the shit, Dean,” the swear slipped out of my lips before I could stop him. I see him flinch, and my heart pangs, fists unclench. Suddenly, I’m not so fired up. “Sorry, sorry. Listen, this isn’t about what you are for me. Because if it was, we wouldn’t be fighting. You’re perfect for me, Dean.”

“Just-,” I stop myself, moving back to sit on one of the dingy hotel beds with its ugly orange gingham duvet. I sit cross-legged, back against the flat puke-green pillows propped against the headboard, looking up at Dean who is still standing in the same spot like a statue. “C’mere,” I pat the bed gently.

He obeys wordlessly, a listless quality to the way he drags his feet to where I’m sat. He doesn’t sit, though, a clear tentativity in his watery eyes. “Dean, it’s okay.”

Okay to cry, I want to add.

Okay to feel.

Okay to be human.

He sighs. “I’m just not good at talking, Y/n. I never had anyone to talk to- my dad was my boss more than anything, I had to- have to- be strong for my brother, and anyone else who’s come into my life seems to fit into one of those two categories.” A singular, perfect tear runs down his face. His expression is stony, but his voice… while as deep as always, it has a broken quality to it, something he’s trying to hide.

“Dean. I’m not anyone. You can talk to me, you can be broken with me,” I urge, mentally willing him to come sit by me so I can touch him, hug him, anything.

Finally, he sits. I don’t reach out to touch him, not yet. He looks shaky.

“Listen. I know Sam’s been up your ass trying to get you to talk about him. I know aren’t big on touchy feely stuff, and I ain’t gonna push you. But I need you to stop lashing out at me when I ask you if you’re okay.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide. His lower lip quivers, finally breaking his scowl. A sad, splintered chuckle leaves his lips. “Y’know, he’d do the same to me. I’d ask, sometimes, after a real bad hunt, and he’d lash out… I’m too much like him, y/n. That’s why I don’t want to talk about him.” His voice is just a little too steady, almost artificial.

“You’re not too much like him, not at all,” I say, reaching out to him, but stopping before my hand can touch his. I’m letting him be the one to pull the trigger, to decide if he wants physical touch right now. “You’re better than he could’ve ever hoped to be, Dean. He knew that. Sam knows that. I know that.”

And that’s what breaks the dam, tears freely falling down his stubbled cheeks. He takes my hand in his, holding tight before I tug at him, inviting him to lay in my lap. He obliges, head resting in my lap. I take initiative to run my fingers through his hair, something that I’ve found soothes him.

“I just-,” his voice is broken, there’s no hiding it now. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I just want to help you be okay, that’s all.”

We sit like that for a while, his head in my lap as he cries. He doesn’t sob, but occasionally choked up noises escape him, and it breaks my heart seeing him like this. Eventually, I find it in myself to speak again.

“I know he never really said it, Dean. But he loved you, he did. He trusted you. He was thankful for you,” I tell him, wiping some of the tears off of his face.

John Winchester might’ve been a sorry excuse for a man after Mary died, fine.

But it was clear that he loved his boys, especially Dean, even if it was in his own fucked up way.

I hated the Winchester father. Quite frankly, I still do. For the way that he had put revenge in front of the care of his kids, for the way he treated his kids, even into their adulthood. I mean, making an eight year old take care of a four year old? How bad of a father can you be?

He’s a son of a bitch. But in the end, even though the bastard never once validated his elder son (nor his younger)- and he should’ve- he died for Dean. And I know Dean’ll blame himself for it. But the fact that his dad loved him… that might be enough to make the self-resentment more lenient. That and the fact that he has me.

I won’t let him hate himself or feel unloved. I think John knew that- that Dean would have far better support if he was gone. I’m know he knew how much Dean respected and idolized him, but I also know damn well that he knew damn well that he was not good enough for his son. Not nearly good enough.

So hopefully, between me and Sam, we can mend the hole in his heart. Help him feel whole again.

But for now he needs this. To cry, to feel. Something he never felt he could, not in the presence of anyone else.

Gradually the tears slow to a stop. He sniffles, wiping his face, but not moving his head from my lap. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Always,” I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. “I mean that.”

“I love you.”

There’s no stutter or pause in his words. He’s said them, plain and simple, as if this isn’t the first time he’s been able to get the words out. I guess it’s my turn to cry, because I feel a tear trickle down my face, landing on his. He grins a crooked grin at that. “Is it that bad a fate?” he jokes.

“No, no,” I choke on my laugh. “I love you too.”

And sure, there’s going to be more nights like these. Nights where we fight, and maybe sometimes they won’t end so well, so neatly.

There’s going to be more fights. Stupid fights, nasty fights.

But there will also be more I love yous. More holding. More feeling.

And no matter what happens, I’ll be there for Dean Winchester. Always. And I mean that.

[adamsstabwound]

Hi 😚 if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to request a fic – one where Adam's usually tough lover has a rough day and reluctantly asks for some comfort from him. It can be a short fic or even just hcs! I don't mind which one of you writes it, I'd love to get the work of whoever is inspired by this :3 Would love to see how he'd react since I'm sure he wouldn't really be a soft kind of individual :p

Hi hi hi Mod Balls here how’s it going I LOVE YOUR BRAIN HERE YA GO

A/N: There’s a lot of talk about feeling generally shitty, so like just in case someone doesn’t like that don’t read this!

Summary: You’ve been feeling really shitty lately, and missing your partners gig really was just the cherry on top

That all too well to you known feeling, which settles deep within your ribcage, made itself known again.

It scratched and clawed at your organs as you stared at the neon sign of the building before you.

You hesitated, having already run so late, you just couldn’t move from your bed today, the dreading feeling having encapsulated you.

You texted Adam, four hours ago, that you probably won’t make it to his gig today.

He asked why, but you didn’t want to worry him with the truth so instead you just told him you were busy, and that you’re sorry.

He had read it, but didn’t respond.

Then, just half an hour ago from now, that dreading feeling subsided, and you felt fit enough to listen to your wonderful partners music. And so you texted him, half an hour ago, that you’d be able to make it! Dumb decision, really. What if you felt the dreading feeling on the way there and had to go home again? What, you’re just suddenly busy? You know Adam wouldn’t buy that.

So now, you’re standing infront of the building with the neon sign and staring at the metal door before you, and that dreading feeling is back. And even though you could go home again, you didn’t allow yourself to. You said you’d be there. So you’re gonna be there.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the nights fresh air, before pushing the door open.

It was loud, and there were people everywhere. Some kind of band was playing that you weren’t familiar with, wasn’t Adam and his band supposed to be playing? You looked around, maybe they’re next in line after this band.

Letting the door fall shut behind you, you scanned the room quickly, looking for your fucking ten foot boyfriend to be amongst the crowd. Easier said than done.

People of all shapes and sizes littered the room, a lot easily as tall or even taller than Adam, and as you pushed past them to get near the stage, you couldn’t find your Angel, he was no where to be seen.

Huffing, you took out your heaven phone, checking if Adam responded to your last message at all,

You: I think I’m able to make it sugar, you just wait ❤️ Can’t wait to hear your tunes

Aside from your last message, there were no recent texts other than the ones from four hours ago.

You squinted your eyes at the screen, shoving a hand in your pocket. Adam hasn’t read the message yet, where was he?

You sighed, hanging your hands off of the sides of your neck, and you closed your eyes. You really, really wanted to go back home, it was already so late in the evening. Your ears barely picked up on the current band leaving the stage, and as you opened your eyes something small inside you got excited, you were overwhelmed by stress, yes, but seeing your partner on stage was always so lovely.

A few heads turned to look at who’s playing next, and instead of Adam and his band, there was another band you didn’t know! As soon as they started speaking into the microphone, something about an intro to the song, you left the stuffy building.

Have you seriously missed Adam’s gig? When was he supposed to play again?

Your feeling of dread got worse by the second, taking out your phone you scrolled up your text messages with Adam.

The gig ended an hour ago.

You groaned, holding your face against your phone, grimacing.

Okay. This is fine. He‘ll understand that you had something more important than that gig to do and he’ll understand that you fucking forgot at what time his band was supposed to even play-

There was too much air in your throat, and so you sighed deeply, multiple times.

This went on for a few minutes, just standing in the cold nights air, face against your turned off by now phone.

Then, you texted Adam.

You: Are you home?

Before putting the phone away again you stared at it for a good minute or two, then you started speed walking to Adam’s place.

You had a key, you just wanted to give Adam a hint you’d be there.

As you walked and as time passed, you kept checking your phone, worried that Adam wasn’t answering you. Was he mad? He didn’t even see the message maybe he just didn’t notice? Maybe he’s hanging out with his band friends? With Lute?

Your heart told you he was upset with you, and rightfully so, you told yourself.

Some time has passed, and you were there. Standing infront of his apartment door, you swallowed hard.

And you knocked, and there was no answer.

And so you rang the bell, but there was no answer. So you just stood nervously.

It took some time, but eventually you fished your keys out of your back pocket, unlocking the door.

The apartment was quiet and dark, as you peered through the door, you saw no one. Opting to quietly shutting the door behind you, you put your coat on the coat hanger and sneaked around, searching for Adam. Maybe he just fell asleep?

Your questions were soon answered by the sounds of snoring emitting from the living room.

You blinked, how in heavens name have you not noticed them beforehand? Sighing, you made your way to the living room, peering over the sofa, and- there he was.

Adam was still wearing his robe and mask, laying on his side on the sofa, one wing leaning against the sofa lean, the other sprawled out over the coffee table where his halo lay.

You smile, and lean down, planting a soft kiss on the side of your lovers face, he mumbled something, but you didn’t quite catch it, so you simply leaned up again.

The guilt was eating you up inside, alongside all the other things your brain is stressing you on about, this really was the sugar on the cream now, wasn’t it?

The Angel below you mumbled something again, and your grip on the sofa lean tightened. You’ve gotten to know Adam well enough by now to know that, yes, he mumbles and talks in his sleep, but his words are usually a few minutes apart from each other, so this meant he was waking up.

You heard him whine, and placed a caring hand on the side of his head, gently stroking your thumb over it as he finally blinked his eyes open, leaning into the touch.

„Why are you on the couch?“ You asked calmly, turning the mans head with your hand a bit to the side so he looks at you.

Adam simply hummed, „'was waiting for your late ass“, he closed his eyes again.

And thank god he did, you didn’t know if the guilt was that apparent on your expression- the ‚moon‘-light shining down on it.

„I’m sorry,“ And you couldn’t help the sorrow seep through your voice, and you couldn’t help the grimace you made as Adam opened his eyes again, looking up at you. „Hey it’s- fine man, shit“

Adam sighed, „I just expected you to be here sooner, is all,“ He peered off to the side, clearly upset, even if just slightly.

Your heart sunk for the- God knows what amount of time- that day, just now remembering the plans you two made the previous evening-

„Oh- fuck- Adam I was so focused on that gig the entire day-„ you started, your chest growing heavier by the second.

The Angel in question only quirked his eye brow at you, seemingly confused.

„Thought you said you wouldn’t come?“

You inhaled, „Well- yeah but I changed my mind-„

„Changed your mind-? I thought you were gone because you were busy? The hell?“ he sat up slowly, his wings ruffling slightly, you looked off at them, feeling exposed. „Well I- sorry bad wording- haha- I mean I was busy, but then I wasn’t anymore! So I went to your gig!“ „I didn’t- see you there?“ „No I mean like-„

You sighed heavily, „I completely forgot at which time you had the gig and I went there just a bit ago and-„ you spoke quickly, and Adam raised his brows, „woah babe- babe it’s fine-„ he drew out, stumbling to get up, but managing.

„You don’t-„ he looked nervous? „Have to explain I guess-„ the Angel paused, „Do you need anything-„ he smiled at you anxiously, what the hell?

„No-„ at that Adam couldn’t help but frown, „Are you sure?“

You held your breath, starting a nod but slumping your shoulders. „Ive not been doing well, sugar,“ you manage out, and your Angel blinks at you, before reaching to unclasp his own mask, setting it aside, „Why? What happened?“ That look of nervousness and worry grew more apparent on his face, you don’t recall having ever seen him like this before.

You shrugged, sitting down on the sofa, having climbed over the lean easily.

He sat next to you.

Swallowing, you just stared at your fingers, messing with them, not knowing how to answer that question-

After a long moment of silence, in which Adam was waiting for an answer he didn’t receive, he spoke again, „Did I do something?“ you let out a small laugh and shook your head, „no, no,“

He sighed, and seemed to relax a bit, but he still looked concerned. „Then what is it? Do I need to exterminate someone?“

You give him a look at the suggestion.

„Just sayin‘-„

You sigh, leaning your head on the mans shoulder, he tenses for a moment but quickly relaxes, putting an arm around you, rubbing your side.

„Ive just- I don’t even know why- I’ve just been feeling like shit lately,“ „oh-„

He rubs your side more gently, „Well,“ you glanced over at Adam, seeing him scrambling to find words. „Everyone feels like shit sometimes, it’ll pass? We can- uh“ he looked at you, „do stuff you like? Or- whatever you want! Whatever makes ya happy!“ he tried a smile.

„Well it’s“ you sighed deeply, „it’s not just sometimes- it’s been an entire week,“ and you rubbed your eyes.

Adam squeezed your shoulder gently, and you leaned into the touch. „Maybe cuz- uh-„ he grimaced himself now, he really, really wasn’t good at this, but you felt comforted at the fact that he’s also really, really trying his best.

The room was silent for a moment or two. Maybe three.

„Y’know I was watching this documentary on psychology recently cuz there are so many dumbasses around me-„

Nevermind.

You gave him the most deadpan expression in the history of mankind. Adam would know.

The look you gave only made him speak faster „-and they said something about how when you don’t talk about your feeling to anyone for a long time it like- messes with your feels n shit y’know-„

You expression softened, oh so this WAS related to the situation. You tilt your head nontheless.

He looked at you, „What I’m tryna say- if you don’t do the thing for the y’know and time it can be really- oh Jesus fucking Christ-„

You raised your brows. Adam coughed, „may his soul be blessed for eternity-?“ you snickered.

„Just uhm- tell me? Next time that happens? Sooner than later? Cuz y’know the long game of not telling anyone that stuff is like- super shit-„ He huffed, then paused, „That wasn’t an angry huff by the way-„

You nodded, leaning your head on the mans chest, a bit of an awkward position from the way you two were sitting, but it felt right. He started stroking your back gently, „yes?“ „I’ll try,“

You sounded tired, yawning, you nuzzled your face into the mans chest.

„Thank you,“ Adam whispered, carefully pulling you into his lap, holding you. His presence was warm and soft, he felt like a blanket.

„And you?“

„I’ll try as well,“

[jester089]

I HEARD YOU DO HELLUVA BOSS?! BEE-ZLEBUB PLEASE ANYTHING TO DO WITH BEE OR FIZZY

Rainy Days

You didn't really ask for anything specific so I'll just write what I felt like writing. I'm not amazing at writing Helluva Boss yet so please lower your expectations before we start. Have you done it? Good. This is gonna be lazy rainy days spent indoors with the characters ie. Beelzebub, Vortex, Fizzarolli, Asmodeus. Characters are probably gonna be ooc, but I'll do my best.

Beelzebub & Vortex

Bee as everyone knows is really energetic and extroverted. She much prefers being out and about rather then at home, well when the party isn't at her home at least. Tex is more of an ambivert leaning towards extroversion. He enjoyed parties and being with people. But can also really enjoy just being at home doing something calm. And you, were the introvert of the three much preferring just relaxing at home then going out. You were rarely seen putting energy into anything and were more often then not found in your room/bed. It had been a rainy and cold week so far, not yet having a day where it didn't rain. Bee hated it cause not as many people go out when it's rainy/cold. Tex didn't really have an opinion but was torn because Bee hates it and you love it. You loved it, a lot. A perfectly good reason to be warm, lazy, and comfy at home? Watch as many shitty videos as you want. Without people judging you for staying in all day! Fuck yeah! Bee was planning on going out after sitting at home bored for over an hour. She got dressed and was just about to leave before you and Tex walked in, in cozy clothes. Tex was holding tons of heavy poofy blankets and you were holding a ton of snacks. She walked up clearly curious "Tex! Y/N! I hope you weren't planning cuddles without me. What's up? hope you two aren't planning something behind my back?" You sprinted off and into your room without responding while Tex explained "I mean we weren't really planning it, but who knows. We were gonna do a movie night while it's raining. You want in?" He leaned in now whispering "Their all hyper. It's cute. The rain gets em all energetic." Bee was going to respond before you peaked your head in telling Tex to hurry up with the blankets. "I can't get the room ready without them! Hurry up!" He walked over and handed them to you. He waited till you were in the room again before turning back to bee "Hey it's up to you if you want ta join. You know they aren't usually energetic? Well they are now. I would enjoy it while it's here. We're prepped to watch movies all night, so if you're going to join get something comfy on." He gave her a quick kiss then joined you. Bee hears you ranting about something through the wall then huffs and goes up to her room to change "Wish they told me about all this before I took 2 hours getting ready to go out." ~~~~~ You were in the middle of setting up the room bossing Tex around cause his arms are longer then yours when you heard a knock. You walk over and open the door and see Bee in a giant hoodie you got her looking comfy. You basically tackle her into a hug "You're joining us! Ok ok, hold on I have to grab more snacks. Help Tex with the room." You give her one last squeeze then run off towards the kitchen. You only grabbed the snacks you and Tex liked before, but if she's going to join then you need to grab snacks for her. I mean she's literally the embodiment of gluttony. You can't do anything with her without snacks. You grab another armful of snacks and run back to your room. When you get there it's all set up. The room looks amazing and Tex and Bee are already settled in on the floor surrounded by all kinds of soft items, pillows, blankets, your giant collection of plushies. It takes a lot of will to not tear up at the sight. Looks like heaven. Ironic as you are literally in hell. You put the snacks in bowls then get comfy with Tex and Bee. You start up the movie and turn only to turn around and see that more then half the snacks have already been eaten. You sigh and get comfy again. It's gonna be a nice night. Two people you love, the sounds and scent or the rain, a incredibly comfy pillow and blanket nest, and a shitty movie you can make fun of. Only thing you have to worry about is if you would rather have four armed cuddles from Bee. Or the strong safe hold of Tex. Hey, you can always have both.

Fizzarolli & Asmodeus

Their is actually zero chance that you plan anything with one of them without the other knowing and trying to help. So before you could get past the planning phase for a night in with Fizz, Ozzie was in the room helping you. A rainy night inside with these two would honestly be amazing. Sure Fizz is chaotic, and Ozzie is really big and kind of intimidating. But that doesn't mean that it wouldn't be lovely, movie nights with them are the best. Fizz is a jester knowing how to make unreasonably big pillows forts is something he kind of has to know. And Ozzie is wonderful and encouragement and can and will get you and Fizz any resources you need for it to turn out right. Once all is ready prepare to be stuck in the room for a long time. You were the one who started it all, but once Ozzie and Fizz are comfy and enjoying themselves you wont be allowed to leave either. It wouldn't be the same without you there. Once again you are faced with a choice (Kind of). You can choose extendable arm and legged cuddles from Fizz, he can wrap around you multiple times. Or the strong and fluffy hold from Ozzie. But being honest you don't actually have a choice. It will always end up with Fizz half wrapped around you and half around Ozzie. And Ozzie holding you two. Little warning Fizz's laugh is really obnoxious and loud. So if anyone say some kind of shitty pun he happens to find funny at the time he will just howl, and that leads to Ozzie laughing too. It adds a really lighthearted vibe to the already cozy rainy day indoor vibe. You're in for a good time, just watch Fizz or all the snacks will be gone in an instant.

[adhdo5]

A thing that bothers me about postcanon Xiyaos is that they tend to want to be fixit Xiyaos and in the process not only make it weird but also erase a lot of the appeal of postcanon Xiyao in general. Like I understand why people want to write LXC as purely regretful and oh how I could have killed that guy he was all that mattered in the world but like. He wasn't?

Sorry to say this but as much as Xiyao-Wangxian parallels real and the world and universe a lot of the tragedy is in how Xiyao were never ever going to be able to prioritize like Wangxian were bc Xiyao cannot extricate what they want personally from what they want ideologically. And just saying that JGY's death undoes this in LXC is a) boring b) untrue to the character and c) honestly kind of cringe from a moral evaluation perspective? Yes the thing is in the narrative of MDZS the kind of priorities Xiyao have are futile, because MDZS is about the futility and arrogance of those priorities, and that's why Xiyao are never going to survive MDZS,– and I would certainly say they're misguided and mixed up with awful obligation nonsense, but they're not in fact bad priorities or stupid considerations to have on a grander scale and something focusing on resolving those issues has to expand from MDZS's themes and answer not "what if they simply went Wangxian 2 about it" but "given that they are not and can never be Wangxian and Wangxian happy ending doesn't work for them what kind of story DOES Xiyao happy ending happen in"

And first thing second: a lot of these answers tend to do the thing where their answer is "Xiyao at age 20 was Xiyao happy ending" which is again not only a boring answer but kind of a shitty one! First of all no the fuck it wasn't, otherwise they wouldn't have done all that; second of all Oh so you claim you want a-Yao happy ending and forgive him all his crimes but the only form you want him in is one that in some sense hasn't committed what you perceived as the worst of his crimes yet? The only form you want him in is Meng Yao who does your laundry and cries about needing your support and is only relieved, not angry, not resentful, who's powerless and Yet To Be Corrupted? You want him untainted and want a medal for having a different perception of what "tainted" means? That's what killed him the first time around! Nothing has changed! Xichen-ge, look out!

Fuck that shit!!! Reckon with his crimes! Reckon with the fact that LXC has genuine reason to distrust him and vice versa! They have genuine moral differences and circumstantial disparities and personal-moral grievances with each other no shallower than Nieyao do! Give Jin Guangyao his power and reckon with the things he did for and with it and figure out how they're going to live with that!! You wanna be a Jin Guangyao apologist? START APOLOGIZING

And fucking frankly Lan Xichen has some damn apologizing to do too!! A thing not enough of this talks about is how privilege-blind he is and how he never actually understands JGY's circumstances or the depth of his plight; MDZS if fucking anything asks us to sit with the fact that the world they live in is so cruel as to make those motives to do genuinely horrible inexcusable things legitimate by asking NMJ and LXC to sit with that and both NMJ and LXC fail to do so in turn bc they can't accept that about their society (and tragically even as he is proof positive of that neither can JGY!!!!!!)!!!!!

And the fixation on pre-Crimes Meng Yao is honestly just kind of fucked! It's such an unhinged idea that you should chase not just the lover but the shape of the love you had when you were literally barely out of your teens as life-defining! Not to overestimate LXC's ability to Get Over It, because I do believe that he kind of never does, but it's just so miserable both on the ~kinda fetishizing this dubiously extant Innocence (ew!!!) front but also on the front of like , and you're going to make this too into an obligation for a character defined and crushed by his obligations, and assume this obligation eclipses literally everything and everyone else he cares about??? Miserable! Amatonormative! Literal decades have passed and you're going to say all that character development for both of them didn't happen? For the sake of The One nonsense? I know we're writing fic for a novel where the main couple are Like That and again I'm writing this whole thing because frankly I like postcanon Xiyao I am attached and I am rooting for postcanon Xiyao to get together very easily!! But even Wangxian are absolutely changed by the 20 years and they are resolving ! The problems ! That prevented them from having a relationship before ! It's a whole thing whatever whatever

TL;DR: You are all so amatonormative + make Lan Xichen worse + free my man JGY he did all that shit but free him anyway + in MY postcanon TGCFlike they're divorced

[fanofstuff01]

Adam fell to his bed with a thud, as if he got shot. His whole body hurt, he wanted to knock himself out so badly. Angel did mention his body was an absolute shitshow in his first day too, but he didn’t expect it to be this bad. He could feel his eyes whimpering.

His mind was nothing better. He couldn’t help but have it fuzzy alI day. It was a goddamn confusing situation. And shocking.

One night, you’re out to get wild with two sinners and two winners, and when you wake up, you’re seeing those pearly gates. Enough to turn someone’s world upside down. It wasn’t in a bad way obviously, just drained his energy.

He groaned and turned to face the ceiling, placing both his hands on his stomach. He hoped he could drift off to sleep easily, he needed it.

As time passed by, his tiredness was defeated by a stronger feeling. That one feeling he tried to keep buried deep inside all day so it wouldn’t mess his “big achievement”

Loneliness.

He didn’t knew how long he’d been staring at it, but suddenly the plain white upper-wall was hurtful to look at. He teared his gaze biting his lip, subconsciously hugging himself with his wings.

He was happy, right? Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? This was his biggest goal for years. -And this was Heaven for fuck’s sake! You could have everything!

Everything…

Well why are you feeling hollow then asshole? Don’t act like you don’t know the real reason.

“Shut the fuck up.” His voice echoed in the suddenly emtpy room. “It’s nothing and you know it. Winners can visit Hell, remember that? Angel and Pentious just came from there. And Sera never had problems with them talking to Lucifer! It’ll be fine! I can see him. It’s no big deal. I just… Have to wait a little. Yeah. Yep. It’s probably because I’m new here.” He sat down in his bed.

But no words were enough to shut that shitty voice off. Seriously, why was he worrying about this that much? It was Lucifer! He’d find a way even if he wasn’t allowed. Which… Was sometimes trouble-bringing but still cute.

Cheap excuses, still lying to yourself, Adam. Why didn’t he told you about this happening then? He would if he knew you two would be able to keep in touch.

He shook his head and went for the light switch. He didn’t want an answer to that. No need.

He wanted to shut his conscious off so bad that he almost missed the small letter on his nightstand. It was red with golden accents, clearly a hellmade one. He took it in his hands and began eyeing it with a small curiosity. Then it hit him.

Hellmade.

He gripped it, almost ripping it off as he desperately wanted to reach the letter inside. Dammit this would be much easier if he still had his claws!

When he finally got rid of that goddamn paper, he quickly began reading. Finally some real explanation.

He smiled briefly when he recognized the handwriting.

To my dear Adam,

As I write this, Angel’s standing at my side. He knows this is a love letter but he’s still sneaking peeks. Honestly, I’m still wondering what Husk sees in him.

That said, he did gave me his word that he’d deliver this letter to you. He says he owes me, for the time I took care of that mothman for him.

You must be really, really confused right now. I’m sorry that I didn’t told you about this happening, I was afraid you’d hate me because I knew it for weeks now. Please forgive me. It was just… Hard to let go of the best thing in my life. But I’m not regretting it.

I can’t write much, heck it would cost me lots of pages if I tried to, but I want you to know I’m so glad you made it, little lamb. I bet you look awesome as an angel.

Love you,

Lucifer.

————

Yeaaaahhhh something from the middle of my recent work. Just gonna drop it here since it’s nowhere near done.

Is this good? I hope so.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i'm glad more people are pointing out the flaws and bad writing in spop, and the toxicity in c//a's relationship. however, i do want to remind y'all to not get too biased.

i've seen a few people victim blame catra when it comes to her relationship with shadow weaver, and that's a really shitty thing to do. catra was a terrible person but the way shadow weaver treated her wasn't her fault.

i know that a lot of us like shadow weaver as a character, myself included, but she was still an abuser. she still physically and emotionally tortured a child for no real reason, because abusers don't need a reason. it's all well and good to point out catra's abusive behaviour but what shadow weaver did to her was not her fault.

i've even seen people implying that catra deserved to get abused or that shadow weaver abused her because she was disrespectful or didn't try enough during training. this is a really fucked up take. catra being disrespectful doesn't justify shadow weaver's abuse, that's like saying that adora deserved to get abused because she stood her ground against catra sometimes.

and catra didn't have to attend the horde training, none of them deserved to be groomed into child soldiers. the horde wasn't an environment any of them chose to grow up in. of course, catra's inferiority complex can seem a little hypocritical considering the fact that she never tried to do better, but i can understand the idea of wanting to give up because you're a slow learner or not naturally gifted in something.

also, catra seeking out shadow weaver's validation isn't bad writing or catra being stupid. it's pretty common in abusive relationships, actually. take zuko, for example. he's the example of a well-written character that we all turn to so for once, i'm gonna compare him to catra in a positive light.

ozai was actively abusive towards zuko but he still desperately wanted ozai's validation and approval. this is the result of being raised by an abusive parent. you feel like you have to earn their love, even when you're upset or angry at them, you secretly feel like it might be your fault.

i have to admit, the light spinner episode still makes me feel really bad for catra. the way she asks shadow weaver why she got abused really resonated with me, because i feel like catra secretly blamed herself for the way she was treated by her mother.

she might have told adora that shadow weaver was a horrible, manipulative person but i think deep down, catra had the classic dilemma of hating shadow weaver but craving for her love at the same time. she wanted to believe that shadow weaver might see some potential in her, the same way she did with adora. it's easier said than done to be like “well if you know that your parent is abusive, why don't you just leave them?” or “why did you let them manipulate you again?”

basically what i'm saying is: let's be mature about this whole situation. of course none of this justifies catra's actions and of course she deserves to be held responsible for her abusive behaviour and her war crimes. but let's not cross the line and start being insensitive towards abuse victims. catra did a lot of shitty things but being abused by shadow weaver wasn't one of them.