#we can waste them but not the time it takes to do things safely

[viennacherries]

okay hi sorry i need to talk about the lucanis romance for a moment and why i think it's absolutely perfect. spoilers below the cut ofc

so obviously there are a limited number of romance scenes. i really do believe in the case of lucanis' romance this lends itself to telling his story.

we learn through party banter with him and emmerich that his relationship with rook is his first. and that's not suprising really, he's an assassin. he faces death constantly and aside from the fact that he could die at any moment, being in a relationship gives his enemies a weak spot to exploit. love and the weakness required to accept and give it is a risk he cannot afford in his line of work.

then you add on the fact that he's been in the ossuary for a year. he was definitely sure he was never getting out of there. and then he does but he's possessed.

so here's rook. and they're flirting with him and being all enticing and he thinks they're great. but he doesn't deserve love and he certainly can't risk it. he's an abomination, he'll put them in danger. and what happens afterwards? when he goes back to taking contracts? it only takes pissing off the wrong person once for rook to be in danger. so he mostly just talks around it. tried not to think about it or aknowledge it.

and then spite breaks through for the second time. and there's rook. again. and they're soft and understanding and kind and they remind him that under everything else, all of the trauma and the fear, he's human. they make him feel so safe and he starts to let his walls down.

we can't know for sure why he pulls away in that moment, but i think it's because he reminds himself how dangerous it is for him and for rook. he wants them terribly but it's such an awful no good idea so he drags himself away.

but he still cares for them. he makes them dessert and he keeps them safe and eventually he has to admit to himself that they're not just friends anymore.

and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.

he never tells rook, you only find this out in a bellara romance, but rook is in the fade for weeks.

all that time, lucanis is there and he's just full of regret. because holy shit he's fallen in love with them and now they're gone and he should've just told them. he should've held them like he wanted. because now he can't and he never will again.

and then they're back.

and he comes into their room and his words are so simple.

"i never thought id see you again. i thought id lost you"

and obviously the rest of his dialogue can vary in this scene but all of it is SO weighted if you consider the fact that he really did think they were dead.

"i do. i know how to feel."

"it's one of the things i love about you"

"i'm not going anywhere."

he is in LOVE with them and he's tired of fighting it. he's tired of pretending he isn't. he's tired of denying himself of what he wants because he's scared. because ultimately he did lose them, despite how careful he'd been, and it hurt just the same.

"i know how to feel." because he DOES now.

so in the last battle, before you fight elgernan, he tells you again just how much he loves you. how he'll do anything he needs to to be back in your arms when it's over. because those weeks without you were torture and he never wants to do that again. he wasted all that time terrified to hurt you but you got hurt anyway. why keep pretending? why keep denying himself the person he wants more than anything in the world? he goes from 0-100 because this is so much more real now. there's so much to lose.

"i've assumed you knew my heart because it beats for you. it's been beating... when i wanted you. when i was afraid to want you... tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms and i will kill any god you ask."

this one sentence conveys EVERYTHING. all of his longing throughout the game. how long he has loved rook. he didn't say it because he was afraid. but he's not afraid anymore.

so much of lucanis' romance is about subtext. it's about the things he doesn't say rather than the things he does.

i think it's absolutely beautiful.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Hi,

There's a stray cat (very friendly, no collar or anything) wandering our street and he's very skinny so we were thinking of trying to put out food for him and hopefully in a couple months take him in (or at least bring him to a vet to be neutered and released if not).

I was wondering if you had any advice / stuff to watch out for from your experience taking care of Diesel?

Not really. Cats that are socialised young enough are generally pretty easy to bribe with food over time, in my experience; if he's friendly, he should fall in love with you pretty quickly. (Cats that are unsocialised young will very occasionally socialise themselves but are almost always a waste of time, but it sounds like he's been socialised so you shouldn't have problems).

Don't touch him before he wants you to unless there's some kind of emergency (in which case, use a cat trap, but if there's no emergency don't bother); that's a great way to make him wary of you and also get bitten by his horrible plague mouth (cat bites are very prone to infection). Cats are generally easy beasts to deal with if you respect their autonomy and their personal space.

If he's outside and starving, he might have various fleas, internal parasites, and other minor but treatable health problems. Cats are particularly prone to a variety of worms, as well as eye infections. Your vet will tell you how to deal with these, and explain to you how to give him a dewormer and bathe him if he needs bathing (most cats don't ever need bathing, but if he's young and filthy he might need one when you take him in.)

Most socialised cats like to sleep inside where it is safe and warm, so if you feed him for a bit then there's a really good chance that you can just open the door one day and let him into your house. This is especially likely if he's lived in a house before. Some socialised cats who have secure lodgings already in some drainpipe or basement or something will avoid this, but in the vast majority of cases a friendly cat will happily just come inside. So you shouldn't have any trouble "catching" him, unless you have other cats or dogs in there that he might want to avoid.

The one thing that I would warn of is that most outdoor cats I've dealt with have had some level of PTSD. When Diesel started hanging out with me I had to watch him carefully to learn what sorts of things would make him panic (sudden movements or approaching him from specific angles, touching him when he is asleep), and what sorts of things triggered his hypervigilance and put him on high alert. The triggers are different for different cats; some hate enclosed spaces or heights (things that most cats love), or won't eat without somebody standing guard, or need to be able to see the door to the room at all times. These quirks are generally not hard to deal with; just don't do stuff to your cat that upsets them (unless you have to, like for medical reasons) and you'll be fine.

If you want information on anything complicated that shows up with him (unlikely; cats are generally very easy beasts to deal with), there's a wealth of great information from cat fosterers and rescuers on youtube.

[bombshellsandbluebells]

don't know if this is the kind of news that really breaks out of the film industry bubble, but there has been another entirely preventable film set accident leaving several people in the ICU, as well as the death of a crew member due to long hours and exhaustion recently and it's so upsetting. this industry just uses people up and spits them out when it's done and so many of the accidental deaths could have absolutely been prevented if safety and well-being were of greater concern than time and profit. it's the 10th anniversary of Sarah Jones. the trials for Haylna Hutchin's death are still ongoing.

this industry needs to do better. and I'm afraid that it won't.

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[nightingale-prompts]

Lazarus What?!

Phantom pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to take in what he was just told.

"Explain it one more time. I need to know if I got this right." He said his frustration mounted.

They were standing at the edge of the Lazarus pit. The Ghost hero had been searching for wells formed from ectoplasm on this planet.

"We-" Superman spoke first.

"YOU SAW A BIG FUCKING POOL OF OTHERWORLDY GOO AND DECIDED TO SWIM IN IT?!" Phantom exploded.

"Well, it does heal and revive people," Flash said hidden behind Wonder Woman.

"Well that makes it perfectly safe and healthy for you doesn't it," Danny said sarcastically. "It's not safe at all! You people are just tossing corpses into this thing and think it's a miracle that people come out alive! This stuff is a waste pit made from the leakage from my realm!"

"Waste? Like as in-" Clark's face gritted in disgust.

"Not like human waste but still waste. Our bodies take in new ectoplasm and the old tainted stuff flows out. Like a fish breaths with it's gills. The old material tends to collect in different spots like a dump of toxic waste. And you people are bathing in the used materials." Phantom explained.

"And why is it so dangerous." Batman finally spoke up after considering the information.

Phantom sighed.

"The reason why the goop is bad is because it's tainted. As in it has remnants of the ghosts that expel it. When you dump the corpse of a freshly dead person in the goop it melds with the person giving them the ability to persist beyond death and linking them back to their soul. That sounds good, but the soul is now infected with the random assortment of attributes of the ghosts that are in the goop. It won't do much to you though. Barely affecting you in any negative way. Now if you keep putting bodies in the goop you create a big problem as the ectoplasm is invected with the freshly dead's issues. If someone evil, vengeful, or unbalanced is put in the waters parts of them will stay behind. Constantly using the ectoplasm will cause someone to go insane as it corrupts them. If someone dies painfully enough, it will also persist in the ecto and create a revenant. Like an avenging super soldier hellbent on revenge so their soul can rest. The ectoplasm will also become less potent over time, and eventually, the only thing that can come out is zombies." Phantom tried his best to spell everything out like everyone present were idiots.

"That explains many things." Batman said pinching the bridge of his nose.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN! ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU ALREADY DID THAT?!" Phantom was turning red now.

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

[waitimcomingtoo]

Just to Learn That You Never Cared

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: always leaving class together to go fight crime leads people to think you’re dating when in reality you’re barely even friends. That is, until you agree to fake a relationship to keep your secret life a secret

requested/idea by @usoppsstar

Masterlist

“Oh, hey. Your girlfriend left this in class.” One of Peter’s classmates said as he tossed Peter a hoodie.

“Oh. Thanks.” Peter said before realizing what the person had said. He turned the hoodie over in his hands and recognized it as yours. His face warmed up in a blush when he realized you had just been mistaken for his girlfriend. He shoved the hoodie into his bag and wondered if he should tell you or not.

Peter saw you later that night on a rooftop you frequented often. You were in your suit, as was he, but had your mask sitting beside you. You were munching on a bag of chips and wordlessly extended them to him when he landed on the rooftop beside you. He smiled graciously and took a few before sitting down next to you. Your knees were touching but neither of you moved away.

“You left this in physics, dingus.” Peter said and handed you your hoodie.

“Oh, thanks. We had to run out of there so fast to save that lady. I must’ve left it behind.” You smiled gratefully and pulled it over your head. Peter felt bad that his high tech suit had built in heaters and your homemade suit was probably leaving you freezing every night. He wanted to suggest sharing his warmth, but he didn’t want to overstep.

“I know. Thank God she called the police on those kids for selling lemonade without a permit. I’m really glad we left a test to go witness that heinous crime.”

“It’s not all bad. We did get to see the cops arrest her for wasting their time by making a fake police report, which is always satisfying. And the kids gave us free lemonade. But I think calling it “homemade” was bullshit. I know Minute Maid when I taste it.” You replied, making Peter chuckle.

“You’re right. Both those things were enjoyable.” Peter agreed. “But I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I feel like we have to leave class every other day.”

“I know. Why did we have to pick a college in such a Karen ridden neighborhood?” You sighed.

“Because we wanted to go to the good school with the good science program. We should’ve known the neighborhood would be full of bored housewives who call the police whenever they have a minor complaint. It was our own hubris.”

“It was.” You chuckled and said looked over at him. You exchanged soft smiles before you looked over at the city horizon. Peters eyes never left you and he cleared his throat to get your attention.

“So, uh, my aunt and I were gonna get Chinese food later. At the place that got shut down for being a front for money laundering but that was really just a front for a second Chinese food chain.”

“Oh, I love that place.”

“Yeah. It’s great.” He nodded. “Anyways, you should totally come-“

Peter was cut off by the police radio he wired to his phone going off. He rolled his eyes and checked what the alert was.

“Damn it. Robbery at the bakery on 9th.” He told you.

“Lowkey, I’d do the same. Their cream puffs made me cream.” You said as you put your mask back on.

“Haha, yeah.” Peter chuckled. “Wait, what?”

“You should get some sleep. I’ll handle the robbery. But I’ll catch you tomorrow, Parker. Get home safe.” You saluted him before falling backwards off the building.

“I love you too.” Peter sighed.

“Did you say something?” You asked and popped back up.

“No.” Peter quickly lied.

“Okay. Well, see you tomorrow.” You waved to him and disappeared again. Peter let out another sigh before swinging home.

The next day, you ran after one of your classmates once class was let out.

“Hey, Carly. I emailed you my notes from the class you missed.” You told her.

“Thank you so much. You’re a life saver.” She replied. “Oh, and could you tell your boyfriend that band practice is in the gym today?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.” You agreed. She was about to walk away when you realized what she had said.

“Wait, what am I saying?” You wondered. “Who’s my boyfriend?”

“You know. That guy with the prescription shoes.” Carly answered. You tilted your head in confusion until you realized you knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Wait, Peter?” You laughed in surprise. You expected her to laugh too and reveal she was just kidding but she looked completely serious.

“Oh, right. Peter. Why do I always think his name is Timmy?” Carly wondered.

“Because he looks like a Timmy. He gets it all the time.” You waved your hand. “And his shoes are not prescription. He just bought women’s platform shoes because he wanted to be taller and didn’t think anyone could tell.”

“We can.” Carly mumbled.

“I know.” You agreed. “But, I’m getting off topic. Timmy is not my boyfriend. I mean, Peter is not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever label you guys use, can you tell him that wind ensemble is meeting in the gym instead of the choir room? The sopranos kicked us out again to practice or do drugs or something.” Carly explained. You furrowed your eyebrows at her and tried to figure out if she was joking or not.

“The label? I’m so lost. Who told you that Peter’s my boyfriend?”

“Nobody told me.” She shrugged. “Everyone just knows that you guys are a couple.”

“Well how would they know something that isn’t true?” You asked and folded your arms.

“I mean, it’s not like you guys try to keep it a secret. Between all the whispering and staying close by each other. Plus you’re always sneaking out of class together or showing up late. And if one of you is absent, the other always is too. It’s been like that since high school. People just put two and two together I guess. Why, did you want to to be secret?”

“I didn’t want it to be anything. We’re not even dating.” You insisted and felt like you were going crazy.

“You don’t have to deny it.” Carly laughed. “I know feelings are weird and gross and stuff and you’ve never been the relationship type, but I think this guy is good for you. He brings something out in you. I don’t know. But you guys are cute. I love seeing the nice loser and assertive pretty girl troupe in real life.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” You calmed down momentarily and smiled a little. Carly walked away and your smile quickly faded when you remembered what she had said. You looked around the hallway and saw another student holding an instrument.

“Hey. Band nerd.” You called out to him.

“Me?” He asked and pointed to himself.

“Yes, you. You had to let go of your saxophone case to point to yourself. Have you seen my boyfriend today?” You asked him.

“Peter? I haven’t seen him since yesterday in-“

“That sentence better not end with “wind ensemble” or I’m gonna lose it.”

“It was wind ensemble.” He said quickly.

“I’m leaving.” You shook your head and walked away from him. You pulled out your phone and went straight to your schools “campus sweethearts” page on instagram. Sure enough, there was a picture of you and Peter sitting next to each other right at the top of the page. You had your head thrown back laughing at something he was saying and he was looking at you fondly. You let out a shocked gasp and before walking out into the courtyard to look for Peter. You spotted him on a bench and smiled.

“Yes. Thank you, small campus”. You pumped your fist and went to sit next to him.

“Oh, hi. I was just thinking about you-“

“Someone is spreading a horrible rumor about you.” You cut him off.

“Oh no.” Peter frowned. “What is it? Is it bad?”

“Horrible.” You shook your head. “Peter, they’re saying you’re in wind ensemble.”

“Oh, I am.” Peter shrugged.

“Huh?”

“I play the clarinet . See. Clarinet.” Peter said and lifted up his little black clarinet case.

“Huh?” You said louder.

“I used to play in high school, pre-bite but post 9/11. I saw a flyer for orchestra on campus so I joined.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” You practically shouted. Peter knew you weren’t happy but felt strangely honored that you were so upset over him not telling you something about her personal life.

“Because I know how you feel about band nerds.” He replied. “And you and I don’t really talk about non-work related things. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I care.” You insisted. “My rumored boyfriend has been in wind ensemble this whole time and I didn’t even know?”

“Wait, rumored boyfriend? Who, me?” Peter asked in surprised.

“So you didn’t know about this either?”

“No. I mean, someone did refer to you as my girlfriend the other day but I thought it was just an accident. People think you and me are dating?” Peter asked and tried not to look as pleased as he felt.

“Apparently. I’ve had multiple people refer to you as my boyfriend today. And look. We’re on the campus couples Instagram page.” You said and held up your phone.

“Ew. We have one of those?” Peter grimaced and took your phone to see the picture better.

“Yeah. I honestly think the principle runs it.” You replied. Peter was quiet as he stared at the picture for a while.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. This just a cute picture of us. And I think the only picture of us.” He said with a shy smile. You frowned and looked at the picture again before realizing he was right.

“Carly said people think we’re dating since we’re always sneaking off together.” You told him. Peter thought out this for a minute and then made another connection.

“Ohhhh.” He said and nodded his head.

“What?”

“This explains why the boys congratulated me on the bus back to New York after the Washington monument trip for losing my virginity at a historic landmark.”

“You lost your virginity on that trip? To who?” You whispered harshly and felt jealousy burning through your veins.

“You, apparently.” He laughed. “You and I disappeared to get the glowy alien egg bomb thing back and I guess everyone assumed we were off desecrating a national monument.”

“Oh my God. That was like 3 years ago.” You realized. “People have thought we were dating this whole time? We need to put a stop to this.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Or…” Peter trailed off and gave you a look.

“Or?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Or, we lean into it.” He suggested. “We let people think it. We encourage it, even.”

“Why would we do that?”

“People have been suspicious about where we go and what we’re doing since high school. We can only fake so many illnesses and I ran out of grandparents to lie about the death of by junior year. So if people already made up a reason, maybe we should let them think that. We don’t have to go out of our way to confirm it but we can keep the assumption going to keep them from finding out what we’re really doing.”

“So you think we should let people think we’re dating so they stop wondering about what we’re always off doing?”

“That’s exactly what I just said, yes.” Peter nodded.

“Hey. Be nicer to your fake girlfriend.” You said and smacked his arm.

“I’m sorry. I will.” Peter blushed and rubbed his arm. You felt bad for hitting him and wrapped both arms around him to rub them up and down. He smiled softly at you and you sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“You play the clarinet?” You asked after a minute.

“Squidward made it look so cool.” Peter shrugged.

“Did he?” You asked, making Peter laugh.

“No.” He admitted.

The next day, you and Peter walked to school together with the understanding that from then on out, you were going to play the part of a happy couple. You weren’t going to go around announcing it to everyone or anything. You just needed to convince the few that didn’t already believe the rumor and confirm things for the ones who did believe it.

“You ready for this?” You asked Peter as you stepped into campus.

“I think so. Maybe we should hold hands or something. You know, since people think we’re dating.” Peter suggested and tried to make it sound like it didn’t matter to him.

“I guess so.” You shrugged and held out your hand. Peter eagerly took your hand and took note of the way it fit in his like it was made for him.

“This is weird.” You whispered to him, popping his bubble.

“Why? Are my hands sweaty?” He panicked.

“No. Just really, really hot.” You told him. “It’s just weird that nobody seems to care that we’re holding hands right now.”

“I mean, we are just two random people with almost no social presence.”

“That’s true. I guess I just thought people would care more.” You admitted as you looked around the campus. No one was phased by you and Peter, but he was too busy enjoying the moment to realize it.

“Are you disappointed?” He asked you.

“Yeah. I wore my best bra because I thought I’d be getting more attention today.” You frowned and adjusted the strap of your bra.

“It’s okay. I’ll take one for the team and stare at your boobs.” Peter assured you.

“Aw. Thank you.” You gushed and gave his hand a squeeze.

You got to your physics class and sat together at your usual lab table. Peter looked around the classroom while you carried on as usual.

“Maybe I should put my arm around you. You know, to really convince people.” Peter suggested with a shy blush on his face.

“Is that really something people do?” You genuinely wondered. “I feel like I never see couples with their arms around each other.”

“Actually, I don’t think I have either. But let’s try it anyway.” He said and wrapped an arm around you. You scooted closer to him so that you could comfortably lean into him. You quickly realized you didn’t hate it and let out a content sigh.

“Hm.” Peter made a little noise at the back of his throat.

“What?” You asked him.

“Our height difference makes this hurt my shoulder.” He leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Then move your arm.” You whispered back.

“I can’t. I just wrapped it around you. It’ll look weird if I immediately take it off.” Peter said as he covered behind him to see who was looking.

“Or, consider this. Nobody in this entire city, and dare I say world, cares where your arm is right now.” You whispered harshly.

“Fine. I’ll remove it. But I have to give a reason.” He told you before loudly clearing his throat.

“Ah. Sorry, babe. I can’t cuddle you right now. My arm is sore from band practice.” Peter said loud enough for everyone in the classroom to hear him. You hung your head in shame and heard people murmuring about his strange comment.

“Oh God.” Peter gulped. “People are looking. They’re gonna know something is up. I have to put it back.”

He went to put his arm back around you but you stopped him before he could draw any more attention to the two of you.

“Just do this.” You whispered to him and pulled his stool closer to you and turned towards him a little. Your knees and were touching and you were now facing each other.

“That’s it? No one can even see this.” Peter said in disappointment. He thought being your fake boyfriend would bring you guys closer but you were sitting the way you always sat in class.

“It’s not about what people can see. It’s about proximity.” You explained. “We’re sitting closer together than anyone else is without being egregious about it. It’s a simple touch. If we’ve been together as long as people think we have, we don’t need to be wrapped around each other all the time. A simple touch to let the other know we’re there is all we need.”

Peter was silent as he stared at you following your explanation. He stared for so long that you felt yourself blush under the eye contact.

“What?” You asked him.

“I like the way you explain things.” Peter said simply. You quickly looked down so he wouldn’t see the effect that comment had on you and took a moment to collect yourself.

“It’s just something I thought of.” You shrugged.

“I know. But I never would have thought of that. Especially not as naturally as it did for you. You’re so quick.”

“Thank you.” You laughed shyly and found yourself unable to look away from him. Peter opened his mouth to say something to keep the momentum rolling but his phone interrupted him.

“Shoot. Sus-tivity on the b bridge.” He whispered.

“What the hell does that mean?” You asked at full volume.

“It means there’s suspicious activity on the Brooklyn bridge.” He rolled his eyes. “We have to act fast so I didn’t have time to say the whole thing.”

“But you just said the whole thing. And the abridged version. So it took twice as long.”

“Shh.” He waved his hand. “We gotta go.”

You reluctantly collected your things and took Peter’s hand to pull him out of his seat. Peter followed you out the classroom but the teacher cleared her throat when you walked by.

“And where are you two going?” She asked. You and Peter exchanged looks as the class snickered and murmured their theories about what exactly you were heading off to do.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Pepper. My girlfriend and I have to leave class unexpectedly. Please excuse us. It’s urgent.” Peter’s said politely.

“I bet it’s urgent, Parker.” A boy snickered, making serval classmates laugh.

“Gross.” You wrinkled your noses and looked at the boys in disdain.

“Fine.” The teacher sighed. “The only reason I don’t write you two up for skipping so often is because you somehow have the best grades in the class. Go on. Just get the homework done.”

“We will.” You assured her before leaving the room with Peter. Peter noticed that you didn’t drop his hand even when you were alone in the hallway.

“Hey, you know that teachers name is Dr. Zhang and not Dr. Pepper, right?” You asked him.

“Oh my God.” Peter gasped. “Is it really? I’ve emailed her so many times and said “Dear Dr. Pepper”. We have to drop out.”

You laughed and held his hand the rest of the way out of the building.

That night, Peter laid in his bed with his phone held close to his face. He had been trying to figure out what to text you to let you know he had been thinking of you.

“I had fun fighting crime with you today” He wrote out. He read it over before scrunching his nose.

“No. Too cringe. She is not gonna fall in love with someone that says “fighting crime”. I’m not Paw Patrol.” He said like it was obvious. He deleted his text and thought of another one.

“I had a good time today, we make a good team” He wrote out instead. He read it a few times until he found issue with it.

“Oh, you had a good time stopping those break dancers that were obstructing that Sbarro? That’ll catch her attention.” Peter said sarcastically and deleted the text.

“have a goodnight :)” He typed out and then shook his head.

“No. Wayyyy too horny.” He sighed and deleted it again.

“night” He wrote out and read it a few times.

“This is good. I can work with this.” He nodded. He was about to workshop it when a text from you popped up.

“pick a color” It said. Peters heart skipped a beat at the vague message and replied with the first color that popped into his head.

“blue”

“thank u” You wrote back within seconds. Peters heart stopped pounded and the disappointment that the conversation was over settled in. After all these years of fighting crime together, you two never really managed to make it past the coworkers stage. He was desperate for more but never knew how to get there.

“no homo but I had fun fighting crime with you today” You suddenly texted again. A smile tugged at Peter’s lips and he touched his as if it were your face.

“ok paw patrol” He wrote back. Back in your room, you were laughing at his text and trying to think of a witty reply.

“ur mad bc you know I’m the chase 🐶” You texted him.

“if ur the Chase then who am I?”

“plssss ur such a marshall” You wrote back.

“but that’s the third most important dog :(“ Peter replied.

“well yes but he’s cute and wears red so the little paw patrol shoe fits” You answered. A blush painted Peters cheeks over you calling him cute but he didn’t want to read too much into it.

“Im wearing red right now😳” He texted back.

“oh I bet you are” You answered, making him laugh. He kept the conversation going for about an hour before duty called once again. Peter groaned and put his suit on before swinging to the scene of the crime. He met you there and stopped the crime before stopping on a nearby rooftop to rest.

“These burglars aren’t very considerate of our sleep schedules. Who robs a Jersey Mikes after midnight? Or, like, ever?” Peter huffed as he tugged his mask off.

“I know. They’re always at inconvenient times. I was in the middle of painting my nails.”

“Can I see?” He asked in a soft voice. You pulled your gloves off and held out your hand for him to see.

“Look. Blue. But I only got half way through before Mike’s was targeted.”

“It’s okay. They still look pretty.” Peter complimented you with a soft smile.

“Thanks. You picked a good color.” You replied.

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“I told you to pick a color. This is why.” You explained and held out your hand again. His eyes lit up at this new information and he took your hand to see your nails closer.

“You let me chose your nail color?” He smiled fondly.

“Well I didn’t know what to chose so I thought I’d ask the audience.” You shrugged and felt shy all of the sudden.

“Oh. And I’m the target audience, huh?” Peter smirked and turned towards you.

“I never said target.” You teased him and shoved him shoulder.

“I must be hearing things, then.” He shrugged as you both smiled.

“Yeah. Must be.” You said in a soft voice as you stared into his eyes. Peter gulped before making a bold move and taking your hand again under the guise of looking at your nails.

“Look at you. You even got my favorite shade.” He noted.

“You like “Eating For Blue”?” You pretended to gasp.

“Is that really the name of the color?” He laughed.

“Uh huh. It was apart of Essie’s baby fever collection. I almost chose “All In Blue Time” but that’s one tends to get little air bubbles and they give me agida. And I used to have “A Dream Come Blue” but it rolled under the sink so it belongs to the dust bunnies now.” You shrugged as you checked out your nails.

“Wow. This is all new information to me. So, are all nail polish colors named after puns and wordplay?” He asked as he stared into your eyes. He didn’t really care, but he was finally getting somewhere with you and didn’t want it to end.

“In my experience, yes. Not always color related wordplay but always something that makes you go yeah, I guess this shade of beige is what the word “ladylike” would be as a color.”

“This is blowing my mind right now.” Peter chuckled.

“You mean blue-ing your mind.” You corrected and tapped the side of your head.

“I think you inhaled too many of those fumes. Because that was not funny.” Peter said through a laugh.

“What?” You pretended to be offended. “You’re literally laughing right now. I’m so funny.”

“You are.” Peter admitted when his laughter died down. You stared into eyes for a minute before smiling.

“Is that what you rumored saw in me?” You asked him.

“Probably.” He chuckled. “I also heard a rumor that I think you’re really pretty. Like, the prettiest girl I was ever rumored to have allegedly seen.”

“Now you’re the one who’s looney from the fumes because that’s a straight up lie. I know you’ve seen prettier girls because I was standing right next to you when Anne Hathaway left that diner.” You said without making eye contact with him. Things were moving a little too fast and you needed it hit the brakes for a second.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” Peter forced a laugh and awkwardly looked over at the cityscape when he realized you were politely telling him to pull back.

“But I appreciate it.” You said after a beat of silence.

“Of course. Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking saying that.” He laughed nervously. “I was just getting caught up in the fake dating. We’ve been doing it for so long that it felt real.”

“We only started this morning.” You reminded him.

“Right. Well, it’s late. I’m gonna go home.” He said quickly and stood up. He had just blown that and needed to leave as quickly as possible.

“Okay. Goodnight. See you at school.” You called after him. Peter swung home with tears in his eyes and went straight to bed, missing your text about having fun fighting another crime.

The next day at school, Peter decided to start over and push last night from his mind. He played the part of your boyfriend to the best of his abilities and opened every door, pulled out every seat, and carried ever book for you all day long. Then he did it the next day, and the day after that. He kept his mouth shut about his feelings day in and day out no matter how painful it was getting. You and Peter had finally moved past the coworker stage and become real friends so he didn’t want to sabotage it all by telling you that he spent his days wishing for more.

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked him one day as you walked out of class together.

“My aunt is going out with her friends so I was probably gonna watch a movie on my couch. But on my laptop with my earbuds in. Likely in my boxers. Likely with an entire package of Twizzlers. Why?”

“Well I was gonna suggest that we hang out but you sound booked.”

“Really? You want to hang out?” Peter asked with much more enthusiasm than he intended.

“If you want. I’m not doing anything as exciting as boxers and Twizzlers.”

“I would love to. I’ll put on pants for you. I promise.”

“Sounds good.” You laughed. “Text me your address, okay?”

“Sure. Or you could walk with me now. Unless you’re tired of me and need a break before we hang out.” Peter suggested as you left campus together.

“It’s funny you say that. I was just telling my mom the other day that I never get tired of you.” You said casually.

“You..you don’t?” Peter’s face heated up as he followed you down the sidewalk.

“I don’t. I usually need a break from other people if we’ve been together awhile but it’s different with you. It doesn’t feel like I’m using my social battery if that makes sense.“

“It makes sense.” He smiled shyly as your hands bumped against each others. He was about to make a bold move and take your hand despite no one being around but you suddenly moved it to hit the crosswalk button.

Back at Peter’s apartment, he awkwardly gave you a tour and wished he had picked up his clothes before leaving the house that morning. You didn’t seem to mind the socks and boxers strewn across his room because you were too focused on all the little things he kept on his shelves. You picked up a picture frame of your freshman year high school class that had you and Peter seated right next to each other. Your friendship had only just begun so you often forgot how long you knew him for.

“So this is your room.” You smiled and put the picture back.

“Yup. This is where the magic happens.” Peter said and immediately cringed at himself.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. This is where I practice magic. Wanna see?” He asked and picked up a deck of cards. You laughed and went over to take one.

“Is your card the ace of spades?” He asked.

“Queen of hearts.” You snorted and turned the card around.

“You’re the queen of my heart.” He whispered.

“Did you say something?” You asked as you looked at all his Legos.

“I asked what you wanted to do tonight.” He lied.

“I don’t know. We have the place to ourselves. We could do something rated R.” You said with a coy smile.

“Like what?” Peter gulped.

“Watch an R rated movie, you perv. Your aunt isn’t here to stop you.”

“You remember me telling you that I’m not allowed to watch R rated movies in the living room anymore?” Peter blushed at you remembering something he had randomly told you long ago.

“Are you referring to the time you watched Tusk at full volume while she had her friends from work over for the first time? How could I forget?”

“In my defense, I didn’t know what the movie was about. And I didn’t think her friends were gonna come into the living room and see that guy getting turned into a walrus.”

“Yeah, the title and cover art gave no indication that the movie would end that way. But that’s not a bad idea actually. Let’s watch something scary.”

“Okay.” Peter agreed and followed you out into the living room. He turned off the lights and got some snacks while you picked a movie. He hated scary movies but he was not about to tell you that. Instead, he sat on the couch beside you as a respectful distance and handed you a bag of chips. As the movie went on, you got closer and closer to each other. Peter had never really seen you scared before but you were practically in his lap just 40 minutes into the movie. You reached into the bag of chips at the same time as Peter and your fingers touched. You both froze and looked at each other as your faces heated up.

“Shit. I’m not wearing a condom.” Peter sighed, making you yank your hand out and laugh.

“You’re stupid.” You laughed and turned back to the movie just as a jump-scare happened. You screamed and jumped closer to Peter.

“This is so scary. Why did I pick this movie?” You asked as you drew your knees up and leaned into his side.

“Yeah, same.” He replied, not even listening. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. You were cuddled into his side with your head on his shoulder and knees in his lap with a blanket drawn up to your nose. He knew you were only cuddling him because you were scared but it didn’t even matter at that point. The movie went quiet for a minute and then made a loud sound, sending you to burry your face into Peter’s neck.

“Tell me when it’s safe to come out.” You whispered into his ear. Peter gulped and wrapped an arm around you to fully protect you from the movie.

“I will.” He said in a soft voice. You peaked your head out a few minutes later but stayed nestled into Peter’s side. You realized his arm was around you and smiled a little.

“Oh, this isn’t so bad.” You shrugged as the main character got eaten alive.

“I don’t understand you.” Peter chuckled and looked down at you. You laughed as well as you looked into his eyes. He was about to say something when another sharp sound from the movie caused you to jump.

“Hold my hand.” You blurted and grabbed his hand. Peter happily accepted and clasped your hand before holding it under his chin. You stayed in that position for a long time and watched the movie. You were both so focused on the screen that you didn’t hear May opening the front door and coming in.

“Hey. I’m home.” She said, making you both scream.

“Oh, hi May.” Peter greeted while he realized it was just her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I’m-“

“I know.” She smirked. “I’ll just be in my room. But, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“No going in your room with the door closed, okay? I’m home. And we have thin walls. Just keep that in mind.” She said, making Peter turn bright red.

“Got it, May.” He mumbled. She winked at you and disappeared into her bedroom.

“You told your aunt we were dating?” You whispered to Peter in confusion.

“No.” Peter answered honestly. “I guess she just assumed we were.”

“Wow. She’s just like the kids at school.” You shook your head. “I don’t get it. Why does everyone think we’re dating?”

“I mean…” Peter trailed off and looked down at your clasped hands. You hadn’t realized you were still cuddling and quickly jumped off of him. Peters heart sank and the longer he sat in the absence of your body heat, the more upset he felt.

“You just jumped off of me like I was sharp.” He said without looking at you.

“I didn’t want your aunt to see us cuddling and think-“

“And think what?” He snapped, cutting you off. You gutted your head back in surprise and let out a nervous laugh.

“Woah. What’s going on with you? She already knows about your secret life. We don’t have any reason to pretend we’re dating in front of her.”

Peter stared at you for a long time as the word “pretend�� cut into him like a knife. Every time he thought you were going somewhere, he was reminded that it didn’t actually mean anything to you.

“Yeah. You’re right.” He mumbled and looked at the movie again. You kept your eyes on him and felt guilty. You had so much to say to him but you felt unable to speak.

“Peter-“

“I don’t think we should pretend to date anymore.” He blurted, cutting you off once again. Your eyebrows went up in surprise and you got a sick feeling in your tummy that you had just ruined something really important.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s stupid. No one even cares anymore.” He shrugged. “We don’t have to fake a breakup or anything but I don’t want to hold hands or play along anymore. I’m done.”

“What changed?” You asked in a soft voice. He was still looking at the movie while you were fully turned to face him.

“Nothing changed. That’s the problem.” He said and angrily got off the couch. You quickly caught his hand and he stopped. He looked down at the ground and let out a sigh. He knew it wasn’t fair to be mad at you if he hadn’t told you what was wrong. He slowly turned around and looked at you.

“Five years ago, you showed up to the same robbery at an all night CVS that I was at and I realized we knew each other from AP Spanish class because I had asked you earlier that day how to conjugate “poner” and you said “pusiste” and I laughed because I thought you were joking but you weren’t and then that night you heard me tell the burglar that he better“pusiste” the money back into the register.“ Peter began.

“Okay. Wow. That was a really long sentence.” You laughed softly. “But I remember that. I laughed and told you that you better remember that for the test.”

“You did. That’s how I knew it was you.” He smiled at the memory. “I failed that test, by the way. I still can’t conjugate “poner.” And I still think it means “boner” even though I know it’s a verb. But anyway, that night, I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited to have met you. Even though we technically already knew each other, that night put us in each others radars. I could not believe that I had met my match. You’re into science like me and sarcastic like me and you understand this side of my life because you have the same side. But despite running into each other on patrol almost nightly and seeing each other around school, I barely got you to notice me. I don’t think you even knew my name until we ended up going the same college. You called me “Timmy” all throughout high school.”

“You seriously look like one. It’s uncanny. I don’t know what it is.”

“I thought things would change when I found out we were going to the same college. The campus is so small I figured there’s no way we wouldn’t become friends. But even then, we hardly ever talked and when we did it was always about work. I didn’t even know where you lived until last semester.”

“I remember that too. The first night we really bonded was when you fell off that roof because you were trying to show me how to do a backflip.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been able to do a backflip.” He admitted. “I only said I could because you said you always wanted to learn how to do one and I assumed given my abilities I’d be able to do one if I just followed my body. But I busted my ass and you were kind enough to sneak me through your window and patch me up with some Scooby Doo bandaids.”

“It was all I had.” You shrugged.

“And you gave it to me anyway. Because you’re kind and compassionate and I’m just…I’m crazy about you.” Peter finally admitted. “I was so excited when we started hanging out more this semester but it always ended up crushing me when I remembered that we just doing it to keep people from finding out the truth. I really, really love our friendship and if I’m ruining it all by saying all this then at least I can die with it off my chest.”

“Wait, now I’m confused. Are you dying?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “It feels like I am every time you and I start to get close and then I remember this is all pretend for you.”

“So it’s not pretend for you?” You asked quietly. Peter stared into your heads for a minute and then shook his head.

“No. I was never pretending. I like you.” He told you. Your facial expression didn’t change as you stared back at him. Peter was really starting to panic until a smile tugged at your lips.

“Sit back down.” You told him.

“I’m sat.” He said and rushed it sit down. You nestled back into his side and laid your head down on his shoulder. Peter smiled and rested his head on top of yours, finally pleased with the way a conversation with you went. You both turned your attention back to the movie just in time for it to end.

“Hm.” You huffed. “That was supposed to be us symbolically finishing the movie as a real couple but it appears we’ve already arrived at the credits. Now what?”

“We could watch Tusk.” Peter suggested at the same time you said “We could make out.”

“I never actually saw Tusk but I always wanted to.” You gasped and hit his arm with excitement.

“Or we could do your thing.” Peter forced a laugh and tried not to sound as desperate as he felt.

“Let me see if I can find it.” You said as you scrolled through the streaming services on his TV.

“Or we could do your thing.”

Tag List 🏷️

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@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[cheeseceli]

SKZ arguing over the bill

Pairing: ot8!skz × gn!reader (individually)

Genre: fluff

Request: yes!

Warning: mentions of food, reader never pays lmao. Changbin, Chan, Seungmin's were heavily inspired by "Telling your Stray Kids boyfriend you can’t afford to eat out with them" by @ronnierites . If you don't allow this pls lemme know and I'll delete this post. Not proofread

A/n: that's kinda a new format, hope you guys like it! And this have been on my to do list since forever lol sorry for the wait

Bang Chan

Doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable

But he wants to spoil you so badly

Would let you pay if you were uncomfortable but he wants to make sure you get it he would love to pay for you as well

"You know Chris, I can pay for it."

"I know."

"So?"

"I'd rather do it. But thank you baby."

"But-" you stopped talking once you saw his card swiping. You truly should be used at this point "oh."

"Why do I feel like you're unhappy?"

"It's not that I am not happy, it's just that you always pay."

"It's my pleasure."

"But I don't know, I don't want you to think you're being pressured or something like that."

"Babe, I don't feel like that at all. Don't you worry. You're always doing so much for me, that's just a little 'thank you' of mine."

You gave him a little smile and proceeded to hug him, feeling safe in his warmth.

"I'm so lucky to have you."

"I should be the one saying it."

Lee Know

Bro you don't even spare a chance

He's paying before you even have a chance to take your wallet out of your pocket

I'm surprised you even try tbh

"Should we ask for the bill?"

"Oh, I already paid for it, don't worry."

You looked dumbfounded at him while he was finishing his food. You didn't see him talk to a waiter and you're sure he didn't pay for it before you two had your meal.

"What? When?"

"When we were asking for the dishes. Didn't you see it?"

"No?" you tried to recall the moment with no success "Why would you pay? I feel bad that you pay for everything all the time. I don't feel like reciprocating enough."

His eyes soften and a little smile comes to his lips while he watches you pout. If only you knew how much you did for him.

"Hey, look at me. It's okay. You already reciprocate with everything you do. That's already perfect"

Changbin

He pays with the money, you pay back with kisses

Sorry but that's his boyfriend duty

He is physically incapable of not paying for everything

"Hey baby. I'm off work in 40 minutes. I'll pick you up so we can have lunch, okay?"

You were glad that for once you were on a voice call with him instead of being in a face time like you'd usually do. This way he didn't see the way your smile dropped so quickly.

"Um, I don't think I'll be able to."

"Oh? Why?"

"I'm kinda... broke right now. I haven't received my last payment yet."

"Okay? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't want you to be the one who always pays for our things. I should be able to pay sometimes."

"You don't need to. That's my boyfriend duty. You know I don't mind, I actually enjoy it quite a lot."

"Still bothers me though. I'd hate to not contribute at all."

"You can always cuddle with me and shower me with kisses. That will make me happier than anything money can buy."

Hyunjin

Stop he'll be like genuinely so sad if he can't pay

He would let you pay if you were really insistent

But then he'll go like :( and you would let him take the bill out of pity lmao

"Hyunjin, stop looking at me like that."

"But darling, I can pay. You know it doesn't bother me."

"Just this once, let me pay, okay?"

"Okay"

"...Jinnie I really need you to stop that."

"I'm not even doing anything."

"Oh God" you sigh and let your head fall, knowing the man beside you won the argument once more "Fine. You can pay."

He didn't waste a second, swiping his card as fast as possible just so you couldn't have the time to change your mind. After he payed the meal, he took your hand in his and started to walk in the direction of the restaurant's exit with a triumphant (and really sweet) smile.

"I swear I don't get why you like to pay so much."

"My love should be treated as royalty, and that includes me paying for everything you wish for."

Han

Bro is offended

Believes with all his heart that he should be the one paying

Tries to distract you when the time to pay comes

"Were you paying while I was in the restroom?"

"... perhaps."

"Han."

"Baby. You know I like to pay for you."

"But you do that all the time."

"It's my way of showing love! If you ask me, I actually don't think it's enough. It's the least I can do."

He could see in your eyes that you weren't convinced. Unfortunately (for you), he only saw that as an opportunity to spend even more money. Maybe then you would believe him.

"C'mon, lemme show you a little bit of love. You can pay me back with thousands of kisses if that's what's bothering you."

Felix

He loves to pay.

If he could, he would pay for absolutely everything that you could ever want or need.

But if that's something which really bothers you, he will let you pay as well

Tries to do that "the one who invites is the one who pays" thing and fails

"Felix. Don't even dare."

He looked at you confused until he realised you were staring at the credit card in his hand, probably hoping that it could disappear before the waiter came back with the bill.

"C'mon, it's just a small lunch. I can pay for it."

"No. I invited you. I pay."

"Actually, if you think about it, I'm the one who suggested this place."

"Two years ago."

"Still counts."

"Not as an invitation though. I'm the one who asked if you wanted to come here."

Felix sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to convince you of otherwise. If only he could.

"Okay. Next time it's on me."

Seungmin

LMAO sorry you're 100% not paying

Don't even try

Boyfriend duty pt 2 except he is even more dedicated somehow

"Why did you bring your wallet?"

"I wanted to pay for this one."

"... why?"

"You always pay for everything."

"And I don't plan on stopping so you can take your wallet away."

"Minnie, please. I don't want you to be the one who always end up paying for everything."

"But I want to. I wouldn't mind paying for every single thing for the rest of our lives. So you can't take your money away of my sight because I'm paying."

"For the rest of our lives huh?"

"Don't tease." But you didn't miss how the corners of his lips lifted once he thought you weren't looking anymore.

I.N

Rock, paper, scissors. The winner is the one who pays

It's funny and neither of you can complain about the outcome of it because it's technically fair

Except you always throw scissors first and never noticed it

And Jeongin doesn't have the heart to tell you

"We should change this game."

"No way" he said while giving the money to the cashier whilst trying to hide his grin from you "Not my fault you are horrible at this."

"Seriously though, I think you're cheating. It's impossible for you to win every single time."

"How does one cheat at 'rock, paper, scissors'? Besides, you won yesterday."

"After losing at least 50 times. And I got to pay for some ice cream. It's not the same as paying for a whole meal."

"Get better at this and maybe you get to pay for a whole meal one day. C'mon, we can have some milkshake now. Maybe you'll win this time."

You had a feeling you wouldn't though. He was sure you wouldn't.

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[no-144444]

temptations- m.verstappen

Day 11 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: you and max are on break and things get out of hand. Nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?

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You stepped into the villa with one idea in your mind, relax. 

The season had been full of highs and lows, and Max needed to get his mind off racing for a while, and you needed to get your mind off your work. You needed him, to be honest. 

The villa was just on the coast, a beautiful stone dock with a small boat sat at the end of the garden, giving way to the gorgeous views of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Max had done well to find a place on the Amalfi coast on such short notice. Minori was gorgeous at this time of year, and you weren’t letting it go to waste. Your days were filled with good food, good conversation, great wine, fun activities, and good company. As much as you enjoyed spending time with your friends or Max’s friends, you both needed some time with each other. The season had been heretic, and Max had started panicking a few weeks back about whether or not he’d win again. Of course, you’d been there to tell him that it’d be alright either way, and he shouldn’t listen to that awful voice in his head that his father planted at the ripe old age of 4, and, of course, he tried as hard as possible, but he slowly fell further into his spiral over losing. You needed to get him away from it all, just let him be Max, not Max Verstappen, 3 time World Champion. 

The sun slowly set over the ocean as you sat on the patio after another long day of swimming, visiting the local sights, and just enjoying each other's company. “More wine?”

You smiled up at him and nodded. He topped off your glass and sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissed your head. “Thanks baby.”

He took a deep breath, one of relief. You hadn’t seen him so calm in months. It was refreshing to remind both you and him that he wasn’t a racing robot. “I miss the cats.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure Lando is taking good care of them, he sent me some photos earlier and they’re not dead yet, so that’s a plus.” 

He rolled his eyes. “What a high bar,” he replied sarcastically. 

“At least he didn’t lock them in a room,” you teased and he rolled his eyes yet again. 

“It was an accident,” he groaned. 

You pressed your lips to his in an unspoken apology.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips. “So fucking perfect.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you chuckled. “I love it here.”

“We should buy a place here,” he thought out loud. “Regular vacation spot?”

You nodded. “It’d be nice.” 

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, Lando. “I’d better take this.” 

You nodded, letting go of him. You thought over the past few days. From the dreamy mornings to the blissful nights, there was one thing you two hadn’t done yet, that you just had to do. On your 3rd date, over 4 years ago, he made an off-handed comment about the fact that he ‘would never go skinny-dipping’. 

Yeah, you were changing that tonight.

You quickly pulled off your dress, your panties and bra, and waited in the warm Italian air for Max to be done speaking with Lando. 

When he came back out, it was safe to say he was shocked. “Are you becoming a nudist?” 

You burst out laughing, taking his hand. “No! We’re going skinny-dipping.”

He shook his head. “Why would we do that? If you want to go swimming i can get your suit-”

“You can’t fuck me through the suit, can you?”

Again, too stunned to speak. 

“Come on Max! You’re 27 and you’ve never skinny-dipped? That’s ridiculous!”

You slowly watched him become motivated (aka, your tits were in his face), and he smirked, pulling off his top. “This is so stupid,” he commented before pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You two walked down to the pier, Max shredding clothes as you went and stealing kisses. You both jumped in, the water a comfortable temperature over both of you. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Are you?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, kissing you hungrily. He pushed you up against the stairs kissing down your neck as you both let the world fall away. All you were thinking about was his lips on your skin and the heat in your core.

He ran a finger through your heat, smirking. “Wet already?” 

“We’re in the ocean,” you smirked, he shook his head. 

“You’re impossible.”

“You love it-”

A camera click. A motherfucking camera click. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Instinctively you both rushed to cover yourselves. This was private property, private land, and you could sue them for posting those pictures. But they’d still be on the internet. For anyone to see. It was you who they could see, Max had his back to the camera. 

Your career was over. Your family would disown you. Your life would be over. Shit. 

Max reached over, grabbing a towel you’d left out to dry on the stairs and wrapped it around you and you quickly ran inside, rushing to shower and get into pyjamas. You loved Max, you loved his passion for the sport, but god did you hate the attention it gathered. 

“It’s alright,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms as you sat in bed. “We’ll deal with it.” 

You let out a pathetic chuckle. “Easy for you to say, it’s not your tits that will be sprawled all over the papers tomorrow.”

“They aren’t mine, no. But they are my girlfriend’s.” 

You nodded, he had a point. “Fair.”

He brushed a hand through your hair. “Whatever happens, we can handle it, yeah?”

You nodded. Maybe it would be alright.

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yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen, and 6,873,939 others

yourusername: god forbid a girl has hobbies tmz.

comments

landonorris: didn't realise being fucked in public was a hobby? -> yourusername: IT WASN'T PUBLIC WE WERE IN OUR PRIVATE VILLA

user55: oh she's serving CUNT

user22: not her hitting back, slay.

oscarpiastri: I fear this may be an original experience. -> maxverstappen: thanks for pointing out the obvious osc 👍

charlesleclerc: Never needed to see those pics 👍 -> yourusername: bro is SO jealous right now. -> user43: ????? -> yourusername: I HAVE MAX AND U DON'T HA HA -> user43: OHHHHH

georgerussell: Do we go to the FIA about this? -> maxverstappen: what can they do? give her a penalty for showing off her tits? -> yourusername: my GORGEOUS tits* -> landonorris: buddy is in the dog house.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[yuyu1024]

Lettuce

Pairings: Mingyu × y/n

Genre/tags: non idol, dating

Warning: 🔞 fluff but still smut, pet names (babes, baby, love, honey, sweetheart etc.), cursing, unportected/protected sex (always be safe), kinks (size, breeding, tits, etc), mention of small age gap, mention of low self-esteem/confidence and insecurities

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.6k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: been away. I didnt know if I should post this or delete but then... I dont want effort to go to waste so.. 😅 i hope this is an okay one.

Have a nice day.

Masterlist

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

"Are you still waiting for your ride home?"

You look at the group of girls standing a few feet away from you. They are from the department across your office.

"Is your boyfriend late?" She adds a follow up question

You smile, "I am." You cautiously answer.

They are not your friends so you are not comfortable to share more than that. And also they are known to be the gossipers in the officr so, any details about your personal life would be the next topic for the next few weeks if you share anything with them.

"It's already late... are you sure he's still coming?" One girl asks.

Luckily, the bus arrives just in time for them to hurry in. No time for you to even chat with them anymore.

"Thank goodness..." you sigh feeling relieved.

*pings*

🐶: sorry, im late. 😭

🐶: i helped an old lady cross the street.

🐶: didn't know she would ask me to also help her get boxes of soju in her shop.

🐶: she admitted to pretending to struggle crossing the street so she can ask anyone to help her and his son 🙃 and then made me buy a whole bunch of lettuce.

🐶: like a whoke bunch😶

🐶: you like lettuce right babe?😚

You smile as you read your boyfriend's text. You don't know if its you imagining him pouting because he feels sorry he made you wait or its because he felt used and scammed.

💖: you're so silly.

💖: its still a good deed so its okay 😊

🐶: but i am 10mins late.

🐶: i cant let my princess wait for me.

💖: i can wait. As long as its you... ♥️

You see him read the message and then not reply.

"Hello stranger..."

You got startled when Mingyu embraces you from behind and kissed you on the cheek.

"Yah! You scared me." You slap his arm

"Sorry..." he giggles and kissed you again. This time on the lips.

"Stop..." you say, blushing. "We are outside."

"So...?" He grins and then puts his arm around you. "We are a couple. Who the fuck cares?"

You roll your eyes. "You know people judge..."

"No... they are just jealous because I am dating a wonderful woman..."

You shake your head. "No... they are not jealous because of me..." you push him away. Forcing a laugh. "Probably because you look good in that double denim look."

Here you go again with your self pity and self judging. You always do this. 'This' notion that you are way below over any other girl and that you are just lucky Mingyu is your boyfriend. You always make an effort to put yourself down without even noticing that Mingyu does not like it.

He fucking loves you. Inside and out. From head to toe. From front to back. He even loves it when you are not at your best behavior nor position. He just... loves you. Period.

But on your end, even with a million reassurance, you always doubt yourself for him.

***

Arriving at his apartment, the first thing you did was announce that you are going to take a shower. You didn't even looked at him when you said it. You're not mad at him or whatever. You are just guilty and feel sorry for being down out of the blue. You didn't even talked that much during the ride home.

"Hey..." he takes you by your arm and pulls you close for an embrace. He kissed the top of your head and then forehead. "Take your time... I'm going to cook dinner."

You smile with no teeth showing. "Okay..." your voice sounding almost a whisper.

"Anything in particular you want? We have meat, fish and vegetables... like a lot of lettuce..." referring to the whole plastic the old lady sell him. "You want something with soup or fried? Ramyun or pasta?"

"Hmm... I like pasta... and a salad on a side?"

"Okay... as you wish my princess..."

The whole apartment smells like a five star restaurant. The fragrance is to die for and makes your mouth water. When you got out of the bedroom, hair still damp, you got suprised by how extravagant Mingyu arranged the dining area. Fancy plates, lit candles, wine glasses and a bottle of his favorite red win. All of a sudden, iy felt like you entered an Italian restaurant wearing your baby pink pajamas and hello kitty slippers.

"Hi, babe." Mingyu is a ray of sunshine while putting on a few more finishing touches on the table. "Ready to eat?"

"Aww..." your heart is aching with pure joy. He is the sweetest man alive.

You stumble your way to him, caused by your own feet. He managed to catch you giggling with you. You look silly but he find it cute. And then as your eyes met he immediately captures your lips for a kiss. Small pecks that got deeper and more seductive. The kisses are loud that it echoes and bounce off the walls of the apartment. He can't also stop touching every curve of your body. From your hips, to your ass and to your tits. He even lifted your shirt so he can access your bra and yank one side down exposing you boob.

"M-mingyu...." you giggle as you try to pull away from the kiss. He does not want to let you go. He keeps on chasing your pink lips whenever a gap starts to build in betweem his. "We need to eat... the food will get cold..."

He didn't answer. He leans lower so he could give love on your exposed bud. He suck it first before he lets his tongue lick it and make your squirm.

"M-mingyu..." you inhale. "The food...?"

He finally lets you go, smiling. "Fine." He chased one more kiss. "But after we eat..." and another one. "I'd like to go straight to dessert." And another one. "You know I love my dessert." He says, bitting his lower lip while grinning like a mad dog.

"You're crazy!" You pinch his nose.

"Crazy over you..." he growls and suddenly picks you up off the floor. He puts your legs around his waist and you automatically hang your arms over his shoulder to hold on.

"Yah!"

"I can't wait. I think I want to begin our dinner with dessert first." His eyes is filled with desire and he is ready to wreck you.

Kicking the door open to your bedroom, Mingyu lays you down gently but in a hurry at the same time. He is on a mission. He is not going to make love to you. He will FUCK your brains out tonight. You know that look in his eyes.

"No condoms... I need to feel you... skin to skin..." he pulls his shirt off and throws it, hitting the wall, then begins to unbuckle his belt and pants. "And I'll like to fill you up until it leaks out of your pussy." He adds, grinning

"Oh God..." you try to get a hold of yourself. Not ready for what is coming

He pushes down his pants and underwear in one go. His length springs free and is up, steady and hard. It's tip glistening with pre cum.

"Turn around..."

You do as he says and go on fours on top of the bed. He pulls your pants down, revealing a bare and wet pussy ready to be torn.

"No panties huh..."

You blush. "Well... I know we'll have sex today... I just didn't know its going to be this soon..."

Mingyu hovers on your back, hand sliding up and down your curves. "Do you want me to stop and just go on with dinner?"

You lower your heard, embarassed, even though he's not seeing how turned on and red you are. "No... I would never say no to you..." after a few breaths in you look back, cheeks red and warm. "You know sex with you is my only addiction."

"Fuck yeah it is..." he says proudly and satisfied

He eases himself in, slowly but deliciously. He skipped prepping you. He can't wait anymore. His dick is aching and wanting to feel your walls.

"I'll be a little rough to you today, babe." He smacks your ass and a moan escapes your lips. "I didn't like what you did earlier..."

"Ughhh!" He slams strong and consistent. It's driving you insane how he could hit the very back of your cervix. Actually he could hit every thing inside you. Thats how long and thick he is. "W-hat... what did... I do?" You arch your back and pushed your upper body up so he can embrace you and touch your body as he thrust your brains out.

"You know..." he grunts as he adjusts and tries to go deeper, even though he is already at the deep end of your insides. "I don't like it... when you don't appreciate yourself..." he inhales and exhales as he feels you clench and make it tighter. "Fuck! Babe!" He kisses the curves of your neck and bites on your shoulder when he feels the tightness thats make it fucking sensational for him

You ubotton your top to give him access to your chest. You didn't unhook your bra though. You just pulled the ladies out and the bra helps give them a push up.

"You are beautiful... sexy... and a wonderful woman..." he pushes your hair out of his way so he can kiss your neck. "Love yourself... the way I love you."

He then pulls out, almost making you cry and beg. But them makes you turn around to face him.

"Can you?" He asks with the most loving eyes

You crash your lips to his. Pushing your tongue in him. You didn't stop until you hear a moany cry from your boyfriend. His brows then creases when you playfully bite his lower lip. "I want to..."

"But what?" He carries you off the bed and pins you to the wall, beside the window of your bedroom. Your one leg touching the ground while the other is hooked over his forearm. "Answer me, babe."

He slams back in you. Stronger and much deeper. Which confused you coz how? Its not like your cervix can expand. But thats what it felt when he slammed you. It didn't hurt. It felt insane actually. Insanely goodm

"You are kind... sweet... caring... hardworking... knows what you like and dislike... respectful..."

You are catching your breathe in your throat. Its like you are choking from excess pleasure. You try to speak but you can't let go of the high. So instead of speaking, you just shook your head.

"You don't agree?" He asks. Mingyu looks at you with his puppy eyes and showered you with kisses. Then he kept repeating all the good qualities you have as a person and even physically.

He really is telling you every bits about you. Everything that he loves and dislike but accepts coz it is you. It is part of you. He really do love you.

"What can I do... to reassure you?"

You put your hand over his mouth. Not to shut him down but to hush him for a second. Just for a moment until you get it all out for him.

"Fuck me!" You cry as you can't help but  cry more of his name. You are so close to your orgasm. "Nggghhhh...!"

You shut your eyes ready to explode but then Mingyu pulls away from your hand, takes you back in bed to finish, when he suddenly says the two words you didn't expect him to say while he's fucking your brains out

"Marry me..." he says.

Your eyes opens, looks at him in pure shock and bliss. "W-wha..." you can't finish your words. He was hammering you. You can't answer. "Mingyu!" You moan his name so loud when your world spun around.

"I love you." He grunts as he see you melt and when he pushed into you a few more times, he finally begins release himself you. All the warmth and every drop of him in you. "Fuck!" He exhales, dropping his body on you but not his weight. "I love you..." he says again. "So much..." he kisses your shoulder and then your cheek. "So... what do you say?" He smirks

"Suddenly?" You look at him, confused.

"Hmmm..." he scrunches his nose, still wearing the smile on his lips. "Not really..."

He then gets up, pulling out of you, which felt like you got more naked than what you are now. More exposed.

"Wait lemma clean you first."

He runs into the bathroom and takes a towel to wipe you clean. Just clean enough to be presentable but not totally wipe his seeds off you. He wants that in there.

And then he runs out of the room.

"Where are you going? Babe?" You are confused. Why is your man running outside the bedroom ass naked

Giggling as you see him comeback in and carrying the plastic bag of lettuce.

"Huh? What's that for?" You sit up and wrap the thin white blanket to your body.

"I lied. Well... we still going to have salads and all..." he is mumbling. "This should be over dinner... but... I could not help myself earlier so..."

"Mingyu... what is going on...?"

Laughing but still trying to pull a serious face. "It was true that an old lady sold me this but... as I was helping her she took the paper bag the came wit this... and I panicked." He sits down beside you. "I didn't want to put it in my jacket or pocket coz... it will be obvious... and when we walk and your cold you always put your hand in my jacket's pockst so..."

"Mingyu!" You grab his face and kissed him. To make him focus. "Just say it..." you are giggling now too.

"Okay..." a soft smile spreads to his lips. "I know... you may think... I'm still young and naive."

"No you're not..."

"Yeah but... still... anyways..." he nervously laughs. "Like I said... you are an amazing woman. Anyman who you choose to love will be the luckiest. And thankfully its me..." he then goes down to his one knee and pulls out a black box from the plastic of lettuce. "I said I didn't like what you did earlier... you looking down at yourself... but that does mean I hate you or mad at you for it... I just say that because I care.. I want you to feel... assured and happy." He opens the box and shows the most brightest ring you ever saw in your life. "If I have to always reassure you for the rest of our lives... I don't fucking care. I am up for it. I love you and I can't live a day without you." Pulling out the ring and taking your hand. "Please marry me... I will serve you and love you forever..."

You watch him put the ring on your finger.

"So...?" He looks at you with doe eyes

Letting go of the blanket covering your body, you launch yourself to him, making you guys fall on the floor. "I love you Kim Mingyu..." you say first before kissing him. "Forever is not a bad idea..." you kiss him again. "Of course I will accept."

"Sorry if I proposed to you after sex... at diner would've been fantastic"

"Don't say sorry... I do love your way..." you get up from embracing him. "It brings back to how we started."

He sits back up. "Right."

Then you stare at your ring. "Who could've guessed that... I will be marrying the guy I met and fucked at a friend's birthday?"

[pathologicalreid]

the archer | S.R.

in which a trip to your hometown leads to an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angst

content warnings: normal cm violence/death. mentions of sexual assault and physical assault. mentions of miscarriage and dv. arson/fires. please take care of yourself while reading <3.

word count: 5.96k

a/n: if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, the US hotline is 800-799-7233. be well and be safe.

can you see right through me?

Emily had called you into her office fifteen minutes before the briefing began to let you know that the case was in your hometown. “There are some things that may come to light in a small town, and I wanted to let you know that you can stay behind if you need to,” she told you, having shut the blinds to her office to give you the most privacy she could.

Giving it a moment, you thought about it before you met her eyes, “if someone tries to say something, I’d rather be there to clear things up than let them say anything.” You wiped your clammy palms on your plants before standing up, “and besides, who better to work on victimology than someone who knows the town.”

You stepped out of the office, holding the door open for Emily before the two of you made your way to the roundtable room.

The two victims had been killed a week apart, they were both women who you had gone to school with. The first was in your graduating class, Victoria Reynolds, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The second was a year ahead of you, Melanie Baylor, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The team had been called in by the lead detective on the case, Charlie Platten, and he had likely made the call without telling the police chief.

It had already been three days since the second body was recovered, and Emily didn’t want to waste any more time. You left the roundtable room to grab your go-bag, smiling when you felt a familiar presence next to you. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, leaning against your desk while you reached underneath it for your bag.

Stepping in front of him, you looked up at him, “I’m okay, Spence.” You plopped your go bag on top of your desk, “it’ll be okay,” you whisper.

“And if at any point it’s not,” he prompted, placing a hand on your waist.

You simpered up at him, “You’ll be the first person I go to, love.”

He reached over and grabbed your bag off of your desk, carrying it to where the rest of the team is waiting for the elevator. “I’ll admit, I am interested in seeing your hometown,” he told you, letting you step into the elevator before him.

“Yeah, Y/N, maybe you can show us some of your old haunts once we solve the case,” Luke chimed in from the back of the elevator.

Laughing breathily, you turned your head to face Luke, “Do I really strike you as the kind of person to have ‘old haunts’, Alvez?”

A few of your team members chuckle. You faced forward, wondering how long it would be before one of them saw through you. When working with profilers, it was always a risk.

'cause all of my enemies started out friends

Emily sent you and Luke to the latest crime scene while she and Spencer set up at the precinct. JJ and Matt met with the latest victim's family while Tara and Rossi met with the medical examiner. Your stomach felt unsettled as soon as the plane landed, you had a bad feeling about this case. Spencer tried to ask you what was going on with you, but you just brushed him off.

You would tell him. After this case was over and you went home, you would tell Spencer everything. He deserved that.

“Did you know her?” Luke asked, using a gloved hand to inspect a shard of glass he found on the concrete.

Blinking rapidly, you snapped out of your stupor, “Melanie? Yeah, she was a year ahead of me in school. I graduated with Victoria though.” You used the toe of your boot to clear some dirt off of what looked like some sort of plaque. “I wasn’t all that close with either of them, but in a town this small, you kind of know everyone,” you explained.

Standing back up and walking back over to Luke, you looked at the building, it’s an abandoned factory on the edge of town. “Is there any significance to this building?”

“It was a functioning factory in the eighties,” you explained, looking at the vines growing up the side of it. “This business was the entire economy of the town, when the factory went down, so did the town.”

Luke nodded, taking a step back and eyeing the entire decrepit building. “And the church? Where the first body was found.”

You pursed your lips, “Only church in town, I was baptized there, when it burned down people had nowhere else to go, so they stopped believing.”

“How did the fire start?” He asked, turning the knob on the factory door, and looking surprised when it opened.

You shrugged, “lightning strike, I thought. I wasn’t much of a believer, especially once my mom died.”

Alvez nodded in understanding, “Would you say that both of these locations are important to the town and its history?”

Nodding, you followed Luke back to the SUV, leaning back in the passenger seat as you mentally prepared yourself for the scene your arrival at the precinct was about to cause.

When you got there, you immediately spotted the police chief ripping the lead detective, Charlie, a new one outside the front door. He saw you and did a double take, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Sir, we’re members of the BAU, our-“ Luke started explaining, obviously confused at the chief’s combative nature.

He held up a hand, “I wasn’t talking to you, agent.” Turning to face you, “You don’t show your face at home, leaving in the middle of the night ten years ago and now you’re what? A big bad FBI agent?”

You stiffened, pushing your shoulders back as you faced him. Stand tall, stay strong. “It wasn’t the middle of the night, and the FBI is only big and bad to the people who deserve it, Frank.”

The man in front of you scoffed, “I’m talking to your supervisor, you’re not working on this case.” He pushes past you, causing you to stumble back against the wall.

“What was that about? Who was that guy?” Luke asked, looking at you as you got your bearings back before walking into the precinct.

Bowing your head, you grumbled, “You just met my father.” At that moment, you were glad to be facing away from him, because you weren’t sure you could face any of it.

You’re still the newest member of the BAU, technically being a profiler but Emily pulled you in to help with public communications, since the old unit chief had been handling it along with Garcia, Emily did the same. When Spencer went to prison, she found she needed extra help, so you were snagged from your cozy office in sex crimes and sent to the BAU.

You fit in well with everyone, and you never really felt the need to prove yourself. Even taking the initiative to write letters to Spencer, because you didn’t want to be a stranger to him when he came back. So, when you met face-to-face last year, he thanked you. When you kissed him eight months ago, you both agreed to move slowly.

Seven months ago, he showed up at your door and told you he loved you.

Emily gave you an understanding look when she saw you walk into the police station, she, of course, knew everything about your situation.

“We don’t have enough for any sort of geographic profile yet,” Spencer said, standing in front of a whiteboard with a map over it, along with pictures of the two victims. He turned as soon as he saw you, smiling in a silent greeting. You winked in response, sitting down in the office chair next to him.

Luke stood in front of you, blocking your view of the whiteboard, “What do you mean that was your father? Why wouldn’t you say that your dad was the chief of police here?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “I may share DNA with the man, but I haven’t seen Frank Burris since I was twenty years old.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? Did she tell you?” Luke asked Spencer, who was still looking at the whiteboard, entirely unbothered.

“What did you find at the crime scene?” Emily asked, effectively ending Luke’s questioning. You had no idea if she had heard any of the previous conversation, but either way, you were grateful for the change in subject.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and faced her, “The dump sites are all places that are former symbols of the town, maybe the unsub wants to further desecrate these locations.” Emily nodded, prompting you to continue. “These kills are angry, the overkill and sexual assault definitely lean toward a male offender, I think the unsub is angry,” you said.

“Angry that his town is no longer what it once was,” Spencer suggested, taking his eyes off the whiteboard. “Are there any other locations that could fit that general description?”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Probably, I haven’t been here in ten years, it might help to talk to a local. Charlie could probably help.”

“Charlie can’t help with anything; the chief took him off the case. It belongs to me now,” a voice behind you said. Immediately, you straightened up in your chair, earning a strange look from Spencer. “Y/N, I’m looking forward to working with you,” the male voice said.

Swallowing thickly, you turned and faced him, “I wish I could say the same, Johnny.” You stood up, needing as much ground as you could get. “Do you know any places that would fit the description? Somewhere that used to be a symbol in the down, but is abandoned now?”

“The school burnt down about eight days ago, but you’d know that if you gave a damn about us,” he said indignantly, looking down at you.

You felt Spencer stand behind you, “do you have some kind of problem?”

Johnny eyed your boyfriend and you hoped he didn’t catch on to your relationship, “If I’m being totally honest, I’m not completely comfortable working with Y/N.”

“Our team was called in to help solve these murders and Agent Y/L/N is a part of that team,” Emily defended you. “If you have a problem, I suggest you suck it up until this case is solved.”

Angrily, Johnny stalked off. You turned around and grabbed a file off of the desk, glancing over at Emily and silently thanking her.

help me hold on to you

Later in your shared hotel room, Spencer looked at you curiously, “Was he an ex-boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the bed, it wasn’t the worst bed you’ve slept in since joining the BAU, but it certainly wasn’t going to be winning any awards any time soon. “Don’t be jealous, Spence, it’s unbecoming," you deflected.

Spencer climbed on top of the bed and kissed your forehead, “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned.”

That made your heart clench, you sat up in the bed and cupped his face with your hands, “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You studied his face, the small crease in his forehead that told you he was overthinking the situation made you sigh. Gently, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “If I think you need to be concerned, I’ll tell you,” you whispered, allowing him to gather you in his arms.

“Okay, angel,” he whispered back.

You sighed and laid back against the pillows, “I have a bad feeling about this case,” you told him softly. Spencer doesn’t believe in intuition the way you do, but he’d never discredit your feelings.

He reached over and swept your hair behind your ear, “Me too.”

Pulling away from him, you looked at him curiously, “Why?”

He shrugged, “Both of them look like you. You’re the same age as them.” The victims, he was saying the victims were too similar to you for his own comfort. You hadn’t really given it much thought. If you start comparing yourself to the victims, you’d freeze up. That was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you comforted, curling up next to him.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey

The call came at five in the morning, only four hours after you had gone to sleep. Splitting up into two SUVs, half of you went to the precinct while the other half of you went to the crime scene.

“Katherine Meadows was dumped in front of the school,” Emily said, leading you, Tara, and Rossi into the precinct. You were still pulling your blazer on over your tank top, having been given approximately five minutes between waking up and getting out the door.

You stopped in your tracks; your mouth went dry. You knew of the other victims, but you were friends with Katherine. She helped you pay for your plane ticket out of here. You owed her your life, and now you’d never be able to repay her.

“What kind of school is it? Elementary? High school?” Rossi asked, flipping through a file that had been left on a desk.

Snapping out of your daze, you shook your head, “It’s K-12 all in the same building, that’s why it’s such a big deal that it’s gone.” You looked at the whiteboard, there weren’t any pictures of Katherine up yet, but you could imagine it. She looked more like you than the other victims, and you silently cursed Spencer for putting those thoughts in your head.

“Agent Y/L/N,” you heard Johnny call from behind you, he and your father were charging toward you at an alarming pace. “Are you armed?”

Your head snapped up, “yes,” you answered, putting your hand on your holstered weapon, watching as Johnny and Frank pulled their guns out.

“Please hand over your firearm to Detective Klein and put your hands up,” Frank commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you handed the weapon over to Johnny, facing him directly. It gave you tunnel vision, and you couldn’t even hear the protests of your team as you raised your hands level with your head.

Johnny grabbed your wrists, and you hissed as he cuffed you, the metal cutting into your skin when he made the handcuffs too tight. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murders of Victoria Reynolds, Melanie Baylor, and Katherine Meadows. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” He shoved you in the direction of the interrogation room, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

An officer opened the door, and he pushed you down into a metal chair, hooking your handcuffs to the table in front of you.He continued reading your rights, “If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you will still have the right to cease answering at any time until you are able to talk to an attorney.” Johnny said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Do you understand your rights?”

You glared up at him, “What the hell are you doing, Johnny?”

He slammed a palm on the table, “Do you understand your rights?”

Pursing your lips, you looked away and peered right at the glass window ahead of you, “Yes, I understand my rights.”

“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” He asked, leaning far too close to you, you could smell the cigarette smoke on his uniform. That smell was on you for years after you left, you were convinced you’d never be able to fully wash it off. Maybe you hadn’t.

You seethed up at him, “fuck no.”

Johnny nodded assuredly, opening the door to the interrogation room, and slamming it shut.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull the handcuffs away from where it was pinching your skin, you winced when it tore your skin. You set your head down on the cold table and sigh, knowing you should’ve taken Emily’s offer to stay behind when you had the chance.

Another officer came in later and told you they wanted your jacket and shoes for evidence, you didn’t fight them, numbly watching as he unlocked the handcuffs and took your jacket before putting the cuffs back on, just as tight. You kicked off your shoes for the officer and sat back down. Before he left, another officer came in and dropped an evidence box on the table.

It was an FBI scare tactic to leave an empty evidence box on an interrogation room table, but your box wasn’t empty.

They wanted to humiliate you in front of your team, and it was working. 

all the king's horses, all the kings men, couldn't put me together again

The next people to open the door were Charlie and Tara, they sat down across from you. “I’m really sorry about all of this Y/N,” he muttered to you, pulling some files out of the evidence box.

You shrugged and shook your head, “Nothing Johnathan Klein does to me anymore really surprises me.” You looked at the files.

Charlie was hesitant to open the files, “there’s some rough stuff in here if you’re okay with going over some of it with us.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at the file, “I don’t really have a ton of choice, do I?”

You hated both of them for pitying you, but more than anything you hated your father and Johnny for doing this to you and wasting time while there was a serial killer on the loose. He opened the file and placed pictures of the three victims in front of you.

For a couple of minutes, he asked general questions. Do you know them? How did you know them?

Then Tara finally asked a question, “Y/N, how old were you when your mother died?” She asked you, placing a photo of you and your mom in front of you. You were probably seven in the picture.

“Ten,” you answered, looking at the picture. You wondered if you could keep it once this was all over.

“When you were ten, you started a string of hospital visits that lasted until you were twenty years old. Broken ribs, concussions, fractures, and… a miscarriage,” Tara said, your eyes snapped up to look at her.

Your mouth went dry “You had Garcia unseal my files?” You couldn’t help the hurt in your voice.

The way Tara looked at you, you could tell she understood you in a whole new light now, “we had to. She felt horrible doing it.” That you didn’t doubt, the whole team had a mostly unspoken rule on inter-team profiling. You nodded understandingly.

“Y/N, do you have an alibi for the murders? We already cleared up that you weren’t working, but can anyone account for your whereabouts?” Charlie asked impatiently, he knew you didn’t do this, and it might not be his case anymore, but you could still tell he wanted it solved.

Looking directly at Tara, you answered the question, “No, I wasn’t with anyone.”

Your coworker set her jaw as Charlie got up and left.

“How did you get those injuries, Y/N?” Tara continued her line of questioning, setting a packet of medical records in front of you. You were still cuffed, so all you could do was touch the papers with your fingertips.

The paper read of chromosomes and a D&C, you couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes, “I- uh. I don’t want to look at that, please.”

Quickly, Tara pulled the papers away, “who hurt you?”

You bit your lip to stifle a cry, “Tara, please.” You knew what was going on, the only person who knew everything was retaliating against the precinct. They humiliated you, so she was going to humiliate them. She repeated the question and this time you answered, “My father.”

“Was your father also the father of your baby?” She asked, looking down at the papers. Honestly, she looked just about as uncomfortable as you were.

Solemnly, you shook your head, “That was Johnny. We were together from when I was fifteen until I was twenty. My dad-“ Your voice broke off, “Frank never touched me like that.”

“Can you tell me more about Frank?” She asked softly, the way she spoke to victims. The one thing you had tried to avoid.

Blearily, you looked up at your friend, “Can we take a break?”

Nodding, Tara stood up. When she opened the door, you heard shouting. People asking if your cuffs could be taken off. You just let your tears fall for a moment. Charlie came back and unlocked your cuffs, looking at the dried blood on them and the still bleeding wounds on your wrists, “I- I think we have a first aid kit somewhere.”

You brushed him off, waiting for him to leave and for Tara to come back. She did, draping a sweater over the table, and you tentatively grabbed it. Sighing when you recognized it as Spencer’s, “Has everyone seen the paperwork?”

She nodded slowly, “are you alright to talk to me about Frank now?”

You used your newly freed hands to wipe under your eyes before pulling the cardigan on. “It was my mom, she took everything he threw at her to protect me,” you whispered. “He hit me when I was ten, I had gotten a bad grade in social studies. So, my mom and I planned to leave, but he figured it out,” you said, furrowing your brows at the memory. “He strangled her, and she died. He told everyone she hung herself. The whole town believed him because he was the chief of police.”

Tara wrote something down, “he killed her in front of you?”

You nodded, “He needed someone else to take his aggression out on after that, so he beat me.” You told her, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s sweater. “So, when I was fifteen and I met a boy, I thought I had found the answers to all of my problems, but I really had just discovered more.”

“The boy was Johnathan Klein?”

Affirming her question again, you continued your story, “he was a horny fifteen-year-old boy, and he had sex with me even when I begged him not to. He told me he had to because he loved me, and I believed him.”

Tara leaned over and looked you in the eyes, “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” You asked meekly, tilting your head to the side. “He proposed to me the day we graduated from high school. I had already accepted the fact that I was never getting out of the town, but what I didn’t know was by getting engaged to him I was very nearly signing my own death certificate.” You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in your chest, “I found out I was pregnant when I was nineteen, and looking back at it now, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Tara didn’t speak, she just listened. You supposed that was the psychologist in her, letting you take the lead in your own story.

You furrowed your brows as you tried to bring memories that you had spent so long burying to the surface. “I knew I couldn’t make my baby go through the same thing I went through, so I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He found me, he beat me, he brought me to the hospital, and he told me I killed our baby.” You could see the story was bothering Tara. When you told Emily, you told her in pieces over the span of a month. “The only people I was allowed to see after that were my dad, Johnny, and Katherine.” You wiped tears from your face, “the judge wouldn’t grant me a restraining order, my only option was to run. So, when Kath showed up with a plane ticket and an envelope of cash, I took the opportunity and left.”

“Y/N, do you think these murders could be somehow connected to your upbringing here?” Tara asked, flipping through another file.

You looked back at the glass that separates the observation room, having no idea who was on the other side listening. “I didn’t until Reid said the victims looked like me,” you confessed. It felt too convenient, victims looking like you, you being framed for their murders. Yet, you still made sure not to call Spencer by his first name, afraid of giving yourself away. “Do they have any evidence?”

“They found soil from the factory crime scene on your shoes, but your jacket is still being processed. Without an alibi, we can’t get them to release you,” Tara said.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in the chair, “Of course, they found soil from the factory crime scene on my shoes, I was at the scene yesterday.”

The door opened and Frank stepped inside, “Your alibi spoke up.” He sounded irritated, but not as irritated as he’s going to be once the BAU is through with him.

i see right through me

Spencer had settled you down on a desk in the corner of the precinct, disinfecting the cuts on your wrists made by Johnny’s handcuffs. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as he cleaned the debris from your torn skin.

He didn’t respond, he just shook his head. You could tell he was thinking, as clearly as if you could see gears physically turning in his head.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, bending your neck to try to catch his eyes.

He shook his head again, “I’m not upset, not with you at least.”

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “Then stop getting so lost in thought. What’s bothering you?”

He clasped both of your hands in his own, setting them in your lap, “Does it feel like a coincidence to you that the same night Johnny told us about the school the woman who helped you escape an abusive relationship was found dead at that school?” Spencer dropped your hands, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out bandages before gingerly wrapping your wrists. At work, you tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, but you felt like these were extenuating circumstances, which was why you had secluded yourselves in the corner.

“I need to look at the crime scene photos again,” you said, trying to get off of the desk.

Spencer firmly placed both of his hands on your hips, effectively keeping you in place. “Once I’m done,” he whispered, securing the bandages on your wrists. “Are you alright?”

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sadly, “Everyone learned a lot about me today. Some of it I had never intended on telling them. I just feel… exposed? Raw?” You searched desperately for the right word to use to describe exactly how you feel.

Hanging your head low, your eyes traced patterns in the carpet when Spencer hooked a finger gently under your chin and lifted your head, so you were looking at him. His honey-colored eyes searched your face, and you felt like he was looking right through you. “You know nothing that happened today makes any of us see you differently, right? I don’t think of you as any less of a person because of what I learned today.”

You shook your head, “You don’t learn those things about your girlfriend and look at her the same.”

“You’re right. I don’t look at you the same, I’m even more in awe of you now than I was before. The fact that you’ve been through what you’ve been through and you’re this bright, shiny person sitting in front of me is astounding, but…” His voice trailed off.

Here it was, he couldn’t want who you were. He didn’t want the heavy history that comes with you. You shut your eyes.

He cupped your face with his hands, “it makes me worry that maybe I haven’t been there for you enough. Not in the same way you’re there for me.”

“Spence,” you whispered, swallowing back your emotions, and looking up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “I love you, and I have to make sure that you know that I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

Nodding rapidly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, “I know.” Your voice was little more than a rasp, “I know, I love you too.”

After assuring Emily and Tara that your friendship was intact, you turned to the team. “I think I play a bigger part in this case than I realize.”

“We were just coming to a similar conclusion, once we saw what Katherine Meadows looked like, it just confirmed our suspicions,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard, which now had Kath’s picture on it, as well as yours. “The whole town seems to have it out for you, though. How do we narrow down the suspect pool?”

You stepped up to the whiteboard, “Because it’s not about the locations and their relation to the town, it’s about the locations and their relation to me.” You pointed to the factory, “When I was fifteen, this was the first place Johnny ever assaulted me.”

“You said he proposed to you at your high school graduation, right?” Tara said, “That’s the connection to the school.”

Nodding, you continued, “And we were going to get married at the church.”

Spencer wrote this all down on the whiteboard as you fit the pieces of this puzzle together. “Is there anywhere else that would fit in with these other locations?”

Flipping through a file, you set papers down on the desk in front of your team. “That’s our house, it was set on fire not long after I left,” you pointed out. “That’s where he’s going next.”

“But who will his victim be? If we can get to her before he can, then we can stop him before he gets to her,” Matt mentioned.

Slowly, you turned around and faced your team, “I don’t intend on letting anyone else get hurt. This is between me and Johnny.”

who could stay?

You sat yourself down at the dining room table. Nothing in the house had been moved, its charred remains were left defenseless against Mother Nature. You knew this table, there was blood ground into the wood grain. It was your blood.

You wished they had torn the rest of the structure down.

Spencer didn’t like the idea of you going alone, but you were armed, and you had an earpiece in. You weren’t alone, the team was nearby in case things went wrong.

“Incoming, blue pick-up pulling into the driveway,” Luke said through the radio. “Suspect’s getting out, it doesn’t look like anyone’s with him.”

Realistically, you knew nothing was going to happen to you, but there was some small voice in the back of your head that told you something was going to go awry.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the floral-patterned chair. Part of you was grateful that the team had enough faith in you to send you to get a confession on your own, but another part of you wished someone would’ve asked you if this is really what you want to do. Sure, you wanted Johnathan Klein to be put away for a long time, but you didn’t want to be in this house. When you left, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot in this godforsaken town ever again.

Sitting up straight, the front door opened. You’re not sure why he opens the door when there’s a hole in the wall leading right to you. “I thought you might come looking for me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I always knew you’d come back to me, baby,” Johnny spoke to you in a low voice, but you knew the team could hear.

“I didn’t come here for you, Johnny,” you whispered, keeping your voice steady. “I came for the girls who were murdered. I knew them, we both did,” you told him. That was the truth, you felt like you owed them because they died while you got to live.

He sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. It was all you could do to not flinch away from him. “Then why did you bring that guy? If not to make me jealous, then why?”

“Johnny, if I go with you, will it stop?” You asked, turning to him, reaching out your hand, and placing it on his arm.

Humming, he reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear, luckily not the side where you had your earbud in. “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’ll have to spell it out for me,” he said, pulling you to your feet abruptly. You didn’t see the knife when he first walked in, you didn’t even know he had it until it was to your throat.

But you weren’t twenty years old anymore. You had grown up. You had learned self-defense.

So, you caught him off guard when you hit him, causing the knife to clatter to the ground. “You bitch!” He growled, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You won’t kill me,” you said, planting your feet on the ground. “You had five years to kill me, Johnny.”

He stood up, “No, but I killed a part of you. Didn’t I? When I killed your baby?”

After all these years, he knew how to get under your skin. He got one hit off, across your cheek, the strike so hard that your earbud went flying across the room. “You killed the part of me that you created, that’s not who I am. I recreated myself, a version of myself without this godforsaken town.”

“But I got you here, back home. I killed all those girls for you to come back to me,” he said, running straight at you.

You hit him with your gun, you physically struck him with the butt of the gun. You could’ve shot him, it would’ve been clean, but you didn’t. That would’ve been easy for him. He dropped like a ragdoll and the rest of your team came rushing in. Someone was calling your name, but you couldn’t hear.

Matt ended up being the one who cuffed him, you slowly walked away from them. Backing yourself into a wall, you watched it all happen.

When you left your hometown, you never quite felt like it was over. He was always still going to be around. But this? This felt final.

It made your chest ache.

Gently, Spencer took your hand and led you outside. “It’s done?”

He nodded rapidly, “It’s over, angel. Emily and Luke are at the precinct taking Frank into custody. They’ll both go away for a long time.”

“Spence, I want to go home,” you whispered, looking down the road and seeing houses that you recognize from your childhood. This whole town was filled with your own ghosts. “Can we go home?”

Spencer didn't answer, he just pulled you into him and held you tightly. You let him inspect the wound on your cheek before you went back to the hotel and put everyone’s belongings in an SUV.

On the jet, the two of you sequestered yourselves in the back where it’s darker. He offered to let you lie down, so you rested your head in his lap. He used one hand to hold his book and the other to smooth your hair back. Your eyes were shut, but you were vaguely aware of the rest of the team as they took turns peeking back at the both of you.

you could stay

please remember to like, reblog, and comment

[cbartonscoffee]

I think I've never been more aware of just how many people only get their info of the batfam through fanfic. I finally started reading Red Robin (2009) and I can not believe how many things are blown out of proportion. Particularly about Dick and Damian.

First of all, Dick does try to put limits and he does get fed up with Damian's ways sometimes. Out of the three first interactions of them in the comic, at least in two he tells him to shut up. And one of those is when Damian starts to brag about being Robin and Tim being useless, he tells him to shut up twice.

Another thing about that moment, is that they treat it like Dick completely dismisses Tim and treats him as unimportant. He doesn't. He takes him seriously, he tells him he needs him, he tells him he views his as an equal, as someone capable. And he also tells him he's concerned about him and that he needs to start processing Bruce's death. Could that have been a little harsh? Yes, but he needed to do it without making Tim think there was room for him to be convinced about his theory because let's be honest, Tim would've taken anything less than complete refusal and tried to change his mind. And had he been wrong neither of them could have taken it.

Secondly, Dick is always left to shoulder the blame of kicking Tim out and of never reaching out. That's bull. And I need to make that clear. Tim was in a delicate point, he tells us this himself multiple times, but the decision to leave was completely made out of his own free will. Another thing he did was put space between him and the people on Gotham. We see only one time in which Dick tries to call him. Tim picks up and tells him he doesn't want to talk. This tells us that Dick respecting Tim's wish of space included almost no (or even no) contact, and Dick calling was not something Tim appreciated or encouraged.

Now. Going into the second year of the run, when he's back in Gotham, there's a few things to talk about and I'm still in the aftermath of Damian and Tim's fight.

I feel it's important to say that even if they are all family, more often than not they're doing their own thing. Like, Babs and Steph are in the Batcave while Dick and Damian are in Wayne Tower, Cass is said to potentially be in Hong Kong and we haven't even heard Jason be name-dropped except for the fact that he went on a rampage at some point.

So, Dick is immediately called away in League business. So he isn't there. Damian is behaving fairly civil besides being a brat, so no one wastes too much effort in correcting what he says. We need to think about the fact that this is a kid whose world was turned upside down multiple times in a short period of time, who has a need to be accepted, and who hasn't yet found his place. All this is to say, that if it's difficult to get him to eat breakfast there's no way they're controlling his every move and that's understandable.

So Dick is away, Damian is still trying to adapt, Alfred has his hands full and everyone else is doing something else.

The whole thing starts because Tim is being kind of cryptic about what he's doing with his hit list and Damian feels left out and goes looking for more. He finds his name in a hidden double side of the hit list marking him as a threat. He understandably feels hurt and angry, because he's a kid, and he's trying, and his predecessor who at this point doesn't even try with him anymore views him as something bad.

So in classic Damian fashion, he falls back on his upbringing and doesn't deal with the situation as one should, talking about it. Instead he cuts team line, hurting before being hurt. It could've been worse, we see in the panel that Tim doesn't have that much of a hard time getting safely to the ground. The problem is that he snaps and starts a full-blown fight he knows Damian won't back out off. (I'm pleased to add that after cutting his line Damian doesn't start anything else)

So they are fighting, Tim has the clear advantage and he knows this, we know this. And that's how Dick finds them. Having just returned from a JL mission, in the place where the Waynes were murdered, with Tim having overpowered Damian.

They go back to the cave and Damian shares his findings, and Dick understands. And Tim tells him he (Dick) knows why he (Tim) did it. Dick agrees, and tells him he should have tried to make it harder to find. Tim says he hadn't thought Damian would try or even care. Dick tells him Damian wants to be accepted.

All in all, so far the only thing this comic has proven to me is that there's a reason comics are the bomb and that fanon has gotten out of hand. I get making things out to be worse for the sake of a story, but everything surrounding these events is basically used as the foundation for Damian and Tim's relationship as well as Dick and Tim's and I don't think I've once read a fanfic where these events are portrayed correctly or even following the real motivations of the characters. This is a disservice to all of them and only serves to amplify the hate towards a character that doesn't deserve it. There's a lot of Damian hate going around. And it sucks. Mostly because people use his actions against Tim to justify it and honestly? I don't think you should be allowed to use that if you haven't read RR and understood what was going on.

[obae-me]

The Reunion We Deserved

I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite. I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2. Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.

Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!

TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.

Word Count: 4,391

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…

Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.

“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”

“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”

Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”

“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.

“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”

Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”

“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”

All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”

“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.

“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”

“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.

The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…

And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.

Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.

After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.

“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.

“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”

“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“

“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.

The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.

This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.

You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.

Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.

Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.

“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”

A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”

The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”

A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.

“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“

A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.

Your eyes went wide.

The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.

The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”

Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.

Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.

Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.

Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.

Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.

White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.

“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.

Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”

Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.

Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”

You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”

That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…

However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.

Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”

“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”

The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.

Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”

At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.

For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”

Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.

But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”

“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”

“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”

“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”

“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”

“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”

“You belong with us. End of story.”

“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”

“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”

“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”

“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”

“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“

“How much we love you too.”

[brattyfics]

Dear Black Women: Things You Can Do Today to Prepare for What’s Coming

Start a Commonplace Book: Fill it with gardening tips, food preservation techniques, safe spaces that offer resources, uplifting quotes or scriptures, survival techniques—anything you might need or want to remember if digital access disappeared.

Consider a Vow of Abstinence: Childbirth has always been dangerous, but now it’s on another level. Protect your health and your body.

Talk to the Men in Your Life: If they’re not doing what’s needed to protect you and build community, it’s time to X them out. No room for dead weight.

Make a Plan: If things were to go wrong tomorrow, what resources do you have to protect yourself? Where’s a safe place you can go to find community? If you don’t have one yet, start looking—ASAP.

Get Real with Yourself: Look in the mirror and get honest about what you’re willing to do to protect yourself. Toughening up is non-negotiable. Nobody else is coming to save us.

Hone Your Skills: Whatever skills you have, build on them. You need to have something to offer to get what you need.

Do Your Research: Learn all you can about anything you feel might be useful to you. Whether it’s survival techniques, women’s rights movements in other countries, the impact of political unrest, or what to expect when this country inevitably falls apart—prepare yourself. Equip yourself with the truth, no matter how ugly it may be.

Trust Your Own Judgment: Strengthen your instincts and learn to use discernment. The time for letting others make decisions for you or simply going along to get along is over. Take an active role in your life and in shaping what happens to you.

Keep Your Spirits High: Don’t waste energy hate-watching Trump or his speeches—they won’t tell you anything new. Turn off the TV and make sure your own household is strong.

Remember Our Resilience: We come from people who survived much worse with a lot less. Celebrate the small wins and appreciate what you have.

Stand Together: Do not let them turn us against each other. The most powerful thing we have is community.

There are things on this list I still need to do myself, but this is the path forward as I see it. We aren’t superhuman and we can’t outrun what’s coming, but we can prepare ourselves and move accordingly.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Reader Lore - Born to Break Records

So this is a little filler for between now and the next chapter. This chapter might have triggers for death, abusive parents, and brief mentions of bullying. If these make you uncomfortable, then please feel free to skip this chapter. The synopsis is the reader’s life up until her first race win in F2. 

Welcome to Reader-Lore

2003

The cry of a baby filled the sterile walls of the delivery room. Pants filled in the quiet moments, but were mostly covered. The wailing baby was placed into the arms of the waiting mother, the father looking down on the two. 

“It’s a girl,” the nurse told them, writing something down in a book. 

The atmosphere suddenly changed. The once hopeful air was dampened with disappointment. The father sighed loudly, turning his head to look out the window. The mother, who had held her baby tight, loosened her grip. Her nose was now scrunched in borderline disgust. 

The nurse, feeling the off energy, offered to take the baby girl. She made some excuse about needing to weigh her and make sure that she was healthy, things that could have waited until after the parents bonded. 

The mother was quick to hand her over, waiving her hand as though it wasn’t a big deal. The father had now moved farther away from the hospital bed. 

The baby had started to wail once more after being taken from the arms of her mother. Arms that she thought were safe. Arms connected to the body that had cared for her for 9 months. Arms that suddenly did not hold her tight. Arms that willingly gave her away to some stranger. 

Once the nurse and frightened infant left the from, the mother and father looked at each other. 

“I wanted a boy,” the male murmured.

The female rolled her eyes, “I know. And so did I. But we don’t have a choice anymore.” 

“We do. Could always leave her here. A boy would be able to break records. A girl is useless.” 

“And be arrested? No thank you.” The mother rolled on her side, arms around her front. The father just huffed. 

“Everything we talked about, our future, is now a wasted memory.” 

The mother looked at the door with a sliver of hope, although, it was too small for anyone to see it. “Maybe she can do everything that you wanted a boy to do.” 

“We can just have another baby,” the father persisted. 

“You heard the doctor. It would be too dangerous for me to have another. What’s done is done. You can walk out now if you can’t commit.” The woman went to say something else, but was interrupted by whimpers. 

The nurse had walked back in, now with a swaddled baby. Begrudgingly, the mother held her hands out to take the bundle of blankets. She looked down at the brand new baby, but her heart didn’t swell with pride like she read about. Her heart filled with distain, as if the baby were a Christmas present that she didn't want. But this time, she couldn’t return the baby like she’d return a gift at whatever store it was bought from. 

The father had taken a few steps closer to the bed, but kept his distance. There wasn’t a bone in his body that actually wanted the child. 

“We still need a name for her,” the nurse stated, clicking her pen. 

The mother glanced to the father before saying, “Y/n. Her name is Y/n.” 

2008 – Five years old 

The air was stuffy, filled with the scent of petrol and burnt rubber. The quiet that could have been was broken by the rattles of engines and throttles. You wished for silence. 

You wanted nothing to do with this. But, you’d rather get in a kart then flinch at your father’s hand. You had been allowed to wander around the track. The big boys were driving now. And by big boys, you meant 11- and 10-year-olds. They were bigger than you and drove karts that were so much faster than the little one that you had. 

You looked around. There was definitely not a shortage of girls hanging around, but none were dressed like you. Most were the older or younger sisters of the drivers. Their pink tops, paired with shorts or skirts, flowed in the wind. None of them were wearing an old itchy race suit that was two sized too big. They were allowed to wear sandals, while you had to endure the tight racing shoes that your dad had definitely yanked on the laces too much. It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t learn to tie them yet. 

You watched their hair bounce in the tall pony tails tied on the tops of their heads. They didn’t need their hair to be wrapped in a bun at the base of their necks so that it could fit into a helmet. 

You wished that your mom and dad would allow you to cut it off so that you could be the boy that they wanted. You knew that they didn’t want you, your little mind was able to catch on to things like that. 

You understood patterns. Patterns on the track helped you know what areas to avoid. Patters on the kart taught you where to put your feet and hands. Patterns told you that moms and dads should be happy for their children, and not yell at them. Patters revealed that children did not flinch when their parents patted their heads or caressed their cheeks. 

The wind blew loud as the kart race came to a close. You knew that you needed to get back quickly to where you parents were waiting, but you wanted to see the winners, wanted to see them taste a victory that you were so desperate for. 

You squeezed past the other boys and looked up at the three on the podium. The one on the lowest step wasn’t rememberable. His hair looked the same as others. His height wasn’t tall or small, just in the middle. 

But the boys on the other two steps were. The one on the second pedestal had a shaggy hair cut, with bangs that pointed down. You had seen him before, surrounded by his family. A little brother, a big brother, mom and dad, and then a man who looked at the boy with stars in his eyes. 

You wished someone looked at you like that. 

“And in second place, Charles Leclerc.” So that was his name. Sharl. His eyes were bright green and filled with light and hope. But a sadness still glazed them as he looked up at the boy on the top step. 

The boy who towered over the crowd had blond sandy hair. For a winner, he didn’t look happy. His blue eyes didn’t hold the same brightness that the green eyes had. 

“And our winner, Max Verstappen!” 

That was a nice name. Max. You wanted to look at the boy winner for a few more moments. Engrave his image into your mind. Because, you didn’t know when the next time you’d be able to do this. Your dad would probably ban you from such things, saying something like you didn’t need to look at something you’d never achieve.

But you were hungry. 

You were taken out of your watching by the announcement that your own race was going to start soon. And you weren’t in your kart. 

You rushed through the crowd, trying to put on your bright pink helmet on. You could put your gloves on while you got into your kart. 

By the time you got there, your dad was already looking at you with a disappointed look. Your mother was nowhere to be found. 

“Where have you been,” he hissed, hitting your helmet. 

“I wanted to see the podiums,” you muttered, getting your gloves on. 

Your dad shook his head. “What have I told you about that?” 

“That I shouldn’t look at things that I can’t get.” 

“Exactly. Now get in your kart.” 

You did as he said. You heart was pounding as you taxied the little thing onto the smaller track. You were able to be seen by everyone, your helmet acting as a little flag. It seemed to say “look at me! I’m the only girl trying to be on par with all these boys! Watch me fail!” 

But you were determined to prove them all wrong. 

By the last lap, you were right behind one more kart. One more pass and you could win. Prove your dad wrong. Prove everyone wrong. 

You watched as he broke your pattern. The pattern that would help you win. 

He made a mistake, and you welcomed it with glee. 

You passed over the finish line with a significant gap behind you and that boy. At the stopping point, you parked your kart and stepped out, exhaling sharply. 

You thought that people would cheer and shout, but the silence that you had wished for earlier had come to haunt you. 

You won and there was nothing to celebrate. 

2015 – Twelve years old 

Everyone thought he was crazy. There was no way that he was going to sponsor a 12 year old in karting, a female none the less. 

He wasn’t crazy. How could he not want to sponsor you, a consecutive race winner in your league. He constantly watched you drive circles around the boys who would berate you in their free time. He watched as you would let their words roll right off your back. You didn’t let their words get to you.

But, he was your godfather and he had a sense of responsibility for you. He watched as you climbed out of the kart, looking around trying to find a familiar face. 

He could see your eyebrows raise through the visor when you caught sight of him. 

“LoLo!” you yelled, quickly sprinting over to him. He was ready to catch you, but not expecting the hit with your helmet. 

He let out an oof as you knocked him slightly off balance. 

“Hey kid! You did good!” He rubbed your helmet as if it were hair. You quickly unbuckled the pink contraption and took it off, hair sticking to your forehead. 

You looked around before your shoulders slumped. You kicked a rock as you spoke, “They didn’t come.” 

Lorenzo had noticed a lack of your parents as soon as he arrived. He would have come earlier to help you with your kart if he had known that they weren’t here. He looked down at you with sad eyes, and that’s the last thing you wanted. 

You always wished for someone to look at you with so much love and affection that it poured out of their soul. But you only ever got looks of hatred and pity. 

He rubbed your shoulder, “It’s ok kid. But you wanna know something?” He crouched down to your level, pant legs getting damp with moisture. You nodded your head. “LoLo gets to sponsor you!” 

You gasped, eyes tearing. Even though you were twelve, you knew the weight of the situation. Your parents had told you that because you were winning, you were embarrassing them. And because you were embarrassing them, they wouldn’t pay any more years of karting after this one. You wailed when you told Lorenzo the next time you saw him. And he saw your heart break into itty bitty pieces while you did. 

When you left, he looked into every possibly way that he could keep you in karting. The only option was to sponsor you.

And sponsor you he did. He emailed, texted, and called multiple companies, trying to get their support. He would get sponsorship to put on your kart so that you could carry the logos proudly. He had your new one sitting in the back of his old truck, but that was a surprise. It was blue with two proud bulls on the very front. He had done it. He found you a sponsor that would keep you going for a couple of years. 

His thoughts were interrupted by you actually knocking him over. He knew his sweater was getting damp, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. 

You were too busy whispering thank you after thank you for you to notice the weird looks that you were getting. Looks from the boys that you had just beaten. Looks from the parents who didn’t know the worries of paying for karting. 

He quickly picked you up and took you back over to get your cart. He helped you load it on the mover and rolled it over to his truck. You wouldn’t be needing this kart that was almost falling apart. You had a new one, and you’d be all right. 

You talked the whole way home, animatedly moving your hands around as you described your latest win. Your hands rolled over the other as you showed him how you turned the wheel, barely clipping the front of the kart who wanted to push you off. 

Lorenzo only looked at you with pure adoration. A look that you wanted so much, but were too busy to see due to your explanations of your imaginations. 

Maybe he was crazy, but he didn’t think so. 

2019 – Sixteen years old (F3)

Your eyes were pricked with tears as you read the letter you received in the mail. The big letters of DISOWNMENT flashed in the reflections. They had done it weeks ago, according to the date on the top of the paper. By now, your things were probably thrown away or burned.   

You had just finished the F4 category and were making a name for yourself in F3. You couldn’t deal with this now. One of the management people came and knocked on your door, telling you that the race was about to start. 

You crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash. If they didn’t need you, you didn’t need them. That was the lie you continually told yourself. Of course a girl needed her parents. They were the people who were supposed to nurture you and help you. 

But they never did that in the first place. At least you didn’t have to constantly buy drug store foundation and concealer and try to explain the black and blue around your eyes after it melted off during the race. No more flinching. No more hiding. 

Just no more. 

You would call Lorenzo and see if you could stay with him for a bit during the break. You would have to or you wouldn’t have a place to sleep. 

Your breath shuddered at the thought. 

You told yourself that you knew this was coming. They had cut all contact with you months ago and weren’t spotted when you went home during the last break. 

You allowed the tears to fall as you got your helmet on. No one would see the streams as you placed your visor down. You were now hidden away from the weird looks that everyone sent you. No girl had ever made it this far. 

Sure as you grew, there were girls in karting. That number seemed to increase in F4. Most of them were from the driver academies. You were still able to participate due to multiple sponsorships that Lorenzo had gotten you. 

But with increase, there has to be a decrease. You were currently the only female in F3 and were set to be the only female to make it to F2. Well, that’s what everyone told you. Your stats reflected your need to prove yourself. 

Race win after race win helped thrust you through the blockades built by men. They wouldn’t stop you, and you didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever. 

Each race win fueled your hunger in this world. And it only grew and grew. 

Your tears were brushed away by the wind brushing through your car. At that moment, you told yourself that you wouldn’t cry over your parents ever again. They didn’t deserve them. 

You could cry about other things. Such as passing over the finish line, marking your first win in F3. 

You constantly showed the world that you could do it. You wanted to cry again as you listened to your anthem. You wanted to cry when the boys celebrated with each other, leaving you out. You wanted to cry as you walked back to your “motor home,” knowing that it was put up quickly for you. 

The time you finally let yourself cry was when you were talking with Lorenzo on the phone. Your eyes were tired and dehydrated by the time you quit. Lorenzo was able to calm you down. He told you that he would take care of everything, take care of you. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to see him much though. The F3 calendar was far busier than the F4 one had. And you knew the moment you entered F2, time for relaxation would be far and few between. 

But you had Lorenzo to fall back on when the times got hard. You could always count on him. 

2020 – Seventeen years old (F2)

It was too soon. Too too soon. It wasn’t fair either. Your tears had not stopped streaming down your face since you arrived. The sterile smell itched your nose, but you needed to be here. For him. 

He had gotten paler in the few moments since you had been there. His breath rattled with each inhale and exhale. And each breath brought more tears. You didn’t want to let him go. 

“Please LoLo. I can’t do this without you,” you whispered, knowing that he probably would not hear you. The doctors told you that he was far too gone for that, but you liked to believe that he was still listening. “You can’t leave me like everyone has. I can’t be alone. I need you.” You put your face down in the blankets, squeezing his hand. 

The nurses stood in the door, with tears of their own. They were watching a child lose the only family that she had left. 

You inhaled sharply, wiping your tears away.

“You know I’m going to do it. For you. It’s only ever been you. You’ve been my best friend and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this scary world without you.” You hiccupped. “But, I know that you need to go. And I’m being selfish for keeping you here.” 

You stood and kissed his forehead. 

“Thank you LoLo, for everything. I love you.” 

His chest rose, fell, rose, and fell. 

But didn’t rise again. The multiple beeps from the different machines let you know that he was gone. And he wasn’t coming back. 

One of the nurses came and rubbed your back as you sobbed, not caring who heard you. Your tears did not stop. 

They didn’t stop on the plane to Bahrain. They refused to dry up during the practices as you set record times. They let up as you gave post-practice interviews, saving you from being embarrassed. 

You cried as you put your helmet on. Stickers had been placed on it the night before with Lorenzo’s name and dates of birth and death to commemorate his legacy that would continue through you. 

You knew this race was important. You heard that multiple F1 drivers were there to watch. And you’d give them a spectacle, before hiding away to burry your dead godfather. You hoped that the blond kid with blue eyes that had grown up by now was there. He didn’t need to know that you looked up to him. You just hoped that he’d be there. And possibly the green eyed Justin Bieber look-a-like as well, you had followed him too. 

You had managed to score a P5 starting on the grid and you knew it would be tough to fight for the front. But you had a feeling that you’d be just fine. 

And just fine you were. 

You all hauled your F2 car over that finish line, finishing with a gap of 10 seconds. Your crew was screaming in your ear through the radio and congratulations were being thrown everywhere. You pulled into the number 1 spot and climbed onto the nose. You put your finger on the big numbers on the nose of your car, kissed the finger that touched it, and raised it, pointing at the sky. You had changed your driver number to the permanent 89 this season, and for the rest of your career. 

One time, Lorenzo had showed you pictures of when he used to kart. The big 89 was visible through the old photographs. He had trophies upon trophies, but was never picked up by anyone. You told him that if he had raced these days, he’d be able to skip everything and would be put into an F1 car immediately. He had just laughed and told you to do it for him. 

So that’s what you were doing. After you commemoration, you scrambled down the car and jumped into the crews waiting arms. These days, you did not flinch when they hit your helmet. You knew that these were celebrations for racers and you were thankful to partake. Two boys followed you up and went before you. You didn’t remember their names, only the Australian accent and the odd American accent. But they would remember your name. 

You carried your flag high as you walked onto the stage. The anthem sounded much sweeter this time around. The trophy felt a little heavier this time though. You looked up to see those blue eyes that you saw many years ago. Max said a quick congratulations before you raised it as though to almost offer it to the open sky. This time, you let the tears go. You quicky wiped them away and picked up the giant bottle of champagne. You hauled it over your shoulder and sprayed the others, absolutely drenching them. 

This time, they did it to you as well.  

You knew you made it. 

I’ll do it for you, LoLo. 

December 2024 – Twenty-one years old 

Christian Horner sat in the folding chair, as he did year after year. A camera was right in front of him, with an interviewer to the side. 

“Please state your name for the camera.” He rolled his eyes. 

“My name is Christian Horner, and I am the Team Principal of the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team.” 

“Let’s talk about your driver, Y/n L/n.” 

The screen cuts to the pace of your car, passing multiple others in one clean sweep. 

“She’s one of the best talents I’ve seen in a while.” 

A scene of you holding a trophy, high in the sky. 

“What is one thing that you admire about your driver. She has said a lot about you.” Christian smiled. Of course you had. You told him that you saw him as the dad you never had. 

“Almost everything she touches, she turns it to gold.” 

The scene changes to your first win. The crowds of red cheered your name. Something you didn’t think was possible. You had taken that win from their favorites and you were being praised for it. Slow-motion splashes of champagne hit you from either side as you wiped your face. 

The scene returns, but Max is in Christian’s spot. 

“She’s different. She’s the epitome of what a rookie should be. I’m just thankful that she’s my teammate and not working against me.” 

The screen fades to two Red Bull cars with an Aston Martin in between them. 

“Y/n, Max is currently behind the Aston. Gap to you is 1.237 seconds,” Mitch’s voice is heard off screen through the radio. 

“Tell Maxie that it’s time to do the old switcharoo!” 

Your car suddenly slowed down just enough on the turn, and the crowd cheered as Max’s car went wide, putting him before you. You quickly got in his slip stream and the two of you sped off, leaving the green car in the dust. 

Another driver, with green eyes, is now in the seat, answering the same question. 

Charles looked up in thought while blowing some air out his lips. “She’s fearless. You normally don’t see that anywhere. Sure, everyone gets scared if they have an impact, especially as big as the one she had, but not her.” 

The camera cuts to the violent scene of your first DNF. Your car flipped, you were trapped. People’s faces were adorned with tears including Christian, no one had been able to contact you. Yet, the focus is now on you, wiggling out from beneath the wreckage. You, in spite of it all, raised your fist as though you were celebrating a first win. 

The scene cuts to an Australian with a straight smile. He looks semi-uncomfortable in the seat.  

“It looked like you and L/n had a tussle in the beginning. Is that true?” 

Oscar shook his head. “There was never a tussle. We both made mistakes, but that’s racing. Wheels touch all the time: it doesn’t mean that we have the urge to take each other out.” 

The interviewer continued, “But she did take you out.” 

The screen fades to a clip of two cars dangerously close together, one orange and one navy. 

David Croft’s voice could be heard, “And there goes the Red Bull of Y/n L/n and the McLaren of Oscar Piastri! They are close together around that corner and they aren’t backing down. Are they going to make contact! And they do! Off the track they go, debris is everywhere. And I don’t think they are going to be able to continue.” 

You knew that you should not have “never backed down never what-ed.” But Oscar was going for it and so were you. And you felt terrible. You quickly used the halo to climb out. Looking over, Oscar was doing the same thing. 

The camera followed you as you made your way through the swarming stewards. You just knew that you needed to check on the Aussie. 

The crowds could hear David speak again, “Oh no. Looks like L/n is mad. Does Red Bull have a thing for drivers with anger issues?” 

Oscar looked up and saw you storming towards him, batting away the stewards hands. He stiffened, ready for anything. But what he didn’t expect was a giant hug. He could feel you shaking and he quickly put his hands around you. 

“I’m ok.”  

The screen flashes back to Oscar. 

He huffed, “She did. But the moment she got out of the car, she came to check on me. She batted away the stewards who were desperate to make sure that she was fine, since she took the brunt of the hit. If that doesn’t convince you that Y/n is a great friend and better driver, then I don’t know what will.” The Aussie looked livid. 

The scene cuts to now a new face, your manager. 

The interviewer asks, “What is something that people might not know about Y/n.” Vito put his hand to his chin. You had already given him the permission to talk about what might be discussed. 

He inhaled, “She’s strong. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.” 

“Can you give us an example?” 

“The kid was disowned in 2019, right before her F3 debut. And you know what she did? She put that F3 car in the P1 spot. She never showed it though. She held her head high, and was squeezing into her place, that was waiting for her, in this sport.” 

A quick flash of 16 year old you, holding your first F3 trophy, was shown on screen. 

Vito kept talking as the scene changed to you walking around your motor home, greeting everyone who was there. They knew what had happened, and comforted you with words and hugs. You were thankful for them. 

“She also lost her godfather Lorenzo in January 2020. It was heartbreaking to hear her over the phone. Her debut in F2 was the next day. I told her that she didn’t have to, but she insisted that she needed to race, to win.” 

The camera followed 17 year old you, helmet on and visor down, as you walked to your F2 car, shining with your new number. 

“In less than 24 hours, she was back in the car.” 

Your car sped down the straight, over the finish line. 

“And she won.” 

The scene shifted to 23 year old Max Verstappen handing you the big F2 trophy. Tears could be seen in your eyes as you took the cup and thanked him. 

“Did you know?” 

Max looked at her in bewilderment. “I didn’t. And you would have never guessed it. Y/n has her heart on her sleeve, everywhere she goes, except when she races.” 

A quick cut now shows Christian back in the seat. 

“The last driver I saw with that mental strength was Charles Leclerc. He previously lost his godfather, and then lost his father. A few days later he won his race. Y/n lost the only family she had in less than a year.” Christian laughed. “These rookies are built different. You’d think they were made for the earlier days of racing, with how much they put into it. But Y/n, I don’t know. Her aura commands attention.” 

The scenes now shown are from multiple races. 

The camera followed you as you walked through the crowded paddock, trying to get back to hospitality. You thought that it would be different, that you’d have to squeeze through to get by. But with each step you took, the people parted like water. 

You flashed a smile at many fans who seemed awestruck to be in your presence. 

A new driver is now in the seat. 

“She’s almost like Charles, in a sense,” Lando said. “The two of them,” he looked around, “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.” 

“Can you try?” Lando shot her a cheeky grin. “They are basically the F1 royalty. Any driver has a ‘celebrity image’ and people are excited to see us outside. They ask to take pictures, but they also do things against us.” 

The scene cuts to multiple instances of booing and pushing drivers. 

“And yet, Charles and Y/n bend them to their will almost. They listen to them. The King and Queen of Formula 1.” 

A video of you, Lando, Max, and Charles speaking before the Monaco Grand Prix plays. 

“Ah, Max. Did I tell you that we have to address them as your highness now?” 

Max looked up from his phone and followed Lando’s finger that was pointed at Charles and you, deep in conversation.

“No? Why?” Lando walked over and showed him the edit and comments on his phone. 

The caption read “Y/n L/n and Charles Leclerc are F1 royalty and we need to address them as such.” The video that played started with a clip of Charles in Monaco, with the grid and Monegasque royalty behind him. He looked so majestic. It switched over to you in your home country, with a crowd around your pedestal. You hadn’t even won yet, and they looked at you as though you hung the moon. You stretched out your arms and the crowd roared.

Max looked back at the two, who were ignorantly blissed. Max looked up at Lando. 

“You’re right.” 

The camera is back to Charles. 

His eyes were wide with eyebrows raised, “Lando really said that.” He smirked. Shuffling up to good posture he said, “I’m fine with that. Y/n has always been different, but in a good way. She knows what the people wants, but also doesn’t get caught up in all the PR. She’s herself.” 

A clip of you with fans plays. Your smile was mirrored with theirs. Everyone wanted to see you, hug you, feel you. And the waves that were emanating from you only made the crowd happier. 

Now, the seat is occupied by none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

“What do I think about Y/n?” he questions back to himself. “I know that she is one of the best rookies to ever come across in the world of Formula 1. I’ve had the opportunity to share podiums with so many drivers, but her? There’s something different.”

The scene flashes to a podium shared with you, Lewis, and Max. Lewis had been able to take the win, leaving you on the third step. You had almost had the win, but a late safety car ruined it. Lewis looked over at you, expecting a disappointed face. But all he saw was a smile that rivaled the sun. 

“She never seems to be disappointed with anything. Even if she was to qualify in last place, she would still smile.” Lewis laughed. “And I think everyone loves her more than they realize.” 

A small clip of you and a bulldog flashes across the screen. Roscoe was licking all over your face. 

“Roscoe, stop!” But you were laughing, and the dog thought that he should continue. Lewis found the two of you in the middle of the floor in the Mercedes hospitality. A blanket was draped around your shoulders.  

“And what are you doing here kid?” Lewis put his hands on his sides. 

You shrugged. “Toto told me I could hang out here. Max is having one of those ‘adult meetings’ that Christian says my ears shouldn’t hear. I think they forget that I’m 21 now.” 

Lewis just laughed, thinking of how Toto must have let you in and had given you a blanket as well. He just ruffled your hair and sat on the ground with you.  

The scene changes one more time. You are now in the seat. 

The interviewer asks, “Please state your name and your occupation.” 

You smiled, “My name is Y/n L/n and I am a Formula 1 racer who drives for the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team. I also DJ,” you shot finger guns at the camera and clicked you mouth, “Thanks Lando.” 

“How was your first season in Formula 1. You obviously showed the world of what you could do.” 

You nodded before continuing, “The season went better than I expected. To place third in the driver’s championship as a rookie? Unheard of.” You smirked. “Until now.” 

The person behind the camera continued, “You were only 10 points away from Charles Leclerc. How does that make you feel?” 

You cocked your head. “It feels wonderful. Charles had a really good season.” You leaned in as though to tell a secret. “If anything, don’t tell Charles or Max I said this, but Max and I would rather lose to Charles than anyone else.” 

“And why is that?” 

You deadpanned. “Well Charles is Lightning McQueen incarnate and Max’s emotional support rival. Who else would we want?” People laughed in the background. 

“Now that you know you could win a championship…” 

You cut her off, “Oh I’ve always known I could win a championship. But I also know that I was born to break records. And right now, I’m on a path to help Max break the 7 streak.” 

“Ah yes, sorry. What would you do after winning a championship.” You hadn’t seen Max slip in. 

“I think I’d pull a Nico Rosenburg. Ya know? Retire while I’m ahead.” 

“You would not do that!” Max said behind the camera and you looked straight at him. 

“Yes I would.” 

“No you wouldn’t. Because you said you were born to break records. Well Kid, if I make a record championship, you need to be the one to break it.” 

Oh my gosh, I loved how this chapter turned out. And it is officially the longest chapter I have written so far – 6,077 words. Right now, I have to write the chapter for the last race of F2 and you readers have to pretend that it lands on a weekend that the F1 drivers can attend. 

Also! I am pleased to announce that the first few chapters of a new series will be out shortly! It is called “Besties for the Resties” and it’s how you got close with many of the drivers. Not all of them will have their own chapter and not all the drivers are being written about. So please be aware that this will not be going over 10 chapters! 

Thank you to all my readers and Happy Thanksgiving!  

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost

[carmenberzattosgf]

NSFW alphabet : carmen berzatto

Content: fem reader, pure filth, size kink (easily skippable), daddy kink (easily skippable), dom/sub dynamics,

Word count: 5605

A/N: This is really filthy. I got a bit carried away as you can tell by the word count. Enjoy ! <<3

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

He’s a clinger. Carmy gets needy and touchy after sex, so he’s not going to leave your side. After normal sex, he lays on top of you for awhile because he loves the closeness of the physical contact. He’s pressing kisses all over your neck and mumbling how much he loves you over and over again. When it’s finally time to get up, he’s bringing a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean up between your legs. He’s so sweet and tender in moments like this, diligent in cleaning up the cum from your thighs. 

After a dom/sub type of scene, Carmy takes such good care of you. Beforehand he stashes everything he needs beside the bed so he doesn’t have to leave you afterwards. He stores the supplies in a wicker bin: pH balanced sensitive skin-safe wipes, a bottle of water, protein bars and other snacks (i.e chocolate), soothing ointment, your favorite t-shirt of his, hair ties, and even one of those instant ice packs if you need it. 

If you’re in that floaty place, he narrates every single thing he’s doing. Even though you can’t speak, he still wants to make sure you’re aware of what he’s doing before he does it.

“Okay, baby I’mma put your hair up into a messy bun to get it off your neck.”

“It’s going to be a little bit cold at first but I’m using these wipes to clean up between your legs.”

“I’m going to roll you over so I can take care of your bottom, and put some ointment on for you. I’ve already got a pillow to support your stomach.”

Carmy is so gentle while he takes care of you. It’s his favorite part of a scene, not getting off, but tending to you.

“Sweetheart, I need you to try and sit up so you can take some sips of water. Can you do that for me?” 

You’re stubborn and just wanna fall asleep in that floaty place so Carmen literally has to prop you up with pillows and force a straw between your lips. 

“Three big sips—there we go. Atta girl, good job.”

The best part of aftercare is saved for last, cuddling. Carmy lays you on top of his chest so you’re not laying on your raw backside, and softly pets your hair until you fall asleep. 

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He likes his hands. They do everything for him in the kitchen. They’re skilled and precise. Carmy is not the type of guy to be really into parts of his body, but his hands are alright. 

Now for you, he genuinely loves all of your body. Your face, your eyes, everything. However, he’s a major boob guy. He likes them in all sizes. He just loves tits (peep the mommy issues). One of his favorite parts of sex is getting to leave bite marks all over your chest. Send him a nude with your tits in it? Bye! He’s a goner. 

Thighs come in close second. He grips your thighs so hard during sex that sometimes you can make out small finger sized bruises in the mirror afterwards. Much like your boobs, he loves to mark up your thighs with hickies. He knows that he’s the only one that gets to see those marks so he leaves a bunch. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s obsessed with cumming inside of you. The sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt for the first time permanently rewires his brain. He’s convinced there’s no better feeling that filling you up with his cum. He’s nasty about it too, pressing any that has dripped out of you back into your cunt with his fingers. 

“Gotta keep you nice and filled up for me. I don’t want anything to go to waste. Here—“ He reaches for a pillow and lifts up your hips, placing it under your back. “There we go. Now it can’t spill out.” 

If he can’t cum inside of you, he cums on your stomach. The thing about Carmy is that he cums a lot, like the volume is massive. When he cums on your stomach, you’re covered in him. He’ll be fisting his cock for a good twenty seconds before the spurts of cum finally slow down. It’s all over you, dripping off of your hips onto the sheets. The first thing Carmy does is reach over for his phone on the bedside table. He takes a picture of you from the neck down, completely painted with white. The picture immediately goes into his locked camera folder. 

Finally, Carmy would rather cum in your mouth than on your face. He doesn’t want to get any in your eye. He’s truly a sweetheart (sometimes). Once, you stuck out your tongue full of cum for him, and his hard on came right back. His body was ready to go again after seeing his cum drip off of your tongue, down your neck, and into your cleavage. He’s a simple man at heart.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really wants to try shibari with you, like really bad. He’s been researching heavily into it, about all of the knots and the types of rope. He doesn’t want to get into serious stuff like suspension, but he wants to cover your body in pretty and elaborate knots. Carmy’s mainly focused on the types of shibari that restrains your arms behind your back, making your chest jut out. He wants to surround your breasts with intricate knots. He might mess around with some patterns on your hips and thighs, but he’d rather tie up your arms, not your legs.  

He’s drawn to shibari because it’s almost mixing art intimacy ( because shibari doesn’t have to involve sex or pleasure). It’s a time that he can spend getting close to you while you’re letting go and trusting him completely. The tying up process isn’t short; it can take awhile. He thinks it would make your relationship stronger, and also let him be dominate in a way that’s different from just straight up sex. 

It will take him a very very long time to ever bring it up to you, though. He doesn’t want to freak you out or make you uncomfortable. He understands how much control a person is giving up when someone restrains them. 

In all seriousness, you probably ask him about it after you see a tab open on his laptop. He’s already left for work for the day and forgot to close out the tab. You grab his laptop, wanting to do the daily mini, and when you open it up, you’re met with an in depth rope tying tutorial. 

You decide to tread carefully on the topic when he gets home from work that day, since it seems like he was keeping it a secret. Once he’s gotten a shower, Carmy curls up with you on the couch to watch a little tv before going to bed. 

“I saw something interesting today, Carm.”

“Yeah? What might that be, baby?”

“Well, I was using your laptop to do the daily mini like I always do, and I saw a tab pulled up. Something to do with ropes?” Carmy instantly tenses up like he’s entered freeze mode. 

“Oh—uh, uhm. Sorry you’re probably like—freaked out now and—“ Carmy says quickly, without taking a breath. He’s on the verge of hyperventilating. 

“Baby, baby. Calm down. You’re all good. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” You start to comb through his hair with your fingers, massaging at his scalp in a way that relaxes him. “Why don’t you tell me all about it, yeah?” 

He does just that, explaining shibari and all the research he’s done into it. Carmy’s a bit surprised when you agree to it without any hesitation. 

“You know you don’t have do to this for me. I’m not going to be upset if you say no.”

“I trust you, Carmen. I love you and I know you’ll take care of me and keep me safe. If I don’t like it I’ll be honest with you.”

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

This one is going to heavily depend on when you get into a relationship with Carmy. When he’s newly in New York, trying to become the greatest chef of all time? He’s horribly inexperienced. He barely knows how to interact with the opposite sex without getting red in the face. However, he’s eager to learn! He might not know exactly what he’s doing in the moment with you, but he wants you to feel good. He’s determined to make you orgasm. He asks what feels good and what doesn’t feel good. Carmy’s not afraid to ask you questions during sex either.  

Now if you meet him after he’s back in Chicago, he has more experience under his belt. New York and all of the places he traveled to during those years away from home gave him opportunities to become more confident with sex. Although, he still gets nervous about it, especially when he’s sleeping with someone for the first time. The awkwardness hasn’t gone away completely. 

At this point in your relationship with Carmy, he knows what he’s doing. He pays attention to your body and the way you react to his touch. Carmy learns what you like before you even have the chance to tell him. Every touch of his hands is purposeful to bring you pleasure. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

Missionary. No question about it. He wants to be able to look at you while he fucks you. He loves the closeness of the position, getting to feel your legs wrapped around his waist. It’s so intimate, and Carmy craves that intimacy. His favorite part of missionary is when you both are so close to the edge, with your foreheads resting against each other. He gets to look in your eyes and praise you. “You’re so pretty. So fucking gorgeous—fuck, baby.” 

“Taking me so well— always take me so well.” “Love you, love you, love you so much.” 

Oh, and his other favorite part about missionary is getting to kiss you. He fucking loves kissing you during sex. Sure, it’s messy, with teeth and lips clashing together half the time, but he cannot get enough of your mouth. That moment when you have to break the kiss to moan out because of how good he feels inside of you is what he loves about kissing you in missionary. 

Carmy also enjoys anything that lets him see your face. With your legs over each of his shoulders, he’s found he can hit even deeper inside of you. Don’t worry, he puts a small pillow underneath the small of your back to make you comfortable. The angle makes your eyes roll back. 

If he’s honest with himself he fucking loves the position where he practically forces your thighs to meet your chest. His cock his so fucking deep inside of you he just has to make comments about it. “That too deep? Yeah? Can you feel me in your stomach?” Oh, and when he starts pressing his hand on your lower stomach so you can feel him moving in and out of you? The sensation is almost too much. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

This is Carmen Berzatto here. He’s so serious about everything, and that applies to sex, too. He’s just not the type to joke around during sex. He craves the intimacy of sex and doesn’t want to make light of the connection. That doesn’t mean sex with Carmy is overly serious. More so that he would rather not incorporate humor into sex. 

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carmy is so neat and meticulous. He literally cuts pieces of tape with a knife so it has a clean edge. With all things considered, he keeps it neat downstairs. Definitely not bald, but he trims up frequently. He cannot stand it when it’s crazy down there. 

For his partner? He does not give a fuck about the grooming of down there. Not one single bit. Do whatever you want and he will still be a happy man. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

So intimate. Genuinely, he’s so romantic. Carmy’s kissing all over your body, praising every inch of your skin. It’s honestly jarring at first how intimate and intense he can be in the bedroom. Carmy puts his all into sex, much like he puts his all into the kitchen. He holds you so close the entire time. If you’re riding him on the couch? Yeah, he’s got both arms wrapped around you so your chest is pressed to his. This lets him make eye contact if he wants, or lets him moan into the crook of your neck. Carmy literally wants as much of his skin touching yours as possible during sex. Even if he has you on your stomach, he’s not going to settle for just doggy style because there’s not enough contact. Instead he’s leaning over you holding you up so your back presses against his chest. He sloppily kisses your shoulders and the back of your neck from this position. 

Let’s talk about eye contact—he’s staring right through you. He’s just so observant and doesn’t want to miss a single expression you make. God, the look in his eyes during sex practically puts you under a spell. He looks down at you through the bottom of his eyes with blown out pupils. 

So yeah Carmy makes sex extremely intimate every time without fail. 

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Most of the time when Carmy jacks off it’s all about efficiency. He’s not trying to take time out of his day to get off. He’s the type to get off in the shower after work. It’s quick and rough, but he knows how to get himself off fast. 

Now, when you first come into his life? His routine changes a bit. Before you two start dating, Carmy masturbates to the idea of you. He honestly hates himself a bit for it, but it happens on accident. 

He hops out of the shower after work, puts on a pair of boxer briefs, and sits down on his couch. He didn’t touch himself in the shower, wanting to build up the tension a little bit.

When Carmy starts touching himself, his hands move slowly. Recently, he’s learned how much he likes teasing himself. So, he palms over his covered length, applying the right amount of pressure to make his hips twitch. Without even realizing it, Carmy’s mind wanders to you. 

You’ve been plaguing his mind all week long in the kitchen. Sydney assigned your prep to be right next to his, and he hasn’t been able to keep his mind off of you. In the kitchen, he keeps getting distracted by your pretty smile, and by the little jokes you make during the lunch rush. 

Gradually, the hand steadily pressing down on his hard length isn’t his own anymore. Instead he pictures your hand as the one working on him; that delicate, dainty hand of yours he’s watched prep food all week. 

Carmy gives up on teasing himself once the images of you pop into his head. He hastily pushes down his boxers to his thighs. The tip of his cock leaks with precum, dripping onto his length. Carmy’s head falls back in a choked moan when he finally grips himself. His heart races as he gently strokes his cock. It’s much different from his usual fast pace, but he’s trying to picture how you would do it; on how your hands would be so delicate compared to his callused ones. Carmy wonders if you would tease him, or if you would be dead set on bringing him to orgasm quickly. 

It’s a slippery slope when Carmen starts to picture you taking his cock into your mouth. His hand starts to pump faster as the image grows more vivid in his mind. He’s lost the gentleness of his movements, but he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is the vision of you on your knees in front of him. Your lips are swollen as they stretch around his cock. He thinks about the sounds you would make—how you would moan with his dick taking up your mouth. Spit would dribble from your lips onto your chin as you bob your head on his length. What brings him to the edge, though, is the idea of fucking your face. He would hold your head delicately in his hands, but thrust with his hips deep into your throat. Tears would slip from your eyes as he shoves you all the way down so your nose meets the skin above his dick. 

Carmy cums hard all over his stomach, wishing it was your throat instead. He swears he blacks out for a second from the pleasure. When the post orgasm clarity hits, he hastily cleans himself up. Carmy tells himself he won’t do it again, picture you while he’s masturbating, but he knows that’s a load of bullshit. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding— Carmy and breeding go together like peanut butter and jelly. It’s why he’s always cumming inside of you. He wants to show everyone your his, and what’s a better way than knocking you up with his kid? He’s low key obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. 

Overstimulation— Carmy’s a soft dom. He wants to make you cum over and over and over again before he even thinks about orgasming. His goal is for your head to be spinning by the end of it. 

Spanking— Carmy’s into spanking, okay? However, before he even thinks about doing it in the bedroom he talks to you about it multiple times at length. He clarifies a safe word with you and establishes your limits. You do the same thing with him because safe words and boundaries go both ways! Normally, he’s only going to spank you as a punishment for something. The way you whimper and moan in his lap as he spanks you makes him so hard. It honestly gives Carmy a rush to see you dripping from his hand coming down on your ass. 

Size kink— It’s definitely arises from insecurities about his height, let’s be honest here. Regardless of your height though, Carmy just likes feeling that he’s bigger than you. It’s why he’s so ripped. No matter how tall you are he’s got enough muscle to hold you down in bed. Now, if you are shorter than him, even better. 

The size kink appears in other ways other than just pure body size. For one, it drives him crazy how much smaller your hands are compared to his. Seeing your dainty hand wrapped around his cock drives Carmy up the wall. You can barely wrap your fingers all the way around his length. 

He loves to watch as your cunt takes his fingers. They’re so much wider and longer than your own, so he goes slow. 

Finally, his size kink comes into play most when he’s fucking you. He’s soothing you while he works his cock into your cunt. Once he’s all the way in, he can’t help but point out of the sight of him inside of you. “Look. You see that?” Carmy asks while drawing your attention to the small bulge in you stomach, right above your mound. It’s hard to see when he’s not moving, so he lightly thrusts in deeper so the bulge moves. 

“F-fuck, yeah— I can see that,” you whine in response. Carmy’s hand moves over the bulge and he presses down, hard, before he starts rolling his hips into you at a quick pace. 

“Such a good girl taking my cock like this. I’m surprised it even fit, baby. Taking me so fucking well.”

Praise— He loves giving praise and being praised. He’s calling you everything. His love, his good girl, his princess, his baby. He’s telling you how good you’re doing for him, and how perfect you are for him. 

“Made for me. You know that? Fucking perfect.”

“You’re so pretty. My pretty girl.” 

“I love you so much. Fuck—you feel so good, squeezing me like that—shit.”

And you offer praise back in return because goodness knows Carmy needs to hear it after all those years being insulted in the kitchen. 

“You’re so pretty, too. You make me feel so good, Carmy.”

“Love these muscles,” you say while feeling his abs as he thrusts into you. “So hot how strong you are, baby.” Those types of comments from you make his brain short circuit. 

Daddy kink— Okay, nothing turns him on more than being called daddy. It just, does something to his brain. A pretty girl like you? Calling him daddy? Begging him to fuck you? Yeah, he’s close to cumming in his pants from that. It’s just the soft dom thing he has going for him. He wants to take care of you in every way possible, make you feel good, and provide for you. 

“Please daddy, need you,” you beg. 

“I got you sweet girl. Daddy’s going to take care of you, don’t worry.”

L= Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He prefers a good old mattress. It’s basic but it’s private and comfortable. Carmy also likes fucking on a couch, too. Mainly because if he’s started getting hot and heavy on a couch, he’d rather fuck you there than carry you to the bedroom. He’s all about efficiency!

Part of him enjoys fucking at the restaurant. Not all the time, though, but there’s something about fucking you in a locked office that really gets him going. He has to keep his palm clasped over your mouth to keep you quiet. Whenever he has sex with you at the restaurant, it’s always fast, rough, and passionate. Usually, it’s to release stress, but even if it’s not, you’re going to have trouble walking straight afterwards. Richie makes an all knowing face when you walk out of the office, and heat builds up in your cheeks as you get out of the front doors as fast as possible. 

Oh, and Carmy loves to get on his knees and eat you out while you’re sitting on the kitchen counter at his apartment. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Anything. Anything at all. When he’s into someone, he’s into them. Your touch alone can be enough to turn him on. 

With that being said, there are some specific things that drive Carmy crazy. For one, you wearing his clothes. 

One time you walked into the Bear before opening hours wearing one of his classic white t-shirts. He thought he was about to have a brain aneurysm seeing you in his clothes. The way the fabric draped over your body— yeah he had to take you back into the office as soon as you walked into the restaurant. 

Speaking of clothes, dresses and skirts are his favorite articles of clothing on you. He thinks that you look so very pretty in them, and he also likes the easy access. 

As mentioned in K, if you whisper anything in his ear involving the word “daddy”, he’s dragging you off somewhere immediately. 

Thinking about this specifically at some kind of chefs’ gala. Carmen’s been in a circle of chefs from around the area talking for what feels like hours, now. All you want to do right now is go home. You make your way up to Carmy, and balance on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Are you going to be done soon, daddy? I’d rather go home and spend time with you.”

You can see the way Carmy’s hands tighten around the glass in his hand before he speaks to the people around him. “If you’ll excuse me, folks. My girl isn’t feeling well so I’m going to take her home. Glad to have gotten to talk to you all.”

Yeah, Carmy drives to the darkest part of the parking lot and tells you to get into the back seat. He can’t wait until he gets home to fuck your brains out. 

N = No (Something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

Anything that would actually hurt you. He limits stuff like spanking to just his hand. He refused to use anything else for impact play. He won’t do CNC ever. Like never ever. 

Carmy also won’t be a full on sub himself. He loves control, and needs to be in control to have a good time. The idea of losing control and being tied up is enough to send him into a panic attack.  

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Carmy loves eating pussy. He wants to stay in between your legs all day long. He won’t shut up about how good you taste. “So good, baby. Wanna taste some?” He’ll say before pressing a soaking wet finger to your lips. 

There’s so much to say about munch Carmen. He’s so fucking good at it, too. He alternates between licking and sucking at your clit in a way that makes your vision go blurry. He knows enough about your anatomy to pull back the hood with his thumb so he can suck right on the exposed bud. The first time he does it, you swear stars explode in your field of vision. 

He just LOVES eating you out! He gets to look up at you with those big blue eyes as you writhe against his face in pleasure. It makes him feel useful and needed, if he’s being honest. He could probably cum just from eating you out. The feeling of your fingers tugging in his hair, the sounds of your cries in his ears, and the pressure of your thighs closing around his head makes Carmy moan into your cunt like a madman. 

So yeah Carmy prefers to give head, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stop you from blowing him. He tends to not last as long, though. Your warm mouth around him, sucking and licking at his tip. The way your take him all the way back in your throat. Fuck— the feeling of you gagging around him as his cock hits the back of your throat. He’s praising you the entire time, too. 

“Look at you—fuck. Taking my cock in that pretty mouth of yours so well.”

“So good, baby. So fucking good with your mouth—holy shit.”

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

The answer is all of the above. Most of the time he prefers to take his time with you because he wants to savor the moment with you. Carmy’s favorite way to fuck you is slow and deep. He wants you to feel him all the way in your stomach. If he’s in a mood, however, he’s all for being fast and rough. Ultimately his pace is going to be whatever gets you off the best. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies aren’t his favorite thing ever, but he has them often. He hates how busy his work is purely because it prevents him from having  sex with you as often and as long as he would like to. Quickies usually happen at the restaurant in his office. That’s where a fast and rough pace comes into play, because there’s one goal in mind; Get off, and get off fast before someone notices. If there’s just way too many people in the restaurant, he’s not opposed to taking you in the backseat of his car for a quick fuck. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Oh he’s for sure open to experimenting in the bedroom. He will try just about anything that you’re willing to try. 

As for risks, he’s down to take calculated risks. However, once he fucked you in the restaurant bathroom while the place was still the beef because the office didn’t have a lock (He fixed that during the remodel). It was all going great until Fak started banging on the door shouting that he was about to piss himself. Real mood killer. Now, Carmy is more careful about the risks he takes. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Carmy can last for quite awhile. He has so much pent up energy that he can keep going and going. He won’t admit it, but he one hundred percent thinks about his time at Noma to keep himself from cumming. He only has to do it sometimes, though. 

Additionally, Carmy is a two rounds max kind of a guy. There’s just only so many times that he can cum before he’s going to pass out from exhaustion. Remember, he did fall asleep on a prep table that one time. 

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Carmy doesn’t haven’t any toys for himself. His hand has always done the job, and he saw no reason to get something else. 

With you, he’ll use a toy from time to time, but it’s rare. He’d much rather make you squirm with his own hand, or his mouth than with a toy. It gives him a sense of pride when he’s made you shake without using anything other than his own body. 

Now, I can see him buying you a really expensive vibration to use while he’s away on trips. As long as you face time him when you use it so he can get off too, of course. 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Carmen is such a fucking tease. He loves teasing you in and out of the bedroom with his words. When it comes to in the bedroom, half of the fun for him is teasing. He’s running the head of his cock through your folds mumbling stuff like: 

“Want me to put it in, baby? I can feel how wet you are right now.”

“C’mon. You gotta say it with your words. I don’t know what you want unless you tell me, honey.”

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He groans a lot into your neck. Curses a bunch too, like strings of curse words. Carmen can get pretty loud if he’s feeling really good. When he’s close to cumming, Carmen’s voice degrades into a whine that makes you dig your nails into his back to hear it again. As it reaches that point, he doesn’t care how desperate he sounds. “N-need you to cum. Please cum for me, baby. Need to f-feel you cum around my cock.”

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

One word. Choking. Carmy loves choking. He’s on top of you and wraps his hand around your throat just enough to cut off the blood circulation for half a second. You go absolutely crazy when his hand wraps around your throat because the euphoria is so intense. It’s like you’re on cloud nine. 

Sometimes when he’s fucking you from behind he wraps his bicep around your neck to have the same affect on you. 

Alternatively, Carmen realizes that he also enjoys being choked, at least a little bit. It happens naturally when you're on top riding him. His head falls back and exposes his neck, so you just reach forward and squeeze a little. Carmy’s eyes pop wide open as he feels the blood rush to his head. It’s so blissful he’s just laying with his head thrown back and his mouth open as you release the pressure. 

“Does that feel good for you, too?” you ask. Carmy can’t even speak, he just nods dumbly at your question. “That’s why I love it so much when you do it to me, Carm.” When you squeeze again, he’s spilling into you with a choked groan. 

X = X-ray (Let's see what's going on under those clothes)

His cock is so fucking thick oh my god. It’s a bit  longer than average length wise, but the girth is massive. You’re not even sure you can take it when he pulls his cock out for the first time. He has to fuck you so slow the first time you have sex because the stretch is just so much. He spends at least the first five minutes inside of you staying completely still to let you adjust to his size. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He’s down to have sex whenever and wherever (as long as it’s private). Carmy feels like he doesn’t fuck you enough as is, which is why you two are increasingly having quickies in his office as his time becomes more consumed by the Bear. 

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Carmy is very much awake up until the point he finishes your aftercare. Meanwhile the second you cum you’re fighting your eyelids begging Carmy to cuddle you to sleep. He has a job to do, though, he needs to clean you up, and carry you to the bathroom so you don’t get a UTI. Once he’s finished with after care he’s out like a light with you tucked in his arms, resting on his chest.