#what I don’t like is when the plot is moving at a normal pace that’s perfect for 16 episodes and then they pull the rug out from under you

[twinklingwatermellon]

Kinda funny when you start a kdrama and the plot is moving surprisingly quickly and you’re like huh,,, I vibe with this but also this cannot possibly go on for a whole 16 episodes and then you check and indeed it’s only 8 or 10 episodes

[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

JUST SAY WHEN

Spencer Reid x writer!reader

Synopsis: You always choose Spencer Reid, but is it the right choice? Word Count: 3500+ WARNING: ANGST. not proofread!!! A/N: oh, here we go again... the angst plot in my head. this one feels disorganized. like my writing is all over. i've had this one in my drafts for over a month. but today i have the courage to hit post. honestly have mixed feelings about this. it's a new type of reader I'm dabbling in so i really am anxious about this. tell me what you think!

 “You should’ve seen him when he first saw me.”

THE PURCHASE.

 Vast lavender field soaked in chamomile tea. Dusty sunset through the window pane. Overwhelming aroma of old books. One figure tiptoes to the eighth shelf. Arm stretched to reach an old copy of The Scarlet Letter.

 Whenever Spencer is asked what he felt at that moment, he thinks, “Like I saw an angel freshly descended from heaven.”

 “Shit—” Gasps by the said angel.

 A book and body drop on the carpeted floor.

 Spencer runs to your aid. A failed attempt to prevent the seething pain you momentarily felt. First of many.

 “Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling next to you. Spencer reflexively offers his hand.

 You chuckle, taking his hand, and you feel him tense. “Don’t worry, I’ve had it worse.” You retract your limb to focus the pads of your hands on dusting yourself, squatting down to pick up the book.

 Spencer nods unknowingly despite the confusion and the knots in his eyebrows. He glances at the book, “That’s a great book.”

 Following his gaze, you hoist it up with a grin. “Very,” You emphasize. “I’ve read this, like, ten— thirteen times?” You brag excitedly, sparkling eyes as you meet his big brown sight.

 “Eighty-four.”

 You hum, raising your brows. 

 “I’ve read it eighty-four times.” Spencer shyly smiles, tight lips in a curved line. His hands grip the strap of his leather satchel. Socializing has always been his worst skill, let alone talking to someone as beautiful as you. He can’t help but feel his tongue twist itself into knots he can’t untie.

 You blink—slowly and adorably innocent. “What?” You chirp. It’s not every day you meet someone who’s read a book more times than you. Plus, the boy in front of you is quite the charmer, and you’re distracted by the glow of hazels in his eyes. 

 Spencer nibbles on his lips, and a faint reddish glow creeps all over the land of his skin. “I— uh, I have to go. Bye.” He shuffles as if his body can’t figure out where to direct itself and ends up malfunctioning in the process. In the end, he walks past you, rushing to another aisle.

 It takes you roughly twenty seconds to process that he’s no longer in front of you, twisting your body to his trail. “Eighty-four?!” You exclaim, baffled. 

 Your feet chase after him. “Wait!” You try to match his pace, almost jogging to catch up. “How is that even possible?” You get past him, completely blocking his way. “You just love this book so much that you read it on a loop, or what?” 

 “It really isn’t that big of a deal…” He mumbles, eyes glitching from one title to another, to towers of spines except you. A book with such a beautiful cover, his hands itch to reach and flip every page into memory.

 You place your hands on your hips, furrowing your brows. “Tell me how you read it eighty-four times. I won’t leave you alone until you do. And I swear I’m the most annoying person you’ll ever meet, so it might be in your best interest to get rid of me quickly before you go insane.” You shrug like it’s a normal thing to say to a stranger.

 Curiosity brims from your eyes, like a big doe's eyes begging a prey to bite her limb for the sake of adventure. And like a pirate tempted by a siren, Spencer takes the bait.

 “My mom loves the book, so I read it to her all the time.” He admits, a hand behind his neck. It’s the start of a long explanation. You don’t dare stop him. Your eyes are fully fixed on his moving lips. He can feel it. And he fights not to meet yours because he just might explode.

 Right then and there, you know the small contact from his hand completely stole your heart. And his words hold you into a willing prisoner because you saw him first from afar. Because you specifically chose the book in your hand despite having two copies of it to avoid first contact. Because you didn’t want him to know how long you’ve been staring. 

 Spencer gets abruptly cut off by a patron bumping into him. You fight every willpower in your chest to keep yourself from making a scene in a mall’s bookstore, shifting your attention to him.

 “Want to talk more about it over coffee?” 

 “I was mesmerized. The beauty of his mind was so intricate I couldn’t stop myself from falling even if I tried. I wanted him to own me. And it happened just as I wanted. I just didn’t know it’d be torture… Reaching his hand out was his fatal mistake. Taking his hand was my demise.”

THE FIRST CHIP.

 Disheveled. Broken. Sharp.

 Big brown eyes dull in the dead of the night. Spencer stands before you with indifference.

 He’s changed.

 But the grip on the neck of his satchel tells you your Spencer is still there behind the walls he put up. The first of many false hopes you convince yourself to believe.

 Five months. You’ve been dating Spencer Reid for only five months. And you’re in love with every fiber of his being. Only five months, and you know you’d love him for the longest run. 

 When people ask why you love him, you say, “Because I know he’ll never hurt me.”

 Then it happens.

 Tobias Hankel. 

 You loathe the name the moment you hear it. Accidentally burn yourself in the middle of making dinner when you receive a call from Penelope Garcia that Spencer’s been kidnapped by a serial killer. 

 In the moment, you panic. Almost causing a huge fire in your apartment building as you babble over the phone, asking Penelope where the hell your boyfriend is being held as if the word kidnapped meant a mark on a map.

 Then, you worry. You beg Penelope to let you in on the progress of his search. You pace in your living room. You read every true crime book on your shelf. You pray on each page that an answer will dawn on you and that you’ll have something of use to locate Spencer, as if you knew everything when, in reality, all you knew was that he’s held captive by some sick villain in your story. 

 You felt like every sidekick in a hero’s movie. Useless.

 When Penelope tells you that he’s on his way home, you’re never too tired or sleep-deprived to drive to his place. You waited hours outside his doorstep. You ignore the shivery breeze all over your skin, as you’d forgotten to change into something more weather-appropriate. You don’t worry about the unattended kitchen, the food you are excited to make. 

 You only think about one thing: be the first person Spencer sees when he comes home. 

 He arrives in the sixth hour, close to dawn. There's a gauze on his temple. His eyes are glued to the wooden floor.

 It’s a strength not to cry out from the sight. Worry courses throughout your body. But the relief that he’s made it home safe cancels the anxiety out of your head. All you want is to cradle him, wrap him in your arms to remind him of home, of safety, of being loved.

 You take Spencer into a tight hug. “I was so worried.” You whisper in his chest, breathing in his wake. He’s safe. Everything should be okay. “I’m glad you’re safe. I care about you so much.”

 Only for him to say, “You should go home. It’s late.”

 “I’m not gonna leave you by yourself.” You shake your head, pulling away to stare at his empty face. Your palm cups his cheek, and it’s cold. He doesn’t lean against it. He simply winces like your touch is dangerous.

 “I’m too tired to entertain a guest.”

 You.

 A guest.

 There’s a small sting inside your chest that you ignore don’t notice. Your heart feels similar to a teacup with a chip on its rims. Delicately painful to the touch. 

 You swallow the thick air in the middle of your throat, nodding as you bite the tears from the back of your eyes. “Alright, my love…” You softly enunciate, not wanting to sob at the sight of Spencer avoiding your image.

 The spark in him that you love so much is nowhere to be found. Only hatred and something you can’t figure out swim behind his irises. He doesn’t even reach for your hand. Doesn’t hum in delight like he always does when your skin caresses him.

 A prominent chip marks your being. As if you had been dropped from two floors down. 

 You shove the thought away. 

 You tell yourself that Spencer needs his space. Tell yourself that he needs time to process, to heal. You tell yourself it’s okay because Spencer’s had a long week. You tell yourself it’s not about you.

 You leave a kiss on his cheek, “Rest well. Call me if you need anything.” You walk down the stairs with a weight you don’t discern. 

 Spencer doesn’t say he will.

 And he didn’t.

 “It takes a while before I realize the chip he caused. And even then, I said, what is love if I never get hurt? What is love if there’s no struggle? Besides, there are moments when the chip didn’t hurt. Minimum effort filled the aching void. Simplest gestures blinded me. Sweetest words impaired my hearing. I wasn’t hypnotized or caught in a spell. It’s plain and simple. He had a hold on me. I chose not to break free.”

THE VOICES IN HIS HEAD.

 “Oh, here we go again.”

 You feel yourself physically shrink.

 Spencer rolls his eyes, pushing one hand into the depths of his right eye socket. Heavy sighs drool off his lips. The pounding in his head makes his vision blurry. And you’re convinced some type of voice tells him you’re no one important in his life. 

 You had asked him if he’d like to take a break from his files. After he’d said no, you carefully made a point that he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. Then, you’re back to the now, where Spencer snaps at the mere mention of taking his fingers off the thin edges of the case. 

 A year into loving him. A year into being his solace—his words that now seem to be a lie—and you feel your entire body tense with every twitch and narrow of his eyes. 

 “Can’t you just leave me alone?” 

 Your chest tightens. A tug hitches your breath. A strong pressure sits over your lungs, deflating every air out without any chance of inflating back. 

 Since that night, Spencer changed. And you don't blame him. Completely understanding the stake of his trauma. Motivated to make his days better, to make him feel better. 

 The first month since that evening, Spencer didn’t text or call. He didn’t answer yours either. He isolated himself, and you’d heard from JJ that they even had a hard time talking to him. 

 So, you thought you weren't alone. That you weren't the problem. Because if everybody else can't reach him, then Spencer must want his solitude.

 You climb on your shelf. You patiently wait for him to want you again. You let it happen. Let him consume you despite the ache that gnaws in the back of your mind.

 And when he comes knocking on your door. You swing it so fast, eager to have him back in your arms. You lock the tingly feeling inside a vault. Because Spencer said he loves you that day.

 “I’m trying to do my job. It’s a difficult job, unlike yours, where you just scribble on paper or tap on your annoying keyboard and be done for the day.” 

 It cracks. Every fiber of your being cracks. The colorful memories are stricken with connected lines, slowly turning into a depressing gray. 

 You crack internally. A glass hit with force enough to break but not enough to shatter apart. Your skin holds up every broken part like a puzzle piece. 

 He’s just mad. He doesn’t mean it. You chant inside your head. You don’t know who you’re lying to.

 Spencer said he loves your writing. Love every word lined by your weaving hand. Love the stories formed from mundane moments and late nights. Love the emotions that brim within spaces and punctuation marks. 

 And you wonder if you should've kept not believing it. If you should've stayed appreciative but never convinced.

 “There are people’s lives at stake. I’m saving people’s lives, not filling their free time by reading your made-up stories.” 

 A target made to be maimed. Spencer aims at the center with precision. And you’re stricken with every shot.

 Your feet step back on their own. A subconscious pull for safety. Heart beats in fear, in ache. 

 “I’m sorry.”

 It dies in your throat. Your body shakes in so much pain you don't mind the way your heart and lungs shrink. Afraid that tears may fall, willing them to stay in place—in the back of your eyes where Spencer won't find them. 

 His migraines worsen. You tell yourself. 

 He’s still in pain. You remind yourself.

 His job is more important. You convince yourself. 

 Excuses after excuses. You make it a habit. Make excuses for him to distract the piercing agony.

 “W-why don’t I give you some space? Refill your cup?” You offer a smile like it’s a job you must carry successfully.

 Spencer gulps, hands in his pockets. “That would be great. Thanks.” He replies, getting back on his seat as if he hadn’t just cut through you like a sharp ax splitting a small trunk in half.

 You flinch when he shuts the door as soon as you step out of the room. Each piece vibrates in place, waiting for the last hit.

 “Litany of reasons come after that. I woke up each day with yet another excuse. A shameful attempt to sell what was rotten. Until I took a bite of it myself, and I tasted the sickening truth.”

THE DESTROYED SAND CASTLE.

 It's deafening. 

 The sound of you shattering into a thousand pieces. Sharp edges cut through every fabric of what you thought was true, what you thought was real. 

 “I love her.”

 But you're not her.

 You’re not the great Dr. Maeve Donovan. The woman who kept his migraines at bay, if not anything, cured them. The smart, beautiful, successful woman who rang every local pay phone in his vicinity. The woman that occupied his waking days. Days he went through next to you.

 Dr. Maeve Donovan. Spencer’s great love.

 And he’s never seen her in person until her last breath. But her voice is enough to steal him away from you. Enough for the color in Spencer’s skin to light back up after years of your failed attempts. Enough for Spencer to fall in love with her. Enough to stay in love with her despite her being gone in the wind. Despite you sleeping next to him every single night.

 She was enough. The idea of her is enough.

 “I love her.”

 Love. Present tense. Spencer loves her. 

 You don’t remember the last time he’d ever said those words to you. Don’t remember the genuine emotions that radiate along those words. Don’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt loved by him.

 “Hey…” 

 You walk past Penelope. You don't realize it until she catches your arm, distracted by the fatal explosion inside your chest. You can see the way your world crumbles like a sand castle kicked by the meanest bully.

 “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Did you not find Reid? Is he not in Hotch’s office?” Her eyes soften at the sight of your tears flowing like a steady river. “He’s safe, I promise. Just a little graze, you’ll see.” She tries to console you, rubbing the side of your arm.

 Just a little graze.

 Spencer has been carving little grazes on you for years, and the final blow causes your entire life to shatter in fine dust—close to nonexistence. 

 “Do you mind telling Spencer that there was an emergency, so I had to go?” Your voice breaks with each syllable, fighting the sobs from spilling out. It’s numbingly painful. Every part of you is sore and aching. 

 Penelope furrows her brows, “Sure, but is everything okay? What emergency?” She pries, no bad intentions, simply a sign of her kindness.

 You take a rough gulp. “I…” You look into her eyes, begging for her not to ask further. 

 She nods, giving you a soft squeeze on your arm and a warm smile. That's when you knew that she knew exactly the source of your nonstop tears. Maybe no longer than you did because you can see the anger in her eyes. At least she's on your side. And it's enough for you. “Call me if you need anything, love,” Penelope says, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m always here for you. I’m always ready to be on your side.” She adds against your neck.

 And you're heading towards the elevator without a second thought.

 You hear your name as the doors close, lifting your head to find Spencer coming out of the bullpen. Penelope is true to her words, blocking him from reaching where you stand. His voice makes your insides churn. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue is sickening.

 Your body collapses on the floor. The sobs finally echo within the tight space. The tears endlessly flow in raging torrents between floors. You wrap your arms around your torso, holding yourself together.

 But it's way too late.

 Every piece of you has already shattered into messy pieces. Spread out in broken parts, unfit even if you tried to glue yourself back together. 

 Spencer has destroyed the castle you've built. The castle you made just for him. 

 You wonder if it's all for show. If Spencer chose to keep you just to avoid his boredom when Maeve’s unreachable. If he only tolerated you to fill her physical absence.

 But you should’ve known that it was a matter of time. His kisses were merely ghosts. His touch was stinging cold. His words were hallow. 

 The signs were clear in plain sight.

 Spencer stopped loving you a long time ago.

 "It's my fault." You say out loud, as if thinking it isn't painful enough.

 You made a choice. Each day, you choose to make up new reasons why Spencer is distant. You convince yourself that you aren't hurt by his cold glances. You tell yourself that it’s not torture if you love him.

 The elevator dings to the last floor.

 “Remnants of myself dried up inside that box.”

 Tongue runs over the softness of your lips as the final lines of your book approach with the same heart-wrenching ache. For the audience, at least.

 You flip the page, lifting your gaze. You scan the mass of teary eyes and silent sobs.

 There, you find two familiar faces. Penelope sniffs next to Rossi, who’s smiling proudly. The sweet blonde became your secret ray of sunshine. And the Italian mentored your way to a New York Times bestseller.

 "In that tight space. In the center of those four moving walls. I wished so much that he'd only said when. When everything felt too much. When I was unwanted. When he stopped loving me. I would've understood. Because I always did."

 What you don’t expect is the third familiar figure. It stands in the farthest back. A shadow if you don’t know any better. You take a deep breath.

 The next words are etched in your brain. The first words you’ve ever written in the making of the book under your palm. The words that still ring in your ears.

 “I must say, it’s not that I never learned. I learned so much that within the cracks of my broken self, I filled them with empty promises. Promises I never kept. Promises I broke because I believed I’d be fixed in a couple of days. I believed that the space between pieces of me would mend if I made the choice to stay.”

 His hair is unkempt. His eyes are as brown as the healthiest earth. His build is leaner. His face is worn out by horrors you don't dare imagine.

 Flashes of his pleas, his tears, his knocks on your door. You remember them like they were just yesterday. The pain that left a prominent indentation on your heart.

 Tattoos of pain adorn his face. Has he been there the entire time? Do you really care if he was?

 You lock eyes with Spencer, pausing for a moment. You let the past seep in. You unlock the vault of your broken pieces. Let them sing in agony. Let him hear the melody of your suffering.

 And then it stops. They vanish through the air of peace. The relief of moving on.

 You smile at him. The one that started everything.

 “It’s important to know that I always had a choice. And with that is the acceptance that each time I chose wrong.”

reid masterlist | masterlist

[pitlanepeach]

From Eden | Chapter Three (3/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + severe social anxiety, depressive episodes + references to a skin-picking relapse.

Notes — This one gets a little more plot heavy. Oscar is down bad. Also: this is an extra chapter and won’t effect Thursday’s chapter. I just had an extra lunch hour today, so finished writing this one :p ENJOY <3

“Can you be brutally honest with me?” Oscar’s voice was low, thumb skimming the rim of his coffee cup.

Mark looked up from his laptop, one brow raised. “Aren’t I always?”

Oscar exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. They were tucked into the corner of the McLaren motorhome between FP1 and FP2. Early enough that exhaustion still clung to Oscar’s eyes.

“Is it ridiculous to have a crush on someone I’ve barely ever spoken to?”

Mark blinked, taken off guard. “Depends. Are we talking celebrity crush or real-life?”

Oscar gave a small, sheepish smile. “Real-life, I think.”

Mark frowned. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone, mate.”

“I’m not. We’ve just messaged a bit.” He paused. God, this was harder to explain than he’d thought it would be. “She’s… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Mark leaned back, studying him. “Different, then?”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah. She tries to pretend she’s interested in all this,” he gestured vaguely, “but I can tell she isn’t. Not really, you know? She didn’t know what Prema was.”

Mark snorted. “Blasphemy.”

Oscar smiled faintly. “She’s funny. Smart.”

Mark’s gaze narrowed with something like amusement. “Mate.”

“I know,” Oscar muttered. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Mark said, almost gently. “It’s human. Let yourself have a bloody crush. You don’t always have to be so straight-laced.”

Oscar looked down at his hands.

“You think she likes you back?” Mark asked.

A beat. “I think she’s scared of me.” Oscar admitted. 

“Scared?” Mark huffed out with amusement. “Of you?”

“Not me,” Oscar clarified. “Everything I come with. All the… noise.”

Mark nodded morosely, and they sat in silence for a moment. 

“She’s not a public figure then? Not a model or whatever?” He asked. 

Oscar shook his head. “She’s got a bit of a following — YouTube, TikTok. But she keeps her life pretty much private. She’s spoken a bit about having, uh, anxiety in her videos. I don’t think she goes out much.” He swallowed. “It would be selfish to drag her into all this.”

Mark let out a slow breath. “Christ, mate. You really don’t make things easy for yourself.”

Oscar gave a tired smile. “I like her. I barely know her. But I like her.”

Mark nodded, like that made perfect sense. “Cool. Are you willing to adjust your entire life to fit her into it?” It was blunt, but it was important. 

Oscar looked out the window. His chest felt too tight.

After hearing her mention the word agoraphobia in one of her videos, he’d gone online that same night, quietly scrolling through lists of the world’s best specialists like it was normal. Like it made sense to do that for someone he’d never even met.

“Yes.” He said. 

Mark gave a low whistle. “Right then. Let me know when she’s ready to meet me. I’ll be charming.”

He got up, wandering off toward the espresso machine.

Oscar stayed where he was, staring down at his phone.

Her name was still there, in his Instagram inbox. Pinned to the top. 

He’d messaged her, said good morning, hope you have a good day. 

No reply yet.

But maybe her silence didn’t mean no.

Maybe she just needed time.

And for her — he could wait.

—

Francesca stared at her phone from where it sat on her nightstand, face down like it had personally offended her.

She wasn’t ignoring his message. Not exactly. She was just… thinking about it. Strategically.

Instagram DM’S — Oscar Piastri > Francesca Gold

Oscar Piastri Good morning, hope you have a good day

Sent over three hours ago.

She’d seen it the second it came through — blurry-eyed and half-asleep, Henry kneading at her stomach — and had immediately freaked out. 

They weren’t strangers anymore. They weren’t quite friends either, even though sometimes it felt like they were. Which was confusing. And stressful. And annoying. Because he messaged her almost every day, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Sometimes he sent her pictures. Dumb memes. Videos of him wearing the ugliest shade of orange she’d ever seen. Updates from airports and racetracks and hotel lobbies across the globe. And sometimes — sometimes — she swore he was flirting. But then she’d read it again, a few hours later, and his words would sound completely neutral.

She was probably just imagining it. Her delusional little brain, making connections where there were none, twisting things into something soft and sweet when really, he was just being polite.

He was nice. That was all.

Still, she couldn’t help the ache of hope when his name lit up her screen. Or the way her stomach flipped every time he used her name. Or called her cute, in that maddeningly casual way that made her feel like she’d misread the whole thing.

Her thoughts had been in overdrive for days now — overthinking every message, every pause in conversation, every hour that passed without a reply.

She hadn’t even told Katie how bad it had gotten — this ridiculous crush that she had.

Henry climbed up onto her chest, purred once, and flopped dramatically across her collarbone. 

Francesca sighed and picked up her phone.

She typed morning :) good luck today

Paused. Deleted the smiley. Rewrote it.

Deleted the whole thing.

“Oh my god,” she muttered. “I want to kiss his face off and I can’t even send him a good morning text?” 

Francesca Gold 

good morning :) good luck today. 

Oscar Piastri 

Are you watching? Sessions abt to start 

Francesca Gold 

oh okay! i’ll go sit on the sofa and watch :) 

Oscar Piastri 

You don’t have to. I was just wondering if you were 

Francesca Gold 

i want to! honest

Oscar Piastri 

If I see a Sky camera, I’ll smile at it. Just for you

Francesca stared at her phone, her entire body growing warm. 

Then, very quietly, she whispered, “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

It wasn’t even a flirty message, not really — not in a way that could be called out or laughed off. It was just… sweet. Earnest. And it made her stomach twist in that now-familiar, slightly inconvenient way.

She reread it three times.

If I see a Sky camera, I’ll smile at it. Just for you.

Francesca buried her face in the throw pillow, let out a muffled squeal, and then immediately sat up again, anxious that he might see the “typing…” bubble and get scared off.

She got out of bed and moved to the sofa, switched on the TV, and immediately the Sky Sports intro was playing, the theme music already etched into her brain from the past few weeks. 

She settled into the sofa like it was a war zone, heart pounding like she’d just run a marathon.

Francesca Gold that’ll make sitting through the noise worth it.

— 

She made herself a cup of tea during the commentators’ intro to the session, settling onto the couch with Henry curled beside her. The screen flickered through overhead shots of the track, the pit lane, the garages.

She was watching the timesheets update in real time when Sky briefly cut to Oscar in the McLaren garage.

He glanced at the camera.

His eyes widened.

And then — he smiled.

It was small. Barely there. But she knew. She knew it was for her.

Her stomach flipped so hard she almost dropped her mug.

Trying to act normal — like a person with functioning social skills — she picked up her phone and took a snap of the TV screen, just as the shot panned out across the McLaren garage.

She uploaded it to her Instagram story with the caption: “Get a load of those orange minions 🙄”

He’d probably find it funny.

God, she hoped he’d find it funny.

She just… wanted to see him smile again.

— 

She was working on exporting the video she’d just filmed from her memory card to her computer when Oscar’s name popped up on her phone.

A missed Instagram video call.

Francesca stared at the phone like it might combust in her hand. Then a follow-up message came through.

Oscar Piastri Was gonna ask if you wanted to chat but realised that might be a bit scary lol. No pressure x

She hesitated. Tries to not freak out over the ‘x’. And then, almost in spite of herself, she responded. 

Francesca Gold: you can try again if you want. i’ll pick up. promise.

Her heart was a full drumbeat by the time his name flashed on the screen.

When she answered, the video was a little shaky at first — Oscar was clearly walking through the paddock, AirPods in, a McLaren cap on, and an amused smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hey,” he said, casual but warm.

Francesca was curled up on her sofa in an oversized hoodie, Henry asleep and purring softly beside her. “Hi,” she whispered.

“You answered,” he teased, dimples flashing. “I thought you might block me instead.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she murmured, hiding her smile behind the collar of her hoodie.

He grinned, front teeth flashing. “So. I saw your story. ‘Orange Minions’? Really?”

Her cheeks flushed. “It’s fitting…”

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. “It’s papaya, by the way. Not orange.”

She narrowed her gaze, deadpan. “It’s orange.”

“Papaya,” he insisted, mock-offended. Then, softer, “But I liked it. I liked knowing you were watching.”

Francesca bit her lip.

There was a pause, and then he added — a little too casually — “I’d love to see you in my colour. And my number.”

Her heart nearly stopped. “I—uh…”

He winced. “Too much?”

She made a small, panicked sound. “Um.”

Henry meowed, stretching across her lap like a fuzzy lifeline.

Oscar grinned, clearly relieved at the distraction. “Is that Henry?”

She turned the camera slightly. Henry blinked at the screen, unimpressed. Oscar cooed anyway.

“Where are you going?” she asked, trying to fill the silence.

He flipped the camera around, giving her a view of the pit lane. Her eyes widened.

“Just stretching my legs before third practice.”

“And you’re in… Belgium?”

“Yeah. Spa.”

He turned the camera back on himself. “Have you, ah, got any plans today?”

She glanced at where her laptop was sat on the coffee table. “Work. Just- editing, I guess. I need to trim Henry’s nails. I might bake.”

God, why was she so bad at this?

He smiled, soft and a little curious. “You can bake?”

She nodded, suddenly wishing her life sounded more exciting.

Oscar opened his mouth to say something else, but a voice called out in the background — Lando. Oscar sighed, looking genuinely reluctant to end the call.

“I gotta go. Sorry this was so short. But—thanks. For answering. I don’t think you realise how much I like talking to you.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Francesca stayed still, phone pressed to her chest, her heart doing somersaults.

She didn’t even try to catch her breath.

—

Francesca balanced her phone against the sugar canister and wiped her flour-dusted hands on a tea towel. “Can you see even me?”

Katie’s face appeared on-screen, squinting. “You’re slightly tilted and there’s a bit of grease on the camera, but sure. Are you… baking?”

Francesca shrugged, going for nonchalance as she went about cracking an egg into the mixing bowl. “Needed a distraction.”

“Distraction from what, I wonder?” Katie sang, all mock innocence.

Francesca shot her a look. “Don’t. Please just… not now.”

Katie leaned in closer to the camera. “What happened? Because I’m just saying. You’re beating that egg like your life depends on it, and you’ve been ignoring my texts all day. So.”

Francesca sighed, easing up on the poor egg. “He video called me earlier.” She mumbled. 

Katie’s brows shot up. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again? He what?”

“Video call. Out of the blue. Said he liked my stupid Instagram story I made about his team and—” She cut herself off with a groan, shoving the bowl away and burying her face in her hands. “Katie. I think I’m in trouble.”

Katie blinked. “As in… emotional trouble?”

Francesca nodded slowly.

Katie tilted her head. “That’s my favourite kind.”

“I’m serious,” Francesca said, pulling her hair into a loose bun. “He’s so… nice. And he says things that make me feel like he means them. Like… really means them.”

Katie’s expression softened. “Francesca.”

Francesca sniffled a little, feeling ridiculous for getting emotional over this. “It’s just… What does he want? Like—what is he doing? He’s him. And I’m just… this. Always just this.”

“Firstly,” Katie said, holding up a finger, “Stop trying not to cry. You’re allowed to cry. Secondly, maybe what he wants is you. Pyjamas, cat, homebody and all.”

Francesca gave a tiny smile, even if it felt ridiculous to even consider that being a possibility. “He said he liked talking to me. And he wants to see me wearing his colour. And his number.”

She’d looked it up after ending their call. OP81. His number was eighty-one. 

Maybe it was just a coincidence that her flat, her safe haven, was number 81 too. 

Katie didn’t speak for a second. Then, gently, “Babe. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s messing around. I looked him up, did some research. His teammate is undoubtedly a playboy, but Oscar seems different.”

“I know,” Francesca whispered. “But it doesn’t feel real.”

Katie leaned back on her sofa, phone wobbling in her hands. “You’re just used to bracing for the worst.”

Francesca looked down at her mixing bowl, voice quiet. “What if I let myself fall a little bit too deep, and it all disappears?”

Katie shrugged. “Then I’ll come over and help you pick up the pieces. I have a question now. What if it ends up being the best thing you’ve ever done, hm? Letting yourself fall?” 

Francesca didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned the oven on, carefully spooning batter into the muffin tin.

After a long pause, she said, “Then maybe I’ll make him banana muffins one day.”

Katie snorted. “God, you’re smitten.”

“Yeah.” Francesca stared at the circled of batter before sliding the tray into the oven. “Maybe.” 

— 

Instagram DM’s — Oscar Piastri > Francesca Gold 

Oscar Piastri

Can I have your number? You can say no. 

Francesca Gold 

Uh. Yes. Sure. Okay. 

Oscar Piastri

Are you sure? I don't mind DM'ing you forever if thats what you want.

Francesca Gold 

*phone number* 

— 

He sat on the little couch in his driver’s room, legs stretched out, race suit unzipped to the waist. His head rested against the wall, phone pressed to his ear, helmet sitting on the table beside him.

“Hi, Mum.” He said, when the dial tone stopped. 

“Well, hello stranger,” she said warmly. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit nervous,” he admitted. “Spa’s always a bit of a beast.”

“You’ll be fine. Car looks good this weekend.” She said. There was a beat of comfortable silence. Then she asked, gently, “And how’s the girl?”

Oscar smiled before he could stop himself. He’d mentioned Francesca once, a week ago, when he’d last spoken to her. “She’s fine.”

“You’ve still been talking then?” She asked. 

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his thumb along the seam of his race suit. “More than I expected, honestly.”

His mum hummed. “You like her.”

He didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”

There was a soft chuckle. “And does she know that?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Maybe. I think I might be… too much.” He glanced at his helmet, the noise of the paddock just beyond the walls “The opposite of what she needs, probably.”

“She sounds special, Oscar.” His mum said, and he’d never heard her say his name like that before. Something between fondness and excitement. 

“I don’t know how to make this work for her,” he said, voice low. “She doesn’t— do you know what agoraphobia is?” He asked. 

She was silent for a beat. “Oh, dear.” She said, quietly. “Yes, I do. Poor girl.”

“Yeah.” He said, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“So don’t. You don’t have to rush it. You’ve never been flashy anyway.” His mum said. “I mean, you disappear during off-season, you hardly have a social media presence, and you stay under-the-radar a lot more than your friends do.” She said. “I’m not saying it’s the same thing, but…” She trailed off. 

Oscar let out a quiet breath. “Okay. So how do I ask her out without… scaring her off?”

His mum’s voice was kind, but certain. “You ask her like you mean it. You give her a way to say no, and you let her know it wouldn’t change how much you like talking to her. And if she says yes, you make sure that she’d going to be able to feel safe the entire time.”

Oscar closed his eyes. He liked that picture. Him and Francesca, together, close enough for him to reach out and touch. “Yeah.” He breathed out. 

“You’ll be alright, love.” She said. 

“Thanks, Mum.”

He started to push himself up. He was running out of time before he’d be called to start checking the telemetry. 

“And Oscar?” She called out before he could end the call. 

“Yeah?” He asked, shrugging his race suit onto his shoulders.

“Maybe don’t lead with ‘do you want to come to a grand prix’.”

He laughed quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Noted.” He said, sarcastically. 

There was a knock on the door — his engineer, probably — signalling that his quiet time was up. “Gotta go. I’ll call you after. Love you.”

“I’ll be watching. Love you too.”

He ended the call and looked at his phone screen for a long moment, thumb hovering. Then, impulsively, he opened the new contact he’d added to his phone. Francesca. 

iMessage — Oscar > Francesca 

Oscar: I want to meet you. Somewhere quiet, just us. I’ll come to you — whatever makes you feel safest. Just… think about it, yeah?

— 

Francesca stared at her phone, rereading the message like it might suddenly rearrange itself into something less terrifying.

She could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Henry, ever attuned to her moods, jumped onto the bed and settled beside her, purring like an engine. Ironic. 

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. She typed out “Okay”, then deleted it. Typed “That’s not a good idea”, deleted that too.

She curled onto her side and let the phone fall against the duvet.

Quiet. Just us.

No pressure.

She stared down at her hands.

The skin around her nails was raw — red and sore in places where she’d picked too much, too hard. A relapse, if she was honest with herself. The kind that crept in quiet, all sharp edges and shame. Her thighs didn’t look much better, marked with pinches and scratches and soft bruises that bloomed like confessions.

If this thing with Oscar ever went anywhere — if they ever saw each other in person, really saw each other — he would know. He’d see all of it. The messy parts. The anxious rituals. The bad days she couldn’t hide behind a screen.

That was the cost of being known.

She didn’t know if she was brave enough.

She glanced at the time.

Twenty minutes. That’s how long she’d left the message sitting there, unanswered. Her phone rested on the arm of the sofa, screen dark, like it was holding its breath for her.

By now, he’d be in his car. Strapped in, suited up. Probably lined up on the grid already, surrounded by chaos and noise and expectation.

She could turn on the TV. She could watch him — this man who’d somehow become a soft ache in her chest. Watch him blur past in papaya-orange and pretend that the message waiting for her answer didn’t matter so much.

But it did. God, it did.

She picked up the remote with trembling fingers and turned on the TV.

The pre-race coverage was in full swing — sweeping camera shots of the grid, engineers moving like clockwork, the roar of the crowd humming beneath the commentators' chatter. Her eyes scanned the screen, searching.

And then — there he was.

Oscar. Stood a few meters from his car, helmet still off but balaclava on, focused but calm. The camera panned over him briefly, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped rhythmically on the phone in his hand.

Her heart squeezed.

He had no idea if she was watching. No guarantee she'd seen the message at all. But he’d sent it anyway.

She picked up her phone. 

Francesca: okay. yes. i’d really like that. but you have to pretend not to notice if i get really awkward and say something dumb.

She didn’t expect to catch it.

Just a second, maybe less — the camera drifted back to him on the grid. He had his head bent, the phone still in his hand. The, he paused and moved it closer to his face.

He was reading her message.

Francesca watched, frozen on her sofa, breath caught in her throat.

Oscar’s mouth curved. Just a little. Just enough.

The smile wasn’t for the cameras. It wasn’t the grin he gave reporters or fans. It was soft. Barely there. But she saw it — and somehow, it made her feel like her ribs were too small for her chest.

He handed his phone to one of his engineers. Straightened his shoulders. Slipped on his helmet.

And then he was gone. The drivers were all in their cars. The formation lap started. 

And she sat in her quiet living room, a fat, ginger cat curled up in her lap, feeling like her whole world had tilted just a little.

—

The race began with a roar.

Francesca stayed curled on the sofa, hands wrapped around a mug that had long gone cold. 

She wasn’t really sure when it happened — when the noise and the chaos and the flashing graphics on-screen faded into the background and she started watching only him.

Oscar. Calm and sharp and focused, even when the car danced on the edge of control. Even when the commentators gasped. Even when the margins were paper-thin.

She watched the way he drove. The way he navigated past the other like it was second nature.

And then, somewhere between lap twenty and thirty, it hit her.

Not all at once, but slowly — like light creeping under a door.

She wanted to be there.

Not in the stands, pressed shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Not surrounded by cameras. But somewhere quiet. Somewhere just far enough out of sight. In the shadows. Hidden, maybe, but still there.

To see his face when he stepped out of the car. To hug him, if he wanted that. To say well done, Osc into his shoulder while everyone else was still trying to get his attention. To be close enough to experience the tiny motions that no one else saw — the ones he didn’t perform for the cameras.

To be the first face he found if something went wrong. If he crashed. If he was hurt.

The thought made her stomach twist and her hands shake, but she didn’t look away.

She sat through every lap. Every pit stop. Every replay. And when he crossed the line, she found herself whispering a breathless, “Well done,” to no one at all.

She rubbed the back of her hand beneath her eye.

Fuck.  

— 

Katie burst through the front door without knocking, a bundle of coat, scarf, and wild energy. "Okay, okay, sit down, sit down—wait, you're already sitting, perfect."

Francesca blinked at her from the sofa, a spoon halfway to her mouth. It was incredibly rare that Katie ever showed up without warning, but today was a good day, so it didn’t matter. “Hi?” She greeted, confusion lacing her tone. 

Katie didn’t bother with pleasantries. She tossed her capaciously filled bag onto the armchair and pointed dramatically. “You’re about to owe me your firstborn.”

Francesca raised an eyebrow. “You’re not having Henry.”

Katie waved her off. “Shut up. This is huge, Fran. Harper Collins reached out to us. They want it. A novel. Written by you.” 

Francesca froze.

This had to be some kind of joke.

Was it April? 

She shook her head in denial. “No way. You’re lying. I— Wait—what?” 

“I’m not lying,” Katie said, pulling out her phone, scrolling furiously. “They’ve seen the shorts you post. They know about your following. They think you have the voice and the audience. And they’re offering a good number, Fran. Like… actual money. Actual advance. No nonsense.”

Francesca’s mouth had gone dry. “I don’t— I mean, I’ve not written a full book before.”

“They don’t care. They want you. Your tone, your voice, your take on love.” Katie’s face softened, seeing the look on hers. “Francesca. My god. This is insane."

Francesca stared down at her lap. Her heart was thumping in her chest. “Oh my god. And I already said yes to something else today.” She laughed, slightly hysterically.

Katie frowned. “What do you mean?”

She took a breath. “Oscar. He asked to meet. In person. I said yes.”

Katie didn’t respond immediately. She blinked once. Then slowly lowered herself into the armchair like she was afraid sudden movement would spook her.

“You said yes?” she asked, carefully.

Francesca nodded.

Katie broke into a grin. “Okay. Wow. Wow. Big day for Francesca Gold.”

“I might throw up,” Francesca muttered, pressing her hands to her cheeks.

She was so overwhelmed. 

“That’s fair. But also—this is huge. The universe is literally clapping for you right now.”

Francesca huffed a laugh, still half-stunned. “I feel like I’m living in a fever dream right now.”

“Francesca?” Katie leaned forward, her eyes a little wet. “I’m… really proud of you. For the book deal, obviously, but also… Oscar would be stupid not to fall in love with you.”

Francesca sniffled. 

“And,” Katie added, with a sly smile that was only softened by the fact that her eyes were still damp, “this romance novel is going to hit different if you’re literally falling in love with somebody whilst you write it. Oh my god! Make it motorsport themed. You have to.”

Francesca groaned, pulling a pillow over her face. 

CHAPTER FOUR

[f1goat]

more than friends + lando norris x part eight

In which your best friend wants to help you so you get more sexual experience, but he discovers quickly that he never wants to share you and your new sexual experience with others.

masterlist - playlist

warnings: smut with a plot or a plot with smut? :) minors dni! i never proofread so probably grammar or spelling errors

requested: yes, based on: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven

Lando is walking a bit in front of you, slowly you walk behind him. Together with a couple of his team members and Oscar you’re doing a track walk. Normally you skip this part of the day, but Lando kept begging you to accompany him. So here you are - and Lando isn’t even paying attention to you. You wonder why he wanted you to come here with him. 

“Still not dating Lando?” Oscar questions you suddenly. 

You let out a soft chuckle because of Oscar his blunt question. After you picked Lando and him up, Oscar has asked you that a couple times. It’s nice to talk about everything with someone. Although, not everything since you’re not telling him about the sexual things that are happening between you and Lando. Even though you suspect that Oscar already knows about that. 

“Still single,” you reply.

“Still waiting for him to make a move,” Oscar says, he lets out a soft laugh because of his remark. 

“True,” you state.

Oscar laughs again, this time you join him. Lando is quick to look behind himself when he hears you’re laughing. It surprises him to see you talking and laughing with his teammate. He decreases his pace until he is walking next to Oscar and you. 

“What are you talking about?” Lando asks. 

You doubt about your answer. What do you need to say? You can’t tell Lando that you were talking about him. Before you can say anything, Oscar is already answering Lando.

“I’m trying to get her to go on that date with Pierre,” Oscar says. He knows he’s taking a risk and that Lando will get mad at him, but he’s done with the way his friend handles this. Lando needs a push and right now, Oscar is happy to give him one. A massive big one even. 

“But you already said no to Pierre, right Y/N?” Lando is quick to question you. 

Fucking hell, what did Oscar just do? You know he’s waiting for Lando to make a move on you, but you told him that he didn’t need to intervene. When you look at Lando and notice his frustrated look, you suddenly start to think that it might be worth a shot. 

“Yeah,” you answer, “but he asked again.” It isn’t even a lie. Pierre texted you again yesterday, his text was stupid and a cliche, but you didn’t answer it yet. His text was something in the line of you needing to give him a chance - since he was settling down and really wanted to get to know you. This time he didn’t even say how beautiful you were, something he did a couple times after you said no the first time.

“Why would you chance your mind?” Lando asks confused, “I thought you already decided that he wasn’t your type.”

“You decided that,” Oscar butts in. Lando sends a angry glare towards his teammate. 

“Maybe I should give him a chance to prove himself,” you shrug. 

You really hope that Lando is going to say something against this. There’s not a single cell in your body that likes the idea of going on a date with Pierre. You wait for Lando his reply. In the mean time you take a good look at him. It’s clear that he is frustrated right now, but he doesn’t act on it. Yet. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Lando replies frustrated, “He is a fuck boy.”

“According to him he’s changing,” you state. 

“He still wants to fuck you,” Lando says angrily. 

“Maybe I want him to,” you reply sarcastic. 

Lando doesn’t realize that you’re sarcastic right now. He is sending you angry glances. You don’t know how to behave yourself right now. You have no idea what Lando is going to say. Oscar is looking at the drama unfolding itself before his eyes. He wonders how this will work out. Lando seems way too mad to say anything good right now. He is already preparing himself for a fight. 

“You don’t,” Lando mutters angrily.

“How would you know?” You reply.

You don’t know why you’re getting mad. This is going about useless crap. But Lando is annoying you right now and you only want to frustrate him as well. Lando stops walking and turns himself to you. 

“You told me I would be your first,” Lando eventually says in a soft voice. His eyes are begging you to agree to his words. To tell him again that you want him to be your first. “You can’t expect me to believe that you suddenly want to have your first time with a fuck boy like Pierre,” he adds when you don’t reply fast enough. 

You let out a soft sigh. “You’re right,” you confess. Lando his facial expression is quick to brighten up a bit. “But maybe I want to date someone,” you lie, “I mean I have to get some experience on dating and Pierre can be useful with that.”

“No,” Lando says firmly, “You’re not going on a date with Pierre. End of discussion.”

“And who says you can make that decision for me?” You ask Lando annoyed.

“Come on babygirl, not him,” Lando pleads you.

“Okay, then I’ll say yes to Logan,” you reply.

“No,” Lando is quick to say. “You told me he was too young,” he adds.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” you state.

“Fucking hell,” Lando mutters. You don’t say anything. “After the track walk I’m taking you on a date and I swear to god, I don’t want to hear you about any other boy for the rest of the day.”

Oscar laughs loudly. You almost forgot that he was still here as well. Lando sends him an angry look. He knows that this was Oscars idea. He will talk to his teammate later about this. When he wants to make a sneer directed at Oscar, he starts to notice your look. You have a small smile plastered on your face and you seem happy with yourself. It makes him forget about Oscar. Did you do this on purpose? Maybe you wanted him to snap. He should have asked you on a date way sooner, then this mess wouldn’t be necessary. 

Lando gets closer to you. “And after that date, I’ll deny you your orgasms until you’re screaming out your apologies for even talking about them,” he whispers in your ear.

+++

He’s trying. Really trying. But why is it always that someone is trying to flirt with you wherever Lando takes you? He took you to a nice restaurant this evening. He made sure to check the menu before making a reservation, so he would know for sure that you’d like the food. It seemed to be the perfect evening, but now the fucking waiter is flirting with you. Lando is getting sure that he will be losing his mind pretty soon. He tries to ignore the waiter, but every time he comes over he’s reminded about the fact that your not his. Fuck. 

“What’s going on Lan?” 

It’s your voice who pulls him out of his thoughts. Lando tries to shrug it off, but when he sees your strict gaze he knows he won’t get away this easily. 

“Why is it that every where I take you, there seems to be someone trying to get with you,” Lando eventually confesses with an annoyed sigh. 

You show him a small smile. It’s really bothering him apparently. “I’m not interested in any of them,” you tell Lando, “so you can relax.”

“Promise?” He asks you.

“Promise.”

“Not even that waiter?” He asks just to be sure.

“Which waiter?” You ask confused, “I thought you were still talking about Logan and Pierre.”

“The one who just brought you your drink,” Lando confesses.

“What’s with him?” You ask confused.

“He’s trying to flirt with you,” Lando sighs.

You let out a soft chuckle. “I didn’t even notice,” you tell Lando. “Come on babe, ignore them and enjoy our evening,” you add when Lando is glaring at the waiter who’s coming closer again. 

When Lando and you start to walk towards the exit of the restaurant after dinner, you’re quick to realize that the waiter from before is coming to you two. Lando is already sending angry glances, wondering what the guy wants this time. You on the other hand don’t know what to think. Maybe you just forgot something that he’s going to bring over? 

“Hi,” the waiter is quick to greet you when he stands in front of you. “I uh,” he continues while looking a bit nervous, “I was wondering if you’re single. And if so, if I can get your number?” 

Fuck. You don’t like it that Lando was right. Lando is quick to put his arm around your body and pulls you close to himself. It’s almost like he’s trying to show the guy that you’re his. But you’re not. 

You wonder how to react to the waiter. What do you need to reply? You don’t want to give him your number, but you also don’t want to be rude. Normally those things don’t happen to you. 

“No, she’s not.”

Lando his words shock you, but you play along. You try to hide your confused feelings. The waiter is quick to mumble a soft apology and walk off. Lando starts to walk with you in a fast pace, it seems like he wants to leave as quick as possible.

Lando takes you back to the hotel with him. You are feeling tense because of Lando his earlier words. Is he really going to deny you your orgasms? Lando his hand is laying on your thigh while he drives to the hotel. You stare at him. Lately he has made you question everything. Of course you were well aware of your feelings before, but now things have changed. Now you feel the slight possibility of Lando liking you back. You don’t want to hope too much, but you can’t help yourself anymore… His jealousy alone makes you question everything. 

When the two of you are back into the hotel, Lando is quick to wrap you into his arms. He lifts you up a bit and takes you to the bed with him. You are quick to softly fall onto the bed, Lando lands next to you. It doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms all around your body. You let out a relieved sound. Lando is quick to follow. 

“All I wanted today was to cuddle with you,” Lando softly confesses.

You feel your cheeks heating up from his confession. You get closer to Lando and put a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“I like that as well,” you tell Lando.

He shows you a grin.

+++

A few hours later you’re laying on the bed with Lando again. This time you’re freshly showered and underneath the sheets of the bed. You’re wearing one of Lando his shirts and your panties. Lando is already complaining about it. Even though he’s only wearing his boxers.

“How do you expect me not to take your virginity right now and here if you’re looking like this?” He ask you. 

You let you gaze away from the television screen that’s playing some old Family Guy episodes, to look at Lando. You feel your cheeks reddening while thinking about what to reply. Eventually you decide to be honest with him.

“I don’t expect you to,” you confess.

“No, no babygirl,” Lando quickly states.

“No?” You ask him confused.

Lando doesn’t tell you that he’s waiting on purpose. He doesn’t know what will happen after he takes your virginity, but he’s afraid things between you two will go back to ‘normal’. Or at least the things that were normal for you before, so no kissing and sexual stuff anymore.

“I want to do it right,” Lando says, “You know a bit romantic and stuff like that.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, “I’m ready and if you want to now is fine.”

“I want to,” Lando answers firmly, “not that I don’t want to fuck the living shit out of you right now, but I want to make sure your first time is perfect.” 

“That’s sweet Lan.”

“Come here babygirl,” Lando says. You move yourself closer to him and lay down on him. 

Lando is quick to press a firm kiss against your lips. It’s fast to turn into more. You slightly open your lips to give Lando entrance to your tongue. Something he’s quick to take. You put yourself on top of Lando his body. Slowly you grind your hips against his crotch. You feel something hardening underneath yourself. It’s exactly what you think it is. It only took you a couple seconds before Lando got hard from your movements.

Is it weird to see that as a compliment?

Lando moves his hands towards your hips. He helps you to grind him harder. He uses a bit more pressure and makes sure you hit him rightly every time. You move your head closer to Lando and press a kiss against his lips. It turns into a make out session in no time. 

“Fuck,” Lando moans. 

You try to grind on to him even harder while increasing your pace. You twirl your hips in the mean time. Lando softly squeezes your ass, it causes you to let out a soft moan as well. Lando shows you a small smirk. You increase your pace and pressure even more. When Lando lets out a deep moan, you show him a smirk back. Two can play this game.

It only takes you a couple more movements before you feel a small bit of wetness. Lando isn’t looking at you anymore. He has his eyes closed and lets out another soft moan. 

“Fucking hell babygirl,” he eventually mutters when he opens his eyes again, “You just made me cum into my underwear. Again.”

You show Lando a small innocent smile. He shakes his head while laughing.

sorry for taking a bit longer then usual :( i've been busy! hopefully i can write part nine faster

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes@barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector@ryiamarie @mickslover @sop-hie092 @miniemonie2001 @greymarvelskaikru @kapsylia @swiftiedrafts @thatchickwiththecamera @formulas-bitch @venisvendetta @t3a-3njoy3r @landowecanbewc

[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning, fem reader

chapter warnings/tags: lil bit of angst, choso's feelings are starting to show, drinking games, reader is starting to get butterflies from choso A/N: just a simple plot chapter! we're closer to a little choso x reader action, and sukuna may react poorly... ( • ᴗ - ) also no matter if there's smut in the chapter or not, I will always use MDNI!

index part seven | part nine

part eight word count: 2,912

you had decided that this weekend would be the best one of your life. after all, it was finally time for the annual summer trip that you go on with Yuji and your friends every break; last year it was the beach, but this year the group vote was to stay in a cozy cabin in the woods with plans for hiking and exploring. but your favorite part was the idea of making smores and drinking around the campfire.

“Yuji let’s go! we have to get a move on!” you yelled up the stairs, your patience wearing thin as you waited for him to hurry. you heard a clumsy thud from above, followed by a series of frantic footsteps. Yuji appeared, hopping down the stairs on one foot while struggling to put his shoes on fast enough.

“jeez, mom, I’m moving as fast as I can.” Yuji quipped, nearly losing his balance but catching himself on the stair railing. “why am I the only one getting yelling at?”

he had a point. you turned back to the stairs and hollered, “Choso, we’re going to leave without you!”

convincing Choso to join this years trip had been a small miracle – and Yuji insisted it was because you asked him to. normally, Choso wasn’t one for group outings, often dismissing your friends as immature and obnoxious. it was a mystery to you as to why he agreed to come along this time, but you weren’t complaining.

you silently thanked your lucky stars that Sukuna wasn’t around when you’d asked; he had been off on a trip with his own friends this week, conveniently coming back after you guys had left. with the increased distance between the two of you, you were slowly forgetting the anxiety you had about what had happened, instead opting to focus on the joy of hanging out with Yuji and Choso.

finally, Choso came down the stairs, at a snail’s pace you might add, carrying a duffel bag and wearing headphones around his neck. “I’ve got my music queued up for when we get in the car, so don’t even think about bothering me.” he plainly told you and Yuji, his expression already showing signs of the annoyance to come.

“Aw come on Choso. what if I wanted to play I Spy with you?” you teased, poking him in the side to agitate him more – but it had the opposite effect. instead of swatting you away and groaning like usual, Choso merely smiled at you and shrugged away from your intrusion, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

by the time you managed to herd the two of them out the door, Nobara and Megumi were waiting by the car. Nobara was tapping her foot impatiently, her gaze sweeping over the three of you with a critical eye. “which one of you took the longest to get ready?” she demanded.

without hesitation, you pointed at Choso and Yuji, while they both pointed back at you. your jaw dropped in outrage. “hey! I was the one yelling at you two to get your asses downstairs!”

“doesn’t matter.” Megumi said with a sigh, rolling his eyes. “just get in the car so we can get moving.” he slid into the driver’s seat, with Nobara taking the passenger seat. you were left to squeeze in the back, wedged between Yuji and Choso. with a final round of groans and shuffles, you all took off on the journey.

being sandwiched between Yuji and Choso wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, and there was absolutely no room to stretch out. Yuji, like a child, kept poking and pestering Nobara from behind her seat – this inevitably led to you getting caught in the crossfire, often receiving a swift swipe from the red head accidentally.

the drive wasn’t long, but it was just long enough to leave you feeling cramped and achy. you glanced over at Choso, who had his headphones in and his eyes shut, likely tuning out the chaos of the car. deciding to take a chance, you gently pulled one of the earbuds from his ear.

Choso’s eyes snapped open in irritation before he realized it was you. “can I listen too?” you asked, offering a hopeful smile hoping to persuade him.

he nodded, a soft smile spreading across his face. you took the extra earbud and popped it into your ear. to your surprise, Choso’s playlist was filled with lo-fi music – pleasantly surprising you. the gentle beats began to relax you, and you found yourself leaning against Choso’s shoulder, closing your eyes.

unbeknownst to you, Choso’s face turned a delicate shade of pink at the unexpected contact. he looked down at you, finding you utterly adorable as you sought comfort in his presence. his smile widened as he enjoyed the moment. just then, he noticed Yuji staring at him, eyes wide in disbelief.

“what the hell?” Yuji mouthed silently, his expression a mix of surprise and confusing.

Choso quickly mouthed back, “don’t know what you’re talking about,” before settling back into his seat and closing his eyes. even though he was eager for the car ride to be over, a part of him wished it would go on forever so he could savor your closeness a bit longer.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

you hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the gentle shaking your shoulder woke you, and you realized you’d dozed off for the entire ride.

“y/n, we’re here.” Choso said softly, nudging you awake. as you blinked away the remnant of sleep and sat up, you stretched and tried to shake off the drowsiness. “I think you drooled on my shirt a little.” he added with a hint of amusement.

your eyes widened in alarm as you quickly glanced at Choso’s shirt, but there was no sign of drool. Choso’s laughter only made your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “don’t do that to me; I was about to feel terrible for sleeping on you.” you snapped, giving him a playful swat.

once you all exited the car, you took a deep breath and stretched your limbs, relishing the opportunity to pop a few joints. the cabin that stood before you was charming and cozy, exactly what you’d been looking forward to. the surrounding quiet was a welcome change from the car ride chaos. you mentally noted to thank Megumi later for using Gojo’s card to book the place – or perhaps thank Gojo himself.

Nobara broke the silence, questioning, “so, what’s the sleeping arrangement?”

“I’ll bunk with Yuji, and the rest of you can get your own rooms.” Megumi answered, a smirk on his face as Yuji beamed with approval.

“but Megumi, you booked the place.” you protested. “surely, you should get your own room.”

“don’t argue.” Nobara cut in firmly. “we get our own rooms.” you suspected that Nobara’s insistence was partly why Megumi had arranged it this way. while you loved her to death, her sometimes picky nature made you relieved to not be sharing a room with her.

the group entered the cabin, immediately splitting off to go find the bedrooms and place luggage inside. you chose a bedroom on the second floor, away from the action, perfect. if you needed a quiet moment, you knew you would be able to escape up here.

while unpacking your bag, you heard footsteps approaching up the stairs. curiosity piqued, you peeked out of your room to see who would be claiming the other room on the second floor. to your surprise, it was Choso.

he caught your eye and smiled warmly. “coming up here for the quiet too?” he asked, his voice gentle.

you blushed slightly and nodded. “yeah, you know how those three can drink and stay up late. I didn’t want to be kept up all night.”

Choso nodded in understanding and proceeded to the extra room to settle in, the door directly across from yours. you felt a wave of relief knowing that Choso was your neighbor up here. it was reassuring to have someone who wouldn’t be a nuisance, and thankfully, he didn’t have his stereo system from home to blast music all the time.

once everyone had settled in, you all regrouped in the kitchen, where Megumi and Yuji were taking charge of dinner. they were in full swing, cooking up a storm as they worked together seamlessly. Nobara, perched on a stool nearby, pestered them with a constant stream of corrections.

you and Choso, seated comfortably at the bar, watched the spectacle with amusement. Yuji had thoughtfully packed your favorite drinks in the cooler before you all left home, and you took a satisfied sip from the can. even though you knew that the weekend was likely to be filled with drinking games, you were just content to unwind and enjoy your alcohol responsibly.

as dinner came to a close, Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara set up a game of drunk jenga in the living room, their excitement building with every clink of a beer bottle. Choso and you decided to bow out; it was the first night at the cabin, and you wanted to wake up refreshed without a hangover tomorrow.

as the night progessed, the room was filled with the sounds of laughter and playful competition. you found yourself feeling blissfully content, sitting a little closer to Choso on the couch and relishing in the comfort.

“who do you think is gonna lose this round?” you asked Choso, your eyes fixed on Yuji as he came close to toppling the wooden tower over.

“hm…” Choso pondered, watching the game intently. after a moment, he said, “I’m betting on Yuji. he’s been a bit clumsy this round.”

“wanna make it interesting?” you suggest with a playful raise of your eyebrow. Choso’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, and he tilted his head slightly.

“what do you have in mind?” he asked, his tone light but with a hint of challenge. for a moment you thought you felt butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach.

“if I win, I get to steal your headphones for the drive back.” you proposed with a grin.

“sounds fair.” Choso agreed, pausing to consider his own wager. “alright then. if I win, you have to go to dinner with me when we get home.”

your stomach did a little flip at his proposition, and you could feel the butterflies taking flight. “how does that put me out?” you asked, your cheeks warming up as you felt the heat rise.

“you’d have to pay.” Choso said with a grin, noticing your realization. “and I eat a lot – maybe not as much as Yuji, but be prepared for a hefty bill.”

you groaned in mock frustration, but there was an undeniable thrill within you at the wager. “fine, but I’m taking you to a McDonald’s.”

“what’s not what I –” Choso started to protest, but his words were cut off by sudden, unexpected knock at the front door.

everyone in the room paused, their attention shifting to the door with a mix of curiosity and concern. Nobara’s brows furrowed. “who the hell could that be?”

Yuji stood up, slightly swaying but with an air of confidence. “maybe it’s the owner of the rental.” he suggested. as he made his way to the door, you noticed Choso’s hand reaching back toward you, a subtle protective gesture that warmed your heart.

with bated breath, you all watched as Yuji turned the doorknob and pulled the door open.

you’d seen plenty of scary movies, the ones where a group of friends go to a cabin in the woods and run into an axe murderer, but nothing could have prepared you for the jump scare you received when the door opened

“guys, look who decided to show up!” Yuji exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement as he gestured to the figure in the doorway.

“looks like my trip ended a bit early, so I thought I’d take my little bro up on his offer.” Sukuna said with a wide grin, his gaze sweeping over the room. his eyes landed on you, and his grin momentarily faltered before returning, albeit a bit force. he glanced at Choso, whose hand was still protectively reaching toward you. “Choso, didn’t think this was your scene.”

“y/n asked me to come along. I couldn’t say no.” Choso replied through gritted teeth. “didn’t think you’d show up either.”

Sukuna chuckled, making his way into the living room and sitting in a chair that, thankfully, was not next to you. “well, someone's gotta make sure none of you kids do anything stupid.” he said, his eyes lingering on you. you quickly looked away, feeling a flush of discomfort.

“we don’t have an extra bedroom.” Megumi stated calmly, though his body was visibly tense. you knew that Megumi and Nobara really didn’t like Sukuna, only tolerating his presence for Yuji’s sake.

“I’ll take the couch.” Sukuna shrugged, but his gaze remained fixed on you, making you feel increasingly nervous. “or I could share a bed if anyone’s willing.”

“the couch is fine.” Nobara said, her voice dripping with disdain as she caught the look Sukuna was giving you.

you felt like you couldn’t breathe the longer you could feel Sukuna stare at you. having Choso sitting between you two didn’t help much, considering he was beginning to act like your bodyguard making Sukuna only stare harder.

there goes your peaceful getaway.

as Sukuna settled into the living room, the tension became almost palpable. Megumi and Nobara exchanged uneasy glances, while Yuji of course remained unaware, but soon returned to their game.

you stayed put on the couch next to Choso, trying to avoid Sukuna’s lingering gaze. Choso’s presence was a small comfort, his protective demeanor evident as he subtly inched closer to you, his body language signaling he wasn’t happy with Sukuna’s intrusion either.

eventually, Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his eyes still occasionally drifting towards you. he made no effort to engage with the group’s activated, instead seemingly content to observe and occasionally interject with comments that seemed designed to provoke a reaction. Nobara was the easiest to rile up, and you heard her cursing at him every few minutes.

as if sensing the need for a break, Choso stood and stretched. “I’m going to grab a drink. anyone else want anything?” he asked. you took the opportunity to get up as well, eager to escape Sukuna’s wandering eyes.

you followed Choso into the kitchen, where he began rummaging through the cooler for another drink. “I’m sorry about this.” Choso said quietly as he handed you a drink. “I didn’t expect him to show up – honestly, I didn’t know Yuji invited him.”

you took a sip, appreciating the drink and Choso’s attempt to offer comfort. “It’s not your fault.” you replied. “I guess I thought this weekend was going to be relaxing.”

Choso shook his head, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. “I know he can be uncomfortable sometimes.” he admitted, his voice low. “he’s always been a bit… inappropriate around you.”

you nearly choked on your drink at his words. if only Choso knew the full extent. the thought of what would happen if Choso and Yuji found out about the bruises being left by Sukuna made your stomach churn. this was definitely not the time to reveal that particular little secret.

“actually, I appreciate the drink, but I think I’m going to head to bed early.” you said, your lips forming a thin line as you mentally cursed Sukuna for dampening your mood. you wanted to act like his presence didn’t bother you, but tonight, you didn’t have the strength to put on a brave face.

Choso’s hand gently rested on your arm, and his brows furrowed in concern, the tattoo across his nose wrinkling as well. “does he make you that uncomfortable?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

you couldn’t tell Choso exactly what you were feeling right now, so you just shrugged and gave a small weary smile. “nah, he’s just an ass. I’m just tired from the drive.” you lied, and Choso nodded in acceptance.

“I won’t let him ruin your fun, don’t worry.” Choso smiled softly, a gesture you couldn’t help but return as you set down your beer and rubbed your clammy palms on your pants.

“let me know who loses – I expect to find those headphones in my ears when we leave in a couple of days.” you teased, making him laugh, before you turned and made your way for the stairs.

Yuji caught your movement, shouting out at you, “y/n, you’re going to bed already?”

you paused at the bottom of the stairs, turning to give your best friend an apologetic smile. “yeah, just sleepy from the trip.”

you refused to acknowledge the fact that Sukuna was unabashedly staring you down, and you were unaware of Choso glancing between the two of you as you fidgeted with your fingers.

“if you need anything don’t hesitate to let me know.” Choso told you, making you look towards him. he offered you a smile, trying to make you feel better. “I’m right across the hall if you need me.”

oh boy, if only you knew how that made Sukuna’s blood boil.

you nodded your thanks, bidding everyone goodnight before almost rushing up the stairs. once you were behind a closed door, you let out a deep sigh of relief.

and all you had wanted was a peaceful getaway.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @nighttwingg @sweetsformysoul @casualpoetrytaco @lvingd3adg0rl @haikomaiko @csolya @dealthypink if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this WIP let me know! ♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 20

Story masterlist

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with THIS LINKED POST to be added to the tag list.

NOTE: Reader is not having a good time. Or Grizelda. Or Dion. Or Fontaine. No-one is. Whatever this chapter is, I do not know. It came to me in a dream/j (it's been sitting in my google docs and I decided to go with it in the end).

Warnings: toxic marriage/relationship, implied suicidal thoughts/ideation, attempted murder, choking (Dion to Fontaine), mental breakdown (Reader), Reader pulls her hair harshly, toxic and abusive family (the Agriches), talks of punishment, small themes of imprisonment, themes of abuse, implied past/recent attempted sexual assault, the Reader and Grizelda do get stalked a bit for plot reasons, the Reader can’t decide on what she wants, Dion gets called a dog a few times, mention of pregnancy once at the end, the Reader is an emotional mess and genuinely does not know what she wants in this moment, possible yandere themes (I’m not even sure, just adding just in case). Lant only cares about the hypothetical child since it would be Dion's and thus a rising star. Please tell me if I missed any.

Warning #2: some suggestive lines.

Everyone is out of character but that’s f i n e -

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS (BLOGS THAT DO NOT HAVE ANY CONTENT), BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICS, ART, ETC, OR EVEN ANIMAL PICS), DNI.

= = =

Grizelda had made a turn to show you some of the safe flowers. The direction also leads to the indoor training room, but she’s sure that Fontaine is outside the gates of the mansion - after all, it’s bigger. More room to act recklessly. 

She didn’t know that others were outside it right now, which led to her older half-brother staying inside an isolated area, awaying from prying eyes.

You didn’t either.

“Oh, they’re… lovely,” your eyes soak in the sight of the colorful flora. The grass was also a healthy green - if there was one thing you could say about Lant Agriche, it’s that he makes damn sure everything is pleasing to the eyes.

If you ignore his face and the monsters raised here for dubious reasons. Fontaine being one of them.

You bite your lip - it’s still fresh in your mind. His voice. His touch. 

No - just ignore it. He’s not here. Grizelda is.

Even so, you’re jittery, scanning your surroundings every few seconds. In spite of her good company, you can’t help but to feel naked, watched from the shadows. Paranoia works wonders, especially when you see a shadow move from the corner of your eye.

“They are, aren’t they?” She watches as you approach a rose bush, fingers lightly tracing the petals. The pink flowers she had given - burdened - you with are in your left hand, held against your chest. “I don’t come here often, but it’s a nice change of pace.”

She joins you in looking at them. However, she doesn’t admire them like you are. They’re beautiful, sure, but they wilt rather quickly once plucked. They’re also used to make drugs.

Of course, she keeps that fact to herself. 

Approaching footsteps catches your attention, looking over your shoulder to see two guards. Your heart fills with guilt the moment you recognize them -

They’re the ones you smiled at while ignoring your husband. They look tired, a bandage on one’s neck while the other looks half-dead. You immediately knew that Dion was behind it - frankly speaking, you thought they would be dead.

 You’re also amazed at how fast he works - it was only yesterday they committed the crime that is looking at you. You freeze as they get closer, making your sister-in-law curious.

When they see you they become stiffer than a statue. The air becomes awkward as Grizelda looks on with curiosity. Their eyes trail over to her, seeing that you’re not alone.

That’s when they bow.

There’s a bitterness in your mouth. You quickly remind yourself why they’re like this. However, this interaction is only making you resent Dion more. Your grip tightens on the flower stems.

“Greetings, Lady Grizelda and Lady (Name),” they say with a croaky voice. They don’t lift their heads for several seconds until your sister-in-law commands them to. When they do, they avoid looking at you, their eyes glued to something behind you.

You hold back an apology - what good would that do? If anything, you copy their behavior, humming awkwardly as you stare at the flowers in your hands. 

The remnants of their ripped thorns dig into the fabric of the glove.

The three of you don’t want a repeat of that day - them getting punished for daring to look at Dion’s lovely wife, and you being ‘teased,’ hearing Dion call himself your husband - while it’s true, you hate hearing the word come out of his mouth.

You want him to leave you alone.

‘If it were me, I wouldn’t have left you alone in this maze of a mansion.’ A wave of nausea washes over you  when his voice swims to the surface. Chills crawl down your spine at the thought of being married to Fontaine. It almost feels like a blessing that you got stuck with the second eldest.

But is it really…? 

“... ah, we should get going - we’ve been ordered to help with the children’s lessons,” the brunette guard states. “They’re practicing with their weapons,” he finishes before attempting to walk past you. 

“Oh? That’s today?” Grizelda asks the retreating guard. He stops, turning to face her as he confirms it. He tries his best not to look at you.

“Yes; it’s taking place in the outside training grounds, My Lady,” the grey-haired man answers. Now that his attention is on the seventeen-year-old, his body becomes less stiff, a bit more comfortable. 

It makes you want to smack Dion. 

… no, I shouldn’t… it’s tempting, but -, and the resentment only blooms more.

“Hm… I suppose that means we can’t go anywhere near there - father is rather strict about that. Not only that, but there’s a chance you might accidentally get hit.”

“O-oh.. right.” You nod your head. 

The guards bid their farewells before leaving. You watch their retreating figures with a hint of guilt - they wouldn’t be like that had you just ignored them. But that guilt is slowly replaced with a thin layer of anger, baffled that Dion would go that far - you’re not sure what he did, but from how they acted, it wasn’t anything good - just because you smiled at them.

…does that horrible man expect you to eventually cave in? With his actions, it only makes you see him in a worse light, signaling he might not even let you have friends. The flower stems in your hand threaten to break under your grip. A moment later and you finally relax your hand.

For now, you bury the thought away, returning your attention to Grizelda. You try to smile. It feels tight.

“Since we can’t go there, how about another area? Anywhere is fine.” The sun beams down on you, your (h/c) shining in it as your (e/c) eyes reflect her figure, but there’s a hint of something she can’t put her finger on in them.

She hums, tapping her chin with her pointer finger, mulling over the options. “Well… we have to pass by the indoor training grounds - it’s a building smaller than the mansion, but still rather big. It’s usually used for whenever it’s raining and it’s too slippery.”

The description reminds you of a gym.

“Since the children are outside, it should be empty - no-one to run into. I doubt Dion is there, and Fontaine is probably taking his anger out on some monsters right outside the estate gates.” 

As you would later find out, her guess was wrong. Extremely wrong.

She continues, “We have to pass it to get to this one area I would like to show you. It’s peaceful there; barely anyone visits. Same for the library if you ever want to check it out.”

You hesitate to nod your head, your gut twisting uncomfortably. The nice smell slowly fades away, unable to kick the feeling away. You must be tired.

“What type of place is it?” You ask instead, shifting your weight onto your right foot. The left one still has a faint sting. It’s barely there, but it’s still a reminder of what happened.

Despite your outward behavior, you can’t shake everything off. So, you just smile. 

Either she doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she answers. It sounds like a nice place - a small gazebo tucked away in a corner covered by trimmed bushes. 

Apparently it wasn’t as flashy as the rest of the mansion, simple but durable. 

So ordinary that no-one bats an eye at it, and it is something that your father-in-law has forgotten about completely - a nice place to hide away from the horrors of the world. 

“That actually sounds… nice,” you say with a smile - doing your best to forget everything that happened earlier. 

Right.

The sun is bright and the air is fresh. 

“It is. A nice little hiding place - I doubt that anyone is there right now.” And with that, the younger girl takes lead, and like a baby chick you follow, still holding the pink flowers as the red ones are in her own hands. 

It still feels like eyes are on you. Your legs are starting to feel strained, walking becoming an effort. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing, a small sheen of sweat on your nape.

Your eyes travel downwards to the flowers in your hands - still vivid and pink, not a hint of wilt on them. You look back up at Grizelda’s back, her brown hair gently bouncing with each step. It’s peaceful.

… how long will this last…?

Your gaze drops to your feet, slowly inhaling before shaking your head at the silly and useless question. But the feeling of being watched only increases. The lie you told yourself moments ago is already starting to shatter as you’re imprisoned by your own mind.

“Once we get there, we can stay for a bit, admire the view of the garden.” The brunette suggests with a quick glance behind her shoulder. She looks back ahead once you nod your head. The rest of the walk is quiet, something heavy edging at the back of your mind. 

When you get near the indoor training room, two guards are carrying dummies while heading towards it. You both halt, surprised to see anyone there - you shouldn’t be, but the sorceress was so sure of herself it almost felt like the scene was going against the laws of nature.

Confusion fills you - Fontaine was the oldest, Dion the second, Grizelda the third and Roxana the fourth. Twenty-three, twenty, seventeen and fifteen. The rest are considered children, therefore wouldn’t they be attending their lesson…?

Neither of them notice you, too caught up in their conversation. Both you and your sister-in-law don’t see a point in calling out to them, simply continuing your walk.

That is, until they drop the dummies, their expressions turning grave. They scream out two certain names before rushing in. 

“M-Master Dion! Stop, please!”

“Master Fontaine!” 

“...huh?” 

“What?” 

You both look at each other, Grizelda looking over her shoulder. There’s a pause before you silently agree to check out what’s the commotion about. You don’t rush, you don’t run, your steps hesitant while hers are confident. She drops the flowers once she peeks inside, still as a statue, eyes wide and mouth ajar - an expression you have never seen on her once, both in this life and your last in illustrations.

You hurry, heart dreadfully drumming against your chest, a hollow pain swelling your chest cavity. Both Dion and Fontaine are in there - just what’s going on? 

The flowers drop to the ground as your grasp loosens. 

Holding the first born against the wall, your husband was choking his own brother. You can’t see his face, but his entire body is tense, putting his all into trying his best not to snap Fontaine’s neck. You can see the veins on his neck and hands.

… it’s a nice sight, until you remember -

He’s not supposed to die yet. Fuck, he’s not supposed to die yet! 

Reflexes taking over, you run over to the two men. 

This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s not supposed to kill him. He’s not supposed to die yet - the story has changed so much already! What happens if he dies right here and right now!?

Someone calls out to you, their voice distant. Hands grab your shoulders, firm but not enough to stop you from shaking them off. You grab him without thinking.

Dion freezes. 

You pull harshly. Part of you wants to watch the scene in full - does he even deserve to live? He’s trash, worse than your husband and yet -

The fear you’re feeling isn’t for your own safety nor is it for his outburst. No, in spite of yourself, it’s for Fontaine’s worthless life -

What happens if he dies right now?

It’s a question you don’t want answered. 

Distantly you feel your head shaking side to side. You don’t stop pulling, but your body is screaming that you should. You ignore it, ignore the nagging voice at the back of your head to let it happen. A lot has changed already.

So, what if this happens? No, you tell yourself, no.

Your gut is twisting painfully, screaming he can’t die now.

Dion looks at you like you’ve gone mad and honestly, you think you have. You shouldn’t be saving his brother’s worthless  life. You don’t want to.

But -

Not yet.

Two words you silently mouth. You dig your feet into the wood as you use all of your strength to attempt to pull your husband away. Of course, it doesn’t work, he’s too big and strong to be physically stopped by you.

His red eyes become blank as his grasp on his brother’s neck slowly loosens. Good. 

He called himself my dog… Dion Agriche, you better keep that promise. You feel gross for calling him one, reducing him to something that has no choice but to listen to you.

You don’t notice how his gaze travels to your chest, the way his eyes narrow once they see the blood stain on your bodice. But you do notice how he tightens his hold on Fontaine’s neck again.

You’re not listening well for someone who said he’s my dog!

These thoughts will haunt you for weeks on end once all of this ends. 

You try another method. It feels shaky as you talk, the words feel heavy. You force them out regardless, scared of what would happen if Fontaine Agriche were to die right here and right now. You can’t let that happen.

Even as a small part of you wishes to praise Dion.

“Dion… please.”

THUD 

Like the obedient dog he promised to be, he lets go. He takes a few steps back and you follow suit. You don’t let go of his arm. You repeat your words from earlier silently. 

Not yet.

The man looks confused before returning his attention to Fontaine. Your eyes also fall onto the older Agriche, small amounts of regret joining the fear in your chest. How are you supposed to take care of this…?

This isn’t like you. 

You blink before you look up at your husband, seeing your reflection in his scarlet eyes. Your lips painfully force a smile and you hope it looks sweet and loving. Your fingers dig into his sleeved arm and you don’t even notice it. 

It takes effort to rub your thumbs across his knuckles after a moment passes. Pretend to be a caring wife, pretend that you don’t want him to stain his hands further.

You can feel your hands tremble. It’s hard to keep smiling. The man before you said he was your dog and he listened like one, which brings forth a new worry -

What if he wants a reward?

You swallow the thought down. “Let’s go back. Please?” You don’t want to return to his room, you don’t want to be alone with him. But if you just leave him here…

Everything after that is a blur. The only thing you remember before reaching his bedroom is his tight grip on your hand. If only you noticed the figure in the background.

- - -

Grizelda stares at her older brother on the floor. He doesn’t make any attempts to get up, and he’s still breathing heavily. His men fret over him, but know better than to touch him. She wonders if he’ll kill them for not forcing Dion off of him. 

The sight was amusing. 

But it was also slightly… concerning.

‘... he listened. Fontaine knows he has a soft spot for her now… not to mention, Dion might even listen to all of her demands… ah, this will either be amusing or horrible.’

She leaves before Fontaine even notices her. 

It’s concerning but also interesting. She slightly smiles in amusement - things will change around here. 

But that amusement is washed away once someone calls her. When she looks at the person, she forces a scowl away. The tattle-tell will rat this out to Lant.

- - -

You’re still scared of your husband. You still hate him.

Your heart won’t stop hammering against your chest. Your hands feel clammy and his larger one holding yours only adds more heat. His pace is enough for you to keep up, but it still feels like he’s dragging you. 

You feel like you’re becoming his little doll. 

You want to cry. You want to scoff. To scream, to encourage his behavior towards Fontaine. But the uncertainty of the future prevents you from doing so, unsure if hell will be let loose if he dies so early, if doesn’t die at the hands of Cassis. 

You bite your lip. None of this should be happening. You shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be married. 

But someone has twisted their and your faith for entertainment. 

Wait, you think. Maybe Roxana will pity you some more after learning what happened with Fontaine… hopefully that’ll give her a good enough reason to help you out of this hellhole. 

Then, you realize it -

He knows. 

Your heart drops at the realization. Why else would he try to kill him? So early at that, before the timeskip. Should… should you be happy he knows? That he tried to murder him for you?

But you didn’t ask him to. You might have, you probably would have once you found your voice. Regardless, your skin starts to feel filthy - are you, an unwilling wife, really about to rely on your sadistic and possessive husband? The same man who indirectly told you he would lock you up if you even try to leave?

You can hear your heart beating against your chest. The sound is loud, echoing in your head dully. It hurts, bringing your free hand to clutch at your chest. It does little to soothe the pain.

Breathing becomes difficult. Thinking about anything else is hard. If you’re not thinking about the man in front of you, then your mind reaches for the recent memories of being chased and touched. Threatened with violence.

Your waist starts to tingle where Fontaine gripped it. Your skin feels prickly, dirty. The taste of iron makes itself at home on your tastebuds again. A sharp sting on your bottom lip, the pressure only increases the longer you walk. 

You made a mistake.

You shouldn’t have gone to him. You should have let Grizelda take care of it. You shouldn’t have fucking left the room. 

 He might lock you up after this. He might hover around you more now, might -

A hand gently cups your cheek, handling you with utmost care. Like you were made of glass. However, the touch burns your skin, bringing forth an unpleasant sensation that travels down your spine and drowns in your stomach. 

SLAP!

“Don’t-!” By reflex you slap the hand away, taking multiple steps back until your back hits something sturdy. Pressed against the double doors, your eyes travel to your side, landing on the door handle. Your hand grabs it as you look ahead, seeing the figure of the man who might trap you in this very room, if it means Fontaine won’t touch a single hair on your head.

Safety for freedom - he would be that type of person. The bird he wants to keep is mere inches away from him - it would be easy for him to grab you. But it wouldn’t be in the same manner as Fontaine. Regardless, it doesn’t ease your worries. 

You don’t want to be touched by that pervert but you also don’t want to be trapped by your own husband. 

You don’t want to rely on him, either. He’s scum too, he took you from your family - why else would you be married to him? He probably blackmailed your father, or, or something.

An emotion unfamiliar to you flashes through his eyes. He almost looks hurt, but doesn’t take another step towards you. It’s then do you look around, only to realize you’re in his room.

This stupid room!

Your heavy breathing fills the room. Your head hangs, chest twisting and turning as your heart beats to a tune that’s too loud and heavy. It’s painful, breathing is painful, thinking is painful, you feel dirty -

You look at Dion again. Like a dog, he stays in place, waiting for you to call him. He looks worried and it makes you sick, stomach churning at an expression he shouldn’t even know how to make. This isn’t right. 

This is going against the natural order of things.

This isn’t right. 

A small part of you feels guilty. That small part wants to thank him and even praise him. But the rest of you want to run and hide from him, from Fontaine, from everyone.

Your husband remains quiet as your chaotic state of mind refuses to calm down. Your back presses harder against the door as you slide down, unable to support yourself on your feet and legs anymore. 

Pathetic, I’m pathetic. This isn’t -

Should you blame yourself? Blame him? Fontaine?

Should you blame God?

… you don’t know anymore. You only know how to run and cry.

You should have stayed dead. Ah, but God wouldn’t give you that pleasure, would he?

“Wife -”

“Stop. Please. I’ve been through enough already,” you interrupt, on the verge of bawling your eyes out. You were able to touch him earlier. You smiled at him. You considered praising him on the way back.

What happened?

You were fine with him holding your hand. But now -

“You can’t keep ignoring this-! Whatever delusions you’re living in, they won’t!” 

You should thank him.

You should curse him.

Stay.

Run. 

Praise him.

Degrade him,

Accept him.

Escape him.

Harshly tugging at your hair, you fight with yourself mentally. It was fine, you were fine, you could touch him earlier, so why can’t you now? It feels like your scalp is being ripped apart. It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts -

Something grabs your hands. It’s warm but unwelcoming. Firm enough to stop you but gentle enough it doesn’t hurt.

You hate it.

“Hey.” The voice is deep and scratches the back of your mind. It’s pleasant but the person it belongs to isn’t. Wait. No.

It’s not pleasant. It’s horrible, nails on a chalkboard, making your ears bleed. It makes you want to go deaf. You shut your eyes tight.

This isn’t right.

“...let go. You touched me enough, haven’t you?” Your words come out broken, small. He almost has to strain his ears just to hear you. 

“If I do, you'll just hurt yourself again,” Dion states, refusing to let you go. This isn’t romantic. And both of you can’t even pretend that it is.

“... I… I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t ask for this either. I just… wanted some fresh air…,” you trail off, exhaustion catching up. Maybe you’re about to start your period - yeah, that’s it. That explains everything.

You’re just emotional because of the hormones. You’ll be fine in a week from now. This will be a distant memory.

The lie only takes you so far before Dion asks what you meant by that. The first part specifically, and it’s obvious that he’s trying his best not to grip your hands harder. 

Dion… he… he wouldn’t blame you, right?

Hah. one moment you’re fearing him and the next you’re hoping he’ll take your side. You don’t know what you want anymore. You want to sleep everything off. 

You can’t help but hate him. But as a husband, he should know, but you don’t want him as one -

“... he grabbed me. I - I stomped on his foot before he could go further - he ch-chased me but Grizelda he-helped me… I mean, that’s all he did, so I shouldn’t -”

“He would have done more if you didn’t stop him.” 

The fact only makes you curl into yourself. Dion still has a grip on you, not allowing you to escape him. There’s nothing but static in your head. Your body is slowly giving up on you, having to remind yourself to breathe. 

You have a family here, a lovely one. A father who cares. A mother who nurtured you, loved you. An older sister who guided you, a younger brother who teases you. You have a family who you love, who loves you.

Yet, resentment has been building up for a while now, hasn’t it? Small amounts of it that are starting to clump together. No, you shouldn’t, you love them.

But even at the thought of them, your breathing becomes slower. More gaps between each breath. You blink.

Secretly, you’re starting to wish that you would drop dead.

…is living worth it when I struggle to keep up?

It’s a dangerous thought. It darkens the corners of your mind the more it echoes in your head. You’re not supposed to be here. This is supposed to be a fictional world.

These people are supposed to be fictional characters. 

This setting is supposed to be a dark fantasy, survival first and romance second. The Agriche family are only supposed to be names on the screen, beautifully drawn digital pictures to tell the story. You’re not supposed to be here.

But God has decided to make this your punishment.

Are you willing to do it? After all this mental distress? After wanting to survive and escape this hell - are you willing to do it? 

Do you want to?

Living here is death. But your family, they’ll mourn, right? Don’t you want to see them again? Your siblings, your parents - don’t you want to hug and laugh with them?

So, why? Why are you considering -

Because you are weak.

“...” The air is suffocating, something is constricting your throat. Your mouth feels dry and your mind goes blank. You can’t think. The static gets louder and louder, filling your head, ringing in your ears. You were fine earlier.

But now something is tugging at your feet, daring you to stand. It would be easier to just drown at this point. If you’re breaking down just from this… then there really is no hope for you.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force yourself to lift your head and look at bright scarlet. His face looks fuzzy, but your reflection in his eyes is clear. That’s all you can see. 

Today, you decide that you hate bright and vivid red the most.

That Fontaine Agriche is enemy number one.

Your mouth moves but you don’t hear your own words. You don’t see your husband’s expression. You can’t even feel the beating of your heart. You feel nothing but the static filling your little head.

The urge to die has begun to resurface. 

- - -

“You what?” 

Lant’s deep voice becomes lower after hearing the report - unfortunately for everyone involved, a faithful servant to the Black Master overheard and even saw the aftermath of the incident. 

 It was also that same servant who happened to be in the locked room across from Grizelda’s study when Fontaine showed up to wreak havoc. They had debated opening the door until the sibling’s conversation went on.

They decided to wait it out. To trail behind you and the Master’s daughter. He had planned on appearing sooner once he saw the physical assault, but his gut screamed he would die had he did.

The oldest son stands in front of his father’s desk with his head hanging low. Sweat pools at his temples before slowly sliding down his face. His hands are clammy as a million excuses rush through his head.

 He knows that even if he were to tell Lant that you had stomped on his foot, it wouldn’t work for him but against him. Of course, there was a chance you would receive a small punishment for injuring an Agriche, but since it was he who went against Lant’s orders, Fontaine would get the worst of it.

You were off-limits. But the oldest son always had greedy hands.

Grizelda stands off to the side, watching the entire thing unfold. Lant’s faithful servant stands at his side, hands clasped as he awaits for further instruction. Silently she wishes for him to ram his pinky toe into the sharpest corner of a dresser while barefoot.

Fontaine’s men are on their knees, bowing with their head on the floor. The oldest person in the room pays no heed to them. Instead his heated gaze is on his own son.

“F-father… I was just -”

“Silence - I did not give you permission to talk, you fool!” Your father-in-law stands behind his desk as his fist slams down on it, unable to believe that his own flesh and blood would go against his orders. He doesn’t know what punishment to give him. 

He doesn’t even want to see his dull face.

“Where is Dion?” He growls out, holding out a cigar for his servant to light. The smell of smoke starts to fill the room after a few puffs. 

“He took the Lady with him, Master. I saw them on my way to the training room,” the man dressed in black answers. “He was holding her hand.”

A moment of silence before Lant lets out a laugh. “Is that so? Tell them both to stop by later today. I’m curious as to why he reacted so violently.” Dionn wasn’t exactly known to be emotional - he had little to no interests.

The change in his attitude is clear - anger at Fontaine, slight amusement with Dion. The grey-eyed man grits his teeth in silence. He was the one who got choked! 

No-one notices the slight flinch Grizelda gives. This was why she didn’t want to report it - it’ll only cause complications. If her older brother does care about you, then Lant finding out would only bring forth something awful. 

You’re a stranger but this wasn’t your fault. You just were a poor soul who got dragged into this hell.

Her stomach churns at thoughts of possibilities of what could happen. Dion was already unsteady deep down - this would only make it worse. What would happen if Lant does something to you?

“Going back to you,” their father looks at Fontaine again, taking a hit of his cigar. He puffs out smoke, doing his best not to physically lash out at him. Everyone waits with bated breath. 

“The punishment room isn’t enough for you. You dare touch something that isn’t yours? Go against my orders?” 

Lant goes on, watching as his son’s body starts to tremble. It’s a pathetic sight, and could have been avoided if he listened like the good boy he’s supposed to be. “But for now, until I say otherwise, you’re going to be held in a cell without any food or water - I’ll even lash your back personally.” 

Another puff as Fontaine’s head whips up, protests on his tongue. He bites the pink and slimy muscle when Lant glares at him. “As for the girl - she’ll be confined to her room for a few days. She should have had a maid with her - what was her name again…?”

“Hana, Master.” 

“Right. She needs to be punished too.” 

“And what of Young Master Dion, Master Lant?” 

The Black Master stops to think. While it’s true he was in the right - after all, you belong to him - he can’t exactly let him get away with attempted murder on a family member. It’s almost tempting, but then, thoughts might start to pop up in his head.

He doubts Dion will ever betray him. But, at one point, he was also a son to a father who trusted him. He was a son who killed his father. 

Besides… he’s curious. Why would he react so violently? A man who showed no interest in anything, simply carrying out orders. Something’s not adding up.

Or maybe he’s just stressed right now, with the paperwork due and Fontaine being a fool.

“I’ll send him to the hunting grounds. It’ll take at least a month for him to return,” he answers after taking another puff. “Now, who should I replace that maid with…”

“... I’m regretful to say this, but Hana was sent on an errand by the Young Master when this happened. She was preparing the contraceptives on his orders.” 

Lant blinks before sighing. “Right. I forgot about that.” He looks at the stack of papers on his desk - did this really have to happen when so much is due? His teeth grind against each other.

However, before Lant could think of what else to say, the servant spoke up once more. “While we are talking about the Lady… she hasn’t stepped foot in her room once.”

Grizelda’s nails dig into her palms once her father was finally alerted. Still, this could easily be brushed off as Dion simply sleeping with you, addicted to carnal lust. Until that damn man speaks more.

“Even when he’s off on missions, she stays in the Young Master’s room.” 

This is a matter that frankly, doesn’t concern Lant. But does that matter? No. 

“...interesting. I’ll question them about it later.”

Grizelda’s stomach twists. You’re nothing more than a stranger she pities. So, why? Why is this dread so deeply etched into her bones? You only spoke a handful of times before today - you are nothing to her aside from an in-law on paper.

This isn’t like her.

This doesn’t feel natural.

Oh. 

Maybe… something interfered with their faith. With yours.

She scoffs at herself quietly enough that no-one hears. What a stupid thought. Her attention returns to her father. It’s here when he finally speaks to her.

“Grizelda. Tell me, why didn’t you report the incident that made her run into your study?” His accusatory tone is ironically justified, but he doesn’t need to know that. Grizelda has always been a good girl, and she never interacted with you once you moved in.

“I thought it would be best to have her calm down first. I was going to bring it up when we ran into each other in the hallway - but she was still jittery. Please forgive me, father.”

She bows her head before adding, “I’ll accept any punishment you see fit.” 

It goes without saying that Lant considers this for a moment. After a beat, he replies with, “Until I say otherwise, stay in your room.” The same punishment as you. Twins! 

Grizelda mentally cringes at her uncharacteristic thought. What was she, a child?

“Go and bring them both to me. Now.” 

“Yes, Master.” 

The servant leaves with a bow. The room goes quiet, panic in everyone’s head. Lant doesn’t dismiss any of them. His footsteps echo in the room until he stops right in front of Fontaine. He puffs smoke directly into his face, causing his son to cough. 

“Prepare for the worst if she’s pregnant.” 

= = =

Tag list: @umi-adxhira @queenofspades403 @pix-stuff @manitscold

@darkumbreon92 @s-ajia @disappointment-san @louissatturi @cjafjatkstke @rainofcrime @kokomi2 @elvinapandra @ishamyshaa @semi-wife @danae-misfortune @rosedellamorte @labryel @rentaldarling @tiny-mimi @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 2: It All Comes Back to You

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs. 

Tw: masturbating (male) hints of trauma and past abusive relationship, drinking, a lil more of possessive and creepy Miguel. 

AN: I have to say I feel like some of this might be kinda shitty because it was a bit rushed, but I also hate slow paced plots, so I guess I can’t help it. Hope you like it!

You.

The world was blurry as your eyes lost focus for a bit. Nothing seemed real. You thought you might wake up and everything would be normal again. No crazy mob bosses, no blow jobs in the office, no scheduled sex, none of it.

Who the fuck was this guy?

His life was so far from any type of common man’s that you were almost impressed. Fine pressed designer suits, women on their knees during his lunch break, meetings about hard drugs. For a building so beautifully kept and full of charming people, it sure was a mystery. Was everyone just sleeping with different people throughout the day? Were they also snorting lines off of the bathroom counter or cooking meth in the kitchen? What other dirty deeds were done in this place?

Lyla knocked on your door, saying something about setting up your new phone and calendar.

“And the blue events in the calendar are strictly private for Miguel.” She added, to which you saw that- yep. That meeting was blue. You mentally slapped yourself in the face and listened to the rest of what she had to say.

“Ok, that should be it. Your new phone is set up, and it also has the company card connected to it already, so you don’t need a physical card. Miguel set me a message about your shopping spree later, but I raised the budget he gave you to an extra ten thousand. Just in case ya really need something that might cross that line. And whatever you get, I do the paperwork so I’ll just write it up as an investment, like our donations to charity.” She shrugged and turned, blowing you a little kiss as she exited the room.

Your mind assaulted your conscious thoughts once she was gone, remembering how he looked only thirty minutes ago. Head back in ecstasy, eyes never wavering from yours as he orgasmed and slammed up into that girl's throat. You shivered from the memories and stood up abruptly, needing to move around before the warmth in your core spread and created any type of physical arousal.

Your phone buzzed, seeing Miguel’s name light up the screen. Unlocking your phone, only the words ‘Come to my office now.’ showed up and your feet began to move towards your door when you stopped.

A million thoughts danced behind your eyes and you smirked, tired of him already.

‘No.’ is all you answered before exiting your office and shutting the door loudly behind you so he knew you’d be gone. You confidently walked to the elevator and tossed your hair over your shoulder. He wanted your unfiltered thoughts? Well then, he had no idea what he signed up for.

Standing in the elevator, you saw him walk out of his office as well and make eye contact with you, making you flash back to what you’d seen earlier.

In seconds, you realized something as you stood ten feet away now. He knew you wouldn’t know about the color coded schedule. He planned that little power play. He was showing his dominance, like a dog peeing on his territory. A show of who was in charge and what you were to him. A plaything.

This split second of awareness made you even more confident in your defiance, as you saw him begin to close in on the elevator. The doors began to close and you smiled, waving to him right before they shut.

The ride to the lobby was serene, like the calm after the storm. Your day had been intense to say the least. A lot of arguing, thinking, absorbing, and borderline sexual assault on your eyes. But it wasn’t a bad day. In fact, this all gave you a thrill you didn’t know you needed.

Once on the ground floor, you walked outside and waved to a taxi, getting in once one stopped. Scrolling over the list you were given by Lyla, you stopped at one stare in particular.

“Take me to Hermès.” And you were gone.

Standing in the dressing room, the whole world felt like a scene from Pretty Woman. You twirled in tight, business dresses that you thought they only wore in movies about billionaires with red rooms. The color of your favorite so far was a lightweight white dress, but it seemed a bit much for the office, so you tucked it away and decided if you needed a sexy dress for an event, you’d pull it out.

You’d decided to go on a shopping spree on Fifth Avenue, where you’d been fired the previous day, and eat lunch right where this all had begun.

Sitting at a table, you requested Peter kindly and he made his way over in an instant. “I am so sorry, it was completely out of my control! I didn’t-“ he apologized and you just shook your head.

“It’s ok. I understand now. How about you get me a white wine and we call it water under the bridge?” You requested and he nodded, fetching it with hast. It was a great meal and once you were done, you gave Peter and Gwen both a hug.

“You know, since you technically got a huge promotion, we should celebrate! Go out tonight, get some drinks?” Gwen asked and you quickly agreed. A few drinks sounds exactly like what you needed.

Now beyond overstimulated, you made your way home with around thirty thousand dollars worth of clothing.

And when you saw a moving truck outside of your complex, you remembered that you were indeed moving.

Hours of tossing shit in boxes and taping them closed, you were packed and in the moving van on your way to your new apartment. You were still reeling with this whole world and how quickly things had spun into a web of insanity.

Leaning your head back against the side of the van, the adrenaline was starting to wear off and the reality began to sink in.

Arriving at your new place, the large men brought in the big pieces of furniture you decided to keep, which was really just your couch, bed, and coffee table. Everything else was unneeded and ugly anyway. You tried to help as much as possible, but quickly opted for carrying in boxes and garbage bags you’d packed in a rush. It was over just as quickly as it started and soon, you were sitting on your floor cross legged and staring at the boxes, then glanced at the shopping bags that were full of expensive dresses and clothing. That sounded like a lot more fun than unpacking your old sweats and knickknacks.

Pulling everything out and placing it on hangers, your eyes glanced at a specific outfit you’d chosen that’d be perfect to celebrate with Gwen tonight. Pulling on a white halter dress, you enjoyed the little bits of side boob and the way the thigh had a slit that showed more skin. The light fabric made it comfortable and easy to move in, and with a quick pair of strappy heels with sparkling rhinestones all over from Jimmy Choo, you grabbed your new Louis Vuitton purse and smiled. Maybe this job would be so terrible.

Texting Gwen, you also decided to invite Lyla and Jess. Lyla agreed to come out, whereas Jess said she didn’t have a sitter for the boys and would come out once her husband got home from work. A girls night was exactly what you needed, and everything about the feeling of hopping on the train and getting eyes from a few good looking men made you hum with pride. Ignoring all of the bullshit from the past two days, you liked Gwen a lot and she’s become someone you trusted even only knowing her for about a week. She had an authenticity about her that made you feel like she was honest and brave.

Lyla also made you laugh with how she always had something to say back. Her fun loving attitude was one you almost felt jealous of, how she seemed so relaxed. Jessica had a bad ass vibe to her, like everything she did could be documented and made into a comic or story. Like some sort of legend in the making.

You wanted to be like them in so many ways, you’d have to start taking notes and learning how they seemed to be so damn cool.

Stepping off the train and hurrying towards the club Gwen suggested, you couldn’t help but smile. You’re first time clubbing in Nueva York! It was so exciting, seeing people waiting outside of the club in a long line like in movies you’d seen. Waving to Gwen, who was already on line, you caught up with her. Her outfit fit her so well, a black shirt leather jacket over a dark silver mini dress with black tights with rips in them and black platform boots with chains down the sides. She looked like a rockstar, and that wasn’t too far from the truth. She smiled wide and grabbed your hand.

“This is going to be so much fun!” She added and you couldn’t agree more. Suddenly, you felt a hand grab yours from behind and saw a familiar pair of heart shaped glasses.

“Lyla!” Gwen cheered before you even turned around fully, all hugging together. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, how’s Mr. Grumpy pants?” The blonde asked and Lyla just rolled her eyes.

“Cranky as usual, but he comes in handy for some things. Follow me.” She pulled you both out of the line and to the front where many people were giving you all dirty looks. A security guard only took a second to look at Lyla and moved the ropes for her and you to come in, not even bothering to check your ids. You looked at Gwen in surprise and she just nodded, as if telling you to keep your cool.

The club was packed beyond belief, and a girl in a bodysuit and fishnets let you to a large booth-table with velvet black couches and a large bottle of champagne on the table. “Who did this?”

“I may have called ahead and three around Miguel’s name.” Lyla shrugged, grabbing a flute of champagne and filling it with the bubbly alcohol. She handed you each one more and tilted her glass to inspire a toast. “To our new recruit in the Spider society!” She cheersed and you blushed at the attention, Gwen whooping and hollering.  The thrum of the heavy bass and heat from the moving bodies made you almost lightheaded, enjoying the free feeling from the liquid in your cup. Another bottle was brought out once Jess arrived and the four of you swayed a bit to the beat, to which you grabbed Gwen’s hand and attempted to pull her to the dance floor. Lyla followed with Jess and you all moved, swaying your hips to the rap playing in the dim lights. The flash of Lyla’s phone camera made you cover your face a little, still smiling and not stopping your dance, swiveling in a seductive motion and feeling the heat between your legs begin to rise from the feeling of the eyes around you watching. Jess nudged you and pointed to a man at the bar, a bit taller and thin in a dress shirt. You made eye contact with the man and the temperature of your chest rose once more. You made your way over to where he was, raising a hand at the bartender as you ordered a drink. He leaned over and spoke.

“On my tab.” His voice was low, eyes catching yours once more and making you feel very aware of your surroundings. A blush creeped onto your face and you tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “I’m Harry.” He introduced himself and you returned the favor,  shaking his hand gently. Big Sean pumped around you both as you talked for what felt like an hour, light conversation giving you a feeling similar to a high. It had been a while since you’d enjoyed speaking to someone like this, chemistry and familiarity.

“Is that you?” You heard someone speak from behind you and call your name, turning to face the last person you thought would be in front of you.

“Eddie?” You gasped, fear coursing through the previously hot blood in your veins, cold as ice now from this familiar face. “How did you-”

“I heard you moved here a few weeks ago and came to visit. Nothing like a friendly face, right?” You searched around for your female friends in vain, finding no one you even recognized. He slipped his hand into yours, frozen with horror as he squeezed, something you knew was actually a warning. “How about we find somewhere to talk?”

“Actually, I’m with my coworkers, now is a bad time.” You tried to remove your hand from his and felt him unrelenting, his grip tightening. “Please, not here.” You begged, pleading with him and knowing you’d get nowhere.

“There you are!” Jess’s voice rang through as she pushed through the crowd, Lyla and Gwen behind her. “We’re about to get another bottle- who’s this?” She raised a brow questioningly at Eddie, who stepped closer with a small smile.

“I’m Eddie, nice to meet you,” He shook her hand and her eyes glanced to yours, hopefully seeing the feeling of terror you were trying to show her.

“Right,” Jess pulled you closer to her and slipped her arm into yours, “well, sorry to burst your bubble, but we’re having a girls only night, so she’ll have to talk to you another time.” Jess secured her hand around your arm and smiled, knowing exactly what you needed. Behind you, Lyla had signaled security and had them coming closer, but a voice made everyone stop moving instantly.

“Actually, I think it’s time we all go.” A deep voice said from your right and you looked up to see your boss.

“How-“ Gwen asked but was quickly cut off by the glare Miguel sent her.

“I saw the videos Lyla posted and came to celebrate as well.” From his body language, that definitely was not his true intentions, but you were left in the dark as Jess and Lyla looked extremely nervous, like they’d just got caught doing something very bad.

Gwen leg the way out as Jess and Lyla followed, to which you began to walk forward with them, but a hand grabbed your wrist once more and you came face to face with Harry, who’d been caught in the crossfire of your drama.

“When will I see you again?” He begged slightly, a small smile on his lips until Miguel stood in between you two and sneered at him a bit.

“Get your hands off my employee.” His voice was dangerous, a presence only a lion would challenge. Without letting anyone interject, he dragged you out through the crowd and into the street lights. A hoard of men in black clothing stood outside with the girls, seemingly waiting for you and Miguel. You all climbed into a black SUV where all of the seats faced each other and both Jess and Lyla hung their heads, Gwen holding your hand in concern.

“What the hell was that, Lyla?!” His voice was loud, accusatory. “Are you trying to start a fight?”

“Of course not, I just wanted to-“

“I don’t even want to hear it. And you, Jess? You should know better than anyone what that could have led to!” His tone made you coward backwards a bit, Jess unwavering in her confidence.

“Who do you think you’re speaking to like that? Lyla and I were with her and Gwen, we were perfectly safe.” She defended and Lyla nodded, Gwen looking up just as confused as you.

“What are you guys talking about?” You asked quietly and as if he just noticed you were there, his eyes were cautious. Everything was silent for a moment before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“That nightclub is owned by another mob in Nueva, a smaller one, but it would still be a problem if anything else had happened. They would think I sent spies to their club.” He added the end as an example. You looked down as Gwen rubbed your shoulder from worry.

“I’m taking you all to a different club, one that won’t cause any unnecessary issues-“

“Actually…” you started and but your lip before continuing. “I think I just want to go home. I’m too tired to stay out.” You didn’t dare look up at anyone else, eyes trained on your shinny shoes that you were so excited about a few hours ago. How did everything keep happening so fast?

The car stopped outside of your building and you got out, followed by Miguel. He tapped the top of the car and the rest of the girls were sent home. You both walked in and onto the elevator.

“I don’t need an escort-“

“This is also my building.” He interrupted you and you finally looked up at him, watching as his eyes stayed focused on the buttons of the elevator. He tapped your floor and then the top floor. Of course he had the penthouse.

You stayed soundless, the exhaustion finally hitting you and making you drag your feet. The doors opened and you glanced at him before just walking out.

“By the way.” He spoke before you could walk too far, turning to look into his eyes for the first time that night. “Next time my office door is shut, remember to knock.” The metal doors closed and the memory of him fucking into that woman’s throat was then fresh on your mind.

Miguel’s head fell back against the metal. Lyla had posted those videos of you dancing on her account and he’d seen them when she started not answering his messages, then watching how you moved your body in that adorable white  dress. And the way it moved up your thighs while you danced-

Miguel opened his eyes as the ding of the elevator sounded that he’d reached his penthouse. Walking into his dining room, he shed himself from the suit jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt, stretching his shoulders and tossing the shirt into a hamper close to his closet. Unbuckling his belt, Miguel let out a breath of relief as he adjusted himself to be more comfortable. Sitting down on his bed, he reached for his laptop and settled under the covers. Scrolling through a few documents, he pulled up his background search of you. Your photo popped up with some of your social media. Pictures from the beach, a few from birthdays, and some family photos, you seemed completely normal.

But something was off.

Miguel knew he was intimidating, it was part of his stature that made his job a little easier. You weren’t afraid of him, you kept your ground and fought back to him.

But tonight, you had fear in your eyes when you saw that guy. What was his name again? Adam? Who knows, but he saw that slight hesitation and anxiety in you that he didn’t recognize. You were scared of that guy.

He thought back to earlier in the day when he’d saw you as he was getting his normal de-stressing from one of the girls in the lower levels, something many women around him volunteered for. She’s come up and offered sex, but he just needed a mouth to fuck.

And then you walked in with that plain outfit and sensible shoes, holding your tablet like you’d been in a rush. And he couldn’t look away. You should have been the one wrapped around his dick, he wanted to hear you gagging on him as he thrusted upwards and grunted. He wanted to cum inside your mouth, not someone random woman’s from marketing. He wanted you.

Unknowingly, his hand had traveled to his boxers and he’d begun rubbing himself to the thought of you.

All he could imagine was you mouthing off to him, and him bending you over the kitchen counter in his apartment, holding one arm behind your back as the other moved to grasp anything within reach as he took you from behind. Miguel rolled his eyes back at the thought of your warm hole welcoming him as he licked two fingers of his free hand and rubbed circles on your clit until you were practically pushing him away from the intensity of your orgasm. But no, he wouldn’t let you get away that easily, he wanted to feel it around him, so he would angle his hips a little more upward, hitting that soft spot that made you arch your back into him more and let out broken moans.

As if on cue, white ropes of his own mess hit his chest and he looked down in surprise, having forgotten what his hand had been doing. He sighed and got up to rinse himself off with a softening cock and an empty mind. The single thing on his brain when he tossed and turned in his sleep that night?

You.

Gwen’s outfit

Your outfit

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 3

[s-che]

Monsterhearts 2: Plotting Anti-Plot

Last week I had the fortune to MC (and play) Monsterhearts 2 for the first time as the Dream Library begins a unit on monsters, monstrosity, and monsterfucking which will carry us through November, and boy howdy am I glad we managed to do it. 

For those who (somehow) don’t know, Monsterhearts is a game that bills itself as being about “the messy lives of teenage monsters.” It cites Twilight, Buffy, Ginger Snaps, The Vampire Diaries, and The Craft as media touchstones, it’s not joking when it says that these monsters are 1. messy and 2. teenagers. Monsterhearts is angsty, horny, frightening and, above all else, extremely fun to play. On top of that, Monsterhearts is also one of those games that, if you’re in a certain sector of the indie RPG scene, people will remind you is extremely fun to play all the fucking time. It feels sometimes like every designer I know has a good Monsterhearts story, and as much as Avery Alder’s reputation on a larger stage has been defined by The Quiet Year, I get the sense that for people who like what Monsterhearts is doing it’s an extremely hard game to beat. 

So to be totally honest, I was more than a little anxious MCing for my first time actually playing the game. There’s a sense in which hosting a game which you know is great can be way harder than hosting games you think might be bad — after all, if the session goes poorly, there’s nobody to blame but yourself. On top of that, Monsterhearts moves through some tricky territory: underage sex is a core element of the game, and the eight “Small Towns” (short, pre-prepped settings for quick starting the game) all deal more or less explicitly with histories of racism and colonialism in communities across North America. While these are interesting places to go in play, the idea of taking them on myself as host made me shy away a little bit (and I’m excited in the next session to look at things from a player’s perspective). 

All in all, though, I think the session was a resounding success. I went in with basically no prep and as much familiarity with the book as I could get (not enough to realize the quick reference sheet we were using for the first half of the session was from Monsterhearts 1, but so it goes), relying on the game itself — which leans away from strictly organized plots and encourages you, in true PBTA fashion, to let characters and their needs bounce off each other until the conversation goes somewhere interesting — to get us smoothly into play. I would call my efforts there a mixed success: while Avery has a real skill for writing pedagogically, giving you the explicit frameworks you need to get into play (if you’ve never begun a session of The Quiet Year by reading the rules book aloud to each other, you should go fix that now), the session was hampered a little by some awkward pacing and uncertainty: partially driven by my chronic tendency to waste time on slowly establishing things in one-shots rather than swinging as hard as I can in the first five minutes and letting the players lead from there and partially by player character relationships that lead to clear, decisive actions... which left one of our players bored at work while the other two went off adventuring. We ended up taking a moment, after returning from the normal mid-session bio-break, to chat and refocus ourselves, figuring out where we wanted to go and what we wanted to see in the last hour or so of the session, and then jumping back in and — thankfully — playing hard to reach a strong conclusion. In the end, I’m not interested in tracking down exactly where the first half of our session lost its footing (although I have some ideas for how I could have hit harder as an MC). I’m more interested in celebrating the way the table was able to come together, talk explicitly about what we wanted, and get the game somewhere satisfying for everyone involved. We closed on, among other things: an underwater fight between the Fairy (Mermaid?) Queen and a Kraken-Leviathan-Hellmonster, a throuple sneaking off from a beach party to hook up, and the messy end of a South Jersey summer (complete with a tsunami and a beached whale front of the boardwalk). It was a good time. 

Most striking to me in this moment, however, is the way thinking about Monsterhearts as a plotless game positions both me as MC and the other players. It really speaks to the way that capital-T The capital-C Conversation works in Powered by the Apocalypse games (good ones, anyway) to let play flow not according to the rules of a paced narrative, but along lines of player interest and highly-charged emotional incident. It is, I think, part of what makes all the PBTA games we’ve played in the Dream Library sing (in no small part because we pruned the last unit and didn’t play any PBTA games I think are bad, but that’s a different conversation) and it suits this game — with it’s emphasis on sex and messy desire — extremely well. It also fits in nicely with a point I’ve heard a couple of people make recently: that thinking of RPGs as first and foremost collective narrative engines is, at the very least, a narrow view. 

Anyway, this week I’m fortunate enough to be joined by a new host (hi @jdragsky) so I can check out MH as a player, then we’ve got a couple of two-shots planned for the end of the month before we move on to our next monstrously intimate game: Bluebeard’s Bride. You want in on an upcoming game? Have a link. You want to hear more about Monsterhearts? One of my players wrote up some of her thoughts as well.

Otherwise, well, get out of here. Scram.

[itsnesss]

Hi, I would like to request a Minho from XO kitty and reader smut and I want the plot to be where the reader is in Minho’s dorm room and they try not to get caught or reader is talking to kitty on the phone and Minho is just going crazy with it while she’s on the phone also I love your writing it’s literally so good 🫶🏽🤍

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | while in minho's dorm room, you try to focus on a phone call with kitty, but minho’s intense presence makes it impossible

warnings | smut, tension, explicit content, fingering

word count | 2.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You’re in Minho’s dorm room, and despite the soft music playing in the background, everything feels quiet—or at least it seems that way. You’re on the phone with Kitty, but you can’t help getting distracted every time Minho moves nearby. You know you shouldn’t be here, but it’s hard to resist the tension hanging in the air between you.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Kitty’s voice comes through the speaker, distant but laced with curiosity and concern.

You try to keep your composure. You attempt to respond as normally as possible, but every word feels hollow, as if everything happening around you is the only thing that truly matters. Being this close to Minho makes it even harder. His eyes haven’t left you once. You feel the weight of his gaze, but you pretend to be unaffected as you answer Kitty.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavers slightly when you see Minho take another step closer. You don’t know what he’s waiting for, but something about the way he looks at you tells you he has no intention of letting you go so easily. You’re caught in his gravity.

Kitty continues talking, oblivious to everything happening, but her words no longer hold any meaning. You’re constantly distracted. Every move Minho makes feels deliberate, his presence overwhelming. He leans against the doorframe, relaxed but intense, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You pace around the room, trying to put some distance between you, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t let you go. He just stays there, observing, his presence filling the entire space. You feel like you're walking a tightrope, each step bringing you closer to a fall you’re not sure you can recover from.

Kitty, unaware of the storm building in the room, keeps talking like everything is normal. But you know nothing is normal anymore. And Minho knows it too.

Finally, he moves toward you. Just one step, but it’s enough to shift the air between you, making it thick with something unspoken. The sound of your phone slipping from your hand is the first real noise that breaks the silence, and in that instant, you know there’s no turning back.

You turn, feeling the warmth of his proximity immediately. His fingers ghost over your arm, a barely-there touch, but your body reacts instantly. A shiver runs down your spine, and you can’t help biting your lip. You know what’s coming, but you’re not sure how to stop it. He steps closer, his eyes locked onto yours, and time seems to slow.

"Hang up," he says, and it’s not just a command—it’s a warning, an invitation. You can’t fight it. You’re trapped, unable to move away, but something in you ignites at the sound of his voice so close to your ear.

You feel his breath against your skin, and the air becomes heavier as he closes the remaining distance. Your hands, once occupied with your phone, now hang uselessly at your sides. He knows it. He feels it. And even though neither of you speak, the tension between you is more than enough to fill the silence.

"You’re losing control," he murmurs, his tone softer now, lower, as his hand traces lightly along your arm. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and all you can do is keep your eyes on him. There are no words that can change what’s happening, because you both know you’re too far gone.

Minho doesn’t step back. He makes it clear with every slow movement toward you. The space between you disappears, and you can feel his presence consume everything. The air in the room thickens, every breath a struggle to maintain control.

"You’re driving me crazy," he whispers, almost like a confession.

The sound of your breathing is the only thing filling the quiet, but it’s too much. You can’t pretend everything is fine anymore. His hand settles at your waist, firm but gentle, and you feel completely trapped—but in a way you don’t want to escape from.

Your fingers finally move, somehow finding their way to the back of his neck as he continues watching you with that intense gaze that never wavers. But in this moment, nothing else matters.

The phone lies forgotten on the floor, and the last barrier between you disappears. All that’s left is this—the heat of his proximity and the inevitability of what’s about to happen.

There's no turning back now, and you know you don't care. The only thing you desire is to keep him close, to feel his pressure, his warmth. Finally, you feel free to resist the desire that has been growing inside you for so long. The question is how long you can keep it without it going too far.

"This doesn't have to be so difficult" .

And for the first time in what has felt like an eternity, the silence between the two of them is broken. Minho's voice sounds confident, but it also carries a hint of tension, as if he too were on the edge of the abyss and didn't know what to expect.

"What are you saying?"

The question slips out of you without thinking, but you immediately regret not having kept silent. The tension between the two of you remains high, and you fear that the slightest provocation could make everything explode in an instant.

But you are not afraid. In fact, if there's something that excites you, it's seeing how he gets even closer to you, his warm breath caressing your lips as he speaks.

"That we could have what we want without hurting anyone" .

Minho's response takes your breath away. You didn't expect him to offer you such an easy way out, but at the same time, you can't deny the desire you feel for it to be exactly like that.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, not quite knowing why.

He stops for a moment, but it doesn't matter. You don't need his answer to know what's going through his mind. His gaze is more than enough.

"I want you to be mine" .

The answer comes out with a tone of certainty that sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes bore into you, and you know he won't stop looking at you until you speak.

So you speak, and the words come out of you naturally, as if they had always been there.

"And I want you to be mine" .

Time stops in that moment, and although you feel the room is about to collapse from the tension, you also know that both of you are too close to escape.

The pressure of his fingers on your arm increases when he firmly grabs your wrist. He stops looking into your eyes to caress your lips with his gaze, and you know exactly what's going to happen.

"I want to see you" .

And even though you don't know what will happen next, you know you want the same thing. The connection between the two of you is so strong that you feel unable to resist.

"I can't..." you try to refuse, but you know the answer is a lie. You must admit it. You can't keep pretending. "I want to see you too. I want to see you too" .

The sound that comes from his throat is one of satisfaction, but also of lust. You feel it when he pushes you onto the bed, his body covering yours in an embrace that makes you feel both insecure and excited at the same time.

Minho steps back just enough to see you, but stays close enough for you to move. His gaze follows you, watches you, and you know you have to decide. He won't do anything until you take the initiative.

"Are you sure?" he says, and for the first time in your life, you know what you have to do.

The answer is simple. There's no turning back.

"Yes" .

The smile on his lips is barely visible, but you can feel the tension in his fingers when he touches you. A shiver of pleasure runs through your entire body, and you know you have made the right decision.

"Then there's no problem" .

You don't expect his next actions. He covers you with his body, his mouth seeking yours in a kiss that is more than you can handle. And you know that this is just the beginning.

The silence that follows is only interrupted by the sound of their breathing. The heat of his body makes you feel uncomfortable, but also eager to feel more. He feels it, and he steps back a little to let you recover. The tension in his gaze makes you feel like you are the only person in the world.

"Do you want...?" you start, but stop when you can't find the right words.

"What do I want?" he asks, with a hint of challenge in his voice.

You try not to give too much importance to his words. You want to move on, but you don't know what to say.

"Do you want..." you say, waiting for him to guide you.

"What do I want?" he repeats, his tone increasingly gentle.

And finally, you manage to find the right words to express what you want.

"You want to see me" .

He smiles upon hearing your words, and you can feel his body tense slightly. His fingers caress your lips, and you know what's about to happen.

"I want to see every part of you," he says, and his voice is low enough to make you feel as if you had gotten lost in the room. "I want to see every part of you," he says, and his voice is low enough to make you feel as if you've gotten lost in the room. "I want to touch you, explore you, savor you." I want to touch you, explore you, savor you.

You can't speak, but you don't need to either. The silence between the two of you is more than enough. You know it when he approaches you again, this time without leaving any space between you.

The gentle pressure of his hands makes you feel uncomfortable but at the same time eager. You don't know what will happen next, but you're sure you won't regret it. The connection between the two of you only grows stronger with each passing second.

"Remind me that you have no experience," he says again, and you can hear the trace of amusement in his voice. —I want to make sure it feels good for you.

You can't help but blush when you hear his words, but what really makes you feel insecure is the confidence in his voice.

"I don't know..." you say, not knowing what to expect.

"Then, tell me what you need me to do to make you feel better," he says, his voice getting closer to your ear. "So, tell me what you need me to do to make you feel better".he says, his voice getting closer to your ear. "Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to kiss you?"

The questions keep coming, without giving any space for you to answer. You don't know what to say, but you don't want him to stop either. You want to feel more of him, his pressure, his breath, everything he offers you.

And he knows it. You feel him laughing softly in your ear, and the sound makes you feel even more lost.

"You want me to do whatever you need to feel good." he states, and you know he's right. "No problem".

The next thing you feel is their body moving away from you, a quick and sudden movement that leaves you breathless. But you don't have time to lament. He returns in a second, his fingers playing with the button of your shirt.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his gaze searching for yours.

And for a moment, you can forget what's happening. You can pretend that there is no one else in the world but you and him. The connection between the two of you feels as strong as ever, and you know you will always be inevitably drawn to him.

"Yes," you say, and your words are barely a whisper.

It's all you need. Minho nods, a brief movement but one that indicates everything has changed between the two of you. You feel his pressure growing stronger on you, but it's not a bad feeling. It's more than you expected.

His fingers play with the button of your pants, but he doesn't open it. He just looks at you, his eyes fixed on you as if you were the only person in the world. You don't need to speak, not even move. He just watches you, his gaze fixed on your lips.

"I need you to tell me what you want," he says. "I can't go on if you don't tell me what you need" .

You know what he wants to hear. The only thing you need to do is say it.

"I want..." you start, and then you stop, not knowing how to continue.

"What do you want?" he repeats, his tone soft but insistent.

"I want you to touch me," you say at the end, hoping to feel his reaction.

You don't expect their next actions. His finger plays with the button of your pants, and you can feel a wave of heat rising up your legs. His fingers slip under your underwear, and you can feel yourself tense a little at his touch.

"You are..." he says, without finishing the sentence.

"What am I?" you ask, curious.

"You're wet" he says finally, his eyes locking onto yours. "Do you want something else" .

It's a statement, not a question, but you know what you need to happen. The wave of heat inside you has only intensified, and you need him to move on.

"Yes, I want..." you start but stop halfway.

"What do you want?" he insists, his fingers moving slowly over your skin. "Tell me what you want me to do".

"I want..." you say again, and this time you can't help but speak what you really want. "I want you to continue" .

"No problem," he says immediately, his smile stronger than you thought possible. "I'm not going to hurt you" .

"I know," you say confidently, knowing you can trust him.

"Fine," he finally says, and you can feel him relax. Then tell me what you want me to continue with.

You can feel the tension growing between the two of them, but you don't feel fear. The only thing you can feel is an increasingly strong desire for it to continue.

"I want you to touch lower," you say without thinking twice.

And it's the only thing he needs to keep going. His fingers touch you again, but this time they don't stop at your crotch. He slides his finger down, towards your sex, and you can feel the pressure building inside you.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his gaze closely observing you.

"Do you like what I'm doing to you? "

You can't respond verbally. All the air you had is gone, and you can't speak. You can only nod. The pressure on your sex is getting stronger, but you don't want it to stop. You want to keep going, feel more of their pressure on you.

"Mmm, yes," he says upon seeing that you can't respond. "You like him" .

"Yes, I like it," you manage to say, feeling the tension within you growing stronger.

"I want to do more to you," he says afterward, his finger sliding further inside. "I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel" .

And before you can respond, her mouth comes closer to you, her lips kissing your sex. A scream of surprise escapes your throat, but the sound is quickly drowned out by the sensation of his mouth on you.

"Is this what you want?" he asks as his tongue begins to caress your sex.

You can't respond again. All you can do is nod, feeling overwhelmed by the pressure in your body. The tension inside you is getting higher and higher, but you don't feel insecure. In fact, all you can feel is a wave of pleasure, growing stronger and stronger.

"I'm glad" he says, his lips moving up to kiss your abdomen. "I want you to enjoy this. I want you to enjoy this" .

[lowtaperfeyd]

lady Jessica x fem reader fluff pleeeease preferably before arrakis but idc

Moments

Lady Jessica x reader

author's note: I did combine two requests together due to their similarities. Bare with me when it comes down to writing fluff tho...

warnings: normal dune things.

wc: 996

It wasn’t a surprise to the residents of Castle Caladan to see Lady Jessica and her lady-in-waiting, (Y/N), walking around the luscious gardens of the castle late in the afternoon. Them arm in arm strolling past yellow, red, and orange flowers blooming in the cool air of Caladan, talking incoherently. 

“Do you really think Paul is the Kwisatz Haderach?” (Y/N) questioned, knowing the plot that the sisterhood had been planning, “It’s a generation too early.”

“I do.” Lady Jessica responded, “He’s shown the signs. The reverend mother Mohiam is visiting later before we leave. She’s skeptical as well.” She added, poking a bit of fun at her partner. 

“And if he fails the test?” (Y/N) asked, “Not saying he will or not.”

“Then I would be wrong.” Lady Jessica utter quietly. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you doubt yourself about this.” (Y/N) chuckled, “and you using ‘wrong’ and ‘I’ in the same sentence. But if you are right about him, which you most definitely are, then he’ll be fine.” “That’s easier said than done.” she chortled 

“You’ve taught him everything he needs to know.” 

“That’s very kind of you to say.” Jessica said as she looked at (Y/N). 

“You’re welcome.” (Y/N) added while turning her head to look at the woman beside her. 

As they continued to walk around the garden, they spoke about what needed to be done on Arrakis, what needed to be brought, and what needed to be gotten rid of. It was rather domestic they way they mentally sorted through silverware and bits and pieces of furniture like an old married couple. Their lighthearted arguments of whether or not the ornate chess table needed to come along. 

“You cannot just leave a gift behind on a planet we’ll never go to again.” Lady Jessica declared. 

“A gift that was given almost a hundred years ago, my lady.” (Y/N) retorted, “and besides when have you or anyone here last used it?” 

  “The point still stands, maybe even more so.” 

As well as soft affection to each other too. 

Other people in the castle also noticed these interactions as well. Gurney Halleck once spotted Lady Jessica with her head on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they were furiously arguing about whether or not Paul should learn universal history or mathematics first. Lady Jessica’s augment won with the fact that Paul would one day be duke. And dukes need to know what caused several wars which spanned centuries. Duncan Idaho was privy to see them argue with each other too. He saw them in the expansive library debating Bene Gesserit tactics and plans, while their knees ever so slightly tapped each other, more than once and in while. 

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

Everything changed once they got to Arrakis though. There were no afternoon walks because of the scorching sun, there were no more arguments on what should stay or go because there was nothing to leave, and there were no more soft moments spent that lingered because they didn’t have that time anymore. Only after the battle at the Arrakeen, traversing the desert to find safety, and finally meeting the Fremen would provide some form of sanctuary. 

In Sietch Tabr, (Y/N) and Jessica were in a tiny bedroom they were given. Both of them had their hair messy and tangled, eyes set back into their faces with new purple eye bags now making their appearance. (Y/N) was walking pacing around their room, back and forth like a fish in a pond back home. Lady Jessica sat on the bed with her hands gently tucked onto her lap and one leg over the other. 

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Lady Jessica asked. 

“We all are,” (Y/N) remarked, “my tiredness doesn’t sum to the tiredness of the people and group.” As she continued pacing. 

Lady Jessica moved back onto the bed so she was sitting in the middle of it. She crossed her legs over each other. 

“Come here.” She said, “rest, even if it’s only for a minute.” 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks. She looked over to where the red headed woman was sitting. Her features lit up by the soft, golden light that seeped through thin cracks in the rocks. Her beauty was a thing that would always be captured in (Y/N)’s mind. 

“Alright,” The woman whispered as she walked over to the bed. She sat on the bed and slid back until she could comfortably lay her head on Lady Jessica’s lap. (Y/N) took her hands and laid them on her stomach as the red head started to smooth her hand over (Y/N)’s head. 

“What do you make of some of the Fremen calling Paul the ‘Lisan Al-Gaib’?” (Y/N) commented. 

“I think it gives us an opportunity to give the people what they want and have been waiting for.” Jessica shared, “They, also, need a new reverend mother.” “Does this mean you’ll drink the water of life?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” she swallowed, “I haven’t given it much thought yet.” 

“You’ll need to go to the south, Paul will need to go too if you do decide to drink it.” (Y/N) whispered, “You’ll need to go either way after becoming reverend mother.” 

“I know.” Jessica sighed out as she continued to brush her hand over her head, “But all that can wait for tomorrow, rest.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes would soon begin to fall as they got more and more heavy. The soothing nature of Jessica touching her head made her feel calmer than she had felt in days. Her muscles slowly began to relax and her head didn’t feel as tight and weighted as before. It didn’t take long before her eyes were fully closed and she was asleep, asking in the presence of Jessica and the love that was between the two. But the last thing she felt was Jessica pressing a tiny kiss to her forehead.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s6 episode 2 "drive" thoughts

after mulder made me cry with his sheer disrespect for scully in the last episode, i am approaching this one with caution.

we need to normalize asking people, especially coworkers, “what the hell is your problem?” and “if i am not the problem, why are you treating me like one?” idgaf about your tormented man angst!!! it’s not scully’s fault!!! 

he better have a good reason for all of this… this is NOT the mulder who i have been lovingly crafting playlists for!

scully will ascend to sainthood.

anyway. seems that mulder will be placed in another high stress situation today. can we stop with the pathogens? they’re freaking me out. 

post-episode thoughts: this was a very good episode of television, but not the best episode of the x files. like, the performances were stellar, the plot was juicy, the pacing had me on the edge of my seat! but i still prefer the episodes where they have a dramatic fight with tears OR just straight up cuddle. that being SAID, it was an excellent standalone episode and could be watched as such even if you didn't know a thing about this show. walter WHITE 💜

we open with breaking news!!! a car chase!! in nevada!! with someone else in the back seat!!!

the man who is putting the pedal to the metal has someone who is very sick in the back of the car. so the sheriffs are trying to lay a spike trap to stop him. and it seems to have worked!!

the cops are taking the speedy driver (later revealed to be named mr. crump), and he’s screaming for the sick woman in the car, vicky. she’s banging her head against the window and her head BLEW UP?????????

BLEURGHHHH. new disease where your head explodes just dropped.

shortened intro, as always i clock thee.

WAIT, GUEST STARRING BRYAN CRANSTON… isn’t he the BREAKING BAD GUY?? YEAH, HE IS!! oh, i am so ready for a PERFORMANCE!!

(i have never seen that show and i don’t really intend to, but i know it by reputation)

and he was in malcolm in the middle, omg… his range…

(and i do personally believe that mr. cranston delivered!)

good news!!! scully is here!!!! and so is mulder, but that’s not always good news. LMAO, this dude they're visiting thinks they’re jehovah’s witnesses. mulder marks a smartass remark and slaps a mosquito on his face.

i guess if you order 5,000 pounds of ammonium nitrate fertilizer, scully shows up. i shall have to give this a try.

farmer guy tries to open the door for them and it immediately shuts again LMAOOOO

he claims he is growing sugar beets! and he wants their assistance in finding his paperwork. lmao. meanwhile, the news of the car chase is playing on the TV, and has caught mulder’s eye…. 

oh mulder... he calls and gets them reassigned to go to nevada, and scully absolutely refuses! but on the subject of how they now investigate fertilizer, he has this to say: “this is the FBI equivalent of being made to wear an orange jumpsuit and pick up trash by the side of the highway” <- and you know what? i can’t really argue with him there. and you know i would if i could.

ohhh, so they got moved to domestic terrorism as a punishment!! scully thinks that if they do what they’re told, they can earn their way back up to the x files. interesting that they kept them together instead of separating them. not that i know how having an FBI partner works, but if CSM is really trying to kill mulder’s spirit as he alluded to last time, i would imagine they’d separate them. but then again, it does still have to be an interesting TV show.

mulder does manage to interest scully when he asks for her opinion on what really happened to that woman in the back of the car. she thinks the cops are lying about the woman, vicky, who was the driver’s husband, being shot. they claim her head just did that and no guns were involved, which is obviously not going to make sense to doctor scully. and mulder insists that they can be in and out of nevada in a day, and no one will ever know they took a detour. i paused while scully looks very pissed, but also, i can imagine, curious as hell. 

off to see walter white slash mr. crump in nevada!! i think his nose is bleeding as he lays in a jail cell, but it’s hard to tell because it’s so DARK. yes, this must be the case, because he wipes at the blood right after i type this up. augh, and there is terrible ringing in his ears. he yells and says “it’s starting!”

i feel the cameramen are trying to not show the top of mulder’s head. i am not judging, but just saying it IS noticeable. sometimes, when trying to not draw attention to something, you draw more attention to it.

they won’t let our agents see walter white AKA patrick crump, but scully wants to see his dead wife. mulder is hoping if he sticks around he can weasel his way into crump’s cell, which i know from reading the episode description to be a very bad idea.

stare at that big map, mulder. try to work out some directions. i know this is hard for you. why did crump drive one way and then turn the other? beats this sheriff.

YAY, SCULLY AUTOPSY TIME!!!! the body of vicky is weird. oh… her face is like…. gone?? kinda??? you know what, if i go into detail, my stomach will hurt, so we’ll just leave it at that. she says there is no gunpowder present!

OH MY GOD, NOT THE ZOOM IN??? INTO THE AUDITORY CANAL???? oh scully, your big words usually endear me, but in this case their accompanying visual is… making me sick.

“it’s like a bomb went off in her ear” <- huh. that doesn’t sound good at all.

MEUGH!! <- that is the loose transcription of the audible, terrible gagging noise that came from my mouth as we got ANOTHER cut to the tissue of the ear…….. again, normally “tumefaction within the lateral sinus” in scully’s voice would make me weak in the knees, but… not now. not like this.

looking at my phone and not my laptop….. la la la la 🎶

AUGH, IT BLEW UP ON HER????????

oh god. see, scully is in a bad situation, which prompts me saying “augh”, but now *i* risk fainting as well. 

sigh.

meanwhile, walter white aka patrick crump is being taken in an ambulance, as he is getting worse and worse. mulder cannot join them in the ambulance, despite his very best attempt to do so, so he tails behind. it seems that if the ambulance drives fast enough, he stops feeling so terrible!! but crump sees the gun in the sheriff’s holster….

AND HE PULLS IT OUT AND HOLDS IT UP TO MULDER!!!

NOOOO!!!

scully is trying to call him, and also shooing out a random assistant who comes into the autopsy room, because this lab is QUARANTINED! GO!!! which makes me sort of happy.

ohh, she’s stressed, but she is gonna tell mulder that “you sure do know how to pick ‘em”, which is deeply sweet of her. another person is dead from the same thing, and she wants him to quarantine crump’s cell. and STAY AWAY FROM HIM!

well. this did not happen. 

listen!!! have crump answer the phone and tell scully what the hell is going on!! she is a doctor!!! maybe she can help him!!

(scully slaps a piece of yellow legal paper with her cell phone number up against the glass) <- LMAOOOO this made me laugh, but she is SOOOOO mad!!! 

the CDC is going to be there when they stop that car, and they had BEST be wearing level two OR BETTER anti-contamination suits!! you heard her!

oh. crump says that if the cops don’t pull back the escort following the car, he will shoot mulder. which leaves scully in a tight position.

so, they do in fact give him some room. 

NOOOOO!!! crump throws mulder's cellphone out of the window!!!!

“what are you doing? what the hell are you doing?” “what, what am i doing? i’m composing a sonnet. what does it look like i’m doing? i’m slowing down for a light” <- yes. i did giggle. i am not immune to angry mulder witticisms.

but crump is absolutely BELLOWING that he has to keep going. and he begins the process of blowing up when mulder turns the other way in order to prevent this from happening!!!

he wants to know wtf is happening, but crump is in so much pain he’s not explaining. that, or he isn’t willing to. 

and they lose their tail from the police!!! i guess driving headfirst into traffic probably helps with that.

why does scully look so good in her scrubs? all serious and with her arms crossed……..

this does not make up for exploding ear drums.

oh no!!!! director kersh is calling!!! asking where she is!!! which gives us her wonderful line “sir, i am not currently in the state of idaho”

he says that some field agents will be able to help track down mulder, but that “i think at this point, i want to see him alive even more than you do” <- WHY IS THIS DUDE SCARY?? this is the first time we get to hear him talk!! and i’m spooked!!! where is my kind uncle skinner?!

oh shoot! scully realizes that maybe this dude who also died had been in contact with vicky and gotten infected!!

mulder is trying to save this dude’s life, but he’s bitching about not being addressed as “mr. crump”. seemingly a charming fellow! (/s)

HE ASKS IF MULDER IS JEWISH????? 😳 my face rn… what kind of priorities does this dying man have??

mulder goes “the wrong way”, and crump starts banging his head into the wall!!! i didn’t know this condition had geographic rules…. so he pulls the other way

what kind of illness makes you need to go west fast?

people in hazmat suits are investigating the crump house, including scully!!!! there’s a dog!! and it’s going crazy!!!! nooo! please, i don’t want to see this dog blow up!! 

NOOOO!!! scully just wants to sedate him so she can get the blood sample, but he EXPLODES ON THEM!!! oh my god!! WHO CAME UP WITH THIS EPISODE???? NOT THE DOG DYING, TOO!!!

here i was hoping he would pull through and scully would get another dog from a case :(

crump is recounting to mulder his tale of waking up, seeing his wife had a nosebleed, and then her getting a headache that got worse and worse. he started to take her to the hospital, and she would get better as he went faster, and worse when she slowed down.

HELLO??? mulder says he’s sorry about crump’s wife, to which he is met by the reply “sure you are. you and the rest of your jew FBI” <- WHAT????

(hearing him say these lines was legitimately shocking. i had mentioned this before in another episode writeup, but knowing in some compartmentalized area of your brain that people genuinely believe such things vs hearing them out loud are two very different experiences)

he thinks the government did this to them, and he says he saw them sneaking around his woods at night… well, buddy, it does sound like you have a conspiracy afoot, but you can't blame some guy you've never met nor the collective jewish population for that

this shuts mulder up, (does he feel bad as he realizes that this man was taken advantage of by the same government he knows well to kill and maim with no consequence?) but not before he says “well, on behalf of the international jewish conspiracy, i’m just here to inform you that we’re… almost out of gas”, which presents some issues

back at the crump place, sadly, the others are carrying the dead dog away 💔

scully sees something glowing in the distance!!! it’s a neighbor with a dead bird? but the bird doesn’t look exploded!! just normal dead!!! 

poor scully is yelling out in her suit, which makes it very hard to hear what she is saying. 

ohhh, she finds the neighbor woman, and she is deaf, so she must be unaffected by the condition!!

meanwhile, mulder is trying to get gas so he and crump can keep going. but the jerks at the gas station aren’t letting him get gas without paying!!!! so he puts crump in someone else’s car and takes that one!!!

OHHH, HE LEFT A NOTE FOR "AGENT DANA SCULLY FBI" IN THE OTHER CAR…. ohhh my GOD………. he must have known what would happen…..

scully is trying to comprehend how the condition only effects people who can hear. and she takes off her helmet!!! what if they need to hear a sound in order for the symptoms to begin? well, if that is the case, i would be plugging my ears!

mulder's note explains that if he doesn’t stop going west, crump will die. scully tells the sheriff to believe him… ah, her trust in him… wonder if that trust is RECIPROCATED… !!

oh, she finds a bunch of dead birds on the ground, and hears weird interference!!! coming from a government... thingy in the ground!!!

crump is telling him to go faster because it is getting worse. and then says “the jew stuff. uh, no offense. a man can’t help who he’s born to” which is… uh… character development, i guess?

i will give mister walter white guy this, the man can perform. crump is saying it’s not fair to take away his dignity; the government should have just let them die instead. and mulder says he can’t stick it to the government if he dies!!! which gives crump hope!!

but there isn’t much west left to go, because they’re in california!!!

scully is at a naval base now, sans protective equipment!! she wants to know what kind of electrical stuff is being run in crump’s town! 

LMAOOOO, the guy from the base thinks she’s with the FCC, and she’s trying to play along with it, but she’s a terrible liar. that’s my queen 💜

(sometimes she can lie and sometimes she cannot. i love that for her <3)

naval base guy claims that a power surge effected their equipment that stretches into crump's town, and it won’t happen again, but he can’t tell you what such a surge would do to the human body. damn. that's incriminating

it’s the next morning now, and some people in motorcycles are bringing a cell phone to mulder!!!! somehow he gets it!!!

on the other end of the line, it’s scully!!! she has a theory!!! E.L.F. fields stretch onto crump’s property!! and an overload could have shattered his inner ear!!! and maybe movement would keep it from blowing up. but why west?? maybe it has to follow certain lines of force??

scully says she thinks she knows what has to happen, but it’s nothing crump will like. mulder sighs, says he’ll be there, and hangs up. oh my god, he’s going to have to watch this dude blow up…?

(author's note: i thought that scully was implying the only way to "help" crump was to put him out of his misery, hence my bracing for the worst. i was sort of wrong, but also sort of right)

mulder says that scully will put a needle into his ear to relieve the pressure, and it will leave him deaf. crump asks, “but i’ll live, right?” and when mulder nods, he says “well, that’s what it’s all about” OH NOOO… is he lying???

crump asks him to go faster and faster….

scully is waiting there with a needle!!! so mulder wasn’t lying!!! look at her as she tries to figure out how to do this!!! 

BUT NO!!! he didn’t make it in time!!! crump blowed up!!!

look at poor sad mulder!!!!!!!!!!!! he walks to the water and takes off his tie!!!!!!!!

woah.........

back in DC, kersh is yelling at them for their expense reports. “why don’t you bill me?”, spits mulder. “i’ll bill your partner instead. you two obviously relish the role of martyr” <- DAMN???

mulder gets pissed and leaves, and scully tries to tell kersh that he has been through a lot. he says she apologizes for mulder often, and she clarified that she isn’t this time around. they uncovered a conspiracy and saved the day!

this kersh guy is CRAZY. she points out that the navy shut down their program that was KILLING PEOPLE, and he says they claim it’s just a coincidence, and he doesn’t care how many people they save, they’re not on the x files anymore.

HELLO???

who sent this man…?

so, i feel like i can recognize that this was objectively a very good piece of TV. the acting was spot-on, the pacing was intense, and the plot was good. that being SAID, even if it was objectively good, it isn’t one of my favorites. definitely not one of my least favorites!

it further established the evil-ness of the government and how mulder and scully are willing to risk everything for their own respective goals, (which are, of course, the Truth and Saving Lives), but the system at hand wants to prevent that from happening no matter what the cost. which i think is very interesting. i also think it’s interesting that crump was right about the government doing this to him, even if he was wrong about there being a whole international jewish conspiracy group behind it. it was a lack of care for the citizens that the government lords over that got him there. 

and mulder being unable to save him, even though he tried so hard… while i am still mad at him for being whiny and mean to scully, seeing him work so incredibly hard to save crump and be unable to really made me sad. so did the way he took off his tie after all of that driving, staring out into the water...

whatever it is that kersh has going on is also very interesting. i absolutely do not trust him. which maybe makes me think i SHOULD trust him… but probably not. 

it was a good and interesting episode, but i like the episodes where they hold each other the very best, so, you know. not my exact cup of tea. any time they're not in the same room i get sad!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── PEREGRINE // ONE

Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.

Chapter Synopsis: You wrap up your affairs before flying over to your hometown, where your best friend will soon have his wedding.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters

A/N: you know it’s a m1ckeyb3rry fic when the main love interest doesn’t even show up for the first few chapters…also please note this is NOT THE FIRST CHAPTER of the story there is a prologue before it!! which gives a lot of necessary background so you’re not (as) confused by the plot

divider credits: @/benkeibear

“Sora,” you cooed at your cat, your torso jammed beneath the bed as you tried to pull her out. “Dearest Sora, please don’t make this so difficult.”

“I told you you should’ve gotten rid of her when you had the chance,” Ryosuke said from where he was folding clothes to put in his suitcase. “Honestly, I don’t get why you insist on keeping her around. All she does is shit in the house and make problems.”

“She uses her litter box like a good girl, and she doesn’t cause trouble on purpose,” you said. “She’s an animal, not a person. She’s not capable of malicious intent.”

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that things would be a lot easier if you had just left her at the shelter when you moved in with me,” he said.

“I’ve had her for years,” you said, finally getting a grasp on her body and yanking her out in one swift move. “She’s a part of my family. I don’t know why you’re so determined to hate her.”

“She hates me, too!” he said. True to form, Sora hissed at him as you walked past, her ears flattening to show the disdain she had always held for him. “And you always take her side. It’s like you like her more than me!”

You rolled your eyes. “She’s a cat. You’re jealous of a cat.”

And you’re the one who’s cheating, anyways. You left this second part unsaid, because it wasn’t really relevant to the conversation, and besides, you had done such a good job at maintaining the facade of normalcy in your relationship that it would be a waste to break it just because he was annoying you.

That didn’t stop you from scowling at him when his back was turned, pressing a kiss atop Sora’s head and smiling when she purred at the show of affection — or was it because you were in the kitchen and near to her container of treats on the counter that she was so pleased?

“I’m not sure what to do with you,” you admitted, scratching under her chin with one hand and opening the jar with the other, offering her half of a treat as a consolation for having ripped her so uncaringly from her hiding place. She accepted it daintily, which meant that all was forgiven, and you stroked her in appreciation.

She was an enormous, fluffy white cat, closer in size to a small dog than anything. Her eyes were a wide, endless blue, hence why you had named her Sora, and her fur felt like cotton when you ran your hands through it. You had had her for almost as long as you had been in America, and you thought that there was almost no one in the entire vapid country who you loved more.

Normally, if you and Ryosuke had to go somewhere, you’d drop Sora off at Chigiri’s. She liked him well enough, and he was typically glad for the company, so it was a mutually beneficial deal. But of course, this time, Chigiri would also be away, as he was attending the same wedding that you and Ryosuke were, which meant that you were somewhat out of luck.

Sora dangled limply in your arms like a heap of rags as you paced about the kitchen, trying and failing to come up with someone who could take care of her while you were gone. Finally giving up when you realized that Chigiri had been right, you really did need more friends, you picked up your phone and called the man in question.

“Yo,” he said, answering almost immediately, though you could hear the shower running in the background, which meant he was either about to get into the bath or had gotten out for the express purpose of answering you. Either way, you decided not to hold him up with useless pleasantries.

“Hey, Chigiri,” you said. “I heard you’re going to Reo and May’s wedding?”

“Yeah, I’m between jobs again, so it’s not like I need to take off work or anything,” he said.

“Again?” you said, your resolve to have a quick conversation shattering almost immediately. The sound of water stopped, which meant that he, too, sensed the call was probably not going to be a short one.

“Tell me about it. I can only land short-term gigs at the moment,” he said.

“Maybe you should just move away from trying to coach entirely,” you suggested. “You were a marketing major, right? You could probably go corporate.”

“I know, but I don’t think I’m that desperate yet. I’m sure something or another will come along. The issue is that no high-level team wants a coach who hasn’t played in years, but those high-level gigs are the ones that are much steadier in terms of pay and schedule,” he said.

“I’d want you as a coach,” you said loyally. “If I was a soccer player.”

“You’d be a shitty soccer player. I don’t even think my coaching could change that fact,” he said.

“You’re so mean to me,” you said.

“Someone has to do it,” he said.

“And there I was, trying to support you,” you said. “On a more serious note, though, any team that doesn’t hire you just because of what happened back then is stupid.”

“Oh, I agree completely, but try telling them that. It’s all ‘sorry, but we want a coach that has a little more experience.’ I have experience! The only reason our school ever won games was because of me, even after I stopped being able to play myself. It’s not like that dumbass coach ever did anything for us beyond praising your peacock bastard fiancé,” he said

“Exactly,” you said, though you had no idea how true this was, as according to Ryosuke, he had been the one to carry the team to victory. The roles Chigiri might’ve had to play in their victories, if any, had always been omitted.

“Ugh, it’s fine. Like I said, I’m sure there’s some youth league that’ll take me on next season, so it’s okay. I’ll work it out, like I always do,”he said.

“Let me know if you need help at any point,” you said.

“Always,” he said.

“In the meantime, uh, I actually need your help,” you said.

“Right, I was wondering why you had called,” he said.

“The thing is that I don’t have anyone else I can leave Sora with, so I was going to pay one of my company’s interns to watch her while we’re gone,” you said.

“Aw, make sure you pick someone gentle. She’s very particular,” he said.

“You know, she is my cat,” you said.

“Just reminding you!” he said.

“I think I know who I’m going to ask already, so as long as he agrees to it, it’ll be fine,” you said.

“Okay, so what’s my place in all of this?” he said.

“Ryosuke and I have to go over a little earlier, since I’m the maid of honor, so I was wondering if you’d be alright with watching her until you have to leave?” you said.

“Why, because you don’t have to pay me?” he said.

“I can, if you want,” you said. “It’s just so she can be somewhere she’s comfortable, since she’s never met this kid before.”

“I was just joking, don’t worry about it. Drop her off whenever,” he said.

“You’re the best,” you said.

“Yup,” he agreed. “Now, I was kind of in the middle of something, so…”

“Oops, right, go enjoy your shower,” you said.

“Wait, how’d you know I was showering?”

Although there were several interns working for your company at any given time, you generally paid little attention to most of them. You were too busy with your own work and life to care about their struggles, so beyond giving them advice when they asked and helping them out when you didn’t have to go out of your way to, you didn’t interact with them much.

There was one boy, though, who had caught your eye. Something about his aloof personality and quiet demeanor reminded you of a person you had known back in high school, and you had unofficially adopted him, though you weren’t sure if he was exactly aware of this fact.

Actually, he was definitely unaware, considering the way he all but jumped out of his skin when you sat across from him in the lunchroom.

“Hey, Niko,” you said brightly. His dark hair covered his eyes, so you couldn’t read his reaction, but if you had to guess, it was probably panic. If you were in his place, that was what you’d be feeling, considering it wasn’t exactly typical of the regular employees to hang out with the students.

“Um, hello, Miss L/N,” he said, somehow managing to keep his voice level. “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No,” you said. “I just need you to do me a favor.”

He got out of his seat immediately, pulling out his phone from his pocket and opening the notes app. You furrowed your brow as he tapped his foot expectantly.

“Well? What’s your coffee order? And which shop do you want me to get it from? I accidentally went to Starbucks the other day to get a latte for the director and he freaked out about it,” he said.

“Oh! He thinks Starbucks makes their coffee too sweet, that’s probably why,” you said.

“I learned that the hard way,” he said.

“Yikes, I’m sure that was not a fun conversation,” you said. “But that’s unimportant. I don’t need coffee, and you don’t have to say yes to this or anything. I guess you can consider it to be more of a request from a friend — although I promise I will pay you!”

“Okay,” Niko said hesitantly.

“I’ll just lay it on you,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m going abroad for a wedding soon, and I need someone to watch my cat,” you said. “She’s very well-behaved and friendly! Honestly, she’ll just sit with you on the couch the whole time, I’m sure. I’ll give you her food and everything, and like I said, I’ll pay you, so how about it?”

For the first time, he looked up at you, his hair falling out of his face and revealing bright, shimmering eyes. He clasped his hands together, a smile threatening to dawn upon his face, and then it was your turn to grow bewildered by the sudden switch in his personality.

“Yes!” he said. “I’d even do it for free, Miss L/N.”

“Woah, are you a cat enthusiast or something? And none of that; of course I’m going to pay, or else it’d just feel like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern,” you said.

“I really like them,” he said. “I’ve had one my whole life, but my house is a three hour drive from campus, so I haven’t gotten to see her much since graduating high school. I really miss hanging out with her, though, so it’ll be nice to have a cat around, even if it’s only for a little while.”

“Perfect!” you said, cheering internally at how well things had worked out. “She’ll be staying with a friend of mine, so if you’ll give me your number, I’ll send it to him so you can coordinate picking her up at some point.”

“Sure,” he said, giving you his phone so you could type his number into your own. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Hyoma Chigiri,” you said. Niko’s jaw dropped.

“Hyoma Chigiri?” he whispered. “You’re friends with him?”

“Do you know him or something?” you said, handing him his phone back. Niko shook his head.

“Not personally, but I remember reading about what happened to him,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons my parents convinced me to stop playing soccer.”

“Ah, maybe don’t mention it around him,” you said. “He’s doing fine now, but he still doesn’t like talking about it.”

“That’s understandable,” Niko said. “My lips are sealed. I just can’t believe I’m going to have Hyoma Chigiri’s number in my phone!”

“Feel free to act like a fan all you want,” you said, after the initial strangeness of meeting someone still so obsessed with Chigiri had passed. “He really appreciates it when people praise him. Though, you probably shouldn’t spam him or anything.”

“I’ll be just as responsible with his phone number as I will with your cat. Thank you for entrusting me with this, Miss L/N! I promise I won’t let you down,” he said.

“I know you won’t,” you said. “And, to be fair, it’s not really a difficult task. Just sit at home and watch TV a lot and be kind with her; if you can do that, then Sora will be perfectly content.”

“That’s what I’d do anyways,” he said.

“Great,” you said. “Now I can feel even less like I’m taking advantage of some poor intern.”

“Thank you again for your faith in me!” he said when you reached your office, bowing at you as if you were some kind of sage master that had offered him a great opportunity for personal growth.

At least he was taking it seriously. You thanked whatever deity had intervened on your behalf that you had found the one person within a ten-mile radius who would care for Sora as well as you or Chigiri would.

Unlike Ryosuke, you barely packed anything but the most basic of items. This was because you knew full well that the minute you stepped foot on Japanese soil, you would be dragged into Reo’s arms, whereupon he would force you into his car and take you shopping at the closest luxury mall — on his card, of course. He was prone to such acts when it came to you, mostly because you were one of the first true friends he had ever had, and so he tended to spoil you as if you were his baby sister or something.

“How can you be sure that Reo’s going to get you everything you need?” Ryosuke said, eyeing the suitcase you lifted into the trunk of the car. “It’s been a pretty long time since you saw him last. He’s probably matured a ton since then — I mean, he’s getting married! What kind of wife would be okay with her husband doting on some random girl?”

“For one, I’m not some random girl; I’ve known May longer than Reo has, and I’m also the one who introduced them to one another. She knows there’s nothing between us, so there would be no reason for her to not be okay with it. Secondly, I’ve been friends with Reo for so long that he’s more like a weird cousin of mine than anything. The Mikages look after their own, and it just so happens that I am, by proxy, one of them. So I can be reasonably confident that it’ll work out in that way,” you said.

“Don’t you feel bad, then?” he said. “You’re using your best friend for his money.”

“You’re so determined to find fault with our relationship,” you said. “It’s not like that. Everyone has different ways to show affection for the people they care about. It just so happens that Reo’s so wealthy that that kind of thing is his own personal manner.”

Ryosuke scoffed, pressing the button to turn on the ignition and starting the car without another word, prompting a worried mewl from Sora, whose carrier was currently on your lap. You tapped the side to remind her that you were still there with her, and she quieted at that.

“Don’t forget that we have to go to Chigiri’s first,” you said.

“Yes, yes, we’ll stop by your lover’s house,” Ryosuke said. At your surprised expression, he laughed. “What? You’re always with him or at his place. Any normal person would suspect it.”

There were a million things you could say in response, but the least-inflammatory was a repetition of the same thing you had been telling him since the day the two of you got together.

“You know I’ve never been with anyone but you,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “I guess that’s true. No matter how many people you sleep with now, you can never change the fact that I was the first.”

“Hm,” you said, staring out of the window and speaking to his reflection instead of facing him properly. “Don’t be crude.”

“Come on, it’s just us two. When else can we make these kinds of jokes?” he said.

“You didn’t seem like you were joking,” you noted.

“Y/N, I’m hurt. You thought I was being serious? I mean, did you really think that I believed for a second that anyone preferred that washed up princess’s company to mine?” he said, stalling the car in the driveway and grinning. “Tell him I said hi.”

“You and I both know that’ll accomplish nothing,” you said, slinging the bag of Sora’s things over your shoulder and gripping the handle of her carrier so tightly that your knuckles whitened. “I’ll be back soon. No point in missing our flight.”

“I’ll be here,” Ryosuke said, waving at you as he began to fiddle with the knobs on the car’s dashboard, evidently trying to decide whether he wanted the radio to play classical music or the latest episode of some talk show.

You rang the doorbell and then stepped back, knowing it might take Chigiri a second to get to the door depending on where in the house he was located. Luckily, he had been expecting your arrival, so by the time your arm began to grow numb from holding Sora’s carrier, he was opening the door and inviting you in.

“Thank you again for doing this,” you said, setting the carrier down with a thump and massaging your shoulder. Chigiri crouched gingerly, unzipping the opening to the carrier and allowing Sora to peek her head out. When she realized where she was, she bounded out, rubbing her head against Chigiri’s legs as he breathed out a laugh and rubbed her face with his hands.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “It’s nice having someone else in the house. Less lonely.”

Your face softened, and if it weren’t for Ryosuke’s presence looming in the driveway, you’d have leaned over and hugged him. But as it was, your fiancé was waiting, and if you lingered for much longer, you risked missing your flight.

“You have Niko’s number?” you said.

“Yeah. He’s kind of a weird kid,” Chigiri said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“He keeps telling me that he thinks I’m cool and that he can’t believe he’s texting me,” Chigiri said, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “So strange.”

At this, you smiled, vowing to text Niko and thank him later. His admiration was exactly the boost Chigiri needed when he was so down on his luck, and though he was pretending like he found it odd, it was obvious he was pleased by the attention.

“As long as he can take care of Sora,” you said. Chigiri nodded in determination.

“I’m sure he can. He obviously has good taste in other things, so it stands to reason that he’d be the kind of person who could really look out for her in the way she’s used to,” he said.

“You would be the first to die in a horror movie,” you said. “Did you know that?”

“What? Why would you say such a thing?” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “I should go. Ryosuke’s in the car, and our flight is soon.”

Chigiri wrinkled his nose, his whole delicate face crumpling at the mention of your fiancé.

“I thought something felt off about the property,” he said.

“You are so dramatic,” you said. “He says hi.”

“Tell him I said fuck off,” Chigiri said.

“I don’t think — actually, sure,” you said. “I’ll do that. See you at the wedding. And Sora, please be a good girl for Chigiri and Niko alike.”

“She will be,” Chigiri said affectionately. Sora had wriggled her way into his arms, and he stood while hugging her to his chest, ready to shut the door behind you. “See you, Y/N.”

You were reluctant to leave, because it would be so easy to stay and talk with Chigiri while playing with Sora, but you knew you had to. Even that knowledge, though, was hardly enough — it was simply the thought of seeing Reo and May again that made you take the next step, and the next, all of the way until you were back in the passenger seat of the car and Ryosuke was reversing the car down the driveway.

“So, how is my beloved teammate?” Ryosuke said. “Did he leave you with a message for me?”

“Yes,” you said. “He told me to tell you to fuck off.”

Ryosuke chuckled. “Sounds about right. He’s always been a petty son of a—”

“Ryosuke,” you sighed. “Do you really get any gain out of insulting the only friend I have left in this country?”

“It’s the same gain he gets out of insulting your fiancé!” he said.

“Which I always reprimand him for,” you said. “And also, he at least has something resembling a reason to resent you. When you do it, it just feels excessive.”

“You defend me to him?” he said.

“Obviously?” you said. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I suddenly feel very cheerful and optimistic,” he observed.

“What are you talking about?” you said. He waved you off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It was a personal musing. Think of it like an interjection from the narrator, except that in this case, the narrator and the protagonist are the same.”

“Okay,” you said. “Sure. If that’s what makes sense to you.”

The two of you spent the rest of the drive to the airport in relative silence. Ryosuke hummed along to whatever pop song came on the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, and you texted your friends — mostly Reo and May, who had been anxiously waiting for your arrival since you had agreed to come at all.

When you had first started dating, you used to go on aimless drives for hours, talking about whatever crossed your mind. Not a second would go by without one of you speaking, but that kind of constant conversation wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, you both ran out of things to say, and so you began to spend more and more of your time together in silence. That was around the time that Ryosuke began to seek outside assistance in quelling the fire which was constantly blazing within him; whether it was a coincidence or a cause, you could not tell, but it remained that everything had happened at once and led to your relationship now being like this.

You always forgot how long the flight back to Japan was. It was the second reason you never visited, beyond the fact that there was hardly anything worth visiting in the first place — it was a day-long ordeal composed of arguing with the TSA agents, waiting in security lines, and of course the flight itself, which was only marginally bearable because Reo insisted on buying you first-class tickets.

You spent most of it dozing, the armrest between you and Ryosuke pushed up so you could lean your head against his chest as he watched a movie. In the haze of your sleep, you could feel his arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers idly stroking your cheek as if that were the natural outcome, as if there was no other place that they could come to rest. It was the easiest that things had ever been between you in some time, and subconsciously, you relished in it, in the soft scent of his cologne, in the warmth of pretending like you were loved by someone again.

Reo had told you, in no uncertain terms, to not even attempt going to the baggage claim. He had contacts in the airport who would take care of it, because of course he did, and so the only thing you and Ryosuke had to do was meet him and May at the gate. You stopped in the bathroom, mostly at your insistence, so that you could freshen yourself after the long flight, which had sapped you of most of your energy despite how much of it you had spent sleeping.

“Are you nervous?” Ryosuke said as you reached the door. He held both of your carry-on bags in his hands, an amused grin on his face as you all but vibrated with every step you took.

“Of course,” you said. “I haven’t seen them in so long, and I haven’t been back home in that same amount of time. I don’t know how it’s all changed. And what if it hasn’t? What if the only one who’s changed is me?”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, nudging you in the side. “Look who it is.”

Standing awkwardly by the metal barrier separating the airport from the street in front of it, surrounded by security guards that kept the rest of the crowds at bay, was Reo Mikage. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a polo, sunglasses perched on his head as he checked the time on the — likely expensive — watch which he wore on his left wrist.

A grin split your face, your spirit rejuvenated as surely as if you had never been exhausted in the first place. Cupping your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice, you shouted out his name with glee.

“Reo!”

The boredom dropped from his expression immediately as his head snapped up, trying to determine the source of the noise. When he locked eyes with you, he beamed so brightly that you were all but blinded by it, and then you were both racing towards the opening in the barricade where you could finally meet.

You tossed your arms around his neck as soon as you could reach him, clinging onto him tightly, suddenly and unreasonably weepy at the fact that the two of you had finally been reunited. He did the same, squeezing you to the point that you thought you might burst from the pressure.

“I can’t believe you’re finally back,” he said, letting you go and holding you at an arm’s length so that he could look you over with a critical eye. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “Where’s May?”

“She had to go to the bathroom,” he said. “She should be back in a couple of seconds, and she’ll probably be furious, too, considering she was really hoping she’d spot you first. I convinced her that it would be fine for her to take a moment to herself, and that it’d probably still be a bit of time before you arrived, but, uh, I guess it ended up being kind of an unfortunate coincidence in that sense.”

“What’s up, man? Congrats on the wedding,” Ryosuke said, finally catching up to you and offering Reo his hand. Reo glanced at it, and anyone who didn’t know him as well as you did wouldn’t have even noticed the way he hesitated before taking it and shaking it with the firm conviction of a businessman.

“Thanks, Kira,” he said. “You’ve been taking care of my best friend?”

“’Course I have been,” Ryosuke said, ruffling your hair. You did your best to force a laugh, not wanting Reo to have to concern himself with your wellbeing when he was about to be married. “You’ll be the one coming back to America for our wedding soon.”

“That so?” Reo said, raising an eyebrow at you. “I expect to be the first one invited to the wedding, then.”

“Was I the first one invited to yours?” you shot back.

“Er, I mean, not exactly…” Reo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to tell Nagi first, since I wanted him to be my best man and had to give him adequate time to prepare for the hassle of the role.”

“Then I’ll invite May first, since she’ll naturally be my maid of honor,” you said, your stomach twisting at the mention of Nagi. “But you can be second, Reo.”

“That’s right!” a new voice said. “He had better be second, considering he sent me to the bathroom so that he could win our bet!”

And then there she was in front of you: Reo’s soon-to-be wife and your former roommate, May Ducat. Her thick brown hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, and her peacock-feather eyes gleamed as she embraced you tightly.

“May,” you said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you!” she said. “I miss you every day. Mostly because you were a much better roommate than this one. He snores.”

“Hey!” Reo said, gasping in offense. “I do not.”

You dug around in your pocket before solemnly presenting her with a box of breathe-right strips.

“I know,” you said. May clapped in delight, accepting them and then turning to hand them to Reo, who took them even as he protested that he definitely didn’t need them and how would Y/N even know if I snore, anyways?

“Congratulations, May,” Ryosuke said, offering her his hand as well. May glanced at but did not accept it, opting to smile frigidly instead.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. After a discomfiting pause, Ryosuke lowered his hand, brushing it off against his pants and clearing his throat.

“I couldn’t let Y/N come alone,” he said.

“Of course not,” she said.

“It’ll be my first time meeting her parents,” he said. At this, May gave you a sad look. Though you had never told her much, she had always harbored her suspicions, always been less fond of Ryosuke than she really ought to be, considering he was typically polite to her.

“I hope it goes well,” she said. Ever the diplomat, Reo was the first to break the ensuing silence, clearing his throat.

“Alright, then! I’ll have one of my drivers take you two to your hotel room, where your things will be waiting, and then tonight, we can show you around. Y/N, they just built a new mall where that park used to be, so we can go shopping there,” he said.

“They built a mall over the park?” you said, your eyes widening at the prospect. Reo nodded.

“Isn’t it great? It’s so much more convenient than the one we used to go to,” he said. You disguised your frown with a yawn.

“Right,” you said.

“Try not to sleep,” May advised. “It’ll help you break your jet lag if you just stay up for as long as you can.”

“We’ll do our best,” Ryosuke said. May gave him a measured look before nodding slightly, turning away to continue her conversation with Reo instead of risking further discussion with your fiancé.

The hotel you were staying in was only a few streets down from your childhood home, and as with all things Reo, it was excessively opulent. The shower itself was large enough to fit at least ten people, and you spent far longer in it than was really necessary, rinsing the grime of your journey off of yourself.

“Going to sleep already?” Ryosuke said when you crawled under the covers of the bed beside him. “May recommended we wait.”

“I know,” you said with a yawn. “I’m just going to lie down and close my eyes. I’m not actually going to sleep or anything.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, patting you on the head. “I’ll do the same, then.”

Before long, the both of you had passed out.

[quinacridonered]

Rings of Power Recap - Season 2, Episode 6

Orc #1: All I wanted was to settle quietly in a suburb of Mordor.

Orc #2: You still can. 

Orc #3: Put a downpayment on an ox… 

Orc #1: Get a warg puppy for the wee ones…

Arondir: Nope.

—

Passing Mouse: You look like you’ve been subsisting on pizza, but apparently it’s all scrap metal?

Assistants: Good point. Lord Celebrimbor?

Celebrimbor: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow… Creeps at this petty pace from day to day…

Mirdania: Shall we order some pizza, my lord?

Celebrimbor: Who the fuck are you?

Sauron: Perhaps you should stop spending the food budget on Red Bull and vodka.

—

Eregion Citizens: Lord Celebrimbor!

Sauron: I’m taking over. What’s up, citizens?

City Guards: The only inbound traffic has been dead bodies covered in foreign graffiti.

Sauron: All is well. You are getting very sleepy. 

Mirdania: I don’t feel sleepy. Your new dress is making me very awake indeed.

Sauron: Don’t worry, we’ll get you one just like it.

—

Orc Daddy: We both love-hate Sauron. Friends forever?

Galadriel: You are the only one who understands.

Orc Daddy: Look, I got you fresh produce and everything.

Galadriel: Aw. You’re really trying.

Orc Daddy: What’s new in your world?

Galadriel: *full disclosure of elven state secrets*

Orc Daddy: You know how Sauron makes you feel seen and understood, and then you give him what he wants, and then he totally fucks you over?

Galadriel: Uh-huh…

Orc Daddy: I did mention he was my leader and teacher for centuries, right?

Galadriel: What’s Black Speech for “fuck my life”?

—

Elendil: Traitor!

Pharazon: Takes one to know one.

Elendil: The Valar will show who’s right.

Pharazon: Brilliant idea. 

—

Homeless Wizard: What episode is it?

Tom Bombadil: Episode 6, why?

Homeless Wizard: Does time flow differently in Rhûn? My plot feels like it hasn’t moved in months.

Tom Bombadil: Fine. Here’s the next bit. Betray your friends or doom the world.

Homeless Wizard: Suddenly I miss when you were just forcing me to bathe.

—

Poppy’s Love Life: *occurs*

—

King Durin: Look who’s here!

Prince Durin: Annatar. You look… asymmetrical.

Sauron: What can I give you for more mithril? Timber? Grain? Eregion’s finest virgins every full moon?

Prince Durin: I need a shower just talking to you.

King Durin: I am knee deep in all the virgins I could possibly want.

Balrog, via Fire Zoom Call: Cousin! Missed ya, where you been?

Sauron:  Spent a millennium as evil goo. Not my best moment.

Balrog: Sworn enemies?

Sauron: Disloyal minions.

Balrog: Gets you every time.

King Durin: *taking notes* Watch out… for disloyal… minions…

—

Disa: Is he still…

Prince Durin: He’s worse.

Disa: I hear the League of Disloyal Minions is looking for new members.

Prince Durin: He’s my Dad. I can’t do it.

Disa: Who do you fear more, me or him?

Prince Durin: Tough call, but frankly, you.

—

Pharazon: We’re gonna feed you to the Sea Wyrm. 

Elendil: I’ll take that over your company.

Miriel: Over my dead body. I mean it literally.

Guards: Incoming!

Eldritch Marine Horror: I’m hangry.

Miriel: I am the rightful monarch of Numenor.

Eldritch Marine Horror: For fuck’s sake. This used to be a normal ocean. Now it’s crawling with the cosmically significant. Is there at least a fish and chips?

Pharazon: We can hook you up with some gumbo.

Crowd: MI-RI-EL!

Giant Eagle: My god, they are fickle here.

—

Eregion Citizens: Oh shit. Orcs. Many.

Sauron: Celebrimbor! Chop fucking chop! I can’t move this whole forge into a trebuchet projectile shelter now, can I? You wanted the world’s tallest tower and now you work in the world’s easiest target!

Celebrimbor: This is the point in our relationship where I normalise physical violence.

Sauron: Baby, I thought you’d never ask.

—

Hallucinatory Eregion Citizens: What a fine sunny day we are having in the middle of the night. 

Clock tower: *strikes thirteen*

Sauron: Asking nicely for the last time: make the fucking rings. Here’s your grandpa’s hammer. Go get ‘em, tiger, etc.

Celebrimbor: Rings… Gotta make some rings…

Sauron: Servants! New case of Red Bull and some Zero Age tequila! Let's party like it's 1999!

[makeadealwithdean]

Don't Take It Easy - s.h.

(Steve Harrington x afab!reader) written for @steveharringtonbingo (B2 Free Space)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1196

Tags/Warnings: nsfw, steve harrington x afab!reader, smut, p in v sex, spit kink, light degredation, light dacryphilia

Summary: It's literally just porn, absolutely no plot whatsoever. Shameless smut with Steve.

AO3 // Masterlist

“C’mon, Stevie, please!” your tone was growing more and more desperate as you begged the boy hovering above you. “Just… do it already!” 

Steve chuckled darkly, a smirk growing across his normally kind face. “What was that, honey? I know you’re not rushing me, are you?”

“Noooo,” you sighed begrudgingly, lying to him straight through your teeth because you were, in fact, rushing him. You squirmed under him, and his forearm crept across your throat, not pressing down yet, just there as a reminder to be still. 

You stopped squirming. 

You felt his other hand guide his tip to brush against your entrance once again, and you couldn’t help but let out a pitiful whine at his touch. You gave him your best sad eyes, but Steve only returned mocking sad eyes of his own. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, darlin’?” he quipped. “You aching for me or something?” His fingers brushed against your slick entrance as he spoke, “This hole feelin’ empty?”

“Yes—” you panted, “yes, sir. Please.”

“Please what?” Steve purred, smirking down at you. Fuck, he wanted you to beg, and you knew it. 

“Fuck me, please, Stevie,” you practically cried, giving in, because you know how much he loves when you get desperate. “Need you to fill me up, baby, please?”

He groaned at your words, his head tipping backwards as he sat back on his heels in between your parted thighs. 

Steve dragged his fingers down the inside of your sensitive thigh and aligned himself at your weeping entrance. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m gonna do you right.”

Your breathing quickened, and you couldn’t help but whimper as you felt his tip slowly stretch your walls. “Yes!” you panted, “yes, feels so good, Steve— god, you’re fucking huge—”

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he praised as you took everything he gave you. His cock was, in fact, massive (and he liked hearing about it too), and still, you took it so perfectly every time. “S’like you were made for me, baby. That pussy’s so tight. Squeezin’ me so good.”

Finally, his hips were flush with yours, and like always, he stilled for a bit to allow you to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. But you didn’t want the extra time. 

“C’monnn,” you whined, rocking your hips up and down. “Move, please, m’ready—”

Steve tutted, smiling and hushing you softly, but his hips began to move. He thrusted in and out, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Faster, Stevie,” you breathed. “Please, go faster?”

“Ask me correctly, darling, and we’ll see,” Steve chided. “You’re not being very good right now.” He cocked one eyebrow up, eyeing you skeptically as his hips kept that same, agonizingly slow pace. 

He wanted you to beg. 

You weren’t about to argue. His cock felt so good that, in this moment, he could have whatever he wanted from you, especially with that heat beginning to swell in your belly. Abandoning any remaining dignity, you took a breath and gave him your best pleading eyes.

“Please, please fuck me hard, sir! That’s all I want, that dick feels so so good. Just want you to fuck me dumb, please, Stevie. Just wanna feel you tomorrow! Fuck me till I cry, I’ll be so good, I swear—”

Steve surged forward at your words and cut off your rambling with a searing kiss. You must’ve begged properly because while his tongue begged for entrance at your lips, his hips snapped forward hard.  

You gasped at the impact of his skin against yours, and he took advantage of your pleasure to slip his tongue inside, quickly taking control of your mouth, and you gladly let him. You loved when his natural dominance won out over his usual sweet demeanor. God, the effect it had on you was unlike anything else.

Steve groaned, falling into a rhythm that took your breath away with each forceful thrust of his hips. His forehead was coated in a thin layer of sweat, and a few strands of his usually perfectly-styled hair clung there, glistening with moisture. His rough breathing in your ear was so fucking sensual, you thought you might lose your goddamn mind. 

“You getting close, baby?” he rasped, his breath brushing through your hair. “I know you are. Bet you wanna fuckin’ come so bad, hmm?” 

He was right. You’d been able to feel the familiar tightness in your core for some time, and now that he was finally touching you, giving you what you’d begged for, that feeling was only growing.

You nodded desperately, a pitiful whine escaping your lips in the best answer your brain could formulate at this particular moment, but Steve merely chuckled, almost cruelly, once again smirking at how easily he could take you apart with only the slightest effort. 

“Well, you’re not gonna. Not yet, honey,” he smiled. “You asked me to fuck you dumb, didn’t you? Poor thing can’t even handle the thing she begs for— that’s too bad, isn’t it? You gonna cry for me, sweetheart?”

Steve poked out his lower lip at you mockingly, mimicking your expression, and only then did you realize the tears welling in the corners of your eyes. 

“Shit,” you cried as they started making their way down your soft cheeks from the brutal force of Steve’s pelvis. His hips were slapping against your ass loudly now, and you didn’t know how much longer you’d be able to last. “Sir, can I— fuck, can I please come? I need to, please! Not gonna be able to hold it much longer. Please?”

“What did I just say to you?” Steve spat, that cocky smirk still gracing his pretty face. “My naughty girl wants to do the exact thing I just told her not to— Is that it? Fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”

His hand grasped your jaw firmly, shaking it once harshly. “Open,” Steve commanded, and your jaw dropped immediately. Paying no mind to the tears streaking down your cheeks, he spat directly onto your waiting tongue. 

He closed your mouth with his thumb on your chin, “Swallow it.”

You obeyed instantly, your throat bobbing, and Steve smiled wickedly, “Atta girl, that’s my good fucking slut. You still wanna come?” 

You nodded tearfully, just barely whispering, “Please.”

You could feel Steve’s cock twitching even as he continued to fuck into you, so you knew he was probably closer than he was letting on. Your suspicion was confirmed when Steve nodded curtly, “Fuck, come then. Now.”

At the harshness of his words, the coil inside of you snapped, and whiteness flashed across your vision. You came with a gasping sob, just barely able to make out the moan Steve let out when your walls clenched around him. The pulses of your climax pushed him over the edge, and he came inside you— the twitching of his cock only prolonging your pleasure.

Your body relaxed finally into the mattress, exhausted, and Steve rested his damp forehead briefly on yours before rolling off to lay beside you. He was still panting softly when he turned to meet your tired gaze and press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“So…” he smiled almost shyly. “How was that?”

a/n: thank you for reading! this is the first thing i've written in months, so any feedback/motivation is extremely welcome!

tags (if you're crossed out, i couldn't tag you!):

forevers: @hintsofhoney @deanwanddamons @katelyn--renee @lassie-bird @jensengirl83 @superfanficnatural @wayward-dreamer @that-one-gay-girl @writercole @flamencodiva

stranger things: @lukearsehemmings @mooffinsstories @rosecentury

steve harrington: @hcloangcls @dixontardis @b-e-e-04

[shelby-fangirl00]

Lie To Me-part three-(Irene (OC) x John Shelby x Tommy Shelby)

Hiiii! I’m super excited about this part tehehehee MINORS DNI!!!

Warnings: threesome, swearing, little plot, ass play

“John, I don’t understand where this is coming from. Isn’t this what you wanted?” I pleaded with him.

“Y-yes but I…fuck it, I don’t know alright? You just should’ve stayed home tonight.” He mumbled all of this out while picking up his coat and flapping it over his shoulders. He anxiously slicked his hair back in place. Those big brown eyes were glued to the floorboards.

I looked at Tommy, who was now sitting at the end of the bed, studying Johns demeanor suspiciously. His eyebrows creased as he tilted his head.

“John, just talk to me? It’s not fair to leave things like this.”

“Not fair? I just let my brother fuck your brains out, love.” His voice turned colder.

I could see the anger spreading from his shoulders and up his neck. He was so rigid when angry. I didn’t want him to leave, I wanted both of them to stay.

Without thinking, I walked over to John, reaching to the the scattered freckles sitting on his cheeks. He sucked in a harsh breath, looking at the floor.

“John, look at me…please.” I cupped his full cheeks in my hands and squished them together.

“I want you to stay, John, both of you. We can talk.” You said, holding his tough hands and squeezing as he stood unmoving.

After a few painstakingly long seconds of staring daggers at me, I stood up on my tippy toes, wrapping my hand around the back of his shaven head as I whispered “Please John? Talk to me.”

His shoulders finally relaxed as he let out the sigh sitting in his chest.

“I don’t have the right to be pissed off, I know that. I was fine at first, it was normal. But then you started laughing and whispering a-and…-

“Please stop worrying John. I was having fun, like I’m sure both of you have with other women. Us ladies can do that too, ya know. We’re not together, John. Don’t take’it all so seriously.” I smiled up at him, watching as his eyes softened and his hands rested on my waist all while I talked. He just needed the reassurance.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, love.” Tommy said, coming up behind me, smooshing me in between the both of them. My pulse quickened instantly as his rough hands worked at my shoulders.

John rolled his eyes, as Tommy silently started a competition with him.

“Yeah yeah sure. As long as you don’t fall madly in love.”

“He tends to have that affect on women around here, doesn’t he?” All three of us giggled at this. As quickly as the room had become tense, it vanished again.

“Let me make you feel good John.” I untied my robe slowly and let it fall to the ground. I sank to my knees in front of him, his eyes full of awe.

Tommy stood behind me, petting my hair and balling it into his fist.

I loosened Johns pants, slowly running my hands over his clothed cock, making it twitch and harden within seconds. I smiled up at him, pulling his cock free and fisting it in my hand like I’d done a thousand time before. His head fell back in ecstasy, a familiar sigh leaving his throat.

Both Tommy and John never took their eyes off me as his cock disappeared into my mouth. I teased him a bit, swirling my tongue around his sensitive head, making him bite his lip into his mouth.

Tommy was holding a fistful of my hair into his hand. I slid John further and further into my mouth, letting my tongue graze the underside of his cock. I must’ve been moving too slow, because Tommy’s forceful hand started moving my head ever further down onto John’s cock. I tried to relax my throat as much as possible to fit him all in.

The strong hand in my hair pulled me back just to push me forward again, causing me to me gag as he controlled the pace now.

“Just like that love, keep going..” John said, not making it easy for me. Tommy never stopped moving my head as John began to meet me thrust for thrust with his hips. The irritation on my lips from the repetitive motions made me whimper. I tried to breath through my nose. As rough as all this was, i loved being sandwiched between these two. I felt so powerful surrounded by them.

“Very good, love. He’s almost there, just a little bit longer.” Tommy said as he lowered down to my level from behind me, pressing his plump lips into my neck and leaving a trail of wet kissing down my back. I moaned loudly, sending vibrations through John.

“God, I never get tired of seeing you like this.” John moaned out, placing his hands on top of my head, holding himself up.

Tommy’s hands snaked around my stomach and slowly trailed down to my pussy that was throbbing in pain at this point. I needed to be touched so badly.

“Open your legs.” Tommy growled into my ear. I opened them up to let Tommy feel how soaked i still was.

His two fingers ran down the slit of my pussy, gathering the slickness into his hands before moving back to my clit, rubbing small tight circles into me at an achingly slow pace.

John finally pulled free from my mouth, panting as he balanced himself on a chair behind him.

He took a minute to watch how my body reacted to Tommy. I let myself sink back into Tommy, leaning into his chest as he never stopped his punishing movements.

Wanting to make sure that John felt secure on all of this, I held my hand out to him, cooing him to come over to me.

As he walked over, he began to shed all of the clothes he had put on before back off. I pulled him down to become level with me before speaking.

“Will you fuck me, John? I need you inside of me.” I said in an innocent tone, making his whole body shudder.

“I need you to come first for us, Irene. Then I’ll fuck you all over this place.” Making it harder and harder to hold back the building orgasm from Tommy’s fingers, John reached out to pinch my perky nipples with his fingers. He squeezed and tugged on them, sending more jolts of pleasure through my core.

I stared into him as I started to come undone.

“Fuck!” I yelled out as I let the orgasm wash over me,never looking away from John. He pressed his lips into mine as I came loudly while resting on Tommy’s chest. John ate every whimper and moan I let out as I came down.

“Get into bed, on your hands and knees.” He commanded, a darkness coated his voice as he regained his confidence. You smiled, turning submissive for them both.

I did as I was told, watching as Tommy undressed again and rested naked on his knees in front of me. I felt the bed sink down as John approached my rear. His hands smoothed the curve of my arched back, making me stick my ass out further. I needed to be filled up by him.

“Needy, are we?” Tommy chuckled from in front of me as he lined up his own cock with my mouth.

“Always for you two.” I said before he shoved his cock down my throat without warning. Just as he did so, John shoved his dick in me, making me jolt forward. This caused me to gag onto Tommy. Both of their thrusts were aggressive and dominant, like it was some sort of competition between the two of them. I loved it though, I wanted John to claim me, show me who my pussy belonged to first. Giving me what I was always craving from him.

John grabbed fistfuls of my hips as he thrusted harshly into me. Every time he did so, it pushed me further and further onto Tommy’s cock. We all found a steady motion of back and forth that made my pussy clench around John.

I couldn’t speak or really breath, saliva slid down my chin, dribbling down my neck as I had no control over my body now. I was being used by the Shelby Brothers and I loved every second of it.

John’s hand sent a firm smack to my ass, making me moan onto Tommy. His spankings were harsh as he fucked me through the pain of it all.

One of these days, you’ll be able to take both of us at once. How does that sound love, hm?”John grunted from behind me as he let his thumb rub my asshole lightly. At the new contact, my body tensed up everywhere, making both Tommy and John chuckle.

Tommy leaned down, with his dick still shoved down my throat, whispering, “relax love, I promise it’ll feel good.”

His voice was like fucking magic, as you forced yourself to relax again. John kept thrusting into you, letting his thumb lightly circle your asshole again. The new sensation was strange at first, but the more relaxed I became and the quicker his circles got, the more I found myself pressing my ass into his finger.

“I think she already likes it, Tommy. What do you think?” He laughed out.

“Go easy on her tonight John.” He said, panting as i could tell he was fighting not to come down my throat yet.

“How does this feel?” He said right after he slowly stuck the tip of his thumb into your tight asshole.

I sucked Tommy tight into my mouth from the sensation. That single motion caused Tommy to come down my throat with no warning. Eagerly, i swallowed each drip of his hot liquid down, licking around before he popped out of mymouth.

“Too much for ya, Tommy?” John joked as he still thrusted into me, his thumb now fully pushed into my ass. Feeling a sense of control now that i could talk and breath, I let my head fall onto the bed sheet as I stuck my ass up in the air. I didn’t expect for this to feel so good.

“Fuck, I feel so full!’ I half yelled half moaned.

He started to move his thumb slowly in and out of me, prepping my ass to take two massive cocks. My body twisted and turned in a weird way, making John hum in satisfaction.

“Tell me how it feels, Irene.” I heard Tommy’s voice from behind me as well now. The both of them were watching the back of my body move and twist.

“It feels fucking amazing, please don’t stop.” I squeaked out.

Suddenly, John removed his thumb but I was quickly filled with a much bigger and forceful thumb.

‘You like that? You like me and my brother fucking both your tight holes?” John growled out. John had replaced his thumb with Tommy’s as they both fucked me senseless. Tommy’s finger made me feel even fuller than before. He didn’t hesitate to rub and tease me before pushing past the tight barrier and stretching me out.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” John whimpered from behind me, making me fuck myself back into them.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, I felt John’s cum shoot inside of me before leaking out when he pulled himself out of me. Tommy pulled his thumb from my ass hesitantly, not wanting to stop.

My body felt weaker than ever before. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have more than a finger in my ass. I was so full already.

I fell to my stomach and turned around to face them. They were both looking down at me on their knees still. I smiled up at them, feeling completely satisfied now.

“You’re something else, Irene.” Tommy laughed before leaning down to peck my lips. Not even attempting to dress himself, he laid down beside me in the bed. John leaned down to kiss me next, except he attacked me in a mountain of kissed on my face, making me giggle and push him away playfully. He plopped down on the other side of me.

Tommy pulled me to face him, wrapping his hands around my waist.

“Hey, no fair! You got to stare at her pretty face the whole time!” John said before grabbing me forcefully out of Tommy arms and turning me to face him.

I giggled lightly at their playful banter, snuggling to John’s bare chest.

“Fine. But I get her next time.” Tommy said as he snuggled into my back, placing his head on my shoulder. I loved feeling their bare skin against my own.

Not another word was said the rest of the night as all three of us dozed off, together. I hoped this didn’t end as quickly as it started.

Next part coming soon!

Taglist:

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