#unknown tone records

[musicollage]

Hatami + Norris – Every Day Feels Like A New Drug.   2013 : ...txt.

[crowbiotic]

[“doctors” here specifically referencing healthcare professionals treating physical ailments that are likely not related to your mental illness]

i never walk away from a doctor’s office feeling like i was treated with any sort of dignity, respect, or even sincerity anymore and it’s extremely exhausting, so i would very much like to hear other peoples’ thoughts pls ty

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. the first years find old videos burned onto a dvd of you, satoru, shoko, and geto from 2005/6.

wc. 2.7k

tags. gojo x reader, you+shoko+gojo+geto being in the same year and besties, set in the present and past, fluff

next part / series masterlist

"is it recording?" asked one muffled but familiar voice. the screen was black, the camera covered by something or someone. the pitch was marginally higher than they were used to but yuji and nobara grinned at each other as they recognised the voice of their teacher.

"how can anyone see when you're holding it like that?" this one was more feminine and unfamiliar to the two - but not for megumi who smiled sadly at the laptop screen.

"give it to me idiots," this was another female voice. there was some more chattering in the background but the audio hadn’t been picked up over the rustling of the camera being passed around. then, for a moment, the screen goes completely white as it focused on the figure in front: shoko ieiri. 

she turned the camera around so it was looking at her three peers all wearing the same sheepish grins. "you hadn't even taken off the lens cover." 

“it was satoru’s fault,” the other female sorcerer accused the white haired boy next to her.

“no it wasn’t!” gojo whined, geto on the other side of him stifling a laugh at his childish mannerisms. he looked in disbelief that his best friend was not defending him, “why am i always the scapegoat?”

yuuji paused the video to point at the unknown girl, “who is that?”

megumi hesitated for a brief second before responding, “yn.”

“you knew her?” nobara raised a brow at her dark-haired friend. he was often stoic and kept to himself but they’d been together for several months now and even she could pick up on the uncomfortable change in his demeanour. 

megumi hummed, avoiding eye contact as he stared at the paused screen, “mhm.” you looked happy in the clip, always amused when it came to winding up gojo. he’d seen it with his own two eyes.

“did she leave jujutsu?” yuuji pondered aloud.

“something like that,” he swallowed thickly.

nobara gave megumi’s hand a light squeeze, but didn’t say anything. megumi had initially been against the idea of looking through the dvd to see their teacher’s teenage years at jujutsu high - this explained why.

yuuji, on the other hand, was oblivious to the interaction, more eager to see a young gojo (and nanami too, he hoped). he reached across nobara to unpause the video without another question.

"can we just do what we actually came out here to do?” geto asked in an exasperated tone, but he was clearly smiling as he spun gojo around so the two could go back to back. “who's taller, me or satoru?" the two had been arguing over the fact all morning so it had been shoko to suggest recording it so that there was actual evidence that neither could deny.

before either could stand fully straight against one another, you interrupted with no hesitation, "suguru." gojo’s eyes widened and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at his expression.

"you didn't even look properly!" he threw his hands out dramatically and you shrugged, dismissing his distress.

"didn't need to," you waved a finger up and down, “shorty.”

there was a brief second of back and forth between you and gojo, no actual words being said until his pout lifted into a mischievous smile. that had you spinning on your heel in a futile attempt to try and escape him but it took only three of his strides till he’s got you in his hold, fingers tickling your sides.

“can we go ten minutes without you two flirting?” shoko complained over your laughs from behind the camera, panning over to geto who was shaking his head with a similar look that she undoubtedly wore too.

yuuji’s eyes were blown wide when he paused it again, looking at megumi in disbelief (even nobara had to sneak a glance for an explanation because she’d never seen their teacher so physically close to anyone like that). “sensei had a girlfriend?” 

“sort of,” megumi shrugged.

“oh my-” yuuji begun to exclaim but megumi cut him off by placing a hand over his wide mouth.

“if you ask any more questions, i will turn it off.”

instantaneously, yuuji mimicked zipping his mouth, locking it and throwing the key away, settling back into his seat. the dark-haired teenager unpaused the video.

the clip comes back to life again, gojo with his arms wrapped around your centre as he ceases his tickling in full view. his sleeves are rolled up so it’s visible on camera where you had dug your nails into his skin trying to prise his hands from you (very unsuccessfully, might you add). “that was not flirting. this is flir- ow i just wanted a kiss.” 

the camera dropped as shoko laughed and the video ended several seconds later, the screen swapped back to one full of files and thumbnails. there had to be well over a hundred videos, maybe more, all ranging from a few seconds to even an hour for some. 

nobara scrolled down until she came across a clip with gojo as the thumbnail. this one, she decided.

the video buffered for a brief moment before beginning. this one was outside this time, somewhere on the grounds of the high school. gojo had forgone his uniform jacket once more and his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose as he slightly bent down to hear what was being said.

shoko was the one holding the camera again – as she often was – and the one asking questions, "what's your favourite thing about being a sorcerer?"

gojo pretended to deeply ponder the question, tapping his index finger against his chin thoughtfully. just as he went to answer the question, voices came from behind both of them: two other students began walking towards them from a path on the other side of the open field.

“is that yn and geto?” gojo asked to no one in particular. he held up a finger to shoko as his feet were naturally leading him in the direction of the two people he care for most, “one second.”

shoko panned back to herself, nose scrunched up and a cigarette between her lips. she looked like she was going to complain about gojo’s inability to stay focused on one task at a time when she too got distracted by her friends in the distance. 

"someone's in love," she sung as she spun around, pointing at you and gojo and then her mouth as she pretended to gag. gojo had already presumably checked in on geto and now his whole focus was on making sure you’d come back from the mission in one piece. in the footage he pressed one long kiss to your forehead, hugging you closely to his body. “i need to smoke.”

yuuji was practically squirming in his seat, itching to say something. one sharp look from nobara, however, and he thinks better of it. the orange-haired sorcerer went back to her scrolling, finding a short fifteen second clip that lasted only twenty seconds.

initially, the screen was dark once more as it was being readjusted and then a young male, no older than sixteen came into view with a wide smile. “i’m going to be japan’s strongest sorcerer one day!”

“yu!” you appeared behind him, passing him a soft drink bottle, “of course you are! best the world has ever seen.”

“after me,” geto, who was sat next to haibara, joked as he looked at his junior with a fondness that you shared. there were some more voices and haibara glancing between talking sorcerers but nothing overtly interesting in the final few seconds.

“i have no idea who that was,” megumi admitted, and yuuji nodded nonchalantly like his silence wasn’t killing him. even the dark-haired sorcerer couldn’t stop himself from being somewhat amused by his peer.

megumi was the one to scroll down this time. he was more methodical than nobara had been and looked at several thumbnails before deciding finally on one of you and gojo. he recognised the date underneath as a date gojo had scribbled on the back of a photo that he kept in his wallet.

you were holding the camera this time, pointing it at gojo who was staring up at the clear night sky. it was well past curfew and you were both going to be in for it when yaga found you but the conflict to come could not be felt in the serenity of the fireflies’ buzzing.

“look at how beautiful the stars are,” you said aloud, though you’re entire focus was on your boyfriend in front of you. he turned to agree (and probably tell you some random fact that he knew about one particular constellation) only to catch your sly smile and your heart-eyed stare.

there was a split second as his eyes darted between yours and the camera that he almost appeared… nervous? bashful? but he quickly recovered with an eye roll, “you’re literally blessed to even be in my presence.”

you panned the camera around to yourself where you stared at gojo with a raised eyebrow. “if you can’t handle my rizz just say so.” gojo snorted and you could only keep up the facade for another second before you were giggling too. 

he rolled closer to you so he could lay his head on your chest and you lifted the camera higher to make sure you both stayed within the frame.

“smile toru,” you poked his cheek lightly and pointed up. it was odd for his students to be watching this – to see their powerful sensei with his guard completely down, tired, and in love. gojo did as he was told, ocean blue eyes almost illuminating under the night’s shadow.

it was that moment that he had saved as a photo; gojo smiling up at the camera with his body covering yours whilst you look down with him with more love than he thought he could ever deserve.

“hey! i was watching that,” yuuji complained after megumi pressed escape, cutting the video short.

megumi sniffed lightly, but shrugged it off by giving yuuji a distraction, “you choose the next one.” this was sufficient enough to distract the minor disappointment and yuuji was quick to find one he liked.

“yn’s crying! i wonder what happened,” yuuji hurriedly clicked onto the video, invested in the life of a sorcerer he could never know.

“guess who broke up again,” shoko said in a sing-song tone as you glared at her. she was sat at her desk and you were on her bed, a mountain of used tissues behind you. your face was red and blotchy from tears and you clearly did not want to be recorded right then.

“it’s not funny,” you sniffled, “and it’s just a break.”

you mumbled the last part and shoko deadpanned to the camera, mockingly mouthing what you had just said. “still disrupting my beauty sleep by coming in my room and crying,” she turned in her chair towards you, “believe it or not i don’t just wake up looking this flawless.”

“ha ha,” you uttered sarcastically, “it’s not my fault i love him.”

“you’re seventeen,” shoko dragged out, “there’ll be other ones.”

you stopped your pity party for a brief second to look shoko dead in the eye, “have you seen his bank account? there will not be other ones.” you both broke out into laughter almost instantly, the healing sorcerer agreeing with your argument.

shoko pointed to the camera, “gojo satoru i hope you see this. your girl is a gold digger confirmed.”

the video then gets cut off once a pillow has been launched directly at shoko’s head.

“next one! next one! they have to get back together!” nobara insisted. megumi lets her play the next video, he didn’t tell her about what he knew — that he’d seen you and gojo in love and together well after the video. that you survived the tribulations that came with being a teenager and overcame more as sorcerers than the average couple should have to deal with.

“so it’s been…” shoko held up one finger, then two, then glanced to geto for help.

“three days and six hours,” he recounted, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

“three days and six hours since gojo and yn called it quits and now here they are, making out at an official jujutsu event very not subtly,” shoko informed the camera, swapping the view so that it was in fact exposing your escapades at the formal event. it was nothing overtly raunchy, just gojo pressing you to a wall as he kissed your lips. still, there’s a time and a place.

“are you seriously recording this?” geto asked.

shoko spun the camera to him, “you want the camera on you?”

geto winked, adjusting his tie and leaning back on the bench as he manspread. “i look good right?” shoko shook the camera to say ‘no’ and he shrugged, pulling out a lighter for the cigarette he held between his lips. he lit his and then offered it to shoko.

just as she grabbed the lighter, a loud crash came from the direction that the two of you had been. somehow in the thirty seconds that she had been focused on geto, you two had stopped your kissing session, zenin naoyo had showed up and gojo was throwing punches with the zenin.

geto dropped his cigarette as he quickly raced to help out his best friend. shoko too followed after, running with the camera facing the fight as she called out, “the girls are fighting!”

“i bet sensei won,” yuuji smugly said as the video ended. 

nobara scoffed, taking back control of the laptop as she tried to find their next video, “obviously. he never loses – especially not to zenin naoya.” unable to make a decision with the hundreds to choose from, nobara closed her eyes, scrolled and clicked on a random video.

you and shoko were the two on screen, sat at a table seating on the train. 

“shopping haul!” you held up the bags excitedly and shoko hushed you, pointing to the seats across from you and mouthing ‘they’re sleeping’. you whispered an ‘oops’ and briefly showed a young nanami and haibara resting his head on his shoulder. 

quietly lifting up the three massive bags of shopping the two of you had between yourselves (a difficult task given the rustling of the paper), you began to lay out your items on the table. the both of you took it in turns, shoko showing off the new lighters and lipsticks she’d bought followed by you presenting several tops that you’d probably never get the chance to wear given the fact you were always in uniform.

“why are we stuck so far away when those two are just sleeping?” gojo rudely interrupted your little haul from where he and geto sat. shoko laughed, grabbing the camera to point at the two who were sat facing away two rows down. the train was pretty busy so they’d been lucky to grab the table. gojo and geto were left to fend for themselves.

gojo was peering down the isle, a pout on his lips whilst geto knelt on his chair and held his hands up pleadingly for… you two to kick your two sleeping juniors out of their peaceful seats so they can disturb your peace? there was no way that was happening.

“they’re not allowed on the adult table because they almost got us kicked out of the restaurant,” shoko explained with a tut and you oh-so-solemnly shook your head in disappointment.

the white haired sorcerer rested his head back against the chair, rubbing his brow in a frustrated manner, “the old lady started it.”

geto placed a hand on gojo’s shoulder, waving a middle finger to the camera with the other. “don’t waste your breath, satoru. they probably paid her to trip over your chair.”you and shoko glanced at each other with knowing grins before both of you started mimicking two people kissing with your hands, "mwah mwah mwah, and they're both boys."

a/n. will there be subsequent parts to this? yes most definitely. this is not proofread and very messy so if you made it the whole way ty and I hoped you enjoyed this <33333 this might be my most favourite thing to write so far

[soapybutt17]

The Next of Kin

Summary: Simon needed to update his contact information, as dodgy as he was for giving everyone even a glimpse of his private life, he did so. Who would have ever thought that it would become handy after an injury left him high on painkillers and needy for his girls back home. Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wife!Reader. OC Daughter (Cassandra "Cassie" Riley). John Price. Word Count: 1,615 Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Injuries. Drug Consumption. Slight Angst. Mostly fluff.

Masterlist || Request are Open

It was the annual checkup in the base, something that Simon had dreaded the most knowing what it entails. Not only was his current and past injuries being monitored but he was all too certain about the wacky doctor would also make an appearance to check on his mental state. It wasn’t a fun time as any of his other team mates point it out to be.

“Should we update your emergency contact, Lieutenant Riley?” The nurse had inquired dealing with his medical records.

A part of him wanted to say no, but remembering what was waiting for him home, he could not allow himself to break his wife’s heart as well as his own daughter if the time ever comes that he dies in the middle of battle. He would want to ensure if ever that was to happen, you would know and hope that you would move on.

“Yes,” He agreed accepting the clipboard and pen handed to him.

Without an ounce of hesitation, he wrote your name and your number under his emergency contacts.

His handwriting was decent and readable at best, chicken scratch at worst as Johnny had eloquently pointed out during reports. But there was this special care with the way he wrote your first name and his last name that you were more than happy to take as soon as you married all those years ago. Your number was ingrained to his brain as he wrote it, having forced himself to memorize in the event he didn’t have his personal phone with him and simply a burner phone for missions.

What truly took him a second to write was the blank space dedicated to his relationship with you. No one knew he was in a relationship, nor did anyone know about his marriage. It took him a full two minutes before he found himself slowly opening the flood gates of his personal life that he had tried his best to hide from the world.

“Never knew you were married, Lieutenant.”

“Never planned on letting anyone know about it.” He spoke honestly, the cold demeanor and tone enough to stop the conversation from going further about his personal life.

Little did Simon know that the upcoming mission would lead to him having to make use of the emergency contact.

~

When you had begun your relationship with one Simon Riley, you had always accepted that he would always be gone for uncertain amounts of months in a year, you had accepted that part of him. How mission would always mean the world was a little safer from the dangers of man. You accepted all the big and small flaws that came with Simon and even in your eventual marriage and the birth of your daughter, you had come to accept the danger that would come in missions that would place him badly bruised or beaten beyond repair. You would always be there to tend to each and every single wounds and be the shoulder for him to cry on when he was good and ready.

But nothing could have ever prepared you for another unknown call coming from your phone. You’ve always expected it to be your husband, checking up on you before the mission begins like he always does. But the voice of an unknown man was the last thing you would have expected.

He called himself John Price and you know the man from your husband’s few conversations when he talks about the people he works with. You had feared for the worst as soon as he had explained that your husband has just gotten out of surgery after a mission. A few broken bones and a superficial gunshot wound. But it was enough to worry you as Simon himself has been asking for you as soon as he was out of surgery and in lucid consciousness.

On most days you were calm and collected, but it was the panic of seeing the worse of your husband that had you carrying your two year old and a baby bag towards your car with a mission. The Captain had asked if you could possibly have someone come get him but you know no one else better to check up on him but yourself and your daughter that was all the more excited about being in the car.

The travel was rather long and rather tedious knowing you and your husband had agreed to live away from the city and away from any dangers that may come to you and the baby while he was gone. You had appreciated the distance, the peaceful tranquility that came with being away from the bustle and noise of the city but not this time. It had meant a longer journey and a more hectic one since the base was all the way across the other side.

Once you had arrived to the base, all eyes were on you. Many eyes had lingered on you when they heard your last name. You know for a fact that your husband’s name and reputation beholds him, but you never knew nor did you ever try to question to what extent. It unnerved you more was how avoidant everyone had been of you aside from one of the soldiers tasked with bringing you and your daughter to your husband.

Outside the infirmary room was a rugged man. The man exudes an air or control and intensity and rugged strength, but not as much as your husband did. His posture was upright, suggesting discipline and years of military training. Dressed in an all too familiar tactical gear, he gives off a no-nonsense vibe that immediately commands attention.

“Ma’am, my name is John Price.” The man introduced the moment he caught sight of you.

You spoke your name and your daughter that was surprisingly all too mum in the whole situation, you were surprised that she wasn’t crying at being in an unfamiliar environment like she usually was.

“It is best to assume that you two are Simon’s wife and daughter, I presume?” He inquired.

You took a moment to think if it was alright to agree with his statement. Knowing your husband and the array of precaution he had come to give you, you were uncertain if you could trust the man with such a fact.

“Yes.” You spoke, dealing with the consequence later as there was something more important that needed your attention. “How’s he doing?” You inquired wanting to change the subject now.

“Stable. A little loopy from the drugs, but he’ll make a fast recovery.”

You nodded, hesitation of asking if you would be allowed to see him now in his state.

“He was looking for you.” He opened the door for you and you were welcomed with your husband in bed with his mask still on.

“Dada!” Your daughter squealed upon the sight of your husband groggy still.

You watched as his head turned to look at you and your daughter.

“Love…” He grunted wincing at the pain that you were certain that was coming in full force now.

“I’m here, Baby.” You whispered approaching him, cupping his cheeks gently. “Me and Cassie are here.” You assured trying your best to hide the tears that were fighting to fall at the sight of him.

~

When Simon Riley had opened his eyes, the first thing that he had come to notice was the pain that surrounded his entire body. The next thing that he noticed was the warmth that wrapped around his calloused hand.

Turning his head he saw the most beautiful sight that he had the fortune of seeing in his life. His wife and daughter. The more pressing matter was the fact that you were asleep in an all too familiar uncomfortable plastic chair with one hand on him, and your other arm held onto your baby sleeping on your chest.

“Baby…” He grunted harsher than he intended.

Slowly blinking away, your eyes immediately turned down towards your daughter before your eyes met his own.

“How are you holding up?” You inquired immediately, trying your best not to wake your sleeping daughter still cradled snuggly on your chest.

“Like a bitch.” He muttered appreciating being able to swear with his daughter still asleep. “But I’ll live.”

“I’m glad.” You sighed, rubbing his hand tenderly. “I was so worried about you when your boss called me. I thought something worse has happened.” You whispered.

“I didn’t really want to worry you—or have you see me like this.” He muttered.

“I know.” You nodded gently letting go of his hand to cup his cheeks that still was covered with his mask. “But I’m still as glad to be here right now knowing you’re alright. Me and Cassie get to see you’re alright.”

At the mention of your daughter, Simon noticed his daughter begin to get fussy from your chest. Gently pushing himself up until he sat on his bed much to your protest, he took your now crying daughter into his arms, gently laying her onto his chest and how quick she was sated in his warmth.

“Daddy’s here, Angel. I’m here.” He began to whisper, pulling off his balaclava to kiss his daughter onto top of her head. “I’m not going soon for a while. I promise.”

He has yet to tell you about the doctor’s insistence that he takes a few months off. It would be something he would tell when you get home. Once he finishes up with the paper works, he’ll let you know of the good news. For now, all that’s important was he had you and his daughter here with him, even in his most vulnerable state.

[shotmrmiller]

when the video on your phone freezes for a heartbeat, just a fraction of a second, you're jolted back to reality.

and then it begins to vibrate in your hand. you stare at the screen, eyes squinting against the unforgiving glow that pierces the darkness you're enveloped in. (had been, anyway.)

in the corner of it says 2:03 am. witching hour. when the world holds its breath. everyone except for him. as always.

the same man who couldn't fit you into his meticulously curated world for longer than a night; a world where emotions were ruthlessly shoved into a cardboard box and labeled non-essential. (yet dogs you endlessly.)

the phone continues to ring, vibration buzzing like a mosquito in your ear. you run through your very limited options. ignore it and you'll have to suffer with him having nothing better to do than cause you to lose sleep because you need the alarm to go off in the morning or pick up and let him prod at old wounds with his gloved fingers.

(fingers you wish were curling inside you again, pad of his thumb rubbing on your aching-)

this isn't the first time he's disrupted your peace using an unknown number and it isn't the first time you answer despite knowing you shouldn't.

maybe in another life you'll have better self control.

(your masturbation session will have to wait.)

before you even get a word out, he's already cutting you off. "pet. didn't wake ya, did i?"

insufferable fucking man. "you know what time it is. what do you want, Simon? here i thought blocking both your number and johnny's would get the point across." you hope your tone conveys the weariness better on his end than it did on yours.

he merely hums, a disinterested noise that ripples through the phone. you're tempted to hang up but you know the script. he'll just call. again. and again. and again.

"were ya watchin' our video again?" heat spreads up from your neck to the soft of your cheeks. there's no way he knew what you were doing before picking up. pure mortifying happenstance.

"i was." a tight breath warms the inner side of your wrist. he's always been a straight shooter which on him is both a strength and a flaw, and right now, with the way his voice carries over the phone, it's your weakness. good thing he's not here to notice the way you squeeze your thighs together.

"'nd it got me to thinkin' on how sweet you'd been then, bleary eyed 'nd pliant beneath me," your lower stomach burns white-hot, knowing the exact type of filth he likes to talk when he's in this kind of mood, "how thin i had your pussy stretched 'round me."

your core pulses at the memory of him resting against the firm seal of your womb, his work-worn palm pressing your stomach, as if trying to feel himself from the outside. (maybe he could, maybe he couldn't, you wouldn't know. not when he had you sitting on his lap as his own personal cock sleeve for longer than you deemed necessary. you'd been incoherent then.)

with liquid heat flowing through your veins, prickling at your fingertips, burning behind your eyelids, doing what he says next had never been easier.

"take your shorts off 'touch tha' pretty pussy f'me."

(you'd disconnected all the cameras in your room except for the one you didn't know was there. he's gotta keep a sharp eye on what's his, yknow? of course not, how could you? as far as you're concerned, he's just coincidentally calling when your hand is weaving downward to rub the little bundle of nerves between your legs with a home video he'd recorded of him fucking you stupid one tipsy night playing on your phone.)

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Vodka Slime

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, use of tentacles, dom!seungcheol, bratty reader, pussy slapping, bondage, implied size kink (reader is smaller than seungcheol), tummy bulge, squirting, masturbating, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill (pls stay safe), dirty talk, recording during sex (consensual but DON'T DO IT IRL), reader runs a nsfw twitter acc, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.7k

summary: picking up a hot guy from a bar to spend the night with was in your bucket list. him being an alien wasn't. not that you really complain.

Author's note: Spooky season is here and what better way to participate than a spooky smutty theme :) this was a request from Y anon!

p.s.: main inspiration for this fic was drawn by @meltwonu's Starlighter fic, it is a MUST read (like the rest of monster mash lmaooo)

taglist: @duhnova @smileysuh @gyuwoncheol (kindly suffer <3)

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

You kinda wish you had stayed at home.

You thought it would be a good idea to dress up and go to a bar on your own to enjoy a cocktail, hoping for a stroke of luck - Alas, things don’t always go your way.

If you had stayed home, you would be in comfy clothes or maybe no clothes at all, thinking of which toy you want to fuck yourself with. 

You let out a huff and you take your cocktail in your hand, opting for a ‘random walk’ around the bar (you just want to spot a single guy who wouldn’t mind to get laid tonight), but as soon as you turn around, you collide with a very firm body and your cocktail ends up splashing all over your top.

“Fuck!” You gasp when the ice cold beverage hits your skin, desperately looking for napkins to clean up the newly made mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” He apologizes profusely as he asks for napkins from the bartender. “Here, these should help somehow.” He passes you the napkins and you accept them with a grumble, trying your best to clean up yourself.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, miss?”

“You can only-” you almost snap at him but your words die down in your throat when you raise your head and take a good look at the unknown man.

And all you see is the stroke of luck you were wishing for all night long.

Semi-pulled back white hair, slightly messed up from the wind outside, a tight fitted shirt accentuating his toned pecs and a jawline sharp enough to cut through your clothes.

“Well…” You put down the used napkins, “I wouldn’t mind a refill of that cocktail I was drinking.”

The unknown man flashes a rather adorable gummy smile and effortlessly takes a couple of bills out of his wallet.

“That, I can definitely do.”

"So, a college student. That's pretty cool."

You almost snort in your drink. "Oh yeah, it's so cool to stress over random classes because the professor happens to be a dickhead." 

"Hey, don't downplay your achievements. It's not like everyone has the brains to attend college, you know." The man plays with the rim of his glass.

"It's actually funny how hard you're trying to get my attention, while you don't even know my name." You down your cocktail.

"And here I was wondering whether you'd bring it up or not." He chuckles. 

"Well? Are you satisfied now, mister I don't know-what-your-name-is?"

"Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."

"What?"

"That's my name, doll."

"Oh." You gulp down. "That's a very nice name you have there."

“So I’ve been told before.”

“By other girls, I suppose?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, doll.”

“Suit yourself then.” You shrug and open your purse, taking out a small folded mirror to check your makeup.

“I’m impressed.” Seungcheol licks the corner of his mouth, “It’s the first time someone isn’t giving their attention to me.”

“You either have a bloated ego or you’re a desperate attention whore. Or both, I guess.” You sigh.

“And you have a pretty foul mouth for such a pretty face.”

“Cliché.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, mister Choi.” You mimic his attitude.

“Are you even willing to share something with me, other than a drink?” He huffs.

“To be completely honest, I was hoping to come here and snatch a cutie back home to have fun with, but things are looking kinda grim.”

Seungcheol flashes a wide smirk. “What a wonderful coincidence, for our goals to be aligned tonight.”

“You’re here to hit it off with someone too?”

“Yeah. And to be fair, you’re looking way too hot and way too lonely to not get laid tonight.”

“Are you suggesting I should fuck you, Seungcheol?”

“I was planning on using more subtle words but I suppose this is also a way to approach things.”

You take a few seconds to yourself, pondering about Seungcheol’s proposal.

Cons - he’s a complete stranger and could be a murderer.

Pros - he’s fucking hot and you could get new content for your account.

“I have one question.”

“Fire away, doll.”

“You’re not some kind of crazy ass murderer, right?”

Seungcheol snorts. “Murderer? Nope."

He brings himself closer to you. "But the crazy ass depends on the context."

"I think we both know the context." You lick your lips.

"Then I hope you're into crazy stuff, doll."

Boy, he's in for a treat.

"That's a nice setup you have here."

"Thanks." You smile and take off your shoes.

"Are you a streamer?" 

"Hmm, not really."

"There's no shame in saying you're a camgirl." Seungcheol chuckles.

"I never said that and I definitely didn't try to hide it." You retort.

"Judging from the box of dildos being out in the open on your desk, I would agree to the latter."

"Do they make you feel uncomfortable, Seungcheol?"

"Not at all." He walks towards the desk and picks up a neon colored, tentacle shaped dildo. "Is this what you play with?"

You sit down on the bed and cross your legs sensually. "Got a problem with that?"

"Not really." Seungcheol drops the toy in the box. "It's a shame to play with fake stuff when you can have access to the real stuff."

You snort. "What, you're into that fake tentacles porn?" 

He flashes a smirk and removes his jacket and t-shirt, you let out a whistle at the sight of his naked torso. 

The excitement you had stored in your body evaporates within milliseconds when you see extra large sized tentacles coming out of Seungcheol's back, looming over him.

"Okay whoa, that is NOT what I was expecting!" 

"I know it's shocking, but I have zero intention to hurt you-"

You crawl away from him. "Your little friends don't seem to share the sentiment!" 

"I am the one who controls them, I can pull them back if you want me to."

"I- I just-"

"Look, I can just put my clothes back on and disappear from your apartment, like I never even existed in the first place."

"W-Wait! I, um-"

"Take your time, Y/N."

"Can you try not to put these things near my mouth please?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I have no choice but to comply."

Seungcheol crawls on the bed and cages you between his body and the mattress, peppering kisses across your jawline to make you feel more comfortable.

"Do you mind if I kiss you? I promise my lips are nothing like my tentacles."

"Oh my God, just shut up and kiss me!" You grab his face with your hands and smash your lips on his, slipping your tongue in his mouth, but it doesn't last for long, as he pulls away and pins your hands above your head.

"What got into you all of a sudden, doll?"

"Maybe I thought things over again and decided that fucking a hot guy with tentacles isn't a terrible idea." 

"I thought you weren't into that thing?"

"Half of my porn content is with tentacle dildos, please get real."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You little brat."

He lifts himself off you and with a tilt of his head, his tentacles wrap around your torso and legs, restricting you midair.

"You fucker! This is foul play!" You yelp.

He leans back on the headrest of the bed, looking at you with hungry eyes. "Everything is fair in war, love and sex, doll. I’m just spicing up things a little." 

Two more of his tentacles come up to your body, one ripping your top in half and the other flipping your skirt to reveal your bare pussy.

“Fuck you, I liked that top!”

“It was already ruined, sweetheart, don’t think too much of it. No underwear though? That's hot."

"It's called easy access, himbo."

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and whips one of his tentacles over your pussy, making you whine.

"You're being a lil' smartass and it could get you in trouble, Y/N."

"Do your worst, Kraken."

The tentacle glides between your lips with the tip repeatedly nudging your clit when it suddenly whips your pussy again and you close your legs involuntarily.

"Ah ah ah, we're not having any of that." 

The tentacles tighten around your legs and keep them wide open, while the third one keeps rubbing your pussy slowly enough for the suckers to tease your sensitive parts.

"Ah! Fuck!" You moan when the slimy object slaps your cunt over and over again, your juices starting to drip on your asscheeks and all over the sheets.

"Drenched already? I haven't even fucked you yet, doll." Seungcheol chuckles as he strokes his cock, his pants discarded a long time ago.

"It's all f-fun and games when you're the o-one sitting on the bed!" You whine in defeat.

Your lips fall open when after a particular harsh slap, the tentacle effortlessly pushes into your entrance, turning around and rubbing your walls in an excruciatingly slow manner.

"Oh…my God…Fuck, that feels so fucking good."

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow. "You feel a tad bit loose, sweetheart." 

"And w-what about it?"

You nearly scream when another, thicker tentacle enters your pussy and thrusts harder than the other one. You feel your walls being stretched out, the foreign bodies in your hole proving to be bigger than the toys you use.

“Now it feels just right.” Seungcheol moans, as if it was his dick fucking you stupid. “Can’t wait to have you all wrapped around my cock, doll.”

“F-Fu- Cheol, I’m gonna cum!” You gasp when the tentacles pick up the pace and ram your cunt without mercy.

“Come on, doll, show me what this pussy is capable of.” Seungcheol grunts as he fists his cock harder to bring himself closer to his climax.

A sharp shriek erupts from your throat - you squirt all over your thighs and the slimy appendices, juices dripping down on the sheets and Seungcheol’s legs. His cock explodes all over his torso, streaks of thick white cum splashing on his skin.

The tentacles around your body relax just enough to let you plop down on the mattress, leaving your skin sticky and covered with a thin, slimy substance. He slowly retracts them altogether and they disappear from your field of view, as if they never existed in the first place.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Seungcheol crawls on the mattress until he’s hovering above you. “That’s cute. But I’m afraid I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

Your eyes go wide when you notice the sheer size of his cock resting on top of your stomach and you’re pretty sure it’s way bigger than anything else you’ve taken before.

“There’s no fucking way that thing will fit in me!”

“That’s what you said about my tentacles, but you took them like a pro.”

“That’s different!” You protest.

“Different how?”

You purse your lips.

“Different how, Y/N?” Seungcheol slaps his cock between your legs and you whimper.

“It’s….so fucking big, Cheol….”

“Are you scared?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“We can always take it slow, pretty girl. Are you on the pill?”

You nod your head slowly and hook your fingers around the elastic band of the skirt to take it off, but he stops you.

“The skirt stays on.”

“It could get in the way, though.”

“Pull it just enough to let your pussy show.”

“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” You say and point towards the video camera on the desk. “Can you grab it for me?”

“What do you have in mind, doll?”

“Since it might take some effort to make it fit…” You turn on the camera and hand it over to him, “Might as well show my followers how it’s done, right?”

Seungcheol flashes a dirty smirk before he points the camera to your pussy, his tip nudging your entrance. You wince a little when the bulbous head pushes into your hole, a strangled moan escaping from your mouth when you try to fit in more of his shaft.

“Easy now, I’m not going anywhere, doll.”

He swipes his free hand over his abs to pick up the cum that hasn’t dried yet and smears it all over his length, using it as lube.

“S-Stop teasing me…”

“‘M sorry doll, but I don't wanna rip your pretty pussy apart.”

“Fuck, I can take it, promise!” You arch your back and buck your hips in the air.

Seungcheol flattens his free hand over your stomach and pins you down. “You will take only what I wanna give you, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Your walls clench around his tip and he has the audacity to bring the camera closer to the spot you’re connected to each other, only to push his fat cock all the way to the base.

“Fuuuuuck, it’s huge…” Your eyes roll back and your pussy spasms like crazy, trying your best to accommodate his size.

“Good girl, I knew you’d take it all in.” Seungcheol rasps as he rubs his palm over the newly formed bulge in your tummy, “Such a tiny pussy yet you managed to fit all of it. I think you deserve a treat for this.”

His hand moves to your left hip and he starts thrusting inside you, setting a slow pace at first.

You moan loudly with each thrust he delivers and you slide one of your hands directly over the spot that bulges from his cock.

“Not so snarky now, are you?”

“M-More…”

“More what, doll? Use your big girl words.”

“M-More power, harder, please!” You beg between sobs.

“I was planning on dragging it out a bit more, but fuck, you’re gripping me like a vice and I can’t wait to blow my load in your pussy, doll.”

He pulls the camera a bit further away to get a full view of your and his lower half, ensuring none of your faces are visible in the video. He answers your pleas by fucking you harder and faster than his tentacles did and he can swear his sanity is starting to slip away.

“S-Shit, you’re- Fuck! It’s so good!” You scream and grip the sheets around you, your tits bouncing up and down.

“Mmmh, I’m about to cum, baby- Gonna take it all deep, will you?” Seungcheol moans above you, trying to keep the camera steady.

“Yes, yes yes, fuck me full with your load, daddy!” You cry out and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your wet walls rapidly clenching around his huge shaft.

“Fuuuck….” He delivers a few shallow thrusts before he buries himself to the hilt, blowing his thick load inside your pussy until a white ring of cum forms around his base. He doesn’t hesitate to take out his cock with an obscene pop and spurt the remnants of his orgasm over your pussy and your skirt.

“That…was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol taps his cock on your clit, chuckling when you bite your lips to suppress your moans.

“Close…the camera…” You mutter and he presses the button to stop the recording.

He puts the camera down and lays right next to you, ghosting his fingers over your abused cunt. 

“So? Do you think it was a waste of time to bring me back home?”

You grip his wrist and bring his hand in front of your face, licking his digits clean.

“Only an idiot would consider you a waste of time, Cheol.”

“Does that mean you’re down to exchange numbers?”

“Are you not-so-subtly asking for another time?” You rake your pointer finger across his chest.

“Perhaps I am,” he confirms, “Not to mention that one time isn’t anywhere near enough to show you what I can truly do with my tentacles.”

“One question - Do your tentacles spit stuff like in hentai?”

Seungcheol snorts and erupts into a laughing fit, to the point of tears.

You slap his arm. “What’s so funny?! I’m serious!”

“I know! It was still funny,” he wipes his tears away, “But I can’t answer your question yet.”

“And why is that?”

He smirks again.

“That would just spoil the fun for next time, doll.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Horror

Horror is a genre within creative writing that relies on one thing: instilling a sense of fear in the reader.

The horror genre is multifaceted—there is a kind of horror for every kind of person.

For some, the most effective scare is the idea of being trapped in a haunted house. For others, it’s being chased by a serial killer on Halloween.

Some of the best horror comes from scary things that can manipulate an audience’s feelings, creating a sensation of uneasiness and fear that stretches beyond consciousness and permeates deep within the psyche.

Horror writing is sometimes categorized within the broader category of thrillers, but not all horror follows the thriller structure.

Classic horror fiction—whether expressed as a novel, novella, short story, or film—will tap into topics that reliably frighten most humans.

Common topics include ghosts, werewolves, vampires, zombies, serial killers, murderers, and the fear of the unknown.

These horror tropes can often devolve into clichés.

A downside of horror’s popularity is that many horror books and movies recycle old content in non-creative ways, but when properly executed, horror stories can thrill audiences and even provide commentary on the human condition.

Horror Subgenres

1. Apocalyptic - In this subgenre, the world is ending or society is collapsing. When this happens, it’s usually because of some creature, demon, or religious event (while climate-oriented apocalypses are more sci-fi).

2. Body Horror - Involves the mutilation, experimentation, or violation of the human body. It can focus on disease, dismemberment, infestation, sexual acts, or a complete transformation of the physical form.

3. Comedy - Horror and comedy seem so at odds with each other, but they work so well together (kind of like spice and chocolate). A trademark of comedy horror is how the protagonist somewhat stumbles through the story, arriving at the end through luck and ridiculous happenstance rather than skill or growth.

4. Cosmic/Lovecraftian - With its origins largely attributed to H.P. Lovecraft, cosmic horror makes us feel small against a threat that is ancient, massive, and incomprehensible. Cosmic horror looks at intergalactic entities, ancient gods, the machinations of the universe, and how helpless we are against it all.

5. Dark Fantasy - Another crossover, this time with the fantasy genre. In dark fantasy, you have elements of magic, fictional creatures or worlds, and everything else that makes fantasy great, plus you add in a good dose of scares. This can also involve other subgenres, like body horror.

6. Dark Romance - Another crossover genre, dark romance takes the feel-good romance genre and makes it horrific. While this subgenre can simply include morally questionable characters and a grittier tone than most romance, it can also include kidnapping, forced confinement, BDSM, psychological and physical abuse, and sexual violence or sex where there is no consent. Bear in mind that it still needs to include the tenants of romance stories, though.

7. Extreme Gore - Not for the faint of heart, this subgenre includes books that have detailed torture scenes or otherwise disturbing and depraved acts. This genre is all about shocking your audience with how awful your characters act or are treated.

8. Folk Horror - Embraces urban legends and folktales. These range from old pagan gods in the woods to weird rituals performed by isolated groups or villages. Sometimes there is a supernatural element to them, even if the “supernatural” is simply perceived or believed by some characters (e.g., Midsommar).

9. Found Footage/Documentaries - Though this subgenre is more common in films than books, found footage and documentary horror stories are about a crew of people recording their experiences, usually unaware of the true danger they are about to face.

10. Gothic - The great-grandparent of modern horror, gothic horror is the brooding, atmospheric genre containing what most of us would consider classics (e.g., Dracula and Frankenstein). Sometimes you throw in a dash of romance, but these tales tackle topics like death and mortality.

11. Post-Apocalyptic - After some world-ending disaster, how horrifying have things become? Post-apocalyptic horror shows us a world without rules or structure. It can contain unrealistic elements (zombies, demons, etc.) or realistic possibilities (cannibals, gangs, and so on).

12. Psychological - Places the spotlight on trauma, mental health, manipulation, phobias, and everything else that causes you to become stressed and anxious. Home invasion stories (i.e., The Strangers) fall under this subgenre.

13. Slasher - Involves violent horror that is more about a single killer stalking and eventually killing a group of people (traditionally targeting teens and using a blade). This subgenre isn’t necessarily as violent or gory as others, but uses suspense to make the reader hold their breath.

14. Splatterpunk - Is known for its disregard of limits when it comes to violence—both physical and sexual. Gore and depravity are grossly abundant.

15. Supernatural/Paranormal - Some folks separate these two subgenres into different categories, but there is so much overlap that they’re basically the same. If you have to, think of supernatural horror as stories that involve werewolves, witches, vampires, and other monsters. Paranormal horror, on the other hand, involves ghosts, demons, and haunted houses.

Tips for Writing Horror

1. Read more horror. There’s no better way to understand what a good story looks like than to read one for yourself. Read as much as you can so you are aware of what other horror writers are doing.

2. Focus on your own fears. Much like comedy, horror benefits from authenticity. So get personal: If you can scare yourself, you can probably scare an audience.

3. Create three-dimensional characters. Write characters whose character flaws feed the action of the story. All good literature and film contains well-wrought characters with desires, emotions, and a backstory. The more human you make the characters of your story or screenplay, the more their missteps and bad choices will resonate with an audience.

4. Recognize that the real can be scarier than the surreal. Sure, you can make up an army of googly-eyed bad guys or plant a severed head in your main character’s bed, but will you really scare your reader? Not necessarily. In most cases, psychological horror sticks with audiences far longer than a jump scare or gross-out moment in a slasher film. Toying with people’s real-life fears tends to scare them much more than just grossing them out.

5. Use the environment. Scary movies and television shows can use jump-scares as an easy way to frighten an audience, but writing scary literature requires its own method of manifesting fear. Setup your environment in a vivid way to fully immerse your readers into your setting. Vividly describing an enclosed space can elicit feelings of claustrophobia. A dark and quiet house becomes more frightening when a character suddenly hears the creak of an upstairs floorboard. Being an outsider in an unfamiliar place, like a small town with no cell phone service and where everyone knows each other, is already unsettling—and if you add a malicious paranormal force to such a setting, you can enhance the feeling of isolation and ramp up the anxiety of the scenario.

6. Write longer sentences. You can heighten your readers’ fear by writing paragraphs with longer sentences. Periods provide natural pauses for readers to take a breath, but if you stretch out your sentences, you build anticipation for the reader—which they might not even realize until they reach the end of the sentence. By using tactics like this, you immerse the reader into your horror story, making them feel what the main character feels and creating a heart-pounding connection.

7. Make your readers breathe faster. Whereas long sentences can amplify the intensity of a story, short one-sentence paragraphs can force your readers to take more frequent breaths while following your narrative. Crafting abrupt lines builds tension in your scary story writing, making the readers’ eyes move more quickly down the page searching for the relief that the protagonist is safe. This can make your audience breathe faster, contributing to the feeling of panic and anxiety.

8. Leverage fear of the unknown. Fear of the unknown is a common theme that can be tracked throughout many of the best stories in horror fiction and horror movies. When there is something that negatively affects us that we cannot control or properly identify, it creates a feeling of panic and dread. Teasing your readers with something not quite definable or a bad guy no one knows how to stop can increase the level of tension and fear when writing horror stories.

9. Lean into dark imagery and your readers’ collective imagination. Consider what images might be frightening to a reader (and yourself). How much of a description of a clown do you need in order to make a reader feel uneasy? How large and grotesque does a rat need to be? Leaving some of these images more general than specific will allow a reader to fill in the blanks with what is most horrifying to them. Example: If you read the word beast, what do you see in your imagination? Most words carry connotations and personal connections. Allow your words to work for you to create the maximum scare.

10. Want tension? Sprinkle in some foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is a powerful tool in your writing arsenal, but it is particularly effective in horror, especially when writing in third person. Foreshadowing is when an author alludes to a future event by showing us something now. The key to foreshadowing is to use it sparingly. We want to up the tension and the fear our readers are experiencing while they yell at the oblivious protagonist not to open the door. We don’t want the reader to know every single thing that’s going to happen. 

11. Focus on the moment where things shift. You should consider a pivotal scene in your story idea and try to build around that scene or that moment where the plot actually “shifts.” Sometimes that could be reflected in a realization by the protagonist. Other times it can be represented in some type of ironic twist at the end. By looking at that singular element of your story idea, you cut away the fat so that the reader is left only with the most resonant part of the story.

12. Establish the mundane. Mundane is just a fancy way of saying normal, but the message still rings true. Most story structures tell you to start by establishing the Ordinary World: what our protagonist’s normal life is like. This is important for showing us how important the larger conflict is, because it threatens the protagonist’s normal. In horror, establishing the mundane is arguably more important. In a story where connecting with the character and empathizing with them over the godawful stuff you, the author, put them through, the reader needs to understand just how bad life has gotten. Then you can take both your characters and your reader from a place of comfort and familiarity and plunge them into whatever shadowy hell you’ve concocted.

13. Choosing your POV. By choosing to write your story from a first-person perspective, you are putting the reader exactly where your character is. There are 2 types of third-person POV—limited and omniscient. It is advisable to stay away from omniscient. Part of writing a good horror story is withholding information from the reader, which third-person omniscient doesn’t really allow for. Considering the pros and cons of the different points of view, choose the right one for your story.

14. Avoid clichés. Clichés are boring and predictable, and a horror scene that is predictable is likely to not be scary. A good horror story can still use familiar horror tropes, but a great horror story makes them its own. Look beyond the obvious when trying to write a scary scene—what is something readers wouldn’t expect? How can you surprise them with fear? Use enough of the existing tropes to be identifiable as horror, but make sure you insert your own originality into the mix. One of the reasons people gravitate to genres in general is because they have certain expectations for what should happen in the story. Look for ways to flip archetypes on their heads.

15. Practice. If you’re struggling to get a handle on writing a good story that’s scary, practice with story prompts (see some sample prompts below). Writing prompts can expand your range of thinking and open up new avenues of imagination that you hadn’t thought of before.

Horror Writing Prompts

A scary doll comes to life.

A scene from a nightmare comes true the next day.

Days go by, and your parents don’t come home.

You feel yourself slowly becoming a monster.

Your friends start to disappear, and no one else notices.

You’re lost in the woods, and you don’t know how you got there.

You’re inhabited by a ghost that controls you and makes you do crazy things.

You have no reflection in the mirror.

The teacher is a monster, but no one will believe you.

You hypnotize your brother, and you can’t snap him out of it.

A fortune teller reveals that you are evil.

Someone follows you home, and it’s your exact double.

You find a diary that tells the future.

Every time you wake up, you’re a different person.

Your parents explain that you are actually an alien from another planet.

You know someone is watching you day and night from the house across the street.

You realize you are shrinking.

While reading a scary book, you realize that you’re a character in it.

Someone is living in your mirror.

Everyone knows the new neighbors are vampires, and the kids invite you over for a sleepover.

All the cats in a small town vanish in the middle of the night….and all that remains is a set of big, scary teeth smashed into a car door.

A group of friends takes on the zombie apocalypse.

Strange things start happening after the grandfather clock starts to speak.

You finally meet your child’s imaginary friend. Who turns out to be a serial killer.

When a local police officer goes to investigate the haunted house down the street, he finds a young girl who died decades ago.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA BABY

A KINKTOBER SPECIAL - SEX TAPE WITH JONATHAN BREECH

Pairing.| Jonathan Breech x fem!reader

Summary.| You lose a bet with Jonathan. He has to record the experience to ensure it’ll happen again.

Warnings.| Dubcon, fingering, p in v, unknown recording, blackmail.

Word Count.| 1.4k

Notes.| Never edited this one hahahah so maybe i’ll do it down the track lol

Jonathan Breech had a non-wipeable smirk on his lips as he rode his bike down your street on this gloomy day. Typically, he wore that stupid gray trapper hat of his as he booted down the kickstand outside your front porch. He skipped up the porch stairs and dramatically knocked on your front door. After you made him wait, the door flung open revealing your fluffy robe as you looked him up and down with dissatisfaction. As you carelessly invited him into your home, Jonathan nodded his head in approval, his hands fisted into his pockets as he waltzed around the empty living room.

“Nice place” he commented quietly, earning a soft scoff from you.

“Don’t act like you care” you snorted, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Hey! You want to do this as much as I do” Jonathan chuckled.

Quickly, you stomped towards him, standing mere inches away from him as he smirked at your restricted rage.

“I don’t want this at all” you growled, jabbing your fingers onto his right pec.

“Oh, stop playing hard to get” Jonathan teased, his hands snaking to your waist.

“You cheated…” you mumbled, your tone softening as your eyes lowered. You watched his squeeze the robe over your hips.

“Don’t be a sore loser now… I want us both to enjoy this” he murmured, his hands pulled you closer to him, his lips teasing yours by just brushing them against one another.

It was hard not to give into your desires and kiss him completely. But your amour propre was still too high, especially for your provoking classmate who’s ego was taller than his height.

Jonathan had been trying to woo you for months. However, you were like the roadrunner, you could never stop dashing away from him. Until he made a bet that you couldn’t refuse. For your final test in your mathematics class together, the highest mark would win. He’d be forced to never speak a word to you again. If he won? Your body. Jonathan was borderline failing so it seemed too good to be true. He proved you wrong when your teacher distributed your results. A two percent difference, to Jonathan’s benefit.

It’s not that you found him unattractive or anything, you just didn’t like his attitude at times. Not to mention the boost you got at him almost groveling below you. It was nice to be wanted, even though it was just downright sexual desire.

“How do I know you won’t just tell everyone as soon as you’re done with me?” you mumbled out.

Jonathan chuckled lightly before kissing you softly. “I’m a man of my word” he whispered before kissing you far more passionately.

Gradually, your arms snaked around him and you squeezed his body. The stress of if anyone found out about this disappeared from your mind, your focus completely on the goosebumps he gave you. As your hands ran up and felt the fabric of his stupid hat, you yanked it off and threw it across the room.

“Bedroom” he stated with a huff as your lips started for a split second.

If you didn’t lead him to your bedroom fast enough, he was ready to fuck you in the hallway. As you tumbled into your bedroom like horny animals, Jonathan smiled at the state of your room. Rockstar posters still on the wall, desk in the corner and plant pots all around your room, your childhood teddy bear on your bed. The floor was free of any dirty clothes or rubbish and a honey scented candle was lit.

Jonathan slipped off his jacket and pushed you both onto the bed. After he planted sloppy kisses all over your face, he untied your robe and groaned at your matching baby pink lingerie set.

“Was this to make me feel special?” Jonathan chuckled.

“Shut up” you huffed, subconsciously you covered your arms over your bare body.

Jonathan tutted and moved your arms to your side before he pressed his body on top of yours. As he humped his erection against your hips, he moaned into your mouth. You eagerly pulled his shirt over his head.

“Strip naked” he ordered firmly.

Huffing out in protest, you gave in and stripped completely naked before him. His hungry eyes took in every inch of your glory.

“Face down, ass up” he continued on.

You obliged and pressed the side of your face against the mattress, you ass poking out to him. Jonathan approached you and rubbed his fingers over your dripping cunt.

“Oh fuck Johnny” you moaned as he slipped his finger inside of you.

“I said face down” he huffed as he watched your head begin to turn back.

You clenched around him at his demand. Submitting to him was more pleasing than you had anticipated. Jonathan slipped his fingers out and quickly undressed. However, silently he retrieved the camcorder from his jacket pocket and turned it on without a sound. A relieved exhale left your lips as you heard him rip open the wrapper and snap on his rubber.

The tip of his cock is pressed against your entrance and you murmur out. Slowly, he pushed his thick member inside of your squeezing walls.

“You like that baby?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow as he slowly buried his cock completely inside of you.

“Yeah Johnny, so good…” you lightly moaned, your eyes fluttered back as you adjusted to his size.

“Fuck baby, should have let me fuck you sooner” Jonathan chuckled as he slowly began to pump his size in and out of you, his fingertips rubbed near your clit.

You hummed out in response, hips rocking back as you quickly matched his rhythm. He held the camera right above you as he rocked his hips back and forward. Occasionally he would direct the device to the back of your head as you moaned out in pleasure. He made sure to give you plenty of compliments to keep you satisfied.

“Like my cock?” Jonathan grumbled

“Yeah Jon, I like it a lot” you admitted carelessly.

“Should we do this more often?” Jonathan chuckled darkly.

“Yeah” you gasped as he hit your g-spot.

Repetitively, his head brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, your walls clenched heavily around him.

“Oh Jonathan!” You cried out, hands gripped like iron onto the bed sheets as he pounded into you.

Without even anticipating it, your high crashed over you. You screamed out in ecstasy, your hips rocking impulsively back onto his twitching cock. By how tightly his cock squeezed around you, he quickly came hard, his heavy load of cum swiftly begun to drip out of his condom.

“Fuck baby! So good, so fucking good” Jonathan praised as he slipped his length out of your soaking entrance.

He was the first guy to ever get you to finish. But you weren’t going to give him the glory by telling him that. You panted heavily, gasping for air, eyes closed shut.

“Smile for the camera baby” Jonathan grinned widely.

Your head shot back and you shrieked as you flipped yourself around and covered your body.

“Jon-Jonathan! What the fuck!” you yelped.

“What!” He mocked your tone and pitch.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Turn it off!” You demanded, a mixture of panic and fury in your voice.

“No, no… Need to be sure we’ll be doing this again” Jonathan laughed heavily, a stern tone in his gleeful voice.

“Jonathan please!” You begged, your body trembled and eyes swelled.

Jonathan sighed and switched the camera shut. He pouted at you as he reached for his boxers and slipped them on without breaking eye contact with you. Gradually, he crawled onto the bed, the camcorder now placed on the floor.

“Come on, we were having so much fun, weren’t we?” Jonathan whispered, taking your body in his arms. He planted his lips onto your neck.

“Yeah…” you sniffled. Jonathan moaned in agreement, your eyes remained fixed on the camcorder as he worshiped your body.

“It’s not like I want to show anyone anyways…” He reassured, his hands trailing over your curves. “I don't want other guys ogling you” he continued, the possessiveness and jealousy dripping out of his words. After a short moment of silence, Jonathan looked into your eyes. “So, same time tomorrow?” He smirked at you.

“Fuck off” you muttered and shoved his hands off you.

Jonathan laughed lightly and slid off the bed. Quickly, he slid on his clothes, making sure to wave the camcorder at you before he slid it into his pocket. “See you then, in the meantime I’ll be watching our film” he smirked before picking up your robe and throwing it in your direction.

There was no farewell from you, he quickly left, not forgetting his hat before taking off on his bike.

[holllandtrash]

haunted | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 2 to fragile line)

Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

you're racing. daniel isn't, but he's not gone either, is he? word count: 7.6k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: angst really, more incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps again, platonic love all around, not as big of a rollercoaster as part 1 but just wait till part 3 lol

“Do you know?”

“Do I know what?” You asked, wondering why that was the first thing your teammate said when you opened the door to your flat. 

Lando didn’t even bother with a ‘hey, how was your day, what’s up’, he was just straight to the point, only you had no idea what the point was. 

He was still on a high after coming in second place the other day, so you let the impoliteness slide. Usually Lando didn’t look like a mix between a sweaty mess and a confused child, but you assumed he was like this because whatever was on his mind was important.

“You haven’t- did you-” Lando stammered over his words. “When’s the last time you checked your phone?”

You felt around in your pockets and glanced over your shoulder with a bit of a shrug. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked at your phone in a few hours. Your morning was spent training and running errands now that you had some time and were home for a little while before the next race. You were still carrying a lot of energy after your successful finish in Silverstone that sitting still and scrolling through your phone was the last thing you wanted to be doing right now.

“Can you just find your phone, please?” Lando asked, because he didn’t want to be the person to break the news. He came over to talk to you, to walk you through it, to be someone to vent to if you needed it, but the last thing he wanted was to be the one to say it. 

It took a minute, but you found it in your bedroom, the screen lighting up and vibrating with each notification. As you walked back towards Lando, you scrolled through them all, trying to see which was the most important. 

Eventually, you landed on one from the official F1 app.

Daniel Ricciardo Replaces Nyck de Vries

Daniel Ricciardo was returning to the grid.

Daniel was coming back. 

But did he ever really leave in the first place?

You hadn’t spoken to him since that day in Monaco, almost a year ago now. The day your relationship fell apart, crumbling to pieces around you. 

You thought maybe, maybe, he’d call you before the next race or at least try to find you somewhere in the paddock to have a civil conversation but that didn’t happen. 

Of course, neither of you had time for a conversation anyway.

Daniel released his video 24 hours before media day in Belgium, announcing he would be leaving the team. It broke your heart watching it in your hotel room, knowing he was only a few floors up and probably struggled to record it. You could picture him retaking it a few times, just to get the words right, his tone right. He didn’t want to paint McLaren as being at fault for this decision, even if that was the case. 

If you weren’t the driver who was set to replace him, you would have been there in that room giving him encouraging nods and telling him to just speak to the fans. You would have been there when his head fell back against the wall in defeat, eyes closed as the weight of his unknown future crashed down on him. You would have crawled onto his lap and held him, telling him that another team was going to be desperate for him. 

Instead you were in your own room, watching the video like the millions of other followers he had. The only difference was, none of those followers asked themselves if they were to blame. 

It was just you, wiping the corner of your eyes and asking yourself if this was your fault. 

Surely when your news dropped, people would start pointing fingers, people would talk. 

Daniel Ricciardo trained her, they would say. He helped her get to this point and now she’s taking his seat. 

They’d throw assumptions into the wind about how this was probably your plan all along. 

It wasn’t, of course. Your plan was to get a seat in Formula 1 and see Daniel as friendly competition when you stepped onto the grid. You wanted to keep the support system alive when you moved up, knowing you had someone watching your back when you climbed out of the car. You wanted to be able to go home with him at the end of the night on Sunday and watch the race back with him, playfully critiquing each other's moves and ideally celebrating your victories, together.

You never wanted to leave him without a seat. 

But part of you must have known he wasn’t driving next year, right? You never brought up the contract, he never talked about leaving, nor did he talk about potentially moving to another team, which seemed like something you’d talk to your partner about. 

Daniel said nothing. You said nothing. And in the back of your head you knew he wasn’t signed to another team, you just didn’t want to accept it. 

You didn’t want to admit that part of that was your fault. 

Zak Brown put you in the worst position possible. He was giving you the chance to make your dream a reality, but in doing so, you were losing the one person who shared that dream with you. 

It shouldn’t have been hard to put on a smile during that post-race interview in Spa. You finished second, your hot streak had continued despite the turmoil your heart was going through. So not only was the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the podium, but McLaren had decided that morning was the perfect time to announce you were replacing Daniel. 

They didn’t word it like that, though. They just stated that you were to race for McLaren for 2023. No mention of Daniel, even if that was all anyone had questions about. 

“Second place in Spa, how are you feeling?” The reporter asked as you struggled to get comfortable in the white leather chair, your trophy at your feet. 

You weren’t surprised he, Richard from the official FIA reporting team, jumped directly to you, bypassing any questions for Liam Lawson who finished third. No one had yet to get a comment on your official move to F1, not having any time this morning since the news was announced. 

“It's exciting, it’s good to be back as well,” you nodded, turning to Felipe on your right who nodded as well. “A break is always needed, but there’s really no better feeling than getting back behind the wheel.”

“You’ve never podiumed here before,” Richard pointed out, “There’s quite a difference in performance from last year to this year, we’ve all noticed.” 

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” You laughed, not caring at all if it sounded forced, and you knew it did because Liam raised his hand to mouth to hide his chuckle and tried to play it off like he was just scratching his jaw. 

“Well it’s just no wonder that McLaren has snatched you up for the 2023 season, with how much you’ve shown this year what you’re capable of. Care to comment on that?” 

There it was. The first official request to talk about McLaren. 

“I mean, we’ve all seen the news at this point,” another laugh but this time it was more out of discomfort. 

You looked at Felipe, he nodded again but it was short and encouraging, silently telling you it was okay to take the spotlight even though it was him who had won this race. 

You cleared your throat, thinking about what the PR team from McLaren told you. You’re focused on Prema. McLaren knows this. McLaren is supporting you while you finish your F2 season and by all means, shut down any topic regarding Daniel Ricciardo. 

“Really, I’m just focused on finishing the season off strong with Prema,” you told Richard, feeling your smile start to slip because how could you be excited over that or a trophy when you knew what he was thinking and what the whole world was thinking. 

You prayed he wouldn’t bring it up, but the media world was hell. 

“And Daniel’s departure-

Liam promptly lifted the mic to lips, cutting off Richard before he could finish that thought. “We’ll all miss her, I think that’s safe to say. But maybe it’ll be a bit easier for the rest of us to podium when she’s gone.”

Quiet laughter spread through the audience and you just turned to Liam and mouthed a quick ‘thank you’. He didn’t say anything back, just dropped his head to your shoulder for a second and smiled, playing up the whole we’ll miss her statement. It wasn’t an act, though. Most of the guys you raced with had stopped you at some point this morning sharing their congrats and giving you a hug, telling you that you deserved that spot in F1. 

Even Felipe said it and meant it, and he was on the fast track to win this year, also eyeing a spot in F1. You had a good support system in this series. 

He dropped his head to your other shoulder and your lips fell into a playful pout, raising your hands to the sides of both driver’s faces. It made a cute photo. The F1 social media team really played into the love you had from your competitors. 

You had a lot of support in the paddock, surprisingly, from other drivers. 

Mick found you before his own race started. He was your first teammate during your rookie season in F2, it only made sense he was the first current driver to congratulate you.  

“You deserve it,” Mick told you, arms tightly wrapped around your body as he gave you a comforting embrace that almost compared to the one you were craving from Daniel, but still something was missing. 

Mick’s contract was up at the end of 2022, and no one knew where he was going but he assured you that no matter what, he’d be on your side. 

You sort of interacted with Lando on Sunday after your feature race. When you passed him in the paddock, he held his hand out for a fist bump and gave you a wide smile. The cameras caught it, they caught everything apparently, and it was the first photo you saw on social media when you got to the airport late Sunday evening. 

First of many celebratory fist bumps, McLaren’s caption said. It was a nice photo, truly. 

Too bad the comments were anything but. 

Not McLaren hyping up the fact that Danny’s girlfriend is replacing himIsn’t she only fourth in the driver standings in F2 lol We don’t want her we want the honey badgerEven worse when you think about the fact that they are literally in a relationship and she’s taking his seatNo class from any of them

No one seemed to know that you and Daniel were done, but how would they know? Your relationship was private, your break up would be too. 

Your break up. 

And then it hit you. Right there in the airport. After the adrenaline of a podium had worn off. After the excitement of signing with a new team had passed. After you were finally left alone after being surrounded by your team and drivers and press all day, you broke down. 

It was embarrassing. The only saving grace was the fact that you were sat in the corner of the premium lounge, facing the windows, so at least no one could see you cry. You weren’t quiet though, you knew your faint sobs could be heard from anyone within a 3 metre radius.

And you knew how immature this was, crying in an airport. But when you felt things you felt them with every fibre in your being. You were overjoyed beyond words, shaking when you got first podium in F2, and then feeling that multiplied by fifty when you won in Monaco. 

You were madly in love with Daniel, despite only dating for a year. It wasn’t young love, puppy love, a whirlwind romance, or any of those sappy headlines. You were head over heels, ready to spend your life with the man who lifted you up above the rest of the world. Who not only put you on a pedestal, but made sure other people did too. He was always in your corner, even before you started dating. He loved you long before you even realised you could also love him. 

As an athlete, as a future world championship contender, as a friend, Daniel loved you. 

The day you knew you loved him, you knew you were screwed, you both talked about the risks. 

Fragile line, you called it, walking a tightrope, he joked. There was such a huge margin of error, so many things that could go wrong by falling in love with, not only a driver but the driver who mentored you. 

The media would turn against you. Sponsors would shake their heads. Your future could have been jeopardised. You’d be labelled as a poor role model for girls in motorsport. 

You walked a dangerous and delicate line with Daniel, but you didn’t think it would snap beneath your feet. You never thought you’d be the one to break it. 

So yes, you were full on sobbing in the airport as you waited to board your flight to Amsterdam. 

“Pretty sure podium winners aren’t usually this distraught.”

You heard the British accent and immediately sat up, wiping your eyes and sniffling to at least try and make it seem like you weren’t crying. You turned your head and watched as Lando sat down next to you on the dark blue chair, resting a leg over his knee. 

You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him, worrying that if you did try to talk, all that would come out would be more cries. 

Lando reached into the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a travel size pack of tissues, tossing them to you without so much as a word. He waited a few minutes as you composed yourself, using some of the tissues and pocketing the rest for later. 

“You okay?” Lando asked, sounding concerned for your well being because he had a point, podium winners aren’t usually this distraught. 

“Am I okay?” You repeated back followed with a playful scoff. “Do I look okay?” 

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

Lando nodded, clearly unsure what to do in this situation. His current teammate, his friend, was leaving at the end of this year and his new teammate, a girl he had barely had 5 conversations with, was having a breakdown in the airport. 

Lando, whether he liked it or not, knew he would be caught in the middle of whatever this mess was for the next few months or so. 

He knew you and Daniel were an item. Daniel told himself shortly after Silverstone, and only because Lando had asked, simply curious.

“You and Y/N,” he started off, hesitantly, seeing the two of you interact much more flirtatiously then you had before. “You two are..” he didn’t know how to word it. 

Daniel just winked, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

That pretty much confirmed it. And then when you started showing up in the back of the McLaren garage during race weekends, Lando sort of accepted it, quickly getting used to seeing you around. 

You were always friendly with each other, but your attention was always on Daniel, too. Lando saw the way you were quick to rush to his side after a difficult race. How you were the first one Daniel looked for when he stepped out of the car, eyes searching the sea of orange for you. Lando heard the way Daniel talked about you, the way he praised you, telling everyone who would listen that you deserved a spot in Formula 1. That man had a note saved on his phone of your stats, race wins, qualifying times, records broken, all of it. 

Daniel loved you. Everyone who knew him saw it, and Lando was no exception. 

So one could imagine the uncertainty he felt as he approached you in the airport. Surely you and Daniel weren’t together anymore, right? Or were you somehow going to work through this? Could you work through it? Taking his seat?

Lando, like everyone else, was dying to know. 

“Has he said anything?” You asked him before Lando had a chance to get a word out. That question alone confirmed that you and Daniel weren’t on speaking terms at least.

“About you?” Lando asked and when you nodded, he saw the devastation hit your eyes as he shook his head. “Honestly he wasn’t very talkative today, left right after the post race stuff.”

“How is he?” You then asked. “Has he- is there any word on him finding a seat next year?” You pulled your knees up to your chest, staring hopefully at the British driver. 

It pained Lando to shake his head again, “Not yet, but it’s still pretty early. I’m sure he’ll find a seat.”

You nodded, praying that Lando was right. When you dropped your chin to your knees, averting your eyes when you felt the tears well up again, Lando’s chest grew tight. He felt bad for you. This was a hard position for you to be in. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Lando assured you. “Danny’s one of the best there is, but the results just aren’t there. Zak didn’t see any point in continuing if it’ll just end up being more of the same.”

Lando tried to be encouraging, really, and you were thankful for that, but he got the hint after a while that you just didn’t want to talk about it. Before leaving you alone, he gave you his number and told you that if you needed anything, to just reach out. 

You were always friendly with Lando, but that was the start to your friendship.

It was Lando who shared your picture when you claimed first place in Zandvoort, celebrating your success with a cheeky caption stating how he better see you bring the hot streak to McLaren next year. He was the one who interrupted your post-race interview in Monza, spotting you in the paddock being interviewed by Will Buxton. Lando, despite needing to follow his own pre-race schedule, came and draped an arm over your shoulder and playfully interrupted whatever Will was trying to say.

“Look at that,” Will laughed when you struggled to shake Lando’s arm off of you, “Future teammates. Lando, how excited are you to be working with this incredible talent next year?”

“Oh extremely excited,” Lando answered, leaning into the mic gripped between your fingers. “She won’t be able to keep up with me though.”

And that it was it. He ruffled his hand through your hair and took off again.

He checked in on you between races, whenever a new headline was trending, whenever someone from social media had the audacity to compare yours and Daniels stats and pin you against each other as if there wasn’t already enough you were struggling with.

Lando didn’t want you to come into the new season already feeling defeated. He was still friends with Daniel, he always would be, but he had a kind heart. He wanted you to know that he wasn’t on anyones ‘side’, but more importantly, he saw you as a driver, as his next teammate. He didn’t see you as Daniel’s ex who was now stealing his seat like half of the world did.

It was also his car that you drove during the practice sessions in Austin and Abu Dhabi. Lando happily stepped aside for you, giving you a supportive pat on the back and strategically blocking your line of sight towards Daniel as he got ready for his sessions as well.

You still hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t even looked at each other. You tried, honestly, to catch his eye but he refused to even glance your way. He was in and out of that car so quick, finding any excuse to leave the garage while you were there.

It hurt. You knew his mind was made up. He was upset, he was hurt, he wanted nothing to do with you and seeing you in his garage sent him spiralling.

All you saw was Daniel turning his back on you, but what you didn’t know was this situation was giving Daniel constant headaches. He couldn’t look at you, the girl he loved, and watch you climb into the McLaren knowing that you’d be doing that throughout the entire next season and he wouldn’t.

All he ever wanted was to see you in a Formula 1 car, but not like this. 

You stood in Lando’s side of the garage during the last race. You wore your McLaren jacket, you had the orange headphones on as stared up at the screen. Your back was towards Daniel’s car, so you missed the way he did actually look at you. It pained him to see how well you blended in with the team, his team. He almost told himself it looked like you belonged there, but he quickly put his helmet on and climbed into his car, gearing up for the race.

He finished 9th. Lando finished 6th. And with that, the season ended.

Daniel was done.

You watched him celebrate with those closest to him. You stood off to the side and thought about how if things were different, you’d be clinging to him, sweaty race suit and all, waiting to congratulate him in your own way back at the hotel. You would tell him you loved him, that he didn’t need McLaren. You’d joke and say that you two could form your own team, because that’s what you should have been till the end, a team. 

But that wasn’t the case anymore. McLaren was your team now.

It was only a matter of days until Daniel spoke to the media about his departure. 

“I can’t speak ill of her,” Daniel said, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He knew that coming on this podcast that he’d be asked about you and your contract. He was advised against it but the second his working relationship ended with McLaren, he agreed to talk, to share his side.

“But she’s the one who took your seat,” Jaycee so politely pointed out. “As happy as I am to see a female in Formula 1, it’s bittersweet knowing a driver such as yourself is left without a spot.”

Daniel sighed into the mic in front of him, “McLaren handed her her dream on a papaya platter and she grabbed it. I think a lot of drivers would do the same in that scenario.”

“But it stings a little more, doesn’t it?” Greyson, her co-host asked. “Because you two were-

“Friends, yeah,” Daniel interrupted. “Yeah we were close.”

“You mentored her,” Greyson pushed for more of an admittance as to what their relationship was. “You were seen with her and the Prema team during a handful of weekends. She even said you were her mentor.”

Daniel naturally hesitated, “I saw her potential early on and I wanted to help her grow. I really did want to see her in Formula 1, despite what anyone says about the situation she’s an incredible driver.”

“Everyone who follows Formula 1 knows you have a strong connection,” Jaycee said, subtly trying to pry for more as well. “After her Silverstone crash in 2021 you were in her garage. And then you were seen in Monaco together a few weeks later. You two weren’t just friends in the paddock, you worked closely together outside of race weekends too-

“Did your girlfriend take your seat or not?” Greyson blurted out, earning a glare from Jaycee on his left, but he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted to know, the whole world wanted to know what was going on between you and Daniel now that you were signed for McLaren. 

And you had to give props to Daniel, he played it off about as smoothly as he could. 

“McLaren sees more potential in her than me,” he said, still smiling because that’s who he was. A people pleaser, always grinning, always a breath of fresh air. “If they can give her what they promised me, then that’s good for all of them. Do I like how the situation went down? No, but that’s the reality of Formula 1. You’re not safe unless you’re winning and I wasn’t winning.”

“And your relationship-

“She doesn’t need a mentor anymore, does she?” Daniel asked, disregarding any ideas of the two of you dating. “She made it to Formula 1. That was what she wanted. I wish her well.” 

That was the closest thing to confirmation of your break up that anyone would get. 

And the interview ended shortly after that, doing wonders on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. You listened to it also, just waiting for Daniel to say something horrible but of course he didn’t. That wasn’t him. He was the good guy. He was the hero. He got you to Formula 1 and was holding his head up high, wishing you well and thanking McLaren for the last 2 years. 

You wished it ended there, the conversations surrounding you. It should have ended there. 

But fast forward to the awards dinner at the end of the year, just shortly after the last race of the season. 

You sat with your mum at a round table with Felipe and his partner and few other people involved in Formula 2. 

You had finished second in the standings, not first like you had dreamt of, but Felipe told you that first place in the championship would come in F1, don’t worry. 

And you weren’t sure who had made the seating chart, but from where you sat, you could easily see Daniel at his table, only a few metres away from your own. He sat with some of his friends and some people from his personal team. He was also purposely avoiding looking in your direction, knowing that if he did, he’d be making eye contact for the first time in months. 

He’d see your stunning features and bright eyes standing out among the rest. He’d see the low cut, thinly strapped black dress, showing off the collarbones he used to mark with his lips, the trail between your breast and down to your navel that he used to make with his tongue. If he looked at you, he’d think of all the ways the night would have ended if things were different. 

If he looked at you, he’d be reminded that the girl he loved was the one who broke him. He’d be reminded that as hurt as he was by your actions, by taking his seat, he couldn’t forget the memories you made, the moments he shared, the way he used to admire you. 

He didn’t love you anymore, though. He couldn’t. He forced those feelings out, replacing them with regret for ever deciding to help you because if he hadn't helped you, it wouldn’t have been you that took his seat. 

So Daniel looked at the stage, his friends, his food. He didn’t look at you. 

He didn’t even look at you when you walked up to collect your trophy, choosing that moment to be the perfect time to walk up to the open bar. He ordered a few more drinks and a shot on a whim, downing it back before walking to the table, 2 freshly poured glasses of rum and cokes in hand. 

Daniel got drunk that night. He didn’t mean to, but it helped him deal with all he had going on. It was a good way to end the 2022 season, to put it behind him. You, McLaren, all of it. 

Someone should have stopped him when he noticed you about to leave at the end of the night, a white coat draped over your shoulders. That should be my blazer, Daniel thought, thinking of the countless nights he had given you his jacket for warmth. 

You were in the middle of a conversation with someone from Prema when you felt a tug in your arm. When you looked up and saw it was Daniel who was pulling you off to the side, your heart sank. There were no butterflies anymore, just a lot of anxiety and guilt eating you from the inside. 

You could tell he hadn’t thought through what he was going to say. For a split second, his gaze was soft, almost like he thought about congratulating you for a successful season. For a moment, proud Daniel was back and for a moment, you got your hopes up. Maybe this line you broke could be fixed.

It was a bad sign when his eyes grew cold, features hardening along with them. This man, who was all you wanted, stared at you like you were a stranger, and maybe you were now. 

He opened his mouth and the room around you fell dark and quiet. It was your mind playing horrible tricks on you, putting a spotlight in this moment in time so it would haunt your memories after tonight. You knew the earth was still spinning, that people around you were still moving, but you couldn’t trust anything, frozen in this space with Daniel. 

“I hope you’re happy,” Daniel spoke softly, but his words cut through you like a knife. If someone told you that your heart was bleeding, you’d believe it. That’s certainly what it felt like.

He didn’t want you to be happy. He didn’t want you taking his seat. He didn’t want to see you live out his dream. He put on a beautiful charade for the press, but deep down you knew, he saw you as nothing more but a mistake. He no longer wanted you to succeed, despite telling the world he wished you would. 

"Daniel-"

You automatically reached for him and he flinched backwards. It hurt, seeing him react how he was. He didn’t want you touching him, he just wanted to get one more word in, wanted you to know that he was still bitter and would be for a while. 

You stood there and watched him walk away, haunted by the pain and broken trust in his eyes, a look that would become burned into your mind during your restless sleeps. 

And then there was the week where you just didn’t sleep. The week after Daniel’s contract with Red Bull was announced. 

He wasn’t driving with them, but he wasn’t leaving Formula 1 either. 

He’d still be around the paddock during selective race weekends. He’d be there, putting on a show for the fans because everyone loved him. Everyone wanted him on the grid, and if he couldn’t race, at least he was still there in the garage as a reserve driver. 

The same excitement couldn’t be said for you. 

Despite forming a close bond with Lando really early into the pre-season, it helped that he was only two years younger than you, you were not met with open arms and loud cheers. 

You had some supporters, a lot actually, but nothing compared to Daniel’s fans. You were pulled alert and critiqued for every move you made. You could understand the questions that circulated when you didn’t even finish the first race in Bahrain, retiring early because of an engine problem. Did Zak really make the right move by replacing Daniel with you? What could you bring to the team if this was how you started the season?

But it was the talk about what you did off the track that really got to you. You didn’t care if people weren’t a fan of your driving, you knew F1 fans had their favourites and you knew you weren’t everyone’s. 

However social media had a way of spinning everything. You lost count of the ridiculous rumours. Apparently, you were now replacing Daniel with Lando because that playful interview you did talking about red flags in relationships really gave away the fact you were sleeping together. 

Oh you were also sleeping with Mick Schumacher, because you had a thing for reserve drivers, it seemed. And the way he found you after your second race without points again in Saudi Arabia made it so obvious that you were with him. 

And you couldn’t forget about how big of a bitch you were, choosing to not acknowledge Daniel in Australia when you walked past him in the paddock. It was his home race, he was the reason you were even racing, and you couldn’t even stop and give him a smile? 

These rumours were truly getting annoying.

Of course, you couldn’t come out and tell people that Lando was seeing someone because it was so new and private and not your story to tell. No one cared that Mick was your teammate at Prema in 2020 and you guys had always been friends. No one would believe you if you said that you didn’t even see Daniel in the paddock, being too engrossed in your conversation to notice that the Australian was walking past. 

You grew to hate seeing him during race weekends. 

It was a constant reminder of what could have been. 

What if you had waited a year and signed with McLaren then? Would Daniel still hold this hatred towards you if his contract played out like it was supposed to? 

What if you signed with a different team like Williams instead, and someone else replaced Daniel? If Oscar Piastri had taken his spot, would Daniel be this resentful still to see you driving? Or would he happily walk by your side in the paddock, him in Red Bull polo, you in your Williams racing suit? Would he have accompanied you during the race weekends when he didn’t have Red Bull duties?

Was there ever a scenario where he stood in your garage and watched you race? Cheering you on, despite what place you finished? Despite where he was in his own career?

Or was that just a far fetched dream? 

Because let’s face it, if Daniel was still racing this year, it would be hard to support you and focus on his own season. How could he be happy if he DNF’d and you finished in the points? How could you be happy if the media would say that you were only using Daniel to get ahead? 

If you had signed for Williams and Daniel was still replaced, it would be difficult for him to watch you race, to watch you do what he loved. How could he be in your corner when he no longer had a corner of his own to stand in? 

Maybe you were doomed from the start. Fragile line, you said. How true that was. It was always going to snap.

You heard through the grapevine that Daniel had said you taking his seat before his contract was even up was the worst thing you could have possibly done. 

Was that in regards to McLaren? To your relationship? From a sportsmanship standpoint? You had no idea. You just knew Daniel wasn’t impressed that you were racing and he wasn’t.  

You hated seeing him during the few races he attended. You were petrified to run into him in the paddock, in the pit lane, in the hotel for christ sakes, you didn’t want to see him. At one point, you were desperate for even just a smidge of attention from him and now you felt sick whenever you heard he would be in attendance.

You went five races in a row without scoring any points. You could practically hear Daniel’s smug expression when you crossed the finish line each time. He was probably eating this up, knowing you were the one struggling now. 

The only difference was, you didn’t have him to turn to after a shitty run in the McLaren. 

Lando tried to be helpful, but he was struggling too. People called the car a tractor and honestly, so did you and Lando in private. You had a group chat with your personal trainers and the four of you called yourselves the farmers. The jokes made and lighthearted conversations shared were the only silver linings during this depressing start of a season.

Monaco was better, sort of. 

You finished 10th, so at least that was a point under your belt. 

But Daniel was everywhere. 

He loved Monaco, he lived in Monaco, of course it was no surprise he was there that weekend.

You found yourself jogging past his flat the Thursday before the race, and you didn’t do it on purpose but it was the same route you had taken all of those times you had spent days on end at Daniel’s. Sometime he joined you for those morning runs, sometime you’d return and he was making breakfast.

But you came to a stop on the opposite side of the street and stared up at it, recognising his balcony instantly. You saw the plant in the corner that you had given him a few months into your relationship and despite him claiming he wasn’t a plant guy, he managed to keep it alive.

Your heart felt heavy. All you wanted was to knock on his door and be welcomed in with wide arms and that stupid smile of his. You wanted to not feel anxious when you saw him in the paddock. You wanted to not be holding your breath every time you got out of the racecar, wondering what Daniel thought of your run. 

You were simultaneously on edge at all moments while also still dying to make him proud. You didn’t think that would ever go away.

Even during the weekends he wasn’t there, you were looking over your shoulder constantly. Even if you knew that he was on the other side of the world, he was still on your mind. He haunted your thoughts from the moment you walked into the garage to when you got out of the car at the end of the race weekend.

Lando called you out on it that Thursday in Silverstone.

“You’re in your head,” he told you, seeing how your main focus wasn’t racing, it was Daniel. You were unsure what he was referring to though and Lando just rolled his eyes, “Well actually, Daniel’s in your head. And he’s keeping you from being the driver I know you can be.”

That was all he said on the topic. 

And he was right.

You were so worried about Daniel. About what he would think of your races. About trying to avoid him during the weekends he was there. About still trying to make him proud but not too proud where he resented you more for taking his seat. About the hundreds of scenarios that could have happened if you had made a different choice.

Because of all of these thoughts, that seat at McLaren was still very much Daniel’s. You allowed it to be.

You needed to stop telling yourself you took his seat because that’s what it would always be then, his seat. Lando stood up, patting your knee after dropping those few words and you decided right then and there that it was your seat. 

You wouldn’t let Daniel haunt you anymore. 

And qualifying was where this new mentality really showed. 

You were buzzing with energy when your engineer told you that you had gotten P3 and were starting on the second row for tomorrows race. You climbed out of the car in parc ferme and ran directly to Lando. He hugged you, he was proud of you. 

“That’s the driver we all know,” Lando said when he pulled his helmet off. His hand was on your shoulder, both of you were wearing identical smiles of pure joy. “Where the hell has she been all this time?”

You didn’t even have an answer, too excited about what this meant for you, for the team. You post-quali interviews went by in a blur, your hands were shaking the entire time. You blacked out during it, still trying to process the fact that you had finished third in qualifying, but you did remember Lando reaching over at one point and dropping his hand to your knee. It was polite, it didn’t mean anything more than a playful stop shaking you’re making us all look bad, but god did the media run with it. 

You didn’t let anything on social media get to you, telling yourself that you had to stay focused for the race. In fact you even gave your phone to your trainer, Oliver, asking him to take it for the night and to just wake you up in the morning.

And Oliver was a good trainer, he had also become a good friend since you joined McLaren so you trusted him with your phone. 

Which meant he knew your password. 

So when he saw your phone light up that night with a text from Daniel, Oliver panicked. He knew the right thing to do would be to just leave it alone, you’d see it in the morning. You’d see the message. The short but seemingly sweet;

P3, nice job

But a text like that would send you spiralling and you didn't need that before one of the most important races of the season for you, Oliver knew this. He knew you were supposed to be getting over Daniel, he knew how much the Australian just being in the paddock messed with your mind. He knew you had to focus on racing.

There was so much uncertainty with the text. Was this him extending an olive branch? Was he genuine, or was this supposed to be taken with a bit of salt? Oliver could read it both ways. Either Daniel was truly happy for you, or this could be dripping with sarcasm. P3, sure, but remember who’s seat you’re in.

Oliver decided to delete the text. There was no trace of it when he handed the phone back to you the next day. 

Maybe that was for the best, no one knew. 

All you knew was you were starting third today.

All Daniel knew was you had ignored him, and now you were walking right past him down the paddock, side by side with Lando as you talked about today’s race. Daniel turned his head and saw the two of you, drawing his own conclusions. 

Whatever was going through his mind, one thing seemed certain. You didn’t need him anymore. You had the seat, the team, someone new supporting you, why would you still need Daniel?

You went about your day, the same pre-race rituals. Lando checked in more than normal, it was an exciting day for both of you, but he knew he was also a good distraction to keep your mind off of Daniel, he knew you would be struggling to keep from thinking about him. 

“It’s you and me,” Lando told you right before the race. “It’s our day, yeah? We’ve got this.”

Lando was in your corner. You were in his. 

Which meant you were there to celebrate after the race when he took home second place. You had claimed fourth, which was also something to be proud of, and you were, but you were also craving that podium. You could almost taste it, it was so close. 

“Next time,” Lando assured you, having full confidence that you’d be holding the trophy at the following race. He handed you a bottle of champagne, telling you to drink up and enjoy and for once, you did. 

You were happy. You finally felt like you could accomplish something amazing at McLaren, despite the horrible start. Lando had gotten a podium, yours was coming, you could feel it. 

You didn’t think about Daniel at all that night. It was the first night in a long time where you didn’t see his face when you closed your eyes. 

And you would have loved to keep celebrating after that night, to keep the high of Lando's podium and your 4th place finish last until the next race, but all good things must come to an end. 

You stood in front of Lando now, unsure how to take the news about Daniels’ return. Were you allowed to be happy for him? Of course you wanted to see him in a seat, this was the ideal situation, both of you driving this season. What would this mean for the two of you moving forward?

But he had done the exact same thing you had done by replacing a driver before their contract was up.

Daniel made you feel awful about that decision and now here he was, making the exact same one. He was no better than you. He was no hero, he wasn’t the good guy. He was a driver, desperate for a seat, as were you. As was every single person wanting to race in this series. 

You were on the same playing field now.

He was going to be at every single race for the rest of the season, as a competitor on the grid. Something you once dreamt of, both of you dreamt of, was finally coming true. 

But that’s all he would be. A competitor. Another driver. Another car to overtake. You always thought that when this moment came, you’d still be a team when you left the track at the end of the day and that just wasn’t the reality you found yourself in. 

“He’s back,” Lando said, hands shoved in his pockets trying to gauge your reaction. 

Daniel was returning to Formula 1, but you knew he was never actually gone in the first place.

He was in your thoughts, your dreams, your memories, he was everywhere all of the time. Even when you crossed the finish line in Silverstone, there was still a part of you that was wondering if Daniel was watching. As much as you tried to avoid him, your eyes still scanned every single crowd for him.

And now you didn’t need to look anymore. 

part 3 gone

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taglist: @yunnie-f1 @torossosebs @whatthefuckerr @jspitwall @oconso @tsarinablogs @landowecanbewc @somanyfandomsbruh @christianpulisic10 @storminacloud @sunnytkm23 @formula1mount @azxulaa @icarus-nex @spideyspeaches if i forgot someone im so sorry

[little-forest-goblin]

Forget-me-nots

(In this Five x lila never happened. They only sibling bonded in that damned subway. also in this they didnt cease to exist and become marigolds they ended up going into a different timeline with none of there powers even existing)

Synopsis: After the cleanse everyone had ended up forgetting who they were in the messed up timelines and lived normal lives. But what happens when you remember your husband that doesn’t quite remember you.

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Well this is an interesting turn of events.

You always did feel like something was off. Like something was missing but now knowing you were right is quite freaky to say the least. As a kid you wondered why you had strange dreams. dreams of another life. When you were a kid you’d lay down in your little bed tucked in cozy and snug and look out the window at the stars and moon until you would sleep and then the odd dreams would start. You would always ask your mom about it but she would tell you that its your imagination and that its just dreams and nothing to worry about but every night its like you were in another world. You began to look forward to these dreams brushing your teeth and hopping into bed as quick as possible. There was one thing that kept you coming back. Him. The boy in your dreams. As you grew up he grew up with you in the dreams. You and him got closer in the dreams. When you were younger you found it odd that his name was a five hargreeves. like the number five. you asked him about it but he never did give a straight answer. Either way you and him had your fun pissing off the father in your dreams, reginald. You hated that man even though he was just in your dreams. You hated how he treated vanya(viktor) but you were powerless against his cruel gaze and sharp words.

Around when you turned 13 your dreams took a turn. You and five had crushes on each other and were together all the time. One day in your dreams at the dinner table everyone was eating and doing their own things. Reginald was at the head listening to the record, luther and allison where giving eachother goo goo eyes, klaus was probably rolling a joint under the table, vanya(viktor) ate quietly trying to avoid any scrutiny from reginald, diego was also silently eating and ben was casually reading. Suddenly five took his knife and stabbed it into the table. reginald looked at him “Number 5?” he said in that monotonous tone of disinterest and mild annoyance. “I have a question.” Reginald looked back down at his food “Knowledge is a admirable goal, but you know the tules no talking during mealtimes. You are interrupting Herr carlson” Five looked over at you and you gave him a look basically telling to ‘please tread lightly we both know how father is’ five smiled softly at you before looking back over at reginald with annoyance “I want to time travel” reginald shook his head softly using that damned tone “No” five was quick to answer “But im ready” he pushed out of his chair slowly making a light wood on tile scrape “I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said” to prove it he demonstrated said spatial jumps by appearing next to reginald at the head of the table “See?” reginald sighed and picked up his glass “A spatial jump is trivial when compared to the unknowns of time travel one is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.” you silently looked and saw vanya(viktor) silently shaking her head telling him that its not a good idea to continue with this. you must’ve missed some of the conversation cause soon five over to you taking your hand and walking outside pushing open the gate and walking down the street. you were a little shook “Five, what are you doing?” you asked with concern. he didnt look at you and kept walking straight ahead. “We are going to time travel.” you were gonna protest saying what if reginald might be right which he of course countered saying that reginald was mean old bastard and that he doesnt know what he is talking about. You finally agreed and nervously but excitedly jumped with him. you were amazed by the things you saw. you looked around at what is the city but in a different time with a big smile. you laughed as you jumped again and he smiled at you with a small blush tinging his cheeks that you didn’t notice considering you were looking around eventually they jumped into the winter time. you gave a small yelp at the suddenness of the cold and laughed with him as he chuckled at your yelp and then you humped again and were plunged into a hellish landscape. the world destroyed. Fires that burned and raged on. Buildings crumpled and destroyed. dust and smoke lay thick in the air. “F-Five! what happened?! whats going on?!” you panicked and looked to him. he looked just as confused and worried as you “I-I dont know! hold on im getting us back home!” he tried to use his time traveling powers but it just didnt work his hands glowed blue ans crackled to life but it just wouldn’t work. you and him panicked and you and him ran back to what was once the academy. there you saw it crumpled and you saw him fall to his knee’s in shock and distraught. you came over to him and held him even though you were shaking and panicking yourself you tried to help him the best you could.

From that day on your dreams had changed significantly. Every night your dreams felt like years. you and him trapped in that apocalyptic hell surviving on what you can whether its bugs and rotten food. sickness and weariness. you both had each other and thats all that you needed. You and him grew closer in the dreams. Eventually when you were both around the age of 18 you and him officially dated. You and him together and your love uniting you two to be a surviving duo. Though you wished the situation was different but you are glad you could do it with him. you both even made a good friend named dolores. God she was great funny and had a kind heart and had sass to her. Eventually when you where both in your mid twenties you and him had been dating for 6 or 7 years you and him married. He had made matching wedding rings he had made for the metal scrap. it was beautiful and you said yes immediately. You and him were now Mr and Mrs hargreeves. Dolores was the biggest supporter of this happening. Now you wish you could say the dreams didn’t affect you in the waking world but oh they did. You felt wrong every time you had a boyfriend or girlfriend cause you felt like a married woman and hell you even caught yourself saying ‘me and my husband’ a few times which threw people off and you’d have to correct yourself apologizing and making up any excuse that fit. Either way you felt dirty and disloyal for dating so you stayed single and waited till night to be by your husband again.

Eventually at a certain point in the dreams you and him grew old and eventually the handler came along recruiting you and him into the commission to be assassins. He never stopped writing in that journal of his to help you and him leave this and go back home. Eventually you and him did it and got home and to summarize that apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse until you and him were older and he worked for the CIA and lila and diego and all that. Until one day everything clicked in place after a certain dream of being in the cleanse and letting the universe reset and it felt like your life now and the dreams collided into one being merging into you until you woke with a start with a remembrance of everything. Holy shit those aren’t dreams those are real. That was your life. Its like realization hit you like a truck. No wonder you never dreamed of anything else. No wonder you had trouble getting in relationships. No wonder something felt missing but felt right when in the dream.

For a while you fell into this depression missing your husband and missing being with and around him. Missing the small things and missing the shared moments whether it was comfortable silence. One day you were out getting coffee at a coffee shop cause you just needed something to wake you up before heading to work. you walked out the shop and accidentally bumped into someone. You paused and turned to them “Oh my god im so sorry!” the man turned to you and you felt goosebumps down your legs and spine. It was five your beloved husband. You stared in shock and he looked at you and fixed his suit “Its alright. I should’ve been more careful.” He seemed to avoid your eye as he fixed his suit not looking at you at all until he walked away without giving a glance. you stared dumbfounded as he walked and turned the corner. You stood for a moment considering following him but your rational thought told you thats a bad idea cause you’ll look like a creep but eventually the desperation got to you and you followed after him making sure to try and stay hidden. God you felt like a creep but you just needed to know.

Eventually you found he lived in an apartment building a few blocks from your own. why you never saw him? you don’t know. Either way when you got home you tried to figure out a way for him to maybe recognize you. Did he remember you? Did he also have what he thought were dreams? You thought for days until you got an idea and you rushed grabbing your purse and keys and headed out to your car.

~Fives POV~

Its been a few days. A few days and that strange woman wont leave my head. Its been tearing me apart. Who was she? why does she seem familiar? When she bumped me why did my skin tingle and alight like a fireplace having a lit match thrown in. For days now i’ve been sitting and pondering about her but i’ve tried in vain to make her leave my head. I’ve tried to distract myself to no avail. Its a Saturday afternoon and its oddly peaceful. Im making my normal cup of coffee though i should drink water. I can hear her in my head telling me to drink water instead of so much coffee all the time. I smile softly looking back at the dreams. I look at my ring finger seeing the ring i made in my dreams. I couldn’t bare to part with it i had to make it. I wanted her to be real and put that ring on her finger all over again but in the waking world. Suddenly a knock at the door interrupt my thoughts. I groan and went to the door. Who is here at this time of day? i look through the peephole seeing no one. odd. i open the chain lock and look around seeing nobody until i look to the floor and there laid a bouquet. Not just any bouquet its full of scorpion grasses or more commonly known as forget me nots. where did i read or learn about this? i have no clue. wait where did i learn this? I look at there blue color and then suddenly there’s a throb in my head and i remember something in my dreams. Forget me nots… the untouched field…his proposal…

With shaking hands i picked up the bouquet and looked at it gently feeling one of the petals. I remember that day like it was yesterday.

~in the “dream”~

The sun beat down on you and him. Thankfully there was a light breeze and they had gotten to a more rural area. countryside if you will. the years they spent here cause the plants to come back but in full force growing over things and vining up walls and over bricks and glass. You and him carefully were searching the ruins of the house careful for glass and rust. Five called to you “Careful for any glass, love!” you chuckled and looked to him as he searched under some bricks of what used to be a kitchen portion of the small farmhouse “You act as if we haven’t been doing this since we were 13.” he gave a lopsided smile and stood up from his crouched position “Yes but i also remember you distinctly cutting your arm on some collapsed metal rafting after i told you to be careful for them.” you looked at him in amused disbelief “That was one time! one time! You still hold that over my head?!” you laughed in amusement and incredulously. he put his hands in his pocket and walked closer to you “Not holding over your head, love, just watching out for my clumsy girl and no its been multiple times now.” he stopped infront of you with a smug but loving look. You were about to protest but opted to stay quiet and continue you and his search for sustenance all while grumbling about how yo it not all THAT clumsy. He laughed amused by your silence “What was that love?” you looked to him and narrowed your eyes playfully “Shouldn’t you be helping me out here?” he chuckled and went over to the kitchen to search cabinets. After some time of you searching with no avail you stood dusting your gloved hands off and looked around till you looked out a broken window to behind the house seeing a field. you curiously went to the unhinged door and stepped through to find a flower field. A field of forget me nots. You took in the beauty. it’s been a while since you saw beauty such as this in a dead end world. You smiled walking of the old porch and into the middle of the field and laid down in the middle of it smiling closing your eyes and sighing. Meanwhile five had found some food in a cabinet and thank god for it being unopened canned food and not twinkies. he shudders when he thinks of that. he calls to you “Babe! i found some food. We even got some canned pie filling. i call dibs on…” he trails off when he doesnt hear you answer. he turned his head and walked to the once was the living room. “Babe?” he looked around till he saw your figure laid in the field. he smiled and went out the back door and went to you standing over you. “enjoying yourself, love?” you opened your eyes looking up at him smiling and nodded. he chuckled and looked around at the peace and serenity of the moment. he looked back to you and decided now was the tight time. “Babe, i wanna ask you something.” you furrowed your brows a little and sat up “What is it baby? something wrong?” he chuckled and smiled and watched as you stood “No nothing wrong infact better then ever.” he took your hand kissing the top of it then bringing your hand over his heart. “My love, you have been the best thing to happen to me. Before dating, before getting stuck in the apocalypse and before things went to shit. I love you and always will. You have been the best thing to happen to me.” your eyes went a little wide as he lowered to own knee “Five…” he smiled up at her pulling out the ring that was to fit her finger “Y/N L/N will you be my wife?” you smiled and tears fell down he cheeks and she nodded “Yes!” she leaped on him in a hug laughing he felt relief flood him like a tidal wave. he hugged you back tightly till he pulled back and took your hand sliding the ring on your fingers and kissing you to seal the deal.

~End of “Dream”~

He was wide eyed shocked as dreams collided with reality and realization hit his face “Oh my god….”

~Your POV~

you where hiding as you watched him from the door. a little stalkerish? yes. then again thats your husband and it seems as though he is remembering. You smiled as everything went according to plan now all you had to do was walk out and reveal yourself but sadly your shoe laces had come undone and you fell out in the open with a ‘Umph’ you groaned and sat back up “Ow son of a bi-“ you then remembered and looked to five who was looking at you with shock and love and desperation. “babe…its you…Y/N” you looked to him nervously swallowed and nodded “Five?” you and him felt whole again seeing eachother but the desperation to be closer pulled you in and you ran into his arms as fast as you had fallen. You peppered his face in kisses “Oh i never thought i’d see you again! I thought i’d be destined to be alone.” he chuckled and held you close then captured your lips in a tender kiss till he pulled back and laid his forehead on his. his hands on either of your cheeks. “I cant tell you how much i missed you.” She smiled and held his own face between her hands. “I love you five” he smiled and kissed you again pulling back softly “I love you too”. Everything my felt right again. Whole. Complete. You had your husband back and he had his wife back. For the rest of the day both you and him where wrapped up in each others arms. embraced. Catching up with whats been going on and laid down in bed kissing and cuddling. Everything was as it should be.

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Hey y’all i hope you guys liked this story! Im not to good at writing but I’m trying my best. I hope you enjoyed and hope you have a good day ❤️

P.S sorry for any grammatical errors

[wwaheoh]

“Your Hot Furry Boyfriend Takes You on a Date But Then Ethereal Horrors Beyond Your Understanding Interrupt [ASMR]” Von Lycaon x gnReader (Romantic)

a/n: was listening to an actual asmr rp video and realized how down bad i am

The cold night breeze whistled through the streets, a coat lended to you by your boyfriend, Von Lycaon, stopping you from feeling it in its entirety. There weren’t many others on the street, only a couple others milling about. Shops were beginning to be closed, street lamps buzzing to life, owls and cicadas beginning to sing as the Sun began to dip itself under the horizon.

Snuggling closely to your boyfriend, he wrapped his arm around you, the warmth of his fur and the solid feeling of his toned body provided were comforts of steady warmth. Smiling, the two of you continued on to your shared apartment, basking in each other's presence.

Then there was a boom.

Shattering the serenity of the evening, a dark pulsating sphere burst out in the middle of the area they were in. Screams rang out as people began to run away from the ever-growing ball. A newly formed Hollow was emerging.

Lycaon moved quickly, taking his phone out and dialing his colleague, “Rina, there’s a Hollow forming on Fifth Street.” He held you firmly, beginning to basically carry you as he moved to get you as far as possible from the emerging Hollow. “You know what to do.” Hanging up from his phone before pocketing it, he turned to you. “Let’s go Dear.”

Only a few steps before the Hollow burst, enclosing the entirety of the surrounding area in its new space-warping environment.

“Faster than expected…” He murmured to himself, a sense of worry building in him- though not outwardly exposing it, mannerisms learned from his years as part of Victoria Housekeeping. Without a Proxy, there was no way they could get out without getting lost within the Hollow themselves. All they could do was,

“Wait for Miss Rina.” Lycaon held you tight, knowing that your Ether Aptitude was way less than his. A safe estimation would be that you had twenty-three minutes until your time ran out. That would not happen.

As the two of you ventured throughout the Hollow, aiming to either encounter Public Security or be located by Phaethon- either way, being sitting ducks was not an option. At your behest, the both of you searched for survivors. It seemed most people followed protocols, encouraged to learn it by heart from a young age. You couldn’t not know what to do in case of a sudden Hollow appearing when living in New Eridu after all.

Just as you were looking through some windows, searching for the elderly or those unable to escape, Lycaon rushed forward in a blur of white being trailed by a cool blue. An Ethereal. It had just rounded the corner before being split into two and ultimately disintegrating back into the Unknown Substance of the Hollow. You rushed to be closer to him, before he raised his hand.

His ears rotated before his fur stood up. A break in his characteristic cool composure. Quickly, he grabbed you before you could even react and rushed the two of you behind an alley. Just as you were about to speak, he covered you mouth. You moved to shoot him a look of indignation before getting a good look at the expression he wore. Worried.

A shadow passed through the streets. It was large, about the size of a firetruck. Looking up, the two of you became petrified at the sight of the Ethereal. Bigger than any ever recorded, squid-like in it’s appearance. It flowed through the skies like water, a dead gaze as it searched for… something.

“Psst!”

The two of you jumped, Lycaon nearly punting the pint-sized newcomer before stopping himself midway through, the now recognized-Bangboo raising its small arms in surrender. “Wait! Miss Rina sent me!”

“Ah, Master Proxy. I apologize.”

“It’s fine! That weird squid Ethereal is something I’d expect to see at the Outpost! But forget that, let’s get you out of here.”

“Please, I think we have about thirteen minutes left.”

“Isn’t your Aptitude high?”

Lyacon motioned to you, with you waving as the Bangboo waved back.

The Bangboo turned back to the wolf-Thiren.

“Is that your…?”

“Significant other? Yes.”

“Wow! For some reason I both did and didn’t expect that…” The Bangboo muttered to themselves before turning back to lead them. Then they stopped before quickly motioning for everyone to hide.

The shadow of the titan-sized Ethereal passed by once more, now seemingly closer to touching down onto the ground than before.

“Alright let’s go!” The Bangboo whisper-yelled, waving for them to follow. As they passed and rounded a few more corners, the Bangboo seemed to have gotten a premonition, “Ethereals!” Lyacon burst forward to protect the team as mentioned Etherals burst out of the woodwork, black charcoal bodies with green oozing out from their underbody.

He stepped forward before bursting into motion, leaving a small crater where he used the ground as a starter block. Quickly disposing of the enemies in a professional matter, none of the Ethereals could even hope to land an attack as he fought, decimating their numbers with practiced ease.

Taking out his watch as you and the Bangboo caught up with him, you noticed a furrow in his brow. Questioning it, he replied, “Eight more minutes. Phatheon, we must hurry.”

“Right!” The Bangboo replied, scurrying forward to lead the group out once more. Passing through a few portals. The tell-tale sound of Public Security vehicles and Rescue Bangboo becoming more audible as your group began to reach the exit.

“EEEAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!”

A screech that could be heard from all throughout the Hollow, turning back, all three of you watched as the Ethereal noticed your group, having sacrificed hiding for efficiency in haste to get out. The being began to approach with frightening haste, unnatural in how something so big could move so fast.

Breaking out of his stupor fast, Lycaon hoisted you and the Bangboo up with his arms and began to sprint in the direction Phaethon pointed them in before being disrupted.

“Where to Master Phaethon?”

“Left!”

“Now take a right!”

“One more- oh jeez it’s catching up!”

Lyacon used every ounce of strength in each push his legs gave, pushing through stray smaller Ethereals, not wanting to give the monstrosity chasing them a chance to catch up. After a few more blocks, it had gotten so close that you could hear the squelching of it’s tendrils, with it only being stopped by the buildings. Just as it seemed that it would begin to make a grab at Lyacon, gunfire rang out.

Public Security, with this particular group headed by Zhu Yuan and Qingyi, with backup from neighboring departments as well as their very own, laid down gunfire on the Ethereal. Forcing it to evade to avoid taking the brunt of the firepower being let out on it.

“Phatheon!”

“One more right!”

He barreled forward, just as a wave of nausea hit you. Two more minutes.

Sprinting forward, he fell into one final tear in reality, arriving in a space in front of the Hollow.

Setting you and the Bangboo down, he let you catch your breath as he reconvend with Phaethon.

“I am in your debt, Master Proxy. Money will be forward-”

“I- It’s fine Sir!”

“Pardon?”

“Just for this once! Take it as a token of good faith.”

Lyacon smiled, nodding as he turned his attention back to you, leaving the Bangboo to return back home.

“Are you okay?” “‘m fine… just tired.” “Of course, let's have you checked then we can return home, okay?” “Mm…”

You nodded off to sleep as he lifted you in his arms, taking you over to the doctor to get checked. Waking you up only for a little bit before falling right back to sleep after all the tests were done. You were cleared- only being exhausted from prolonged exposure to the Hollow.

Setting you softly onto the shared bed, Lycaon softly caressed the top of your head. Thankful for having been able to get you out with minimal roadblocks. Had the two of you been even a little slower…

Best not to think about it.

Later, the Hollow would be contained once more through the combined efforts of Public Security and the military sector based in Scott Outpost. Only a few casualties- a testimony to the effectiveness of their efficiency.

[shalotttower]

Equations

Title: Equations Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female) Summary: A short snippet of Reader and L moving places. Probably can be counted as imagine. Word count: 990+ Notes: yandere L, kidnapped Reader, captivity, L and Reader were together at Wammy's House, Stockholm Syndrome, L is being a shithead gremlin.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it keeps no record of wrongs.

You're not religious at all, but those words glimpsed once on a bookshop wall stuck in your mind when Wammy's House stayed behind, somewhere in-between the pages of your journal, so carelessly flipped through by a boy with a blank expression, who had and still has no idea what those verses mean.

"What is it?" you ask, when Watari enters your room with a suitcase.

"We're leaving in an hour," he says. "Get ready, please."

You don't argue.

L doesn't have many rules, and most of those existing are unspoken. Some can be bent, some can be bargained and twisted into an illusion of freedom until it snaps. But if Watari comes in and tells you to get ready, you obey. It means you're moving somewhere else, another place unknown. So you pack: clothes, shoes (just two pairs, there's nowhere to wear them anyway), hygiene necessities which fit neatly inside one single bag.

When you get in the car, L is already there, looking through the window. The glass tints everything a tone darker.

Watari starts driving.

The first time you used it as a chance to understand where you were, memorize the road signs, the turns. By the eleventh you stopped caring, because it didn't really matter ─ even if the whole world map was imprinted inside your head, what would it do?

So you lean against the seat and watch the cows in the pasture on the right. Everything is green and yellow outside. Some rural town probably ─ a happy little world tucked away. A small part of you wishes to exit this car right here and now, just to see what happens. Intrusive thoughts are like that sometimes. They pop up and disappear without a reason or logic behind.

The sun is bright.

There's a church up ahead, with freshly painted doors and windows which have a stained glass pattern of white lilies among golden rays of light. A beautiful work of art put onto display for whoever cares enough to look.

You wonder: if God existed, what would he think of L's fingers curling over yours. The touch is barely there at all, yet you feel it down to your bones.

Love is patient, love is kind. His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

"What are you doing," you ask flatly, not expecting a reply. It's a reflex, like the knee jerk reaction, to ask him questions, because otherwise who knows what's there in that shaggy-haired head of his.

"Holding your hand," L says.

"I can see that. Why?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer."

"Then ask a better question."

You turn to look at him and immediately regret doing so, because his eyes are wide and focused, and you can see your own face reflected there. Between his bony fingers and yours are lifelines crisscrossed together by a forceful hand.

"Stop that," you tell him without much heat behind.

L doesn't look away, nor does he stop staring.

"Stop what?"

"That."

"If I knew what you're referring to, I'd probably have better chances of stopping it."

L tilts his head to the side. So that's what it is. One of those times when he feels a tad more playful, a bit more nagging, and tries to drag you into a verbal game that doesn't end until you surrender and let him have his way.

The church is long gone by now, and the cows too. Just empty space surrounded by trees which line up along the sides of the road.

You wish you were tired enough to nap through the rest of the ride, but since Watari brought a humidifier for your room, your night sleep has never been better. That leaves reading, and you pull an e-book from your bag to continue the novel started a few days ago.

You feel his head lean closer to your shoulder halfway through chapter six. His hair has grown a bit and tickles.

"Find your own book," you murmur and flip to the next page.

L hums and stays in place.

Ten minutes pass, then fifteen, he doesn't move and you wonder ─ when. His fingers are linked loosely with yours and you haven't tried to pry them off yet. Why haven't you?

When did you start tolerating his presence to this extent?

It's quiet save for the tires noise. Your index finger taps a pattern against the screen. Tap-tap-tap.

"The killer is-" L begins right when you get to the chapter nine.

"-male-" he continues despite your elbow hitting his side.

"-mid-thirties, dark hair-"

You slam your palm over his mouth, and the e-book falls from your lap onto the car floor. L blinks once before licking your hand like he's five years old instead of twenty three stepping into twenty four. You yelp and wipe it off against your jeans while Watari coughs in the front seat.

"You-" you catch yourself mid-sentence, then take a deep breath. "I would appreciate if you didn't spoil the books I'm currently reading."

Or movies you're watching; or games you play; or anything at all really whenever it catches your attention long enough to become invested. He doesn't do it often when he's on a case, but off those L tends to get very bored very quickly and finds entertainment in your reactions.

His lips twitch, and you know 100% percent that he's going to do it again until you give up on reading altogether and spend the rest of the ride talking to him instead, though "talking" is a loose term here. More like indulging whatever topic L decides to fixate on this time around, because if you ignore him, he will be just as content with staring at you for hours on end with nothing but silence between you both.

[orbital-inclination]

Moltendreams - Ink Sans Alias: Fable Pronouns: he/him Personality: Upbeat and Absent Minded Ink seems perpetually Cheerful, Optimistic and full of energy. Frivolous and playful. He may came across as Tone Deaf or inappropriate, seeming unaware of sensitive subjects. However Ink is rarely, if ever intentionally mean or callous. Notes:

Fable carries a notebook he uses to record things he doesn't want to forget. His memory issues aren't as severe as Ink's, but he is still prone to forgetting things easily, specially: names to faces and important dates.

Fable loves watercolor.

His eyelights change shape and color to anything! (stars, exclamation points, swirls, etc.)

He also loves Fashion and even designs his own outfits.

He knows how to sew and stitch and usually has a comment on the tip of his tongue about your fashion choices.

Broomie is hollow inside and filled with diluted paint. Can be any color but usually the paint is associated with a positive emotion. - More info Under cut! -

The Doodleshere: In Moltendreams, Fable must travel to AUs directly to collect paint from them. In this multiverse, the Doodlesphere is scribbled on top of Fable's original AU, and rests in a sort of OUT OF BOUNDS space between AUs. Through the Doodlesphere, Fable can access every AU he has discovered so far. The Doodlesphere is an endlessly expanding liminal space; a series of interconnected empty indoor spaces, shops, malls, palaces, endless variants of regions of the underground, each reflecting an AU, through a door in each room. Despite how confusing the layout of Doodlesphere may seem to the outsider, Fable instinctively knows where everything is. Nothing is ever lost in the Doodleshere.

About: Fable acts as a Muse for Creation, he does not create AUs by himself but rather, assists in the creation by attempting to cox a Spirit of Creation (in-universe term and stand-in for the creator of a particular AU) into taking action. Most Spirits of Creation will create AUs on their own, but many will hesitate, abandoned their world before it's finished, or simply sit still while a world remains incomplete, seemingly waiting for some unknown que. While the Spirits can be influenced and encouraged, ultimately, they cannot be controlled, even by Fable. Fable has a similar history as Canonical Ink. He originated in a discarded AU, soulless but willed to life by a Spirit of Creation before it departed. Fueled by the desire to never experience the empty monotony of an unfinished AU again, Fable travels the multiverse to encourage Spirits of Creation to finish their work. Though the consequences of his actions were unintentional, Fable initially favored Positive AUs and could be said to be partially responsible for the state of the Multiverse as it is today. Happiness feels good. Joy feels good. Fable wants to feel good. He wants others to feel good too. Outcode Politics: Fable places equal value on all creation, and for that reason, he is forced into a position where he feels obligated to respect all "characters" he comes across, even "characters" like Error. Can art destroy itself? Should art destroy itself, if that is the intention of the creator? What do you do when one Artist's art can only be appreciated through the destruction of another Artist's work? Ink doesn't think of it in exactly those terms, but that is the gist of his internal conflict. Passive interference in any given AU is a problem for Fable. He believes the "narrative" should be left to play out organically without outside interference. To interfere could jeopardize the AU's stability. Or worse, antagonize the Creation Spirit that made it. Which can be dangerous for the inhabitants. But for the average encounter, Fable is a wild card. He follows no strict rules, and is just as likely to chase other outcodes off as he is to befriend them and attempt to guild them. Paint and Vials:

Specific AUs give Ink specific paint colors tied to certain emotions. Underfell will give Ink shades of red/anger/righteousness for example but won’t give him yellow/euphoria. Horrortale will give him deep blue/loneliness/grief and shades of purple/fear but won’t give him green/envy etc.

the more common the au is, the more of a specific color Ink will be able to collect from it.

this means that if a certain AU is rare he will use up the color associated with it more quickly. He will try to avoid situations that drain that specific color because it will be harder to refill it later.

Ink drinks a little bit of every color at the same time, daily. Rather than one at a time as it applies to a specific situation

it’s easier for Ink to collect paint from AUs in the “WIP” phase because the paint hasn’t dried yet AFCRUFTAFH

He can gather paint from a “finished” world but he won’t get as much.

Like Canonical Ink, when Fable is drained of paint he will become doll-like, an empty unresponsive husk. with a couple caveats. 1. Fable is aware of things that happen during this period. he just can’t react to them.

2. if what’s left of his magic feels threatened, (the minimal stuff that is keeping his body together) he will react to defend himself. it’s more reflex/instinctive than thought out, however.

3. if Fable had been focusing on a task, goal, or thought prior to going dry, he will react to external things related to that specific task/goal/thought.

Fable doesn’t immediately bounce back after getting his vials refilled. He’s sluggish, and there’s a noticeable buffer period between when something happens and when he reacts to it. He remembers what happened and what was said to him. This is the second most vulnerable period for him. if someone wanted to manipulate or influence him that would be the time to do it. OG Ink Sans/Inktale @.comyet Moltendreams @ me

[chthonion]

re: the post about Maglor and the peredhil you recently reblogged; now I'm imagining The Harrowing's Maglor putting his observations to good (?) use.

• Post-chapter 40

• Annatar is sitting in the family room, minding his own business. Possibly reading a book and drinking some tea to decompress

• Enter Maglor, stage left

• He knows Annatar's been having a particularly shitty day in a series of days that have Honestly Not Been The Best. And he can sympathize. What he can't do, possibly, is relate to Annatar well enough to know how to cheer him up.

• But, thanks to the peredhil, he does know a thing or two about maiar. He thinks. And Annatar isn't a maia anymore, but some of that has to carry over.

• Now, this isn't normally something he would do, especially with Annatar, who Maglor doesn't know well and trusts slightly less than an irate bear when it comes to inserting limbs into his personal space without warning.

• (List of persons whom Annatar manages to outrank on this particular scale of trustworthiness: Fingon. What can I say, he does have a track record.)

• But maybe Maglor's having an off day. Maybe, like Maedhros, he's mentally slotted Annatar into the role of "disaster-prone little brother" without realizing it. Maybe he asked one of Annatar's friends if it was a good idea and, possessed by the spirit of chaos, they said "Yes, of course! 🙃"

• Whatever the case, the result is that Maglor walks confidently across the room and delivers three firm pats to the top of Annatar's head.

• Annatar externally: 👁👄👁

• Annatar internally: *dial-up tone*

• Frodo, a few seats away, both internally and externally: absolutely dying with laughter

Bonus: After the requisite internal crisis upon confrontation with a heretofore unknown mode of physical affection, Annatar comes to the conclusion that he is, in fact, fond of head pats. Maglor takes this as confirmation of his theory that all maiar enjoy head pats, and neither Elrond nor Annatar are successful in disabusing him of this notion. Olórin, if asked, will gleefully add fuel to the flame.

I'm so late and so slow but this is in response to this post about Maglor's observations about half-elven children, including the fact that they like head pats, and this made me laugh so hard

No inaccuracies detected whatsoever, RIP to Annatar

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 6

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 6 - Restart

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.9k

AO3

Chapter 5

You walk into Quantico with a new sense of purpose after having drinks with Prentiss last night. The barrier that the section chief had built up with assumptions and unknowns had been removed and replaced with cautious optimism. That you can work with – a mutual understanding that you’re both on the same side, you meant no harm and were not a threat to the BAU. As it was a workday, you only shared another drink together but the two of you nursed them slowly.

As you still couldn’t say much about your past, you did elaborate on the high-speed pursuit that Tara hinted at.

“Yeah, so it all worked out. Dumb ass fell right into the spike strips. Took care of that quick once I got ‘em there,” you explain before taking another swallow of beer.

“They never learn.” Prentiss smiles and takes a sip as well. “But keeping pace with them was something else. No wonder they panicked.”

You smile. “Yep! Intel was good that they weren’t carrying much. They fired off a few rounds here and there to scare us off. Try and get me to fall back. They just never got the memo that the CIA Surveillance and Pursuit class was renamed cuz of me.” You raise your beer and wink at Prentiss. “Now affectionately known as the Maniac Chase Class.”

“Oh my god! That was you?” She laughs, shaking her head in amazement.

“Yeah. I gotta wee bit carried away on my third try.” You shrug coyly. “Really wanted to beat that record.”

“You demolished it.” She smirks. “And the car.”

“Which slid across the line for a new record,” you explain with pride and then pause for dramatic effect, holding your arms out, beer still in hand, “And … I walked away without a single injury.”

“See, that part I thought was all hype,” Emily admits and looks inquisitive.

“No, sadly. It helped I was young and dumb when I did it.” You say with introspective embarrassment. “I was so fucking stupid.”

She snorts with agreement while doing mental math. “Wait, how old were you when he recruited you?”

“Young,” you vaguely admit.

“But you joined before me,” she says, knowing you were aware of her records and nod that she was correct. “I joined late ’97 and everyone just naturally talked about the course like that.” You heard the implication. She meant that the nickname wasn’t a new idea and was trying to figure out how much longer you have been in the CIA before she joined.

You clear your throat in caution. “Leave it alone, Prentiss. I … I honestly can’t say anything more.” You grimace, knowing you already said too much.

Emily didn’t press for further information, but you knew she gleaned enough to make educated assumptions. You felt like a fool, letting your guard down like that, but the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. It felt … nice, being able to connect with someone new. That hadn’t happened since Rebecca.

You’ll need to keep your guard up since Prentiss reaffirmed that you would be a proper member of the BAU starting today. They would want to get to know you, and you them. You just have to remember to tone it down and not get carried away with enthusiasm. Keep Brian’s wisdom close to your heart that this is new to you and ground yourself. Don’t get swept away with emotions, like last night.

It was a late start at Quantico for you since you had to start at Langley. The stipend funds had been approved and your signature was needed on a lot of paperwork. Finance assured you that the money would be deposited into the BAU budget by the end of day. Prentiss would be able give Bailey the proverbial finger on Monday when she distributed the funds, pushing the unit into the green, leaving the penny pincher helpless with his mission to disband the BAU that way.

Prentiss had texted you that the team would be ready for you in the conference room discussing their current caseloads and leads and would wait for you, providing you that proper do over with them. You appreciated that and said as such in reply.

As you head off the elevator to the sixth floor, you felt a renewed sense of purpose and belonging. You even put a little more effort into your outfit, choosing a charcoal grey pants suit with a black sleeveless semi-spread polo collar, and comfy black work shoes with decent tread. You had your backpack on, holding the straps over your chest as you survey the area.

True to her word, the team was already in the conference room. Garcia happens to see you first and smiles big, giving you a quick, animated wave that caught Prentiss’ attention. She was standing and angles her body to the left to see who was there and visibly relaxes noticing it was you. The team follows her gaze as Prentiss gestures for you to join them.

JJ looks from Prentiss to Rossi, who was suspiciously smirking up at Emily. “And why are you smiley this morning?”

“Hm?” he looks over at her as Prentiss’ attention turns towards the exchange. “Oh, just delighted Whitlock can join us. Orientation’s a pain in the ass.”

He was equally relieved and surprised that Emily spoke to you as quickly as she did. Because of that, he wouldn’t press the orientation fib being told to the team.

“Man, I wish I had the short version like she did when I joined,” Luke grumbles playfully.

“Yeah, but you needed a lot of work honey, and honestly … still do, unlike our CIA cutie,” Garcia chides as you walk in.

“That my new rank?” you say with twinkling eyes and a brow raising to the group. “CIA cutie?”

The members collectively chuckle and laugh at the joke and as you look at Prentiss, she was fighting to keep her lips from curling upwards.

“No. Still a consultant.” Prentiss admits. She gestures to an empty seat between Tara and Garcia. “Please have a seat and we’ll get started.”

You nod and slip past Prentiss, sliding the backpack off your shoulders. You place it on the ground behind your chair and sit down. As you look at the BAU members starting back at you, you feel daunted. But you got this and look eagerly at Prentiss to kick this off.

“I know things have been hectic this week with all the changes and assignments and getting Whitlock up to speed on FBI protocols. She still has a few more items to go over, but I’m pulling her in since we can use all the help we can get,” Prentiss explains. “Garcia, mind getting Whitlock up to speed where we’re at?

Garcia immediately speaks up, almost bouncing on the seat at the chance. “You got it, Ma’am.”

Emily winces and presses her hand down towards Garcia. “What have I said about that?”

She smiles. “Not to call you Ma’am.”

“Please remember that.”

“You got it, Boss Ma’am.” Garcia says cheekily.

Emily sits down in a huff, and you have to cover your mouth to hide the smile on your face. The team did not hide their amusement at the banter.

“Anyway,” Garcia says and laces her fingers together before turning her hands inside out to crack them, “time for catch up!”

Her fingers dance across the keyboard and immediately your eyes go to screen depicting a U.S. map with sixteen dots. Each dot had a line that led to a description of the kill kit number, contents and the city and state of its location. Two of the dots are red, the others blue.

“We have recovered fourteen of the sixteen kill kits, no thanks to our firebug in holding right now. The two missing are from Indio, CA and Rockville, MD and your technological goddess is monitoring anything in the surrounding areas that sounds Sicariusy like.”

“How wide’s the radius?” you ask.

“Fifty,” she answers while you nod. “So far nothing’s pinged that shouts out, ‘I’m a Sicarius henchmen’. However, Mr. Dishonorably Discharged had a test kit that was really oooooold based on soil samples.”

“Five years isn’t that old,” JJ says.

“But the kits being activated by Sicarius, it is,” explains Rossi. “All the lockers we’ve found have new tech, supplies, chemicals …”

“Lab did confirm the soil samples from our kits are newer. So why give Green something older?” Prentiss asks the team.

“Maybe this one fit Green’s M.O. better?” Luke offers.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” says Rossi.

“What are you thinking, Dave?” urges Prentiss.

“That Green was set up?” you offer, looking between Prentiss and Rossi.

He half smiles, impressed, and points to you casually. “Kid’s good. That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Maybe he was testing Green to see what he’d do. Confirm if he was truly loyal or not.”

“And either way, Sicarius would get what he wanted. A big explosion or expose Green for who he really is,” JJ says emphatically. “

“All right.” Prentiss takes a moment to digest this and addresses everyone. “Give me some options.”

Luke leans back and gestures to Garcia. “Green was the last to see his sister. So, we’re thinking a cognitive interview might help him remember any details of that night. Anything that could help him ID the guy that took her.”

“Good luck trying to get him to agree to it,” states Tara. “He has big problems with authority figures. He won’t cooperate unless he has good reason.”

“How’s not finding his sister’s killer a good reason?” you ask.

“Oh, he’s really pissed off.” Prentiss says as you raise a brow. “We took away his chance at catching Sicarius and enacting his revenge.”

“And he really doesn’t like that I’m a Fed again.” Garcia pouts with that admission. “He sent me all that info thinking I was still distanced from all of this.” She gestures wildly at the room.

Prentiss looks sympathetic. “But we have to try. Luke, I need you to talk to Green and get him to agree to the cognitive interview. JJ, keep watch on the exchange.” They both nod and she addresses Garcia. “Keep working on any leads that might help us find those missing kill kits. Whitlock, you’ll assist.”

You visibly perk up at the sound of your name and look thankful for a hands-on opportunity. Inwardly, you were doing backflips. Prentiss could feel you buzzing with internal excitement and chuckles. “Not like you can catch up on any paperwork you don’t have yet.”

Rossi and Tara groan while Luke and JJ share a smirk.

“Oh, don’t even,” admonishes Prentiss. “You both get to play catch up in between interviewing Green until a case comes in.”

Luke is silent, lowering his head in defeat as JJ frowns while pouting. “Aww.”

Now that the team had their assignments, Garcia was utterly giddy and squeals towards you. “Come Robin! To the Batcave!”

Garcia catches you up on everything over the next few hours. From the hidden message apps on the unsubs phones, to the discussion forums, and how Sicarius used this to gain followers so he could teach them the ways of being sadistic killers. She had identified the usernames of the unsubs and was able to find that they all chatted with Sicarius - User45125. They also learned about the different murder methods that matched up with the bodies found in the shipping container. Out of the lockers that are missing, the BAU believes that kits would contain methods to kill by acid and strangulation to match the last of the victims.

“I can’t trace any direct messaging, so that’s why all of this is based on the forum info me and JJ combed through,” Garcia says, ending her lengthy summation.

“What a sick fuck.” You shake your head in disgust. “Play with the first round of victims and pass all that fun on to his new friends who do it all over again.”

You were sitting to the left of Garcia, lightly turning the chair back and forth with a foot on the floor. To your delight, it didn’t bother her. It was a habit you developed over time to help you think. You look over the conversations that Sicarius had with the unsubs and Green. He definitely narrowed down the chosen ones based on their psychopathic thrills.

“How many are on this message board again?” you ask, gesturing at the screens.

“Over half a million. Which just…bleh!” Garcia pauses, shivering for dramatic effect, “Makes me feel all squicky that there are that many of them chatting in one spot. But I narrowed down the really, really, bad naughties to seventeen k.”

“Damn. Fucker’s been busy.” You go silent as you calculate options with the information the BAU had.

Garcia glances at you, seeing your eyes darting back and forth in concentration. “What’cha thinking there?”

“I’m not sure. It’s just … “ you pause, words softening, “a half formed thought. A possibility.” You turn towards Garcia. “Can you narrow the users further by who hasn’t been active in a few months? At least since Green last contacted Sicarius? Bonus if longer.”

She blinks rapidly at you and looks put out. “Can I?!” She then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Since you’re new, I will let that slight pass, but there is nothing I can’t do, missy.”

Except get your file, but you don’t need to know that!

“Apologies, M’Lady!” You smile, making sure to file that away to not offend the bubbly woman in the future. “If you would be so kind and continue working your magic?”

“And the lady shall be kind!” Garcia says with vigor and starts narrowing down the possibilities further.

The two of you work diligently over the next few hours. You guide Garcia with different traits to knock down the users into something manageable with the information that can be extracted from text. Emoji use, shorten expressions, length of posts, seeking knowledge and showboating instead of trying to engage in an emotional connection, aggressive language use, and interests.

“Here you go.” Garcia calls up a list of usernames that fit your specifications. “One-hundred and thirty-four.”

“Have any of those spoke to our guy at length? Something substantial?”

“Hm, yes!” She pulls those up.

That got you down to thirty-eight. “And how many of those appear to have contacted him through direct messaging?” You couldn’t know for sure but based on the flow of conversation and quality, there were hints.

She types quickly. “Ah, fourteen.” She shows you the names.

“List them by last known contact with him – earliest to latest.”

“Done.”

“Now pull up last few messages from each.”

“Also done.”

You read through them, ignoring the majority as you skim but there were a few that stood out.

Dark_Muse: Fucking cunt is finally gonna pay!!! Girls night is gonna end on a high!!!

_piouspisces: Woke up from a dream today. Hope it comes true. Just have to set up the right ingredients. Need advice on lacing paper. I have some ideas but need confirmation.

FlamePit23: The world only makes sense at sunrise and sunset. It’s when it looks like the world is set on fire. Beautiful.

You point to that last username. “Show me this one’s profile.”

Garcia clicks on it and reads. “’Nothing burns as bright as the rage inside you. Cultivate and embrace it. Keep it under your control’. Oh, they go on to say to never make any friends. That’s cheerful and lonely.”

“But they admitted to ‘nurturing others so I can take them off guard. Like my mother did to me when I was younger’ makes me think this one’s female,” you say while tapping the screen. “What’s the date and timestamp on the last message?”

“That would be … August 12, 2022 0550.”

You would bet that it was close to sunrise on that day when the user posted.

You pull your hand back to cup your chin in thought as Garcia looks oddly at you. “You know, I’ve been doing this a really, really long time, and I can usually predict where people are going with their data mining. But you? I have zilch of an idea because this makes no sense to me.”

You heard she was talking, but you weren’t listening. You were too focused on formulating a plan.

She puckers her lips in annoyance at being ignored and snaps her fingers twice in front of your face. “Hello?”

“Oh!” you say, jerking back into awareness. “I’m trying to come up with a crazy plan.”

“Please tell me this won’t result in you going AWOL again …” Prentiss had entered and neither of them had heard the door open.

You and Garcia share a look wondering if she even knocked as Prentiss walks in further expectantly. “Well?”

You sit back and reassure her. “Ah, no. Course not.”

“Wait. So, you really went AWOL?” Garcia asks curiously. “Did you serve before the CIA?”

“I didn’t serve.” You bit your lower lip and nod, coming to terms with what you can say. “I did some training with military personnel. All informal.”

You and the other four recruits had gone through training with the Green Berets, Navy Seals, and Delta Force. Something you couldn’t disclose as it technically never happened, hence, the informal part of your cover. You also are glad Garcia was distracted by that and didn’t ask you to elaborate on the AWOL matter.

Garcia whistles. “Wowzer.”

That made you smile. “A very simple, yet precise, way to put it.”

“A talent of hers for sure. But let’s get back to this crazy plan of yours,” insists Prentiss as she leans against the desk on the other side of Garcia.

“Again, it’s just the start of one but it could be a way to infiltrate Sicarius’ chosen ones without the need for vengeance to fuck things up.”

“You really say that word a lot,” notices Garcia.

“What?”

Garcia struggles by opening and closing her mouth like a fish to try and get the word out, but Prentiss beats her to it. “Fuck.”

“Huh?” You look at the section chief with confusion. “No thank you?”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant!” She answers, speaking quickly as you fluster her with the insinuation, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter any longer.

“What’s so funny?” she snaps.

“You!” you answer between cackles. “I knew what you meant.”

Garcia at least has the decency to look away while trying to fight off her own snickers as Prentiss takes a hand to her head to rub at her temples. “I swear to god, Whitlock …”

“Anyway …” you grin. “The idea is to chat him up with a username that is not entirely inactive but hasn’t been used in a bit. Think we found a prospect.”

Prentiss’ irritation with you changes to interest. “That so?”

Garcia nods. “Now that I know what the plan is, yes. I can do a deeper dive into this user and see what I can dig up.”

“Less is more, in this case,” you explain thoughtfully. “If we infiltrate this way, we gotta have enough info to be this user without him really knowing who this is. So, if you can find who they are, then we’re back to finding another. Because that means he would know their identity, too.”

Prentiss nods. “Do it. Green isn’t cooperating at all like Tara figured. He wouldn’t agree to the cognitive interview. Might as well see how this pans out while JJ tries to change Green’s mind.”

“On it, Boss Ma’am!” Garcia jests as she gets to work.

Prentiss looks up at the ceiling as if searching for patience, but as brown eyes come down, they focus on you. “Come with me and bring your stuff.”

“Sure thing.” You rise, grabbing your backpack but before you follow Prentiss, you squeeze Garcia’s shoulder. “This was nice. Working with you, that is.”

She tears her eyes away from the screen to look up at your soulful eyes. You really appreciated how Garcia jumped into working with you with fervor and not giving you the cold shoulder from earlier this week. “Aww, sweetie! Yes, we’ll keep working at it to make this idea blossom into a full blown plan!”

You smile so hard your cheeks hurt and stay that way until Garcia gets back to work. You then meet up with Prentiss to walk out together.

“Good first day.” It was an observation by the section chief.

“Yeah, it really was.” You were smiling again. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Her tone carries a mystique to it, and you become captivated while walking to the bullpen together. “But I owe you a proper thank you. Langley sent me the confirmation of funds.”

“I’ll behave.” Prentiss’ eyes widen when you say that. “I won’t start making it rain money at you in celebration.”

She chuckles. “So, you can control it?”

“Occasionally.”

“Good. Then I’ve no regrets in getting you something.”

That made you perk up. “You got me something?”

“Bit overdue, but …” Prentiss stops without warning at the first desk to the right when you enter the bullpen. “… it’s yours.”

You are befuddled as you shift your gaze from Prentiss to the desk and audibly gasp. Resting on top of it was your name on display as a consultant. “Wow.”

Pleased with your reaction, she nudges you with her elbow. “This is when you’re supposed to thank me.”

“Ah, right!” you laugh, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck before looking to her with a radiant smile. “Thank you, Prentiss.”

Your response without jest disarms her like it did last night over drinks. Your gazes lock for several beats and you just stand there with sincere gratitude that she welcomed you as a member of the team.

She recovers quickly with a stiff nod and motions to your desk. “You’re welcome. When you’re done getting settled, get back to working on that angle with Garcia.”

“You got it.” You immediately round the desk, already slipping off your backpack to place on top of it as Prentiss heads to her office.

That felt really nice to say in your head. Your desk. When was the last time you had a desk with a name plate? Everything you did was covert up until now so flashing your name and credentials was the equivalent to placing a target on your back with a bright flashing sign that says, ‘Shoot me!’. The right people knew your name when on mission, but most of your identity was done under aliases and callsigns.

You take a quick inventory of what’s on the desk – laptop connected to dual monitors, keyboard and mouse, stacked plastic organizers, phone, stapler, black plastic pen holder that was empty.

Guess I’ll have to find supplies…

You pick up the stapler and click it, watching a used staple hit the desk. At least that was ready to go for all the paperwork you’ll be doing now. The team will be excited to hear that! You then pull out the chair to get acquainted with the drawers only to be shocked for the second time today.

Waiting for you on the chair was a six pack of Diet Coke bottles with a blue sticky note attached. You peel it off to read and immediately smile.

Welcome to the BAU, Whitlock.

EP

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

TAKE CARE OF YOU

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,312

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: i know what you're thinking. 'JJ, what the hell are you doing?' The answer to that question, always, is 'I have no fucking idea'. But, this idea gripped my soul. Oops.]

01: YOU WORK A BUNCH THEN ONE DAY YOU DIE

"i don't want a sugar daddy but maybe like a sugar buddy. i just hit him up like, 'Hey how are you today?' and he replies, 'Doing great thanks for asking here's $7,000.'" -unknown

The life you lived was simple and boring. You were reminded of this fact as Nima rambled through a story about how her blind date last night had turned into a bar brawl which spiraled into a stint in the emergency room. Meanwhile, you had binged a show you'd already watched a dozen times on Netflix while shoveling popcorn down your throat. This worked perfectly for you though. You got to stay in your comfort zone while living vicariously through your best friend’s disasters. 

“Please tell me you won’t be seeing her again.” You chuckled.

Nima scoffed, “Hell no. She could not carry her own in that bar brawl. That’s why we ended up in the ER.” She scrunched her nose then shrugged. “But she’s fine now. The girl only needed like seven stitches.”

You shook your head and breathed out a laugh. For the entire time you had known her, going on a decade now, Nima had never dated a normal woman. It was almost impressive how terrible her record was.

The Korean woman’s hair was dyed a solid bubble gum pink and tied up into two messy buns atop her head. Her clothes were a patchwork of pastel colors that showed off her toned midriff and long legs. The purse wrapped around her chest was shaped like a giant strawberry and the large headphones wrapped around her neck were equally as bright as the rest of her. Everything about Nima was a blur of chaos and energy and people couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Add that to her awful taste in women and it was the perfect recipe for her wild dating history. 

“Why did we come here?” You asked as your eyes scanned the menu of the coffee shop. The two of you were in the very long line waiting to reach the register, and you had to lean to the side to see around the broad man standing in front of you both. “It’s so overpriced.”

“I follow this girl on insta and she said they have the best lavender matcha latte.” Nima shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “It looked amazing.” She bumped her hip against yours. “What are you gonna get?”

“Will you yell at me if I say vanilla latte?”

“Yes!” Nima scoffed. “That’s so boring! Get one of their specialty drinks at least!”

“Like?”

Nima scanned the menu then pointed at something. “Get the cotton candy frappe!”

You chuckled and continued to scan the menu. There had to be a middle ground option between those two. The line continued to move and Nima had switched from her dating life to her newest project at work. She was an engineer currently working in construction. You were immensely proud of the success she had found in her passions. Honestly, a bit jealous as well. You were in the northern end of your twenties and you had still yet to find something you loved. It was like the world had hit pause on the momentum of your life post college. Time flew by, years passed, but nothing had changed.

The man in front of you reached the register and you realized you’d have to pick something soon. You heard him order something simple⏤ like you had planned. You didn’t pay him much mind until you noticed him patting his pockets growing more frantic with his motions as he realized he was missing something. Finally, he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the angle you stood at, you could just barely see his profile, but it was enough to see his face was scrunched up in frustration. You glanced over at Nima, who was texting, then back to the man who was obviously having a terrible day.

“Sir?” The boy working the till questioned.

“Just⏤” The man huffed as if he were trying to wrap his mind around something. You assumed there was more going on than just a lack of money to buy some coffee. Not having the means to pay for something was probably just the icing on the cake for him. It wasn’t a situation you were unfamiliar with. 'Been there, done that'.

Quickly, you stepped up to stand beside him and fished out your card. “Add a, uh, cinnamon roll latte to that order please. I’ll pay.”

“Wait.” The man held his hand out to argue, but the guy at the register was already swiping your card. He wrote the orders out and motioned for Nima to step up next. The man stepped away from the register without tearing his eyes away from you. His stare was inquisitive and confused. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He had a southern drawl to his words that you didn’t hear often in this part of Los Angeles. Your eyes scanned his figure which looked even more broad when you stood in front of him. The man wore a worn out red flannel with old blue jeans and work boots. His hair was a bit messy, fluffed and slightly curled at the ends, in mostly shades of brown with a bit of silver peppered in. The silver was more prominent in the scruff along his jawline. He was handsome, there was no denying that. Even with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips drawn out in a frown, you couldn’t help but admire him.

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “You looked like you were having a rough day. We all need a helping hand now and again.”

When Nima finished ordering you turned your focus on her, but she said she was running to the bathroom and disappeared. It left you standing alone next to the man waiting for the drinks to be made. Which would be fine if you didn't feel his gaze still burning into you. Awkwardly, you crossed your arms. You were overthinking it. Paranoid. He probably wasn’t even paying you any mind anymore. To reassure yourself, you glanced over at him only to realize you had not been paranoid. Your eyes locked with his soulful brown ones. Handsome brown eyed men were a menace to society. Nobody should have that much power with just a gaze. Panicked and embarrassed, you snapped your gaze forward once more.

“Thank you.” He said gruffly.

“Like I said,” You cleared your throat, “It’s no problem.”

“I’d love to pay you back.”

You turned to face him, letting out a small laugh, but he didn’t join in. The man just stared at you patiently. Your laughter died as you blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, really?” He nodded. “That seriously isn’t necessary. It was like five dollars.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the principle.”

“Listen, you seem stubborn, but I promise you I’m worse.” You joked and the corner of his lip curled up into an amused smile that was gone as quick as it came. You almost wondered if you imagined it. “Just… the next time you’re out and you see someone struggling, pay it forward. Deal?”

He didn’t reply for a moment. Just stared, and it took all your willpower not to glance away again. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest. You mentally cursed when your dumb eyes traced the lines of his arms. No ogling the stranger. He nodded once. “You drive a hard bargain.” A small smile cracked his otherwise solemn features and this time it lingered long enough for you to actually acknowledge it. “But you got yourself a deal, darlin’.” Your cheeks burned again at the term of endearment. He paused before holding out a hand to you. “I’m Joel.”

You shook his hand, his much larger one enveloping yours entirely, and you offered him your own name. Silence settled between the two of you, but it only lasted a beat before your orders were called out. Joel’s long stride had him at the counter before you got there. He picked up your coffee first and offered it to you before taking his own.

“Thanks.” You chirped.

“I’m thankin’ you, remember?” Joel lifted his simple cup as a reminder. He gave you a slight nod. “It was nice to meet you, darlin’.”

“Uh, you too! Hope your day gets better!” You gave him a small wave. 

Joel turned to leave and you couldn’t help but let your eyes trail up and down his entire body. His jeans could not fit him more perfectly. Ogling the stranger was okay, you decided, as long as said stranger wasn’t watching you do it. As you shamelessly checked him out, you didn’t notice your friend drift back to you. “Nice.” You jumped in surprise. Nima was grinning at you in excitement. “Please tell me you got a number.”

“A number?” You scoffed. “Are you crazy??”

“I saw sparks!”

You rolled your eyes, “You literally see sparks everywhere, Nima.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe, but one of these days I’m gonna be right.” She argued. “Statistically, speaking.”

You changed the topic of conversation, which was always easy to do with Nima, and took a sip of your coffee. It was a bit too sweet for your taste, but the trip to this pretentious coffee shop hadn’t been a complete waste. How often did people get a chance to chat with a handsome, older southern gentleman?

The bakery you worked out was a small family owned business. The owner, a cute little old man named Henry Pack, was an old friend of your father’s and when you showed interest in work he hired you without hesitation. That was two years ago. The initial plan was for this to be temporary. A way to earn money so you could pay bills and save up to finish your degree. However, life had dished out hit after hit and suddenly your temporary plan had turned more permanent. 

Plus, the shop wasn’t doing well, it wasn’t getting the traffic it used to, and Henry was getting older and older. He needed the help and even if something else came up⏤ whether it be better paying or more enjoyable⏤ you didn’t think you’d be able to leave Henry behind. Not after all he had done for you. 

You wiped down the counter once more mostly out of boredom. The last customer had been in and out nearly an hour ago. Henry walked in from the back office and you glanced over at him. He was a short, portly man with ruddy cheeks and a kind smile. It hurt your heart how stressed he had been as of late.

“Have you noticed much foot traffic outside?” He asked, hopeful.

“A bit.” You nodded. “Lunch just ended. I’m sure that’s why we have a lull.”

“Right, right.” Henry replied as if trying to convince himself.

The older man knelt down to root around in the lower cabinets. You offered to find whatever it was he was looking for, knowing he had bad knees, but he brushed your hands away stating he was just fine. With a sigh, you thought now was the best time to bring up the question that had been plaguing you.

“Henry, I need to talk to you about maybe a… a raise?”

He glanced up from where he was knelt with a frown. “I told you, hon. I can’t afford to pay you more. No matter how much I wish I could.” Henry sighed. “Well, maybe if I…”

“Never mind.” You said quickly. It was clear that your question was distressing to Henry. It wasn’t his fault you weren’t making the kind of money you needed. He was barely scraping by as well with the costs of keeping this place open. Henry gave you a sad smile⏤ an apology. He finished what he was doing and wandered back to his office. You blew out a frustrated breath. Maybe you could pick up a new job. The problem was that you were already working a crazy amount of hours here at the bakery. If you were somehow able to become the first human alive who didn't require sleep then that could work.

You covered your face with your hands and leaned back against the counter. For most of your adult life, you only had yourself to rely on financially. It was fine. That was the hand life dealt you. Nima was constantly offering to pay for certain things, or trying to loan you money, but you always refused. Too prideful to take her money with no guarantee that you’d be able to pay her back or offer her anything in return. 

The sound of a bell chime startled you and you pushed off the counter quickly to try and regather your bearings. You cleared your throat and turned toward the door to offer the guest a smile. A greeting began to leave your lips, but it was cut short when you realized you recognized the man crossing the space to reach the register. It was the handsome coffee guy from a week ago.

“Well, you’re a familiar face.” You chuckled. “Joel, right?”

“Right.” He looked surprised that you remembered his name. Joel cleared his throat and came to stand in front of the register to face you. He had on a similar outfit to the last time you saw him. Flannel and jeans, but he seemed a bit more put together today. “Are you guys closed?”

“No. It’s just a… slow day.” All the days were slow actually. You straightened your apron, the only uniform item required for you to wear, and offered him a bright grin. “What can I get for you, sir?”

Joel glanced over the menu then the display case before nodding. “Muffins?”

“Okay.” You nodded when he gave you no further information. His eyes just snapped back to you. “What kind? How many?”

His eyes widened and he forced his gaze back to the display. “Just, uh, six of the blueberry?”

You bit back an amused chuckle and moved to start packing a box with his order. It was funny to you that this man had come into a bakery without an order in mind. After closing the box, you set it on the counter in front of him. “So, do you make a habit of popping into bakeries to order random things? Just passing by and thought ‘why not?’.”

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel chuckled. He reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. He gave it a small wave and nodded at you. “I have money with me today.”

“Very nice. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you.” He flipped it open and pulled out a card to hand to you. You hadn’t even told him how much the muffins would be. “I triple checked before leavin’ the house.” You handed him back the receipt with his card, and Joel put them away without making any move to leave. “How long have you worked here?”

You leaned against the counter. “About 2 years now. A family friend owns the shop.”

“Are you the one who,” Joel motioned to the display, “bakes?”

It was odd to you that the man sounded so nervous about having a simple, casual conversation. It was as if he was rusty at the skill and was attempting to stretch out those old muscles. With a small, amused smile, you shrugged. “Some of it. Henry is the main baker, he’s incredible, and I learned from him.”

“Is it somethin’ you enjoy?”

“Meh.” You answered honestly. “I’ve gotten decent at it, but I don’t necessarily love it. Just sort of fell into it.” Joel nodded and his pretty brown eyes darted around like he was looking for a new conversation topic. You threw him a bone. “What about you? What do you do?” You motioned to him and teased. “I’m guessing lumberjack.”

Joel chuckled, “Lumberjack?”

“Yeah.” You pushed off the counter to stand straight. “If I squinted I‘d mix you up with the Brawny guy.” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you let out a mocking scoff. “You know? The paper towel lumberjack.”

You saw a flash of recognition in his eyes and a breathy laugh left him. Joel shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before, darlin’.” 

“Where are you from?” You blurted curiously. “There’s no way you picked up that drawl living in LA.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel replied. “Texas. I’m from Texas.”

“Ah. That fits. You’re like a cowboy then.”

Joel rested his hands on the counter, “Am I a lumberjack or a cowboy? I’m gonna need you to make up your mind here.”

“Hm, can I get three to five business days to decide?” 

“I suppose.” Joel nodded. 

The door chime rang out and you glanced over to see another person wander in. For the first time ever, you found yourself disappointed to see a paying customer. Joel cleared his throat, dragging your attention back to him, and you watched as he opened up his wallet again to pull out a crisp five dollar bill. You laughed with a shake of your head as he shoved it into the tip jar.

“It was nice to see you again.” Joel said.

“You too. Have a good day.”

Joel picked up the box of muffins and on his way out he called back, “I’ll be back to find out if I’m a lumberjack or cowboy, darlin’. So get to thinkin'.”

Your cheeks warmed in amusement and you wondered if he was actually serious or if that was just a teasing joke. The other customer reached the register, and you turned to greet them. The stress of thinking about your bills and work life had been briefly soothed by the distraction of talking to Joel. That was nice.

Shockingly, Joel hadn’t been joking. He came back a few days later, ordering something random and on the spot, then demanded to know if he was a cowboy or a lumberjack. You had convinced him to give you more time to think as you joked that you needed further evidence to assess. That had been the start of a habit. Joel would randomly come in just to chat every few days or so and buy a new baked good from you.

A few times, he had walked in while you were helping other customers, but he always waited until they were rung up and on their way out before initiating any conversation with you. It was during the fifth visit that you could tell he was nervous about something. After some time he had gotten more comfortable talking to you, but today it was almost like he had recessed back to that first time. 

“Are you workin’ this weekend?” Joel asked after ten minutes of small talk.

“Only on Sunday.” You admitted. “I’m picking up some extra shifts.”

“More shifts? Don’t you already work ‘em all?”

You chuckled. “Not all of them, but definitely most. But, hey, that’s life, right? You work a bunch and then one day you die.” Joel always seemed uncomfortable when you talked about your work schedule in any fashion. “Why do you ask?”

He had furrowed his brow at your working comment, but it quickly smoothed out as he shifted in place. It was cute to see a man as large and intimidating as he could be squirming over whatever topic he was trying to bring up. You stayed silent and let Joel mull it over. While he worked out whatever was on his mind, you could admire how well his plain t-shirt fit him. 

“Nothin’. Just curious is all, darlin’.” Joel finally coughed out and you bit back a frown.

“What about you?”

Joel shrugged. “Workin’ some. Stayin’ busy.”

Multiple conversations ago he had revealed that he worked as some kind of contractor. You didn’t know much about that job other than it had something to do with building houses? Maybe? When you asked for more details he had stayed pretty vague.

“I should head out.” Joel cleared his throat holding the box of cookies in his hands.

“Oh. Yeah.” You nodded. “Sure. It was nice to see you as always, Joel.”

Joel gave you a tight lipped smile before turning on his heel and beginning to leave. He was halfway to the door before he spun on his heel and marched back⏤ startling you. Joel set the box down on the counter, hands resting on the edge, and kept his eyes downcast.

“I have a…proposition.” He blurted. Joel’s eyes snapped up to meet yours and the weight in those warm brown eyes nearly knocked you to your knees. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harboring a small crush on this man. Despite him being nearly two decades older than you, if you garnered a guess, the attraction you felt to him was not affected. In fact, it probably made you a bit more attracted to him. You knew that a therapist would probably cry out ‘daddy issues’, but you also had a hard time believing anyone could not be attracted to this man.

That being said, a part of you⏤ a very small part that you were too scared to encourage⏤ was really hoping he could be asking you out to dinner or drinks. Was that silly and unrealistic? Probably. It didn’t extinguish that little flame of hope though. You shrugged. “Proposition?”

“I wanna take care of you.” Joel spoke firmly. As if by just bringing this topic up, he had shed his nerves and was focused solely on selling you whatever this proposition was. You narrowed your eyes confused at his wording. The man continued. “Help you out, darlin’.”

“With?”

“Anythin’ and everythin’.” Joel sighed. “You name it and it's yours.”

You let out a confused chuckle. It was like the tables had turned and now you were the one who felt nervous. You buried your hands into your apron pockets and tilted your head. “Not to sound dense, but, uh, what?” Joel didn’t immediately reply. He just stared at you and his eyes burned straight to your soul. A warmth churned in your belly. “I just need you to be specific about what you’re offering because it’s going to be really awkward if I’m misunderstanding you.”

“I’m offerin’ you a life of ease. You work too much, doing somethin’ you don’t even love, and even when you’re off I bet all you do is stress about havin’ to work more to afford rent and bills. Am I wrong?” Joel challenged. You twisted your lips not having a solid argument. He wasn’t wrong. “So… let me take care of you, darlin’.” The choice of his words, the sound of his accent, in his gruff voice sent chills down your spine. You swallowed the lump in your throat and squirmed under his heavy gaze. “I’d love nothin’ more.”

“Nothing more? I… I don’t think that’s usually how that works.” You mumbled softly. An almost sickening feeling filled your gut. No amount of attraction to Joel would soften the idea of him paying you for sex. That’s what he was asking right? Joel makes you comfortable, pays all your bills, and in return you fuck him? 

Joel must have noticed the shift in your mood because he held out a hand in surrender. “I know what you’re thinkin’. Not like that. I wouldn’t expect…” He winced. A bit of his nerves crept back into his features. “I wanna take care of you, and all I ask in return is that you allow me to do that. Offer some platonic company. Someone to talk to. Plus, occasionally, I’d need…a date. No strings there either. Work drags me to a bunch of real stupid conferences and outings. Having someone to talk to durin’ those things would be…nice.”

“That’s it?” You found it hard to fully trust that. As much as you had enjoyed your conversations with him, you still barely knew him. “You’d offer someone a little cash to chat with them?”

“Not just a little cash.” Joel said firmly. “Everything. Takin’ care of you isn’t somethin’ I’d want to half ass, darlin’.”

“That’s even less believable.” You said skeptically.

Joel nodded. “Fair. How about this,” He cleared his throat, “You said you’re off Saturday?” You nodded. “Let’s meet. Talk about this. No pressure. You can ask any and all questions you have.”

You chewed on your lower lip in thought. Saturday was two days away. “Can I think about that? Before I even agree to meet you.”

“Of course.” Joel nodded. He pulled a business card from his wallet and held it out for you to take. You reached out for it, and the brush of his fingers against your hands gave you goosebumps. “I want you to be comfortable. Call me if you’d like. Or… if you’d rather never see or contact me again I⏤ I get that too, darlin’.”

You stared down at the card, but realized it wasn’t a business card like you thought. It was the same size, but he had scribbled his name and cell phone number on it for you. Joel mumbled a quick good-bye before heading to the door again. You called out to him, looking up from the card, and he paused to glance over his shoulder.

“Why me?” You questioned. It seemed so random. Situations like this didn’t happen to people like you. They happened to people like Nima. People who were willing to step out of their comfort zone and put themselves out there. This couldn’t possibly have stemmed from this man forgetting his wallet one day and you being in the vicinity to fix that problem.

Joel’s lips curled up into a small smile and he shrugged. “I, uh, I like talkin’ to you, is all.”

The chime of the door as he left echoed through the otherwise quiet room. Your eyes glanced back down to the card where ten numbers stared up at you dauntingly. Just above it, written in a messy scrawl, was his first and last name. ‘Joel Miller’. It wasn’t until you read his name for the seventh time that you realized you were actually considering his offer.

[next]

✨J.M. Masterlist✨