#when will someone tell her that you need to at least try to release a good album to go 1 and stay there beyond curiosity?

[thissmycomingofage]

The only thing more embarrassing than taylor's glaringly obvious petty one sided battle with billie is swifties down on their knees thanking her for demanding even more money from them

[g0dlyunsub]

sweet revenge.

in which a female unsub dares spencer to hurt you in exchange for a victim’s whereabouts. 

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: established relationship, allusions to murders, kidnapping, and physical violence (slapping), fluff (and a wee bit of angst)

word count :: 1.9k

author’s note :: lately spencer x bau!reader is all i ever think about

accompanying song :: watch your mouth by the backseat lovers

01 - who are you protecting?

“my name is doctor spencer reid. and this,” spencer says as he turns the photo of the missing girl in his hand, “is angie, the girl that you’ve kidnapped. now tell me, where is she?”

the woman bangs her handcuffs against the table and breaks into a hysterical laughter.

“you’re funny, calling yourself doctor. do you say that so you'll be treated with the same level of respect as all of the other agents? maybe it runs deeper than that. what you lack in physicality you make up for in your intelligence, and in turn they protect you,” she jeers, staring straight into his eyes with a conniving smile.

spencer doesn’t seem to be fazed by her words, clasping his hands together and leaning towards her with an icy glare.

“tell me where she is.” his words fall like needles on shattered glass, countering her sharpness with immaculate professionalism.

you watch the interaction unravel from behind the one-way glass of the interrogation room, and bite your nails as you wait for her to fold.

“tell me this, tell me that. why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself, doctor.” the unsub clicks her tongue when she says doctor, and leans back in her seat with a satisfied grin.

“i know what you’re trying to play here, but it won’t work. tell me where you’re keeping her and maybe we’ll talk about a deal.” spencer’s voice is cold, calm, and collected, exactly the opposite of how you’re feeling right now -- and you're not even the one interrogating her.

“i’m going to need a better response than that. but hey, at least i’m not the one being held captive, right?” she comments with a smirk, staring at the mirrored wall with a taunting expression. her gaze is like a direct blow, provoking the anger that’s begging for release behind your gritted teeth. you clench your jaw and let out a frustrated exhale, knowing she can’t hear you or see you from the other side.

the air fills with silence for at least another minute, during which spencer’s eyes drills into the unsub’s like he’s challenging her to a staredown.

“what do you want to ask me?” he poses at last, his gaze unflinching as he tilts his head to the side.

“that’s more like it,” the woman retorts as she toys with the rattling sounds of the handcuffs. “there's something i'd like for you to explain. i asked to speak with a female agent, but they sent in the exact opposite. why?"

spencer squints, his eyes a telling desire for her elaboration.

“who are you trying to protect?”

there’s no response from spencer’s end.

after a pause, she whispers, “it’s someone on your team, isn’t it?”

spencer’s eyes shift to the floor before he can stop himself, a millisecond of a reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed by the unsub. she raises her brows, curiosity plaguing her expression.

“do you have a girlfriend, spencer?”

you breathe and bite down on the insides of your cheeks.

that’s enough.

“i’m going in, hotch,” you announce, leaving the room with angry strides drowning out the sounds of hotch’s calls to stop you.

02 - a damn shame.

“agent l/n,” you announce as you swing open the door, entering the room with the echoing clacks of your heels.

“and you must be the girlfriend. we meet at last,” she says with a beaming smile, and her greeting instantly crumples whatever patience you had left for her. “i’d shake your hand, but i’m stuck in these really tight cuffs.”

“where is she?” you demand, pulling up the seat next to spencer.

“are fbi agents even allowed to date?” she counters, ignoring your question with a lousy sigh.

you snap your fingers and point to the photo to divert her attention. “you wanted to see me and i’m here. now give us the location.”

she pouts, tilting her head to the side as she looks you up and down. you feel uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze but you don’t show it, for you know the mind games she’s trying to play.

“you two have any children?” she hums, finally tearing her gaze away from you. it latches onto spencer instead, and she licks the corner of her lips in a sickeningly perverse move.

“no,” spencer responds. you can tell that agitation hasn’t soiled his tone, while yours certainly has, tainted through and through.

“such a damn shame. i’d be jumping at the idea to start a family with him, if i were you. he's hot,” she utters while flashing her teeth, and you clench your jaw in disgust. if she's trying to make you feel jealous, those words definitely aren't going to cut it.

“here’s how it’s going to go. you say the location now, or any deal is off the table,” you hiss, slamming the table with one hand.

“i stand corrected,” she says with a slight chuckle, pretending to act apologetic as she playfully mouths a sorry in your direction. “i’ll tell you under one condition.”

“and what’s that?” spencer asks, watching intently as she wets her lips.

“i want you, doctor reid, to slap her on the face.”

03 - do it.

“no.”

spencer immediately stands and grabs your hand, preparing to storm out of the room with the photo in his other hand.

you don’t know how to react to what she’s just said, when the cruel smile tugs at the corner of her lips and a wicked laugh exits her mouth.

“it’s just one slap in exchange for saving a life. i think i’m being generous here,” she continues while spencer’s grip on your wrist tightens.

“no. and you know what? you won’t see the light of day for as long as you continue to respire on the face of this earth, i’ll make sure of that. no one will ever visit you, no one will remember your name, and the only happiness you’ll feel is when the dust of your bones celebrate no longer having to tie its essence with yours.” 

spencer spits the words like daggers, and drops the eloquently compiled strings of utter violence like bombs in her face. you wish you had the same composure to rebuke her, but you sit in silence, completely stupefied. that's her request?

“we’re done here,” spencer reiterates and coldly turns his shoulder against the unsub. he tugs at your hand to follow him out, but you don’t move.

“spence,” you say instead, and look up at him. your hesitation draws an amused smile from the woman.

you feel the tears prick your eyes and stifle a choking cry as your boyfriend's figure starts to swim in your water.

as much as you hate the terms of the deal, it’s the only way you’ll get her answer. and if it means sustaining a smack to the cheek for five seconds, then so be it.

“do it. please.”

spencer’s mouth drops and his face contorts into a look of horror. his eyes gloss over yours with disbelief at what you’ve just said. you flinch when the unsub starts to holler maniacally, slamming her hands repeatedly against the table. 

“you heard her, do it!” she yells, fuming with excitement.

“no, i won’t,” he grits as he turns to face the woman with bloodshot eyes, “is this funny to you?”

“very. look at her, she’s practically begging you to do it. why don’t you? you’d be doing a great favor,” she shrugs, moving her fingers to her lips and pretending to zip them shut.

the worst part, you know spencer won’t do it. so you grab his hand and raise it, high enough so that his palm lies a few inches from your face.

“it’s okay, just do it,” you whisper, urging him with pleading eyes. angie has at most three hours left to survive, and you have no other leads. so what choice do you have?

“no!” spencer shouts and forces his hand out of your grip.

“it won’t hurt, i promise,” you assure him, doubling down with your words.

he looks at you with such soft eyes, raised brows and parted lips, you want to slap yourself for him. it’s so unfair.

“close your eyes, please,” he finally lets out with a quivering exhale, the sad glimmer in his eyes an apology in itself. this is it, this is what it’s all coming down to. in exchange for securing the girl’s safety, you're paying the price with your dignity.

04 - do you trust me?

you clench your fists and wait for the stinging contact of his outstretched palm.

but it never lands.

instead, the softest lips press against your left cheek, warmth instantly seeping through your skin when it lands. you open your eyes to see spencer, slowly pulling away after planting the kiss on your face. you take a step back in shock, but his hand’s wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. 

he wipes the tears that are watering the surface of your eyes and brushes your cheek gently.

“did you really think i was going to hurt you?”

you restrain your sniffles as best as you can, but you can't help it when one escapes. he grasps your hands as you hold back the stream of tears threatening to wet your skin.

the unsub groans and the both of you turn to face her.

“oh how romantic. but now you won’t ever get your answers,” she tuts, shaking her head in disapproval.

spencer chuckles, and she looks up in surprise.

“actually, i don't think we’ll need your help. you know what i think?” spencer starts, pressing his hands against the table and leaning over her with a stance meant to intimidate. 

“you force others to do it. you force the victims to plot against each other and kill. you get off on the fact that you can manipulate others to inflict violence for you, just like you tried with me. this,” spencer continues as he lowers his gaze warningly, “was a mere test to my hypothesis, and you just corroborated my theory.”

“which is why all of this is happening in your mother’s home, where she forced you to kill the woman with whom your father cheated. she manipulated you and you followed her footsteps to become a manipulator yourself,” you say, jumping at the conclusion that spencer’s setting you up for. it all makes sense, and you’re able to put the last pieces of the puzzle together with his ingenious account.

“bullshit,” the woman blurts, dropping her fists against the table.

“it won’t be when we see you in court for all four accounts of murder and an additional charge for threatening abuse by proxy against a federal agent,” you finish as she grimaces.

“the two of you won’t last,” she ignores, her face blazing with rage.

spencer looks at you with raised brows, a look of challenge immediately signaling to you what to do next. you laugh in response, locking eyes with the unsub as you wrap your arms around spencer’s neck and lean in, kissing him on the lips with graceful fluidity. you deepen the kiss when you see her look down in disgust, caving in and yelling to be taken away on her own volition. 

a sigh finally laxes from your lips when morgan enters the room to take her away, winking at the both of you as he leaves. spencer doesn't seem to care, though, and pulls you in closer.

"do you trust me?" he asks, your foreheads pressing against each other.

"always." you smile and stand on your toes to kiss him again.

you’ve never tasted revenge this sweet in your life.

[81folklore]

this is me trying - CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x small!singer!reader (fc: olivia rodrigo)

summary: after a twitter thread was made talking about the struggles you faced in a horrible way, you release a song you wrote with charles to talk about it

authors note: i am in no way saying olivia has struggled with or is dealing with anything mentioned in this story. this song means alot to me as someone who struggles with both addiction and my mental health so if im projecting..no one needs to know😁 i honestly have no clue how this is going to turn out but we will see. anything in bold italics is french

warnings: talks of addiction, depression, anxiety and suicide. alcohol addiction, drugs and self harm are all mentioned. the topics of this is me trying are mentioned, for obvious reasons but in a more personally focused way (if that makes sense). unwarrented hate (?). nothing really goes into detail but just regular warnings, please reach out to someone if you are struggling!!

authors note 2: i had to dust this one off and I HATE IT. its literally my least favorite work ive ever done so please feel free to keep scrolling😭😭 i just kept projecting by accident and it honestly kind of got out of hand. im also SO BAD with my wording so i have no clue if any of it sounds how i wanted it too!!

authors note 3: after reading it over i realised i never actually explained what i was talking about in the song thread so quickly, charles’ and yn split for a short period after yn started shutting him out, she spoke to someone (the stranger) who helped her start to extend the branches back out to charles and they got back together around 11 ish months before the song was released!! the fans never knew why they broke up, there was some speculation but most of it was dropped when they got back toegther

masterlist

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 2,457 others

good food, yummy people😋

view comments

arthur_leclerc: you mean good people yummy food right?

yourusername: suuure😁

charles_leclerc: beautiful girl

yourusername: love you!!

user7: what is charles doing in the 5th picture😭😭

yourusername: he dropped his airpod😭

user10: girl have you seen twitter…

user75: charles run as fast as you can

user2: there is no way charles knew he’d never be with someone like that💀

user10: what and he’d be with someone like you??

user6: wait what is happening in these comments what happened on twitter?

user7: someone made a thread ‘exposing’ yn but its just a bunch of bullshit that his fans are using because they dont like yn

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 3,562 other

studio time with baeee💋💋

view comments

charles_leclerc: my favorite musician💐

charles_leclerc: i love you so much

yourusername: you mean the world to me charlie

pierregasly: kika wants to know if she can come next time

yourusername: tell her to text me so we can arrange it!!

user73: oh my god new music soon

user64: does this mean charles is on her new music?!

yourusername: maybeee

user64: GIRL DONT TEASE US LIKE THIS

user99: im so sorry about whats happening on twitter you dont deserve that

user2: yes she does

arthur_leclerc: can you tell charles to stop talking about your music when im not allowed to hear it, please🙏

yourusername: sorry arthur!! wanna come for a car ride and listen to it with us??

arthur_leclerc: please please please

user82: yn and charles taking arthur on a car ride to listen to her new song, oh what if i cried😭😭

arthur_leclerc added to their story

seen by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 86,289 others

*text in first picture reads: 🤍🤍* *text in second picture reads: so unbelievably proud of my sister*

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel and 8,215 others

if you had told me a year ago that not only would i still be here but i would be releasing a song talking about the darkest times of my life with the love of my life by my side i would never have believed you.

throughout the past few months i have revisited times of my life i wish i could have left behind but ive learnt that accepting that this is a part of me now is important in my journey of moving forwards, and in moving forwards ive learnt that my struggles do not define me and i wont be embarrassed by things that have affected me

sometimes i wish i could go back and erase that part of my life, erase the way i felt, erase the way i treated the people i loved the most. but i cant, and i wont let people belittle me for that time anymore

if you have struggled in the past or are struggling today, you are not alone. its a cliche thing to say but i promise you at least one other person will be experiencing the feelings your feeling, you may not know them, you may never know them but you are not alone, you never have been and you never will be

you are not weak for struggling, you are not weak for finding ways to cope, no matter what they may be, you are not weak for shutting people out and you are not weak for reaching out for help, no matter how little you think you need it. you deserve help, no matter how small your problems may seem to you, you are worthy of being safe, you are worthy of being happy

i never thought i would release a song highlighting those times for me, but i wanted anyone whose been through these things to know that i love you and i will always love you; this is me trying out now on all platforms❤️‍🩹

view comments

arthur_leclerc: i am so so proud of you, you deserve all the happiness in the world

charles_leclerc: you mean the world to me, i am so proud of what you have achieved and i will be by your side forever and always

yourusername: charlie i hold so much love for you i feel like i may explode

user55: ive been struggling with an addiction for a while, i cannot express the way this song feels. just, thank you so much

yourusername: im right beind you darling, i believe in you❤️‍🩹

user81: i fear if i listen to this anywhere outside of the comfort of my room i will break down in tears

user93: 🩵🩵

user42: I😭JUST😭WANTED😭YOU😭TO😭KNOW😭THAT😭THIS😭IS😭ME😭TRYING😭

sebastianvettel: im so proud of you yn, come visit with charles soon sweetheart

yourusername: dropping everything and coming right now

lewishamilton: 💜💜

yourusername: hi lewis🤭🤭

user70: YN HELP😭😭 (just like me fr)

charles_leclerc and yourusername added to their stories

seen by pierregasly, sebastianvettel and 2,348,172 others

*text on first photo reads: i hold so much love for you🩷* *text on second photo reads: my bestest friend in the entire universe🩵*

[bonafideyapper]

DAY OFF - maximus (fallout tv) x female!reader (smut)

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! 18+ // virgin maximus, you work for free because he’s just so sweet, no use of “y/n” but “your name” is typed out, subby (switch) Maximus, he’s embarrassed, I love it; reader is described as female, chubby, and southern/from the east coast, premature ejaculation (but the stamina is there fr he’s back up and ready in like 30 seconds flat); oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it ‘fo you tap it, reader), creampie, I probably forgot some but tbh I didn’t expect to get as raunchy as I did (not proofread)

(this is written to be a one-shot but if there’s enough interest in a second part i’ll work something up :)) 

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Maximus was pretty pissed off and worn down by the time he came across a settlement along the way to tracking down the head, or the armor, he really didn’t know what his purpose in life was at the moment. He was just tired and needed some water, maybe a snack. He kept thinking back to that vault dweller he met in Filly, her pretty big eyes and that cute little smile. He’d never see her again, but hey, at least he could have the memory. 

He stumbled into the first crudely established business he could find that might serve him, taking a seat at the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. Clearly had not taken in the scenery of the bar he was in. Beautiful women stood around, each one with various male patrons. Unable to properly get the man’s attention; Maximus huffed and let his shoulders slump in near-defeat. After meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and then getting his ass kicked and losing the fucking armor, he had little energy left to give. 

You noticed this from your position at the end of the bar, slowly inching your way down as he took his place at the bar. The man had barely looked up when he burst through the door, clearly not noticing he had stumbled into the only brothel for miles around. Well respectable women making money to support themselves, helping weary travelers and the occasional rough raider to get some peace and release for the night. Today was your day off, but you always loved a little challenge. 

“Emmett! Would you be a dear and get me two waters?” You leaned over the bar and flashed the old man a big smile, he had always had a soft spot for you since you’d always slip him a big tip from whatever you made upstairs. Emmett filled up two glasses of water and slid them across to land in front of you, “On the house, beautiful.” 

You turned to get a good look at the man, fighting back a laugh as he stared at the glass of cold water in your hand, almost resembling a panting dog. “Here, honey; this is for you.” He muttered out a ‘thanks’ as he took the glass and took it down in three gulps, setting it back down on the counter between them. 

Maximus was smitten the moment he laid eyes on you, his literal saving grace. He finally took in his surroundings and cleared his throat, trying to put on that macho attitude of a knight, but really just an awkward little guy (with and) without that armor. “Thank you, um, I didn’t seem to catch your name?” He tried not to notice the obvious – that you were a whore, and he was a lying squire. He figured you two were one in the same, he was the lowest rung of the Brotherhood’s hierarchy, and you were, well, a prostitute. Max didn’t really care though; he had never seen someone as captivating as you, especially not in the wasteland. 

You told him your name, and Maximus swore he had never heard anything so beautiful before. He watched you take small sips from the glass in front of you as you spoke with him for the next few minutes, realizing he had yet to offer you his name. To lie or not to lie, that is the question.

“M-Maximus. That’s my name.” He told you, offering up a piece of knowledge about himself. Hey, he figured he’d never be back in this part of the wasteland, telling you his real name wouldn’t hurt nobody. “I uh, I don’t have any caps, so if you’re looking for a customer…” He trailed off, thinking you were only there for one thing. 

“Well, lucky for you, today’s my day off.” You flashed him an award-winning smile, one that would’ve been plastered on billboards in the old world. 

The two of you talked for awhile, neither of you too worried about the environment around you. You filled in most of the silence with some stories about your past. He found out you were close to his age, had come to the western wasteland from what used to be the Carolinas, and were working in the saloon until you could find someone to take you back to Appalachia. You both sat there until closing time, Emmett giving you signal with a jerk of his head towards the stairs leading up to your room with an eyebrow up as if asking, “Charity work on your day off?”

“Hey Maxie, you wanna go get some sleep? Only five caps for a nice place to rest.” You squeezed his arm gently, leaning towards him, “No business, just as friends.” Maximus had never had a nickname before, other than the verbal insults spat at him by his fellow brothers. After spending quite some time with you, he decided that he liked the nickname, and would not let the abuse of the Brotherhood affect his brief time with you. He found himself nodding without thinking over your offer, blindly following you once you moved your dainty little hand to grab onto his larger one. Once he was behind you, he took notice of the way your dress moved as you walked, swaying slightly with each step. He tried to remain honorable and not stare at your ass as you went up the stairs, believing you were telling the truth when you claimed that no ‘business’ would happen.

Boy had he been wrong.

Once you had him safely in the confines of your room, your lips were on him like flies to honey. He desperately kissed you, his hands coming up to hold your cheeks like you’d float away if he didn’t anchor your body to his. Or, maybe he felt like he’d float away if he didn’t hold onto you. 

“No, no no no no! This can’t be happening.” Maximus broke away from your lips suddenly, trying to push you from his lap at the feeling of his growing erection. 

“Hey hey, calm down.” You frowned and grabbed onto his hands, distracting him by putting them firmly on your thighs and looking up into his frantic eyes, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“I think my cock is about to explode.” Maximus panicked and frowned when you just laughed in his face, not taking his worries about the brainwashed BoS sex ed seriously. Your hands floated up to rest on the side of his neck, your thumb ghosting over the scar running along his chin.

“Oh, bless your heart. Maxie, that’s what‘s supposed to happen. Do you trust me to make that feel good for you?” The way you cooed to him in a condescending way in that sweet southern accent made him whimper. His head nodded on instinct, going into this with blind trust for you since hey, you were a professional. With him finally voicing the consent on the matter, you flashed him a big smile and resumed making out with him. Your hands drifted down between your two bodies, palming him gently through the front of his pants and eliciting sweet whimpers from the virgin. 

His hands were clumsy as they explored your body, but you didn’t really mind. He finally discovered the places his hands felt like home, one landing on the soft, plump flesh of your hip as the other found its place on your lower back. He pulled your body closer, seeming to gain more courage as the night progressed. Something about a safe bed and a good-looking woman in his lap just did it for him, y’know? 

Max shifted you both down so he could lay his upper body back against your pillows, just trying to get comfortable and not think about the way his cock felt–you made it very hard (pun intended) to think about anything else. You broke your lips away from his and let out a melodic giggle as he chased your lips. You needed him out of that white t-shirt that oh-so-deliciously clung to his biceps, so naturally your hands reached to pull it over his head. 

You really were the best at what you did, and you knew it, Maximus could tell. You expertly removed his belt and pants without him even noticing, only detaching your lips from his because you had started to leave a trail moving down, down, down…

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you thought to yourself. Taking time to press open-mouthed kisses along any scars that may have been on his abdomen, you glanced up to see his eyes locked on you. Half-lidded brown eyes stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat as you finally reached your destination. You carefully opened his pants and tapped his hip gently, asking him to lift up to make this a little easier for you. As he obeyed, you pulled his pants down in one swift motion, smirking when you saw his cock. Perfectly shaped, thick and girthy, just how you liked it, and rock-hard as it sprung up out of the confines of his briefs. 

“Still trust me?” You whispered to him before you put your hands on him again, basically salivating over the thought. Maximus didn’t even need to hear the rest of your question, nodding frantically after you uttered the first syllable. Taking his cock in your hand, you easily began working him, keeping your eyes on him. You loved the look on a virgin’s face when you touched them for the first time, and Max was no different. His eyes had closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Absolutely fucking beautiful, in your professional opinion.

His hands found their way to your hair as you licked a drop of precum from the tip of his cock, humming softly in delight at the salty substance before immediately getting to work. You wrapped your lips around him and gathered enough saliva to really make it enjoyable for him, not even having time to really get sloppy with it when the pretty boy had busted in your mouth with a profuse apology. Greedy, you pulled your mouth off of him and swallowed down the load. You thought it was cute how apologetic he was at how quick it had happened, so you wiped your mouth and leaned up to kiss him again. “Don’t apologize, I’m not done.” 

Max didn’t know what else to expect, already astonished that it had gone on this long and his cock was still attached to his body. With his cock standing staunch and almost painfully erect again, Maximus let out a pitiful whine when you lifted your dress over your head. You guided his hands to your hips again, starting to work a rhythm against him with your hips. 

“You okay if I ride you, honey?” You asked him, peppering kisses across his jaw and down his neck. Maximus nodded quickly and dug his fingertips into your pudgy hips, moving you in his lap the way that he wanted. He thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this sex thing, until you lift yourself up and he feels the warmest, softest grip he’s ever felt before. He thought your mouth was the best thing he had ever felt, until he felt the way your pussy gripped his cock alll the way down until he was buried inside you. 

“Shit, Maxie, you might be the biggest I’ve ever taken.” You mewled, leaning over his body in a way that perfectly positioned your breasts above his face. You put your weight on your hands on either side of his head, propping yourself up to start moving your hips. Grinding into him for a moment to really feel how deep he was before lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down to test the waters with your new toy. 

Meanwhile Maximus couldn’t focus, at this moment he had completely abandoned his faith in the Brotherhood, creating a new religion in your body. Maybe he was just delusional over getting laid but he would worship the ground you walked on after this. His mouth found one of your nipples and latched onto it almost instinctively (don’t mommy kink shame me), rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud before pulling back to give the other some well deserved attention. 

You finally fell into a good rhythm, leaning back on him and grabbing onto his legs behind you for support as Maximus figured out that if he thrust his hips up just right, you’d let out a new sound. At some point you realized he had taken over, his hands digging roughly into your hips and thighs as he fucked up into you. 

Maximus grinned when he realized that not only did this feel great, it looked like you were actually enjoying it too. He was a quick learner, figuring out which ways to move his hips that would elicit the sweeeetest noises from your throat. He decided to get cocky with it and put those squire muscles to good use, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you in place against his body as he pistons his hips quicker. Admittedly becoming more sloppy, but he soon realized that it was because you had come completely undone in his arms. 

Your eyes had rolled back as soon as he help you in place, nothing but the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans that were getting higher and higher in pitch. “Max- fuck- Maximus—“ you tried to warn him that you were going to cum, burying your face in his shoulder and white-knuckling the blanket as you exploded instead, a gush of what Maximus thought was piss (he would later learn that no, you didn’t just urinate on him) coating the two of their abdomens. Never deterred him though, because soon after Max had let the explosion feeling take himself over, pumping his heavy load into you. You swore you could feel it literally hit your cervix and hoped you weren’t ovulating.

Maximus kept his arms tightly around you as you laid on top of him for a moment, moving only slightly in a way that would allow his cock to slip from your velvety walls. Leaving you with the ejaculate mix dripping down your thighs. His fingers traced up your spine gently before his dropped his arm to the side, letting you get up if you so pleased. 

You did, but only after hovering your face over his to brush your lips against his in an almost-tender kiss. Your legs were shakier than you’d like to admit as you crawled off of him, cleaning yourself up a bit before wrapping yourself in your nice robe. Maximus sat up a bit on his elbows to watch you float around the room, smiling up at you when you came back to him with a wet rag to clean him off. 

“Get some sleep, Maxie.” You pressed your lips to the skin just above his bellybutton, then one against his sternum, finally one more pressed to his lips that lingered as long as he allowed it to. To you, aftercare was important to both parties, and since you were the more experienced, you’d have to teach him a thing or two about that. “You’re safe here with me, I promise.” 

Maximus watched you slowly make your way up his body, wrapping his arm back around you to pull you closer to deepen your kisses. Both of you had just exploded and yet he could still probably go again, but the exhaustion of his journey had finally hit him, and he knew he had a lot of ground to cover in the morning. He nestled his head against your bosom and closed his eyes, not used to any sort of cuddling but definitely just wanting to feel your softness as long as he could before everything got hard again. 

You had a fond smile on your face as you looked down at the man in your bed, it wasn’t often that you took a serious liking to any of the men that strolled through the saloon doors, but something about the “I can fix him”-ness of the false knight under your covers was intriguing. You wrapped your arm around him and gently traced your finger over some raised skin between his shoulders, too tired to make out what the shape was. 

You had woken up before him the next morning and had already gotten dressed and ready before deciding to wake him, a plate of biscuits and a cup of badly-made coffee on her side table. Maybe, you hoped, if you made his time really worth it he’d come back to see you again. Maybe as a customer, but you wouldn’t charge him any caps for your services. He’d be your exception, something about a friends discount. 

Maximus opened his eyes slowly when he felt a small hand massaging his back, turning his head to look towards your figure sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Mornin’, honey. You gotta get goin’, I got business to attend to.” You watched as he rolled onto his back and looked up at you fully. Max cracked a smile as he reached over to grab your face, pulling you down but leaning up to meet you halfway and capture your lips in a kiss. 

“I’m going to come back for you, I promise.” He whispered against your lips, thinking back to your conversation the night before about working there until you found a companion to guide you across the vast wasteland. He’d find the knight’s armor and return to prove himself worthy of being a knight by rescuing the fair maiden. 

“I’ll hold you to that, Maxie.” You pulled away from him and gestured to the clothes on the edge of the bed, “Get dressed, there’s a fire escape out my window. My boss will be so mad if she sees you leavin’ this late in the morning.” Maximus redressed himself pretty quick and peeled his head out the window to see the makeshift ladder hanging down the side of the building. He turned back to try and steal one more kiss, but you had already fled the room. 

a/n: ok so I wrote this at work & when I got off work I was exhausted but I neeeeeded to finish it so this went way off the rails, wasn’t expecting myself to do all that, but hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @judgementdays-girl (you requested a max fic after i had already started so here's this :))

gif by @mancandykings

dividers by @cafekitsune

[stayinlimbo]

the world is ending (but i'm happy you're here with me)

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort warnings: one (1) swear, mc is mentioned to have longer hair at one point, slightly unedited, lowercase intended word count: 1.07k note: i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you enjoy it too ♡

there comes a time in every girl’s life where the overwhelming urge to change her physical appearance eclipses all sensible and rational thought. as it turns out, you’re no exception. 

“you’re going to laugh.”

“no i’m not.” 

“you already are,” you deadpan, frowning at minho’s pitiful attempts to repress the growing smile quirking at his lips. your boyfriend has the audacity to chuckle at your words, pushing himself off the couch and gliding towards your stiff figure standing at the entrance of the living room. 

“you can’t blame me, you look so cute and adorable right now,” he defends. an arm snakes around your shoulders and you relax slightly at his touch, wrapping your arms around his middle. “besides, it can’t be that bad—at least, not enough for you to have to hide from me.” 

minho pulls you further into the warmth of his chest, the tender embrace sending a small shiver down your spine. his lips meet the side of your hooded head in a firm kiss, the extra pressure ensuring you would feel the loving gesture. the usual trail of kisses towards your forehead and cheeks is blocked, currently concealed by your (his) hoodie’s drawstrings working overtime to reveal only a small oval of skin. 

the hood’s bunched fabric frames the top of your eyes and lips. you can barely see in front of you until one of minho’s fingers slips into the opening to try and take a peek at what’s covered inside. 

minho is being nice; you look ridiculous.

and it’s your fault really. you should have known you couldn't escape your misfortunes that easily. 

work for the past month has been hell: the road-closure of the usual route you’d take, tacking on an additional fifteen minutes to your commute. the early mornings you have to endure to clock-in on time. the “important” group project your boss delegated around the office. the unpaid overtime for said project. the same petty, passive-aggressive coworkers breathing down your neck and critiquing your every move because you made a mistake once—all casting insurmountable pressure on your already exhausted state. 

you finally snapped when someone callously stole the lunch minho had prepared for you from the breakroom’s fridge. 

you suppose now it was your brain’s attempt to regain some sort of control over the strenuous situation, but the impulse to cut your hair, try a new style, start fresh with your appearance bombarded every thought on the journey home. call it an impulsive thought, an intrusive thought, whatever—you needed to do something.

too bad the hair stylist couldn’t follow directions for shit. 

“minho, i’m serious,” you whine, burying your face further into his chest. suffocating in the arms of the man you love doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now. “she ruined my hair. how am i supposed to go out in public like this?”

“i can’t tell you if you haven’t even shown me yet. i’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he muses, chuckling at the vibrations tickling his torso from the muffled groan you release. 

minho starts to sway the two of you back and forth at your silence. the rhythmic movement cradles you in a comforting hold, temporarily soothing your spiraling thoughts. he’s right; you’re going to have to show him at some point. might as well just get it over with now. 

a defeated sigh escapes you. well, here goes nothing.

you step out of minho’s arms and pry the hood off to reveal your botched hair in all its glory. 

uneven bangs, a completely different color than from when you left for work this morning, fall into your face and cover the top of your eyes. you can’t see yourself but judging from minho’s small hiss and surprised, contorted face, it’s not pretty. 

and it’s not like you asked for anything outlandish: a standard cut and a new style of bangs was your definition of revamping your appearance. so when the stylist cut off a majority of your hair, it took everything within you to not immediately burst into tears as the salon’s floor and your lap splayed the once lengthy remains. 

you don’t even know where she got the idea of bleaching your hair. now your wallet and soul are emptier than ever and there is nothing you can do except hope minho doesn’t ask you to turn around because the layers are downright atrocious. 

“so? what do you think?” a wobbly smile makes its way onto your face. “not what you were expecting, right?”

you can’t help the tears welling into your eyes at his silence. he’s just…staring. certainly this can’t be the dealbreaker, right?

 …right?

you’re saved from your inner turmoil when minho moves forward to carefully bring you back into his arms. the tears finally spill down your cheeks and onto his shirt, the comforting scent of minho flooding your senses once again. if you could hide here forever, you would. 

“it’ll grow back.” 

“i know.”

“you still look sexy.” he pinches your side, coaxing a watery laugh from you. his smile is infectious, and you can’t help but tearfully look up at him with one of your own. 

you playfully guide one of his hands towards the back of your damaged hair, leaving it there. “so you’re not breaking up with me over this?” you tease, resting your head back against his chest. you don’t notice the subtle shift in your boyfriend’s gaze until he softly calls your name.   

“i would love you even if you were bald,” he confesses quietly, squeezing you tighter to him.

you can’t help but snort into his chest. “yeah?” 

“yeah. i will love you now until it’s long again. i will love you with any hair cut, color, style, anything. even if you hate it or one day regret it, my love for you won’t change,” minho assures, his sincerity echoing in his words.

“so if i dyed my hair pink tomorrow, you’d be okay with it?”

“do what you want, whenever you want.” 

because it doesn’t matter to him what you do with your hair. you’re still you, his beautiful and resilient (and sexy) girlfriend. even as his hands run through the chopped, disproportionate strands on the back of your head, he finds you more and more enchanting with each passing day.

“i will be here for you. always.” 

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺

(“i still have to go to work.” 

“just wear a hat.”)

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liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

[holllandtrash]

haunted | daniel ricciardo

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

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

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

“Do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daniel Ricciardo Replaces Nyck de Vries

Daniel Ricciardo was returning to the grid.

Daniel was coming back. 

But did he ever really leave in the first place?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You never wanted to leave him without a seat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Daniel’s departure-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too bad the comments were anything but. 

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

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

Your break up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando, like everyone else, was dying to know. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daniel was done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And your relationship-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daniel-"

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

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

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

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

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

The same excitement couldn’t be said for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

These rumours were truly getting annoying.

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

You grew to hate seeing him during race weekends. 

It was a constant reminder of what could have been. 

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

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

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

Or was that just a far fetched dream? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monaco was better, sort of. 

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

But Daniel was everywhere. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando called you out on it that Thursday in Silverstone.

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

That was all he said on the topic. 

And he was right.

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

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

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

You wouldn’t let Daniel haunt you anymore. 

And qualifying was where this new mentality really showed. 

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

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

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

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

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

Which meant he knew your password. 

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

P3, nice job

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

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

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

Maybe that was for the best, no one knew. 

All you knew was you were starting third today.

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

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

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

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

Lando was in your corner. You were in his. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were on the same playing field now.

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

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

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

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

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

And now you didn’t need to look anymore. 

part 3 gone

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

[eli-com]

୧ *·˚ — JUDD BIRCH

୨୧ includes — poor writing, mature content, fem!reader, afab reader, innocent?reader, virgin!reader, p in v, loss of virginity, oral (f!receiving), praise, ooc!Judd, fingering, masterbation

➜ a continuation of this

— Judd was sure he’d finally gone crazy, finally reached that point of insanity where there was no going back. Many would have thought he’d reached that point a long time ago, but no; this was his rock bottom.

Hefty, deep pants filled the bedroom, the sound of slick movements vibrating off of his four walls. How long had he been at this now? How long had his veiny hand been dragging eagerly along his rock hard cock for? How many times had he come? He couldn’t remember when or how it had started — just that there was only one person to blame for the painful state he was in, and that person was you.

You and your adorable little moans, you and your perfect tits, you and that pretty pussy of yours. You, you, you! You were the only thing his mind could seem to focus on, every-time he closed his eyes another picture of you would appear, he’d found that his favourite so far was the memory of what you looked like above him when he had tongue ravaging your cunt, your lashes fluttering against those rosy cheeks, chest heaving with each breath, glossy lips parted and ever so tempting. He wondered what they’d look like wrapped around his cock, god how he wanted to find out. Would you be able to take his whole length in your mouth? He kind of hoped not; hoped that you’d struggle so he could watch as drool ran down your chin whilst you gagged pathetically, eyes welling up with tears. Fuck.

“Stupid bitch.” He’d groan out as his hips jerked up, another orgasm fast approaching, his hand movements getting sloppy. He’d fucked other girls before, plenty of other girls, but once the deed was done he never cared enough to spare them a second thought, so why would you not just fuck off and leave him alone? He’d lay in bed at night and sometimes he swore he could still hear you moaning his name, telling him how badly you needed him in that breathless voice that made his cock twitch. Maybe it was because somehow, you’d made him cum without even a touch to his groin, made the moody rebel embarrassed for the first time in his life. Or maybe it was because of that shy smile you’d given him when he’d walked you home that day, the way your arms wrapped around his torso when you gave him a quick hug before rushing into your house and locking yourself away from him. A choked moan would escape him as he felt himself release into his hand once again, sensitive red tip throbbing, whole body practically shaking as he threw his head back, brows scrunched together in ecstasy.

“She’s got you real good, huh?” That familiar raspy voice filled the room, causing the pale boy to curse under his breath as he calmed down from his high, eyes staring straight up at the ceiling above him that was covered in all kinds of marks; mostly from when he used to throw tantrums as a child and throw knives up into it, waiting to see which would fall first and imagining them landing on someone who had pissed him off recently — even as a child he’d always had his enemies. Although he did his best to ignore the annoying, needy call of his hormone monster, there was never any avoiding Maury, the furry creature leaning over him and offering a knowing grin. “What you thinking about?” He’d raise his brows comically. “You thinking about (y/n)? Thinking about her tits? Her ass? God, imagine the view of taking her from behind, wait, but then imagine taking her in missionary too, god you’d never get bored, would you? Bet you she’s flexible, think of all the positions you could try!” The sex-driven monster would drone on, now pacing around Judd’s room as the boy rolled his eyes and stood up, finally pulling his underwear back on after what he guessed had been at least an hour of ‘taking care of himself’.

“Don’t you have other horny freaks to bother? Get the hell out of my room.” He’d grumble as he threw on some grey jogging bottoms, letting them hang loosely on his hips as he made his way towards the door, looking forward to getting out of the stuffy room. However, his plan was soon paused when Maury jumped into his path, a look of concern on his face.

“Wait! Why cut this party short?! We can keep going — I’m sure you could come up with some more ideas on how you’d like to fuck (y/n)! Oh, what if you used a knife, think she’d like that? Bet she’d be into it, what do you think?” The monster was clearly excited, he’d never seen Judd so infatuated with someone before, it was new. Though, Judd didn’t seem to reciprocate the feeling, only offering a roll of his eyes as he passed the taller creature by, escaping into the hallway as his hormone monster finally took the hint and left him alone — Maury knew better than to pester Judd for too long.

He could already hear the excited chatter of his parents and sister as he descended the stairs, holding back a groan of annoyance at their chirpy tones; always so happy. The trio were gathered in the kitchen, his dad cooking whilst his mum and sister sat at the kitchen counter. His dad was the first to notice him, a joyful smile appearing on the older man’s lips as he extended his arms into the air with a spatula still in hand, making his way over to his eldest child in an attempt to trap him in a hug. Judd would grunt, brows furrowing in annoyance.

“Touch me and you’re dead, old man.” He’d threaten, voice especially hoarse, likely from his previous activities. His dad only nodded in response, backing up again, smile never faltering; he respected personal boundaries! His parents were always in a good mood, but something was off today, something was happening. “What’s got you freaks so enthusiastic?” Judd liked to feign disinterest when it came to most things, but sometimes his curious mind simply got the better of him.

“Your sister’s bringing a friend we’ve never met before over for a sleepover, isn’t that exciting! A new person to share our love with.” His dad would answer before anyone else even got the opportunity to open their mouths, he had always been a very excitable man. Judd could only roll his eyes at this, stepping over to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice. His sister was constantly having friends over, and most of them were desperate losers who threw themselves at him whenever Leah wasn’t looking.

“So what? They’ll probably see the way you act and run for the hills within the first ten minutes of being here.” A scoff would leave his lips as he brought the carton up to his mouth, beginning to drink the orange juice. Leah would grimace at this, muttering something about how she couldn’t touch that now, not wanting to share his bacteria. He’d grin, if there was one thing in this world he loved, it was pissing off his siblings.

“You shouldn’t be so negative, Judd!” His mother would scold, glaring at him momentarily before turning back to his sister. “(y/n) sounds like a lovely girl! I’m sure she won’t be one to judge, besides, I’ve ordered Nicky not to leave his room unless it’s something important and me and your father will be in our room enjoying each others company.” She’d reach over the counter, taking her husband’s hand into her own as the lovesick couple grinned at each other. Judd and Leah shared a look of disgust, immediately knowing what ‘enjoying each others company’ meant. However, after a short minute, something in Judd’s mind would switch on.

“(y/n)’s the one staying over?” Leah looked confused at his question, arms crossed over her chest as she analysed his dishevelled state. She could tell something was up with her brother, as much as he tried to hide most of his emotions, every so often he’d slip up. “How d’you know her? She’s in my grade.”

“We’re in the school choir together? Plus she’s popular, Judd; not that I’d expect you to know anything about that… Loads of people know her.” The blonde girl would answer, leaning forward onto the counter infront of her. Their parents were now watching the interaction, Diane eyeing her son with a curious grin.

“Are you close with her, Judd?” The ginger woman would tilt her head ever so gently to the side in question, clearly noting something was up with her son. Judd could tell she knew something had happened, his mum could figure him out in seconds without even a word from him. He could only glare at her, practically slamming the juice carton down onto the counter in front of him.

“No, too up her own ass.” He’d lie, him and his mother stuck in a tense staring contest as he watched her eyes cloud over with interest. However, it was soon interrupted with a scoff from Leah.

“As if she’d ever go near someone like you anyways.” Judd couldn’t help but grin at the irony of the comment, chuckling under his breath as he took one last swig of the orange juice before placing it back into the fridge. All his family could do was eye him in curiosity, clearly Diane was the only one who’d figured him out, even if she wasn’t sure just how far things had gotten; she knew something had happened. “Just don’t be a freak tonight and stay in your room like you always do, that’s all I ask.” Leah would plead, clasping her hands together in-front of her, seeming almost desperate.

The boy would offer a grunt in response, giving a nod before wondering off back upstairs towards the bathroom, ready to take a cold shower. “Why would I wanna be around you anyways?” He’d shout back.

— You’d arrived at the Birch home sooner than anyone had expected, adorned in a pretty white off the shoulder jumper and some bootcut blue jeans. Judd had spotted you exiting a car, awkwardly hugging the guy driving it before walking up to the door of his home. He hadn’t bothered going back downstairs yet, and in all honesty he wasn’t sure if he should. What would happen if he did go down there? Would you freak out? Would you act like he didn’t exist? He had no clue.

He’d had his dinner upstairs that night, sharing with his raccoons before they scurried off through his window, probably off to hunt for something to give him in return like they usually did. He’d shut the window behind them, grabbing his plate and exiting his room — it was around twelve AM by now, and he’d heard you and Leah go off to her room a few hours ago.

The house was silent and dark, white light of the kitchen flickering on as he flipped the switch before tossing his plate into the sink and beginning to pour himself a glass of water. Judd was always aware of his surroundings, so he immediately turned around in slight alarm when he heard bare feet padding against the kitchen tiles. There you stood in the doorway, now dressed in a vest and some plaid pyjama bottoms, clearly surprised to see him, nervousness already taking over your smaller frame.

“Sorry — didn’t know anyone was down here, just wanted a glass of water.” Your voice was so shaky, breathless. The air had quickly become tense, the two do you staring at each other as if afraid to say anything else. After a few moments he’d clear his throat, sliding the glass of water he’d made for himself over the counter towards you before turning back to make his own. You’d whisper a thank you as you took it into your hands, only receiving a grunt in return.

You hadn’t left after getting your drink, remaining stood by the counter as you sipped on your water. He’d grumble something under his breath before finally turning, his own glass of water in his hands as he leaned back against the sink, eyeing you over. He couldn’t help the way his eyes naturally gravitated over to your chest, tits poking out of the top of your vest as if to tease him, feeling his dick twitch in his sweatpants.

You weren’t stupid, you could see him eyeing you up, as if he hasn’t eaten for weeks and you were some kind of buffet that had been laid out for him. However, you simply didn’t have the guts to make a move, still unsure where you and Judd stood around each other. Sure, only a few days ago he’d had his mouth attached to your clit, fingers moving inside of you, but did that really mean anything? To you it did, but you knew Judd Birch — you knew how he didn’t want to be tied down, how he’d never slept with the same girl more than once, and although you hadn’t actually slept together, what if just making you fall apart on his hand was enough for him?

A naive part of you hoped that wasn’t the case, hoped that maybe he did like you, maybe what happened in that closet wasn’t just an ‘in-the-moment’ thing, but the realistic part of you knew better than that. That was why you didn’t allow yourself to think about it too much, drowning yourself in schoolwork and friends; but that could only last so long, and when you laid awake in bed at night, his face was the only thing you thought of. You’d tried to get yourself off, release the tension that had built up inside, but you just couldn’t — you could never reach the spots he did, never keep the right pace, it was all wrong.

“Where’s Leah?” You hadn’t been expecting him to keep talking to you once you’d gotten your water, imagining that he’d take his own drink and shove past you. But here he was, leaning against the counter behind him and staring at you as he waited for you to respond. Although he’d been previously eyeing you up, when Judd spoke he looked at you, not your chest or your ass — he looked you right in the eyes. Sure, it’s the bare minimum, but so many guys at school couldn’t even look you in the eyes, so this felt like something special.

“She fell asleep while we were watching a movie… Tried to wake her up but I guess once she’s out, she’s out.” You’d try joke, laughing nervously as you shrugged your shoulders, but Judd didn’t laugh along. Instead his face remained in the same stoic expression it always did, eyes glued to your own.

“Who’s the guy that dropped you off?” He’d ask. This surprised you, and you made no attempt to hide it in the way your brows raised, lips ever so slightly parted. Had Judd been watching you when you’d gotten here? This was the first time you’d seen him all day, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been somewhat disappointed at his lack of presence. It was embarrassing, but when Leah invited you over for a sleepover, the first thing you thought of was Judd — being in such close proximity with him again. Just being around him now had your stomach in knots.

“Felix?” You’d question, head tilted ever so slightly to the side in confusion. Judd would simply shrug; feigning disinterest. “He’s just a new friend… We were all studying over at his house and he offered to give me a lift.” Judd’s eyes would somewhat narrow as you spoke, his grip on the counter he was leaning on tightening, knuckles going white.

“You gonna fuck him?” His words almost had you choking on air, eyes blown wide as you placed your water down. Surely he was joking, teasing you for some strange reason? But you could see he was serious, see how his jaw tensed, how he placed his own glass down, muscular arms involuntarily flexing with each movement. He looked angry, jealous even.

“No? What… Where did that even come from? I hardly know the guy! He just offered to give me a ride here because it was a long walk.” You could feel your face turning a deep shade of red, voice shaking and throat suddenly dry. If things hadn’t felt tense before, they definitely did now. By now Judd had made his way around the island counter that stood between you both, one hand resting on the cold marble as he stared down at you, brows raised as if he didn’t believe you. “I’m serious! I’m not- you know I’m…” You’d trail off, eyes trained on the floor below you, suddenly too afraid to meet his eyes.

“He wants to fuck you, could see it when he looked at you.” He’d state in that monotone voice of his, some hair falling in-front of his now hooded eyes. The air between you both felt thick, and before you knew it he’d captured your chin between his finger and thumb, lifting your face up until your eyes met his. “You wanna fuck him too?” A shaky breath escaped your lips as you shook your head ‘no.’ A satisfied, cocky grin would appear on his lips for a quick moment before it was gone again. “Good girl…” His thumb would move to caress the side of your face, tracing over your cheekbone soothingly. “Been thinkin’ about you…” His hand made its way to your hair, fingers running through it before he was suddenly yanking on it, causing your head to fall back, now staring straight up at his face as it hovered over yours, a pained yelp leaving you. “D’you think about me?”

“Yes.” You’d whimper, taking in a deep breath and swallowing saliva in an attempt to soothe your throat. “Think about you all the time…” The words left your lips without a single thought behind them, but even if you lied Judd would be able to tell, and that would only piss him off more. “Cant help it.”

Judd couldn’t help the chuckle that left him at your pathetic tone, leaning ever so slightly closer so you could feel each breath that left him fan over your face. “What do you think about me, huh?” He’d dip his head so his nose would run along the side of your face, until his lips traced over the shell of your ear and he began to nibble on it, a sharp gasp leaving you as you tensed. “Think about me touching you?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t help the loud whine that left you when his lips travelled down to the column of your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and eagerly nipping at it. “Think about your hands, they’re so pretty Judd.” He’d grin into your neck, hands moving to grip at your waist and pull your body closer to his own. They’d dip under the fabric of your pyjama pants and panties, thumbs rubbing over the skin of your hips as he bit harshly into your throat this time, a sensual moan leaving you. “Want more of you Judd… wasn’t enough before.”

He’d scoff, pulling away from your neck and admiring the red marks he’d left behind, imaging the bruises that were soon to appear. “Not enough? You think you deserve more?” His hands would slowly run up and down your hips and thighs before he was harshly grabbing at your ass, groping it between his fingers and causing you to whimper. “Greedy girl, huh?” He’d mock.

“Please…” Your voice was whiny and breathless, hands moving to cling onto the fabric of his vest, you felt as if your legs could give out at any moment. Before you could continue speaking, Judd had finally attached his lips to your own. The kiss was hot, fast-paced and desperate, teeth against teeth and tongues almost immediately invading each other’s mouths. His hands had hooked under your thighs and lifted you up to sit on the counter by now, and even through your pyjama bottoms you were able to feel how cold the marble was, but it was a nice contrast to how hot the rest of your body felt.

One of Judd’s hands would slide up to your neck, thumb running along the curve of your jaw as he pulled you closer into the kiss, your nose brushing against his — you were more confident this time, had a better idea of what you were doing, tilting your head softly to the side and running your own hands down his stomach until they reached the bottom of his vest. You’d begin to pull it off, separating from the kiss momentarily and carelessly throwing the material somewhere behind you. Judd of course took the opportunity to take your own shirt off, practically growling as he felt your nails rake over his chest.

Soon enough he’d pushed you back so you were now laying down on the counter, legs dangling off the edge as you stared up at the ceiling, chest heaving with each deep breath you took. You could feel Judd run his hands over your sides before he was reaching under you to unclasp your bra and toss it elsewhere along with the both of your shirts. The cold air of the kitchen had your nipples pebbling, Judd’s thumb brushing over one before he toyed with it between his fingers, causing you to let out a short sob as your back arched. He couldn’t get enough of how sensitive you were. His lips soon attached to one of your tits, teeth grazing over your nipple and tongue teasing it as his other hand groped at the other mound, making sure both got some attention. He’d continue to alternate, groans leaving him each time your hands tugged at his hair, those angelic sounds that left your lips making him grind his erection into the side of the kitchen counter, desperately searching for friction.

He’d begin to trail his kisses between the valley of your breasts before travelling lower towards your stomach and then to the skin just above the top of your pyjama pants. You waited with anxious breaths, staring down at him with those needy eyes, begging him to fuck you with just a look. “You want me to make you feel good?” He’d raise his pierced brow, hands now placed on either one of your thighs, holding your legs apart for him. You were soon nodding without a second thought, whines leaving you as you reached down to try pull off your own pyjama bottoms. He’d scoff with a grin, reaching a hand up to your heat and placing his hand over it before slowly applying pressure with his palm. “Right here?” He’d ask.

“Yes! Yes, please Judd — want all of you, want your mouth, your cock-” You were cut off by a harsh slap to your thigh, the skin surely already gaining a red hue, a sharp gasp leaving you. Judd was grinning, hand now caressing the area he’d slapped.

“Such naughty words coming from the princesses mouth; what would everyone else think if they heard the things you’re saying to me, huh?” He’d tilt his head to the side as he asked, not waiting for your answer as he began to pull your pyjama bottoms down, revealing the pretty pink lace panties you wore beneath them. Judd was eagerly leaning in, licking a stripe up your panties and groaning at the taste of your juices that had covered the thin material, the wet patch they’d left only getting darker and it mixed with his saliva. The gesture had you squirming, one of his hands placed onto your hip to hold you in place as the other held onto your thigh, keeping you spread wide for him as he hooked your legs over his shoulders.

By now he was practically making out with your clothed cunt, sucking on your cotton panties in an attempt to make the most of every drop of slick you’d left on them. You had to place a hand over your mouth to stop the sobs of pleasure that threatened to leave from travelling around the Birch household. His parents were right upstairs, Leah in her room asleep, and you were pretty sure his little brother was in his room too. Any of them could come downstairs and see you both, but for some reason that only seemed to add to your arousal.

Just as you felt that familiar knot begin to form in your stomach, Judd had stopped, pulling his mouth off of you and placing his hands on either side of your body on the counter, dark eyes staring at you lustfully. You were going to open your mouth to say something, but then his hands were grabbing you once again, dragging you back to the edge of the counter and leaning over you, harshly grinding the bulge that had formed in his sweatpants over your clothed pussy, the wet material staining his own. You could tell he was big just from that, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your back arched off of the counter. “Please, Judd I need it so bad, god, please.” You’d pant, and Judd would only hum in response.

“Gonna fuck you in my bed.” He’d state firmly, hooking his hands under your thighs as you sat up, lifting you off of the counter and into his arms, your legs hooking around his waist as you wound your arms around his neck. “Good girls deserve a bed, don’t they?” He’d question in that low tone that always somehow made your knees weak. You nodded along dumbly, simply overexcited at the idea of finally losing your virginity — and to Judd of all people.

He carried you up to his room pretty quickly, taking note of the clothes strewn across the kitchen and making a mental note to return for them later on. In a flash you were laying back on his bed, watching him slowly pull your panties off of you, placing the material onto his bedside table before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your clit, a tiny whimper vibrating in your throat. He’d laugh breathlessly into your cunt, inhaling your scent before finally attaching his lips to your clit and flicking his tongue over it, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked on the bud. You couldn’t help the way you aggressively yanked on his hair, causing him to let out a groan that vibrated against you and had you throwing your head back in pleasure, legs squeezing around his head as if fearful he’d pull away again. However, he made no move to stop you, as if he enjoyed being trapped between your legs, mouth attached to your cunt.

His fingers soon joined his mouth, running through your folds and collecting your juices before his thumb was circling around your entrance, hole clenching around nothing as it attempted to drag him inside. He didn’t wait long, soon inserting one finger into you and sighing at the way you tightened around his digit. He couldn’t fucking wait to be inside of you.

His finger set a steady pace as it moved, and soon enough a second one had joined it, both pumping in and out before curling to find that spongy spot that made your back arch and brows knit together, a guttural moan passing your lips as your body did it’s best to grind against his mouth and fingers. He’d run his tongue through your folds, collecting your juices and humming as he swallowed them. His fingers began to ever so slightly pick up their pace, twisting inside of you and causing your entire body to jolt and writhe on the blanket beneath you, your face contorted with pleasure and mouth agape as strings of moans left you. As if Judd could tell you were almost at your limit, he’d pull his mouth off of you, pace of his fingers slowing down and causing you to whine, eyes meeting his before dropping to watch the way his tongue darted out of his mouth to collect the juices covering his lips.

“You sure you think you can handle me?” He’d grin, leaning up to hover over you, placing short kisses over your breasts before he met your lips with his own, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “It’s okay to change your mind.” He’d mumble into your lips, and despite the intimacy of the situation, you could tell he was serious — he wanted to know you were sure.

You’d grind your hips up into his own in response, holding in your breathless giggles as you felt his hips instinctively buck into you, clothed groin pushing into your sensitive cunt and causing you to shudder with desire. “Yes, want this — want this with you.” You’d confirm, and immediately Judd was pulling his sweatpants down, revealing the lack of underwear underneath; he wouldn’t even admit to Maury how hard he’d gotten just from seeing you in his driveway earlier, immediately rushing off to his room to sort it out. One of the main reasons he hadn’t left his room was fear that he’d see you and get a painful erection in-front of his entire family…

You couldn’t help the gasp that left you at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny as it curved ever so slightly to the side. Although this was the only one you’d ever seen, you were sure he was thicker than average, just about the length you’d imagined too, tip an aggressive pink and already leaking pre-cum. You’d reach forward, thumb swiping some of the pre-cum off and bringing it into your mouth, the movement almost instinctive. Judd could only groan as he watched, quickly reaching over to his bedside table to grab a condom from the drawer, eagerly sliding it over himself.

Soon enough his own hand moving up to caress the side of your face as the other took hold of his length, prodding the tip against your entrance, the both of you moaning as you fluttered around nothing. Then he was moving forward, slowly sinking inside of you, brows furrowed as he tried to contain his pleasure, your velvety walls squeezing him and doing their best to pull him further in. “Fuck.” He’d mumble, eyes travelling back and forth between your face and your cunt, absorbed in the way your features morphed with pleasure as he moved.

“It’s too big…” You’d squeal, throwing your head back as your hands clamped down on his forearms, back arching off of the bed as you felt pain rise in your stomach. Tears would sting at your eyes, the stabbing pain spreading further. Judd would immediately stop moving, only making you whine as you continued to writhe below him.

“You want me to stop?” He’d move his hand up to your stomach, thumb running just over where he could see a slight bulge in your tummy, caressing the skin in a soothing manner. His other hand brushing your hair off of your forehead. You couldn’t help but think about how strange this was, you’d never seen Judd so caring… Well, not since your ‘moment’ in the school janitors closet. A warm feeling spread over you as you as you watched him stare down at you with more concern than you’d ever seen on him before in his eyes. Just that look had you shaking your head, hand reaching up to pull his head down to yours and connect your lips once again, the boy humming into your mouth.

“Don’t stop.” Before you’d even finished speaking, Judd has bottomed out in you, balls hitting your ass and tip just about poking at your cervix. The both of you took a moment to deeply breathe in sync, staring at each other as he now placed his arms on either side of your head, noses ever so slightly brushing against each other. It didn’t take long for that painful sting to disappear, and now you just felt full, beginning to grind your hips up in an attempt to create some friction. Judd would tightly grab at your hip, doing his best to hold himself back from moving inside of you. If he could have it his way he’d be pounding you into the mattress by now, not stopping until neither of you would be able to leave the bed, but he wanted this to be a good first time for you. “Please move…” You’d beg desperately. “Want you to move, wanna feel it.”

He’d start off slowly, languidly pulling out, a long moan leaving you, before he thrusted back in, muffling his own moan by biting down into your neck harshly, definitely leaving a mark behind. His fingers bruisingly dug into your skin, rubbing circles as he continued to move back and forth, gradually beginning to pick up his pace. He could feel you squeeze around him with each thrust, the way your body did its best to meet his thrusts. Before he knew it he felt his own release approaching, causing him to stop moving out of panic. “Shit, stop — fucking, stop fucking moving.” He’d grunt.

Your hips would stop their grinding movement against his, worried eyes staring up at him as his own closed, nose scrunching as if in pain. Concern immediately rose within you, had you done something wrong? Did he not like it? This was a stupid idea, why had you done this?-

As if sensing your concern, Judd would lean down and place a kiss to your nose, heavy breaths fanning over your face as he adjusted on his forearms. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s just, you’re so fucking tight, don’t wanna cum too early.” He’d pant against your cheek, placing another gentle kiss there before pulling away to look at you, reassurance in his eyes. “You’re doing so good, taking me perfectly, just relax.” He’d almost coo at you, one hand running through your hair before he slowly began to rock his hips again, shaft leisurely running against your walls, your back once again arching, face contorting with pleasure.

The veins that ran along his shaft caressed each crevice perfectly, as if you’d been made to fit him, tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each slow but harsh push. The two of you moved in sync, your own body more relaxed now, every so often giving him a gentle squeeze as you felt him twitch within you. Judd didn’t really moan, more often just letting out deep grunts and groans or uttering words of encouragement, face hard and focused, small beads of sweat dripping off of him. The moment was almost romantic, intimate, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes not daring to leave each others as your bodies moved as one. One of your hands would join his by the side of your head, fingers interlacing as his pace slowly began to speed up once again.

His hips were snapping into yours eagerly by now, desperately chasing your release as he watched you tense under him, your eyes closed, mouth agape as moans left one after another. This was just like what he’d imagined, if not better. He wanted to take in every pretty expression you had to offer, commit every sound you made to memory incase he didn’t get the chance to hear them again. He could feel his own high building up within him, but he was determined to get you there first, determined to watch you come undone beneath him again.

“Judd! ‘M gonna — gonna cum!…” You’d cry out, and he could feel you shaking beneath him. Before you knew it he’d placed his hands under your knees, pushing your legs up until they were either side of your head, the new position causing you to let out an almost pornographic moan, your head thrown back as the knot within your stomach grew tighter and tighter. The bed would creak with each harsh thrust, sounding as if it could give out at any moment. Within seconds you were coming undone around him, white pleasure clouding your vision as Judd kissed feverishly at your lips, continuing to grind into you as he chased his own high.

Soon enough he was joining you, a low grunt of your name being uttered from his lips as his pace faltered and slowed down, body dropping down on-top of yours. He’d place sloppy kisses along your jaw, hand travelling under your body as his fingers trailed along your spine, helping you to calm down as you whimpered into his ear, body hot and sensitive. The room was once again hot and stuffy, the two of you sweaty, skin sticking to each other as you wound your arms around his neck, enjoying the momentary bliss.

“Wear something that shows off your neck on Monday, want Patrick to see the marks I left on you.” He’d murmur into your skin, nose buried into your hair as he took in your scent, his own muscles relaxing as he pulled out of you, shuddering before throwing the condom into the trash can beside his bed. You could only let our breathless giggles in response, finding the venom in the way he said Patrick’s name amusing, shaking your head and gently slapping at his arm, causing him to growl into you.

You’d fallen asleep wrapped up in Judd’s arms that night, chest pressed tightly against his, nose buried into the crook of his neck as his chin sat on top of your head.

— Judd had rushed downstairs early the next morning, determined to pick up the items of clothing the two of you had previously abandoned before any of his family awoke. So far he’d found both vests, the two pieces located closer to the door, but your bra seemed to be nowhere in sight. Just when he stepped further into the kitchen, he’d spot his mother sat at the counter, a sly grin on her lips, your bra sitting on the marble.

“You’re up early, Judd… Got any plans today?” She’d ask coyly, head tilted to the side. She knew, and she knew he knew that she knew. He’d grunt, halting in-front of her as his eyes flickered between her and the pink bra on the counter.

“No, my friend just — left this the other day, dunno how it got here.” He’d grumble, quickly swiping the bra away and holding it along with the white vests in his hand. His mother would scoff, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of the coffee in her hands.

“Tell (y/n) I hope she enjoyed her stay — and let her know you’ll be driving her home.” She’d state as she watched her son turn away, his face red, fists clenched angrily. Of course he was going to drive you home, did his mom think he was some kind of player? Well, maybe he would be considered one in some terms, but no, he didn’t consider himself to be such a way… And he especially wouldn’t let you take yourself home after last nights events…

Soon enough he’d returned to his room, allowing you to get dressed, watching from his spot on his bed. He’d be lying if he said he was excited for you to leave, he’d enjoyed waking up and watching you sleep beside him, face relaxed, breaths calm. You’d stand awkwardly at the door once you were done, eyes meeting yours as an anxious smile pulled at your lips.

“I’ll see you later? I’m-” You’d trail off. “I’m excited for you to drive me home.” It sounded pathetic, but it was true, and Judd couldn’t help but agree, nodding to you and watching as you left, sneaking back towards Leah’s room in desperate hope she was still asleep. He’d throw his head back, willing sleep to overtake him, but it never came. Instead, thoughts of you popped into his mind, and once again he felt his pants tighten, a frustrated curse leaving his lips as his hand reached down towards his bulge.

[the-s1lly-corner]

HH cast crushing on the reader 2/3

Forgot to mention in the previous post alastor will be excluded for this prompt. "But admin you write for him-" I tend to approach his writing with queer platonic ideas and while I do think this prompt can still work with that, idk how to put it into words

Characters: Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Emily, Velvette, Rosie

Notes: reader is GN, mostly focuses on canon characters, if your character isnt here check the other parts unless I dont write for them

CWs: none

LUCIFER

On one hand he wants to be with you. But on the other I feel he is still a bit hung up on Lilith. It's wouldn't be fair to you to pursue someone else when there's already someone else in his heart. He flipflops between approaching you and shutting you off. It's going to take a lot and you might have to ask him if there's something going on or if you did something wrong. He's crushed that you think you did something wrong. Baby steps with him, give him some time and the two of you could possibly make something. He finds himself sitting at his workspace making art (ducks) based off of you.

ADAM

Oh he is so open about it and it's kind of obnoxious. Well.. open isn't the right word. He's very up front with making sure you know that he thinks you're... desirable to put it lightly. But to actually be soft and vulnerable and say he wants to be with you for more than just wanting to bang you? It's going to be like pulling teeth to get an actual confession from him. He teases you a lot more, and makes comments about you and he leans into it if you're receptive. Just know that if you catch feelings first and he notices, he's going to hold it over your head and use it as ammo.

LUTE

Similar to Vaggie in the previous part, she's going to get... closed off. Unlike Vaggie, she's going to totally close herself off from you and try to bury herself deeper into her heavenly duties. She's hardwired and trained to devote herself to Heaven and she believes she doesn't have time for you. She almost feels like it's a betrayal to have these feelings in the first place. She won't confess, at least not out of looking for a relationship. I can see her doing it as a way to release her feelings in hopes that saying it out loud will somehow get rid of them. It's a little sad when you sit and think about it, but I do think with enough time and patience you two might be able to build something.

EMILY

Very giddy and very quick to telling you how she feels. She takes time out of her day to check in on you, as well as giving you something she knows you like or something that reminded her of you. Noticeably happier around you and perks up at the mere mention of your name. She always has time for you, she makes room in her schedule for you. She's a lot like Charlie in regard to her being a bit overbearing and clingy, but she really does mean well with her intentions! Just let her know if she needs to scale it back!

VELVETTE

I can totally see Velvette being the type to hide her feelings and translate to something else. Bonus points if you're a rival of hers in the industry, all the more reason for her to try to twist her feelings. I guess in a way you can call her a tsundere. Even through the meaner things she says, there are some teasing words slipped in here and there in your interactions that admittedly leave you feeling a little conflicted and confused. If you shut it down and be firm you miiiight get her to cut the act, but it is not a guarantee because she's grown to like the game.

ROSIE

She doesn't throw herself at your feet, she has some dignity. She is polite and kind towards you, though... but just because you've got her attention doesn't mean she's going to date you just yet. Think of it as her giving you a chance to show yourself off to her. She sometimes does small favors for you in town, even giving you some special privileges thanks to her status as an overlord. Waits for you to confess, if you're showing your signals as well. There will be subtle hints, though, even if she's not outright flirting with you... most of the time... she can't resist sometimes, even with the above stated. Really it just depends on the circumstance and how you are as a person.

[alessiasfreckles]

Advantage (Leah Williamson x reader)

After colliding with another player, you have a concussion and have to stay home. Leah volunteers to look after you.

warnings: injury / concussion, sick, very mild angst if you squint

A/N: based off this request! I hope you like it! also any doctors pls don't come for me i've never had a concussion idk what the recovery looks like. part 2 here!

-----

The crowd went silent as your body fell limply to the ground. The game had been going so well up until that point, you were 3-0 up, and you were racing towards the goal with the ball high in the air, your eyes never leaving it as you jumped up to hit it with your head. That was all you could remember. Your teammates rushed towards you, the ball lying forgotten on the grass as the ref ran over. 

“Shit, she’s not moving,” Katie exclaimed, turning around to flag down the medics who were already making their way across the pitch. “Get over here, she needs help, now!”

Leah was knelt down by your side, careful not to touch you in case it was something serious, like a back or neck injury. “It’s going to be okay, y/n,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. She was mostly saying it to calm her own nerves, trying to convince herself you were okay.

“What happened?” Lotte asked Alessia, who was stood anxiously chewing her lip. 

“I’m not sure, I- I was so focused on the ball as well,” she said, feeling guilty for not paying better attention. “She jumped up for the ball and the defender, fuck, what’s her name, the big one, went for it as well, they must have hit heads.” 

Everyone was gathered around you like a protective wall, guarding you from the cameras and the crowd, who were talking quietly amongst themselves, worry rippling through the stadium. The medics carefully moved your limp body onto the stretcher, and the last view most of the girls on the field had of you was your body being carried away. 

Your eyes fluttered open to see the overhead lights of the hallway as the medics carried you towards an ambulance waiting outside. “What’s- what’s going on?” you asked, groaning slightly.

“You’ve had a head injury, y/n,” one of the medics told you gently. “You have to go to the hospital to be checked for a concussion.”

“Oh,” you said weakly, “okay.”

---

The hospital released you after keeping you in for observation for a few hours, determining that whilst you had a concussion, it was only a mild one. The team doctor drove you home, telling you to rest up and make sure to drink lots of fluids. You were surprised to see the lights on in your house, when you pulled up, but brushed it off thinking that maybe you’d forgotten to turn them off that morning. 

When you opened the door, however, you were surprised to find Leah, Beth, Viv, and Katie sat on your sofa. 

“Y/n!” Leah exclaimed, standing up quickly and rushing over to give you a hug. “How are you feeling? Thank god you’re okay.” 

“Remember, Lee, don’t crowd her,” Katie said with a grin, but she couldn’t hide the concern on her face. 

“How are you feeling?” Beth asked. “Jonas told us that they said it’s a concussion, but not too bad, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said weakly, with a smile. “yeah, I’m okay, mostly. But, um, what are you guys doing here?”

“Oh!” Leah blushed. “Well, we thought someone should be here, so you’re not just home alone, and we all wanted to make sure you were okay- well, the whole team did, obviously, but we thought it’d be better if it was just a few of us so we weren’t crowding you!”

“That’s really thoughtful, thank you,” you said, stomach fluttering at the thought of Leah being so worried about you. “The doctor did say that it’d be better for someone to be here tonight and tomorrow. Sorry, I know it’s our day off, so everyone probably has plans, but-”

“Don’t be silly, y/n!” Leah said quickly, and behind her, Beth and Viv shot each other a knowing look. “We’re all happy to look after you. I can stay, at least tonight.”

“Thank you,” you smiled warmly, before you were hit with a wave of nausea. “Oh, I think I’m going to be sick-” 

You clapped a hand over your mouth as Katie grabbed a bowl they’d put nearby and quickly put it in front of you. Leah held your hair back and rubbed a hand on your back as you threw up, and you grimaced.

“Ugh, ‘m sorry, that was gross,” you said weakly. 

“Here, have some water,” Viv said, holding a glass. You took it gratefully as Katie stood up. 

“I’m sorry, chick, I’m going to have to head out,” she said apologetically, looking slightly queasy herself. “You know I can’t handle sick. But I’ll come round tomorrow to check on ya, with some of the other girls?”

You nodded, feeling your head start to pound. “No worries, thank you for being here. I’m starting to feel pretty tired, actually, and my head is killing me, so I think I might just go to sleep.”

Beth and Viv stood up as well, both hugging you before saying their goodbyes. And then it was just you and Leah. 

“Hey, um, what actually happened, on the pitch?” you asked her. “I don’t really remember much. The doctor said that’s normal, but it’s weird, not being able to remember.”

“Well, it was the 39th minute, I think,” she began, frowning, and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she even knew the exact minute. “You were running for the ball, and you went to header it, but that big defender from the other team was going for it too and their head hit yours. Then, well, you just… fell to the ground.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Was the other player okay?”

“She was bleeding a bit, a cut on their head, but she was fine other than that.”

“That’s good. I’m… sorry,” you told her, and she looked confused.

“Sorry for what?” 

“For not paying more attention. I should have seen the other player-” you started, and she cut you off with a vehement shake of her head.

“Absolutely not, y/n, don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” she said.

You nodded, still feeling somewhat guilty, but too tired to argue. Leah chuckled as you let out a big yawn. “Bed?” she asked. “For you, I mean. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“What? Don’t be silly,” you told her, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. “There’s plenty of space in my bed.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Right then, sleepy head. Did the doctor say anything about sleeping, or anything we should watch out for?”

“Um, just that it’s important that I rest a lot, I think,” you frowned, suddenly not sure. “I don’t really remember. Oh, I think she gave me some paper with information on it.”

You found the info sheet in your bag and showed it to Leah, who read through it quickly, nodding. “Well, let’s get you to bed.”

It wasn’t the first time you and the captain had shared a bed. After all, the team was like a family, people sharing beds all the time when you went away or slept over at someone’s house. Still, if you weren’t so tired, you probably would have been more nervous about the idea of sleeping so close to Leah, who you’d been harbouring a crush on for a while now. As it was, you fell asleep fairly quickly, exhausted from the day’s excitement. Leah however, still worried about you, laid awake for a while, thoughts racing. She listened to your slow, steady breathing as she scrolled on her phone, first googling ‘recovery from concussion’ and ‘what to do when someone has a concussion’, despite the fact that she knew full well what the recovery for a concussion looked like from having had one herself just a couple years before. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“Lee?” you groaned, rolling over in bed as the sun shone through your curtains. “What’re you doing here? Fuck, it’s so bright. Ugh, my head.”

“Oops, yeah,” she said, quickly closing the curtains a little more and dimming the bright morning light. Smiling at you, she sat back down on an armchair in your bedroom, her laptop balanced on the armrest. “Sorry about that, I forgot. Anyway, morning sleepyhead! I slept over, remember? To keep an eye on you.”

“Oh, yeah, right” you mumbled, pressing a hand to the side of your head and wincing in pain. 

“Here,” Leah said, jumping up and picking up a glass of water and some pain medicine she’d put on the bedside table. “Take this, it should help your head.”

You nodded, taking it from her gratefully. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“M’ head hurts. And I feel a bit weird. Head feels fuzzy,” you said, before sitting up. “Wait, what day is it? Do we have training? We’re going to be late!” 

You stood up quickly, grabbing onto the bedpost as your head started swimming. 

“Woah there!” she put her hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back onto the bed. “Today is Monday, we don’t have training, remember? We played yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, frowning. “I forgot.”

“That’s okay,” she told you. “It’s normal to be a bit confused after a concussion. My brain felt so fuzzy after mine.”

You nodded. “Yeah, fuzzy is a good word to describe it. Wait, you were here when I got home, right? How did you get in?” 

“I have a key, remember?” she said with a laugh. You’d given her a copy of your key at some point after you started hanging out more outside of training. It came in handy when you forgot your own key, which happened more often than you’d like to admit. “Speaking of, some of the girls are going to come over later, if that’s okay? Or do you want to rest a bit more?”

“Um, I think I'll rest more for now, but it’d be nice to see them later?” you asked, still feeling tired despite having slept in.

“Of course,” Leah said, smiling warmly. “Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind, but I can come back later too, if you want? Or, I mean, I don’t have to come back at all, if you’re sick of me already.” she teased, her voice confident but a hint of worry behind her voice. 

“Oh, if you have something you have to do, that’s okay, you can leave,” you told her, feeling guilty that she was spending her day off looking after you. 

“I don’t have anything to do!” she quickly said. “But, I might do some shopping? I had a look in the kitchen last night and honestly, y/n, I don’t know how you survive. All you had in was some milk, a half empty jar of pesto, and some bread.”

“Oops,” you smiled lazily, the pain medicine starting to kick in. You couldn’t remember what the doctor said it was exactly, but it was strong. “I’ll be okay whilst you go shopping, Lee. I can handle myself!”

She raised an eyebrow at you and laughed. “Yeah, okay hun. Look, I’ll be back in half an hour, an hour tops, okay?”

----

True to her word, 45 minutes later the front door opened. You had slowly made your way over to the sofa after she left, planning on putting some TV on but had ended up falling asleep. Your eyes opened to the sound of the key in the lock, and when Leah came through the door carrying multiple shopping bags you smiled widely.

“LeeLee!!” you beamed, rubbing your eyes sleepily. Oh yeah, the pain meds had definitely kicked in. 

“I see the pain meds have kicked in,” she said with a grin, and you gasped.

“OMG, that’s what I just said! Well, in my head. Said in my head. Ha, that rhymes,” you chuckled to yourself, before getting distracted by how many bags Leah was carrying. It was at least three. 

She laughed. “Is that right?”

You nodded seriously, sitting up. “Yep. Anyway, look at all those bags! You must have bought soo much. And you’re carrying it all! You’re so strong,” you swooned, and her cheeks had a slight pink tinge to them.

“Wow, those pain meds must be strong. They’ve turned you into a right little loopy Lou,” she said as she carried the shopping through to the kitchen.

“Loopy Lou, loopy Lou,” you repeated quietly a few times. “Huh. That’s fun to say.”

“How are you feeling?” Leah asked as she came back, sitting down next to you on the sofa.

“Good,” you said, drawing out the word. 

“Any nausea, any pain?” 

“Hmm, nope! Actually, head hurts a bit. Right here,” you said, poking the lump on the side of your head. “Ow.”

“Yeah, that’d be where you knocked heads,” she said, carefully brushing your hand away from the sizeable lump, and you blushed when her fingers touched yours.

“You’re so pretty, Lee,” you sighed, a dopey smile on your face, and Leah let out a surprised laugh. “And your hands are so nice.”

She raised an eyebrow, curious to hear what else you had to say, but not wanting to push it. “Is that right?” she asked, her voice light. 

“Yup,” you nodded, trying to make your face look more serious, but you got the feeling that it wasn’t working. “So pretty.”

“Okay, y/n,” she laughed, but the flush on her cheeks was undeniable. 

“You’re blushing!” you exclaimed gleefully, poking her dimple with an outstretched finger. “You’re so cute!”

She batted your hand away playfully, still blushing. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the cute one,” she said, not looking directly at you, like she was scared of your reaction. 

“Me?” you gasped dramatically. “You think I’m cute?” 

“Sure do,” she looked back at you and smiled, a hint of relief in her eyes. “But I’m guessing you won’t remember any of this by tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you pouted. “But I like that you think I’m cute.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah!” you nodded emphatically, then stopped quickly, wincing at the throbbing in your head. “Oof, ouch. That was a bad idea. Can I have some more pain meds?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll get them,” Leah said, standing up. Despite her excitement at learning that apparently you felt the same way she did, she felt a twinge of guilt, a voice in the back of her mind telling her that she was taking advantage of the state that you were in. 

“Thanks, LeeLee!” you beamed when she brought you some meds and a glass of water. “You’re the best.”

“Haha, yeah,” she said, shuffling awkwardly. “Um, look, y/n, I’m going to go, if that’s okay? Katie and some of the others will come over in a bit to check on you.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, frowning, and within a few minutes Leah had packed her things and left. 

---------

A week later you were almost back to normal. Your head still hurt a little occasionally, and you preferred to wear sunglasses when up and about, still a little sensitive to bright lights, but the lump on the side of your head had almost disappeared. You’d spent the week recovering at home, Leah by your side for the first day and girls from the team coming by after training every day since. Leah had pulled back somewhat after that first day, and you weren’t really sure why, though you had the feeling that maybe you’d said something stupid when you were on the particularly strong pain meds you’d been given.  

You’d been instructed to come back to the training grounds so that the team doctor could give you a check up and you were looking forward to being back, even if you weren’t officially back yet. You were also hoping to see Leah. The checkup didn’t take long, the doctor declaring that you could come back and slowly start training again the next day, but to take the rest of the day off. You didn’t see any of your teammates on your way to the doctor’s office, and figured that they were outside on the training pitch, which was fair enough, but you were still a little disappointed. 

You left the doctors office and started to make your way to the car park, when the door to one of the changing rooms opened and someone came out, almost knocking into you. 

“Shit, sorr-,” they said, holding out a hand to steady you, when you both looked up at the same time. “Y/n! Hi!”

“Hey,” you said softly, looking at Leah. You still felt like things were weird, but you didn’t know why. 

“Did you just have your checkup? What did they say?” she asked, and whilst her excitement at seeing you felt genuine, you couldn’t shake the sensation that something was off. 

“Oh, that I’m looking good!” you told her, debating whether or not to say anything. “Yeah, they said I can come back tomorrow. Not, like, full steam ahead, obviously, but I can slowly start training again.”

“That’s great!” she said, and then bit her lip. “Um, I should probably get going.”

“Wait-” you started as she began to turn away, and she looked at you with wide eyes. “I, um, did something happen? Did I do something? I feel like you’re upset with me, or not upset but, I don’t know. Something seems wrong.”

“I’m not upset with you,” she frowned.

“Then what’s going on? Please, talk to me, Leah,” you asked, your stomach tying itself in knots.

She sighed. “Do you remember much from Monday?”

“Not really, I guess. I vaguely remember you being there, and then some of the girls being there, but that’s kind of it,” you said, and knocked on the side of your head, smiling wryly. “A concussion and strong-ass painkillers will do that to you.”

She let out a forced laugh and you felt your stomach churn. Oh god, had you embarrassed yourself by telling her about your crush? “Why, did something happen? Did I say something?”

“Kind of,” she said, not meeting your eyes. She thought about lying but had a feeling that you’d know if she did. “You, uh, called me pretty. A few times. And cute. And, um, said that I had nice hands.”

“Oh,” you said in a whisper, desperately fighting the urge to run and hide. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no!” she interjected. “Shit, sorry, no, that’s not what I, uh. No, please don’t apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? Why have you been avoiding me then?”

“It’s my fault,” she started, and sighed again. “Look, I said some stuff back, okay? And it wasn’t professional or even just okay of me to do that, whilst you were in the state you were in.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I, well, I might have said that you were the cute one.”

“Okay…,” you said slowly, waiting for the rest. When nothing came, you let out a laugh. “Wait, that’s it? You’ve been avoiding me because I told you I think you’re cute, and you said it back?”

She shuffled her feet, looking down. “Well, I didn’t want to be taking advantage of you!” she protested, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I hardly think that counts as taking advantage of me,” you lightly countered, stepping closer to her, emboldened by her confession. “So, you think I’m cute, huh?”

“So, you think I’m pretty, and cute, and have nice hands, huh?” Leah retorted, the guilt and worry she had been feeling fading away.

“Sure do, Williamson,” you smirked, taking another step towards her, figuring that you’d already told her once so you might as well admit to it. Now you were only a few inches away from her, and as you glanced at her lips and back up to her eyes, she reached up a hand to cup your cheek. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss against your lips, and you tried very hard to ignore the way your stomach felt like it was flipping, focusing on the way her lips felt against yours, something you’d spent so long imagining. 

“You know,” she said as she broke away, smiling teasingly. “Last week you kept calling me LeeLee, not Williamson.”

[callmemaeverick]

Livin’ La Vida Loca - A. Aretas

Pairing: Armando x f!Reader Summary: Armando was doing Armando stuff, brooding and minding his own business, when someone jumped on his bike and told him to go. (This man got me writing again, but I needed to start slow. Then I saw this reverse trope thing about accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss, and well this happened)

WC: 600 TW: Gun. Senior Aretas

Armando kicked up his bikestand and revved his engine, his head in turmoil. He almost had him, the detective, but he could not bring himself to pull the trigger.

And something was not right with his mother and he was more than a little confused with her motives. She was hiding something from him and despite all that he did for her, she won't tell him everything. He had done all that she asked of him and he did it with little to no help. Sure, he had people working for him, but he hired these people not a few months before and all of them through fear and intimidation. He was alone. He had no one to trust.

He was about to take off, when all of a sudden, his bike rocked as a weight landed behind him. Hands wrapped around his middle and instantly, his gun was in his grasp.

"What the fuck?!" He exclaimed and turned as far as he could. All he saw was a pair of panicked eyes.

"Go, dammit! Go!"

One day, when he looked back on this day, he'd wonder what made him did what he did. But he was glad for it.

He holstered his weapon, shifted into gear and drove off. Within seconds he had reached a speed that was way too fast for riding by the pier, but that was not what was on his mind then. The hand around his middle clutched at his jacket, making it tighter around his torso and a glance downward showed Armando that the fingers had dug deep into the leather.

"What the fuck happened to her?" He wondered.

He drove fast, weaving between cars ad buildings until the harsh breathing behind him calmed somewhat. When he found a less busy street, he pulled over.

The weight behind him shifted and then she was beside him, trying to tame her winblown hair. But what struck him, was that she was smiling.

xxxx

"Wheew," You whooped as you got off the bike to face its rider, pushing your hair from your face. "That was fun! I don't know if I would've gotten outta there if I hadn't seen you. So, thank you. You saved my life.”

The man was looking at you through the visor of his helmet, you were sure of it. You could sense his confusion, though you could not see his face.

"Right, I guess I owe you an explanation." You felt self-conscious, and slighty embarrassed. Now that you think about it, what you did was stupid and reckless. "It was nothing bad, I swear, though with us being strangers and all, what good is my word right? I mean, for all you know I could be a criminal."

Dammit, stop rambling.

Suddenly the bike was shut off and the rider straightened before he pulled his helmet off. And you stood stunned at the beauty that graced you.

"Oh, wow, you're..." You trailed off and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes?" Even his voice was hot.

"Nothing," You said quickly. "As I was saying, I wasn't doing anything bad. We were just protesting peacefully, you know, for the turtles."

An incredulous smile appeared. "Las tortugas?"

"Y-yeah, the turtles. We were by the beach when these police guys came trying to break it up. So we made a break for it.”

The handsome man in front of you chuckled and shook his head. "Esta loca,"

"I am not crazy, okay," You argued back, but there was no heat in it. He was at least a little bit correct. Not that you’d admit it. Instead, you held out your hand and introduced yourself.

He looked at it for a second, the back up to your face, as if hesistating.

"What? Scared?" The challenged seemed to spur him on as the rider smirked and took your hand in his.

"Armando,"

"Alright, well, thank you for the assist, Armando. Don't be a stranger, alright?" You released his hand and walked away, feeling his eyes on you until you turned the corner.

FIN

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [7]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why. 

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 5,123

A/N: thank you all for your patience, and your excitement! we’re checking back in with reader this chapter, and unfortunately, she’s not doing too well. 😅 bottom divider by @firefly-graphics

On the eighteenth day, it rains. 

At least, you think it is the eighteenth day. 

 The rising and setting of the sun only denotes the time of day—there is no clock in this room, no way to mark the longer passage of hours, no calendar with boxes for you to tick off. So you cling to the approximation, it’s the only knowledge—incorrect or no—that you have. 

Water streams down the walls of your prison, obscuring the beach beyond. You stare listlessly at the droplets, following them with your eyes as they slide down the glass into the sand. Though you haven’t moved in hours, you’re still strangely exhausted. So you stay there, tucked against the wall where the glass meets concrete. You’d told Ransom and Lloyd to leave you alone and they had followed your request to the letter—you haven’t seen them since your destructive fit.

You’ve already cried yourself dry and hoarse wailing for help, for release, for your family, and though your distress at your current situation hasn’t lessened per-say, you feel a certain sort of numb acceptance. You’ve gone to sleep here and woken up in the ruined bed enough times to know now that this is true, that it is real—

That you have to accept it. 

What choice do you have? Raging had changed nothing, only isolating you further. You’ve taken to analyzing every moment in the silence, sifting back through to try and determine the point where it all went wrong. There’s no aha moment, though, no core memory that lights the path to recognition. You remember Lloyd and Ransom in your history classes, hotshot poli-sci majors destined for the big leagues. You knew of them, of course—everyone did. Legacy students with chips on their shoulders and grandaddy’s money in their bank accounts. 

Typical. 

You almost wish you could go back and tell yourself that you had been right, that your assessment that the Drysdale twins were selfish and self-centered—but it doesn’t matter now. Not with their baby in your belly and the minutes of your life rotting away in this box. 

You know what they’re waiting for, waiting for you to admit you want to see them, that you need them, and they’ll come and make everything better. You hate that you want to, if only just to have someone to scream at. You hug your knees. Your family will be home now, back to their lives in the States, having swallowed whatever lies you know the twins must have spun up for them—they certainly couldn’t tell the truth. 

She’s sick. Not feeling well. You see, we’ve been taking turns fucking her like our personal cocksleeve.

That would have gone over splendidly with your father. 

The hours tick slowly by until you realize you’re rocking, back and forth as you stare at blank space. Your resolve to say nothing, to ask for nothing, feels made now of rubber rather than stone. It’s been two weeks and then some since you’d spoken to anyone or had contact with your captors—your husband. 

Ransom had taken the ring when you’d thrown it at him, and you’re still not used to the feeling of not wearing it after two whole years. You run the fingers of your opposite hand over the blank space on your ring finger, over and over again, feeling the little divet where it sat.

The room is four hundred and seventy six steps around, you know because you have paced the width and breadth of it every single day since Ransom and Lloyd had left you here. You could do it with your eyes closed, even—you often do. Today isn’t any different, pacing the wall as you recite something—anything you can think of, usually—as many times as you can. Snippets of books you’ve read, scenes in movies, you replay them all, savoring each instance of remembrance as you feel the silence pressing in around the sound of your voice. That’s the worst part about all of this, you think to yourself as you round the far side of the room for lap number twenty five. They’re not even here for you to scream at them. 

They don’t even have to face your wrath, meager as it is. You’re not sure exactly when you’d begun to crave the sound of their voices, perhaps because you know they’re the only ones you have any hope of hearing. You want to cry and scream and wail at them, you want to tear at their faces with your jagged nails—but most of all, you just want them here while you do it. 

The quick pace you set around the room lasts until you can’t keep it up anymore. You collapse next to the door, resting a hand on your belly as your chest heaves. The sight that greets you as you stare listlessly out the window is a familiar one, the orange-red sun is pale behind the lingering cloud cover as it sinks beneath the dark, choppy waves. You have seen this eighteen times—and tomorrow, it will be nineteen. 

Perhaps it’s the realization you cannot even hear the sound of the water lapping against the sand, you can’t feel the breeze, feel the sun on your skin unfiltered through the eight inch glass. 

You can’t even go for a fucking walk.

It’s the knowledge of the agencies you’ve been denied, the freedoms you’ve been stripped of that drives you back to your feet as a frantic intensity grips you. You slam your fists against the door with a hoarse cry, beating against it until your hands ache and sting. 

“Please!” Your dry eyes ache for want of tears. “I don’t want to be in here by myself anymore!” You know you’re giving up ground, but you can’t help it. Weeks of complete isolation—of fucking nothing. You try to convince yourself it isn’t a loss, though, that you’re giving in for your own good, not theirs. That you’ll never have an avenue for escape if the door is locked, so you must make them open it. You repeat these reasons and more on a seemingly endless internal refrain as you beg and cry—so much so that you almost believe it when you hear the sound of hinges turning, of dress shoes on bare concrete. 

You stumble back from the door, anxiously waiting for the robotic sound of the pin pad on the other side. After six beeps—six, you’re sure of it, and you will remember; six—you hear the locks disengaging, the hiss of the hydraulic hinges. You almost don’t want to look as the door swings open, dragging your reluctant gaze up from the concrete step to stare at the twin in front of you. You hate that you’re glad to see him—you’re glad to see anyone, but your feeble  hope that it is your husband who will greet you on the other side of the doorway turns brittle in your chest as you drag your gaze up to his face. 

“Hello, Princess.” You swallow thickly at the sight of Lloyd. He’s letting his mustache grow back in now, the light dusting of hair above his lip, the thick chain at his throat, and the slick striped polo are all enough of a giveaway. He grins at you. Besides, you think venomously. What reason does he have to hide, now? Lloyd steps inside, and the door closes behind him with a soft rush of air. He clucks his tongue as he looks at the carnage around you, the destruction you’re no longer proud of—just exhausted with. 

“You really have made a mess of things.” It feels like he’s talking about more than the room. His expression is almost affectionate. Your chest tightens.“Let’s see what we can do to fix them.” Lloyd steps closer, and you mirror him with one step back, your body moving without your permission. “Baby, you asked for me to come,” he says, cocking his head. “Or would you like to be alone again?” Lloyd doesn’t say it like a threat, doesn’t weight the words with the implication you know he means. 

And yet the idea of being alone in this room—hell, alone in your head—for a single moment more feels like hands wrapping around your throat. The feeling spurs you to speak, swallowing the thick resentment lining your throat to make room for words. 

“No.” You say, looking down at your feet. “I—I don’t.” 

He smiles. “Good. I don’t either.” Lloyd takes an experimental step forward, and you stiffen—but remain still. The smile widens. “Why don’t you take a bath, Princess, and I’ll get someone to come in here and clean up a little? How’s that?” 

“Who?” You know this is bait and you take it anyway. Your options are either to engage with Lloyd—on his terms, always his fucking terms—or to have no engagement at all. “A-are there other people here?” The question lies unasked in the air between you. Will they help me? 

“Maybe if we get you cleaned up, and at least get a new mattress in here and some food in you, maybe I’ll tell you.” He’s not bothering to hide his enjoyment, and it turns your stomach. 

“I hate you.” It slips out before you can stop it, but instead of getting angry, Lloyd just laughs. 

“Oh Princess. I think that’s the best part about all of this,” he runs a hand through his hair before he steps closer. He reaches for you, and you flinch, but force yourself to remain still as he cups your chin. “You really, really don’t.” You’re not expecting him to kiss you, then, to slant his mouth across yours hungrily. You’re too shocked to fight it, standing there shocked as his worry at your lip and he sucks at your tongue until you’re panting, nipples pressing furiously through your nightgown—and then all at once it’s over. Lloyd drags his thumb across your lip. 

“Bathroom.” He points. “I’ll join you in a moment.” Lloyd straightens back up, watching you jerk back from him with a pleased smirk. “Oh, and Princess?” He waits until you turn to glare at him over your shoulder. “No peeking.” 

You practically flee from him, slamming the door behind you. You press yourself against it, your heart pounding. Pressing a hand to your tingling lips, you fumble at the handle with the other before your brows crease with confusion. To your dismay, there is no lock, only a handle. You’d thought yourself completely dry of tears, but to your surprise, more come, welling up as you slap a hand to your mouth so Lloyd doesn’t hear you sob. 

For some reason, you’d imagined your body would reject them, go stone cold at their touch now with how deeply your hatred seemed to burn—but as you reach between your legs with trembling fingers to check what you already know is true, you can’t help but hate yourself just as much. 

You’re not supposed to like it. 

The bathroom has been relatively untouched by your rage, nothing broken or out of place really beyond a few towels. Your cotton nightgown joins them on the floor as you turn on the tub’s faucet, and it drowns out the sound of moving furniture through the door. There’s an assortment of bath products lined up on the side, all ones you like. You resist the urge to knock them over or pour them all down the drain.

How long had they prepared this place for you? How long had it taken them to plot out each excruciating detail?

How long had they known they were going to?

The door handle clicks and jiggles, and you scramble for a towel as Lloyd enters. You know it’s ridiculous, your fear of being nude before him—he’s seen you naked dozens of times by now, he’d fucked you—but the muscle memory of it remains. He closes it behind him, glancing past you to the tub. 

“Oh, lovely.” He steps around you, his hands lingering familiarly on your waist before he reaches for the bottles. Lloyd grabs a few of them, glancing at the labels before making a noise low in his throat. “Ah, this one. You like Jasmine, don’t you Princess?” 

“How do you know that?” You glare at him accusatorially as he pours a hefty capful into the water. It begins to foam up almost immediately, the scent of jasmine and roses filling the air. Lloyd removes his rings and watch before dipping his hand into the water, mixing it. You glare hatefully at his back. “Did Ransom tell you?”

“Now why would Ransom have to tell me that?” He glances over his shoulder at you. 

“Be-because you don’t know me at all!” You stammer. “That’s why this is all so fucking insane!” It bubbles out of you before you can stop it, frustrated, enraged tears brimming in your eyes. “You don’t know the first fucking thing about me!”

“Is that what you tell yourself, Princess?” He asks, turning to face you. You’re suddenly very aware of how few options you have for space, the way Lloyd has placed himself between you and the door, using your own fear to herd you over to the far side of the bathroom, away from him—and from your escape. 

“That I don’t know a goddamn thing about you? That I’ve got no reason to feel about you the way I do?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, people have a funny way of remembering the things they want to remember—come here, Princess, this is supposed to be relaxing,” he cuts himself off, beckoning you with one hand. “I’ve had plenty of time to consider my feelings. Trust me.” 

 You wait for Lloyd to show signs of impatience, for his lips to crease into thin, angry lines, for his eyes to go cold and hard—but it doesn’t happen. Slowly, you approach, your fist clenched so tight around the towel that your fingers ache. He licks his lips. 

“Can’t have a relaxing bath with that on.” He flicks at the hem of your towel with his fingers. “I promise, Princess, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

He’s seen it before. He’s seen it before. Somehow, you still feel like a married woman showing yourself to a stranger when you release your white knuckled grip on the terrycloth, and it falls to the ground between you. You don’t want to see Lloyd’s face so you look at the large bathtub instead, watch the waterline slowly rise as as the seconds tick by. 

“Let me help you in.” Lloyd’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he gingerly assists you into the bath. You don’t want to enjoy it, the way you don’t want to enjoy anything he does for you. The tension, the fear—it’s all living in your muscles and in your marrow, and though you don’t want it to, the hot water feels good, damn him. The sound of Lloyd’s belt buckle reactivates your adrenaline, and water sloshes up over the sides of the tub as you sit up, scrambling back. 

Fresh fear rises in you as you watch him unclasp the gold chain from around his neck, placing it down next to his rings with a soft metallic click.

“Easy, Princess. Easy.” He steps in, arranging himself behind you as you practically curl into yourself to escape him. “I promised.” He doesn’t bother trying to hide his cock, swelling eagerly against his thigh. 

“Excuse me if I find those fucking meaningless,” you spit, flinching as Lloyd cups water over your shoulders. He settles himself in behind you, and you abhor the way your body seems to fit against his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together. You hate the way his half-hard cock sits perfectly against you, throbbing whenever you fidget. You’re shocked to find that there is part of you that enjoys it regardless, the closeness, the affection. After so long feeling only your own fingers on your skin, it feels strange and compelling to be so close to someone else. It’s electric to feel Lloyd against you, feels nearly as fitting and right as it had with Ransom—though you assure yourself that is only because they’re practically physically identical. 

Was it ever right with Ransom, though? You’re starting to feel like you’d never even known your husband at all. You knew bits, pieces of the whole, but now you’re seeing him as he is… maybe as he’s always been. Or was that just what he wanted me to feel? What they both wanted me to feel?

“Oh you wound me, Sweetheart,” he sighs, reaching for the soap and neatly folded washcloth on the side. “At least your parents think a little more highly of me.” You turn your head so fast your neck aches. 

“My parents? You’ve talked to my parents?”Lloyd says nothing, the corners of his mouth lifted into a small, knowing smile.  “Where do they think I am?” Lloyd says nothing, and merely begins to wash your back with the soapy cloth, his strokes firm, but gentle. The silence lengthens between you, broken only by the sound of water and breath. It ticks on until you feel the frenzied anxiety beneath your skin erupt out of your mouth. 

 “Answer me!”

“Princess, I think a much more interesting question is where you think you are.” He swipes it between your shoulder blades, brushing your curls out of the way to get at the back of your neck. When his lips brush the hell of your ear, it’s all you can do not to flinch. “Where do you think you are?” 

You’re tempted to answer snarkily, or better yet, to turn around and try your hand at hitting him as hard as you can—but something inside tells you that that will end worse than it had with Ransom. Instead, you force yourself to actually think. The days are long, tropical, hot. You can’t feel that heat, of course, not from inside your room, but the sand, the sea, the trees…

“You never moved me. We’re still on Mykonos.” 

Lloyd’s brows rise, but he smiles. “You’re so fucking smart, Princess. Anybody ever tell you that?” The praise feels wrong, sliding down your skin like oil. You don’t want to accept it—and because you cannot accept it, you attempt to ruin it. 

“Not smart enough to see you coming.” You retort, but the venom either doesn’t phase Lloyd, or he’s just that good at disguising his own offense, but he just continues to clean you up like it doesn’t bother him one bit. He’d been eager to get the trip started—more eager than anyone else. He’d been in a rush, you realize now, to get you here. To get to the good part, the part where he got to have you alone and defenseless. And worse, he got to have you with permission. Perhaps that’s why he’s so patient. He can afford to be, after all. 

“I loved you the minute we met. You know that?” He’s busy working shampoo through your hair, raking it through the tangled mess until it falls neatly, laden down by product. “You never thought I was serious back then.” Lloyd chuckles in that way that reminds you of Ransom. “Maybe I wasn’t. But I am now—we are. About making a life for you, for us.” His hand travels around to cup the barely-there swell of your belly. “For our family.” 

“Stop it!” You hiss, your teeth gritted. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to hear him spout words of devotion to you because they feel too good to hear—it feels good to hear anything at all after nearly two a half weeks of only your own sobs for company—

“Stop what?” You throw his hand off of you as you whirl to face him, water splashing out loudly onto the tile.

“Stop pretending like you’re doing this for me instead of to me.” You snarl. “You—”

“Are supporting your family.” He reminds you. “Nathalie gets to finish college debt free. Your father gets first pick of every single construction job in the city.”

“And I get to be a prisoner.” As Lloyd rinses the shampoo from your hair, you cannot help but wonder which was worse—the unknowing way you’d allowed the both of them to violate you, or sitting here in the aftermath, knowing you’d never had a chance anyway.

“Where’s Ransom?” 

“Sick of me already, Princess?” Lloyd asks, and you clench your teeth to keep from answering. “He’s a little busy at the moment. But I’m not gonna lie, I’m not disappointed he couldn’t make it,” Lloyd spreads the butter onto his baked potato with relish before his blue eyes flick up to yours. “I like having you all to myself, sometimes.” He hadn’t touched you in the bath, true to his word—but you can see the desire plainly on his face now, and it makes you squirm uncomfortably. 

“You’ve never had me all to yourself, Lloyd.” You remind him. “I—I married Ransom.”

His smile doesn’t disappear, doesn’t even lessen. If anything, it gets bigger. “Haven’t I?” He chews thoughtfully. Ransom had told you the-the sharing had begun a year ago, but… but what if that wasn’t the first time? 

What if that was only when they’d made a habit of it?

Your stomach lurches, and you swallow bile, suddenly less hungry than before. You don’t know if you want an answer to this question. Instead, you circle back. 

“You said if I let you do what you wanted, you’d tell me if there were other people here.” Lloyd’s eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Is that what I said?” He hums. “No good hotel runs without staff, Princess.” You scoff at his answer. “Of course there are a few dedicated employees.”

“And my parents?” 

“I believe I promised you one answer for good behavior, Princess.” Lloyd practically purrs the pet name at you. “Not two.” You’re tempted to argue—you want to, but you understand a warning when one is given. The way you skirt the edge of his patience makes you angry with yourself, but when you think again of the two and a half weeks of silence, the long days spent rambling to yourself so that you would hear something, anything—you cannot experience that again. So you sit prettily as he fusses over your hair and your skin, swallowing your self loathing. 

He helps you dry off with the fluffy, comfortable towels you’ve been refusing to use, taking great care to rub cocoa butter into the supple skin of your belly. And when you emerge back into the bedroom, only evidence of the most heinous of your acts of defiance remain: the cracked mirror above the dresser, many of the draws missing—you had smashed them to bits against the unyielding windows. Everything that wasn’t too heavy to lift had been subject to your rage, even the mattress. But now, it’s almost like it had never even happened. 

The bed is freshly made, floor swept clean of debris. And on the new table—made of dark, heavy wood—there is dinner. And it’s real fucking food this time, not just a bland chicken salad sandwich cobbled together on dry bread. Roast chicken, carrots and potatoes are steaming on the plates, a bowl of salad between them. Your stomach twists at the sight of it. Shrugging quickly into one of the many pairs of plain white tank-tops and shorts sitting on top of the dresser, and make a beeline for the food. 

Lloyd emerges from the bathroom moments later, his polo shirt laid over one arm, his briefs slung low on his damp hips. 

“Oh good, dinner.” 

You sit awkwardly across from him, attempting to split your attention between eating your food and watching Lloyd. 

“How long do you plan to keep me here?” 

“I’d be careful with the questions, Princess.” He says, fixing you with a warning look as he chews. “Some questions have answers you’re not gonna like.” Somehow, that tells you everything anyway, and you feel yourself shiver, but not with cold. His eyes are hard when you meet them. 

“That long, huh?” You ask, turning to stare at the dark, troubled sea through your window. It feels like you’re in a movie—a fucking horror movie. Lloyd sighs.

“Think of it like a vacation. No work, no responsibilities—”

“Lloyd, please.” You can’t look at him. The rage, the terror—they’re all boiling over inside of you, and if you look at him, if you see his fucking face, you know you’ll lose it. And if you do, you have a feeling that you won’t recognize yourself if you’re left alone for another two weeks. So instead, you stare out at the water, chewing up the words you want to say and swallowing them back down.

“This isn’t a villa, it’s a prison. I can’t—” you choke back bitter tears. “You won’t even let me outside.” 

“You’re getting yourself all worked up, and you’re not going to be able to keep down your dinner.” He places a hand over yours, and the shock of his touch makes you jump, reeling back. “When we can trust you, Princess, then we’ll talk about day trips.” Hope lights a tiny candle in your chest. 

“We will?” 

“We will.” He points at your food with his fork. “Now eat up.” You do, forcing yourself to eat every bite on your plate. When Lloyd bids you goodnight, he tucks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up until you’re forced to look at him. 

“Goodnight, Princess.” He kisses you again, disgustingly softly. 

—

You sleep fitfully after Lloyd leaves. Turning back and forth, kicking the cotton sheets off until they lay in a heap at the bottom of the bed. Sweat sticks your tank-top to your clammy skin, and as you wake for the nth time that night, the memory of what scant dreams you’re able to achieve brings heat to your cheeks.  

Hands on your skin—two sets of them—prying open your lips to rest on your tongue, sliding between your legs—

You wake in your new bed feeling testy and anxious, glowering at the sunlight glinting sharply off the water. Clean clothes lay folded on the dresser, a pitcher of water and cups now sat on a rolling tray by the table. It isn’t lost on you that as soon as you’d begged for them the quality of your care had vastly improved. You’re reluctant to admit that it’s a relief, not sleeping on the mattress you yourself had destroyed, avoiding the splinters of broken wood on the floor. 

But now there are none. 

The tile floor is swept clean, the new mattress bearing fresh sheets, the new furniture polished to gleaming. 

This is what you can have if you forgive us, the neatly folded clothes in the new dresser-drawers seem to say before you close them again with a sharp snap. This is what you can have if you give us forever. 

All you have to give is forever.

The room seems somehow larger now, since Lloyd’s visit, emptier—lonelier. You resolve not to ask them for anything again, ignoring the desperate, terrified  part of you that dreads a return to the silent nothing. They’re smart—there’s not even a book in here for you to entertain yourself with. Through them, that good things flow, you know that’s what they’re trying to teach you. The part that sickens you most is that it’s true—and has been for a long time. You cannot remember the last time you’d had to pay a bill or concern yourself with the cost of living. You don’t even know what Ransom pays in rent for the apartment—you don’t know that you ever even did. 

You get out of bed, pulling the sheets back up over the spot you’d vacated as you take stock. 

Normally, your chicken-salad sandwich would be on a clean plastic tray in front of the door, but today there is nothing. You are not a creature of habit by nature, shakeups in your routine typically do nothing more than irritate you. But for some reason, this makes you antsy, anxious. 

Had you upset Lloyd last night with your questions?

Why do you even care? 

As you contemplate what you’ve given away without knowing it, you hear the sound of the outer door opening. You don’t know what it looks like outside of your room, not really, but you’ve caught snatches of the concrete hallway and stairs just beyond the doorway. The sound of the pinpad echoes in the quiet room before the door opens. 

Ransom steps over the threshold, a tray held steady in his arms. 

“Good morning, Sweetheart.” Your eyes fill with tears as you stare at him, your lip trembling as you try to bite back on the overwhelming emotion that fills you at the sight of your husband. “I missed you so much.” 

to be continued…

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

[steddieas-shegoes]

that's what friends are for

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'enemies to lovers' rated t wc: 996 cw: mention of hospitals and injury, mentions of selling and using recreational drugs tags: enemies is more implied than anything, getting together, canon events happening in the background

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

Somewhere along the way, Steve Harrington became Eddie’s number one customer.

It was mostly by accident, and Eddie should tell him to get lost and find another supplier, but he couldn’t.

Especially not after the last time they met up in the woods and Steve looked…haunted.

But Eddie wasn’t going to let Steve’s sad puppy dog eyes convince him that he was anything other than the asshole he’d always been.

Not even when he walked up to Steve furiously wiping tears off of his cheeks.

He cleared his throat awkwardly before sitting down, trying to avoid eye contact with the man who seemed to be trying to hide the fact that he’d been having any emotion at all.

“So, the usual today?” Eddie asked.

“Uh, you got anything stronger?”

Look, Eddie knew for a fact he had plenty of stronger stuff that he could overcharge Steve for, and Steve wouldn’t even bat an eye.

But he had a pretty strict rule of never selling the strong stuff to someone who didn’t pass the mental test. Someone who was crying did not pass the mental test.

“Nah, ran out. Got a new mix though, if you’re interested. Might help you sleep if that’s somethin’ you need.”

The dark circles under Steve’s eyes told him that was exactly what he needed, but Steve shrugged and acted like he was just here for fun.

Eddie didn’t care enough to push.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

—----------

Steve looked like shit.

“You look like shit.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Or, well, eye. The other eye was swollen and bruised, probably hurt like hell.

“Thanks for the update,” Steve said.

“Don’t think weed’s gonna fix that,” Eddie said, not looking away from the cuts and scrapes along his cheek. “At least not the kind I have.”

Eddie looked down to see more cuts and bruises along his hands, and most shocking of all, a dull red line along both wrists.

Eddie’s brows raised as he looked back up at Steve.

“You, uh, you good?” He couldn’t help asking.

Anyone would be concerned to see these injuries on anyone, even the guy you definitely don’t like or have a crush on.

“Sure. Is $20 okay today? I can get you more for next time.”

“$20 is fine.”

$20 was technically $5 more than he would normally charge anyone who isn’t an ex-jock, so it’s not like he was doing Steve a favor.

Eddie watched Steve walk away with more questions than answers.

—-----------------

Robin Buckley was sitting next to Steve at the table, kicking her feet and rambling on about who knows what.

Steve wasn’t looking at her, but he could tell he was listening.

“I don’t usually like to be outnumbered, but something tells me I can handle myself if Buckley decides to throw a punch,” Eddie said as he walked towards the table.

Robin suddenly froze and tilted her head.

“Steve, why is Eddie here? You said we were meeting a friend.”

“Is that what we call buying drugs from someone these days?” Eddie laughed. “Times have changed.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn’t quite hide a small smile.

Eddie tried not to feel flustered about making Steve smile.

“Well, I see you more than most people, so I’d say we’re friend-adjunct,” Steve said, handing over the usual $20.

“He means friend-adjacent,” Robin added, not unkindly.

Eddie nodded once.

“Well, if that’s all, your friend has another friend to meet behind the McDonald’s. All good here?”

“All good. Thanks.”

“Anything for a friend,” he winked.

—-------------------

He was pushing Steve against a wall, broken bottle to his neck.

“This doesn’t seem very friendly,” Steve said breathlessly.

Eddie held him there for a moment, then let out a small laugh, slowly releasing his grip.

“I have to be careful about who I consider a friend right now, man,” Eddie said, ignoring Dustin’s confused voice yelling behind him.

“We’re here to help. As friends.”

Steve’s eyes were big, that look that left Eddie wondering how he’d gone from hating him so much to wanting to understand everything about him.

“Not sure if you can help me.”

“We’re gonna.”

Steve sounded so sure. Eddie had no option but to trust him.

—-----------------------

“Hey, Wayne. Anything new today?” Steve’s voice whispered when he entered the room.

Eddie’s eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep.

They’d lowered his dose of pain meds slowly over the last 48 hours and he was barely getting any sleep as he adjusted to the constant aches of the bites.

“He’s tired. Nothin’ new, though. You okay?”

“Yeah. You got a shift?”

“Yep. Should be back by lunch tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

Eddie didn’t know how it happened, but Steve trading shifts with Wayne was an everyday occurrence.

They got to know each other, relaxing more as the days wore on, no end in sight for Eddie’s hospitalization.

“You know, I’m okay alone for a bit,” Eddie said as he opened his eyes.

“Nah, I’d rather be here.”

“Really?”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” He frowned. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

Steve slowly reached over and grasped his hand. 

“Is that all we are?”

Eddie thought back to how he used to dread running into Steve at school, mostly out of his own fear that he would harbor a crush on him. He thought about how he wondered why the boy who seemed untouchable in high school looked so fragile last summer and how he could help. He thought about the guy who didn’t have to risk his life to save him from monsters made sure everyone was safe so he could rescue him.

“I don’t think friends sit in the hospital for days like this,” he finally settled on.

“I don’t think friends have crushes on their friends for years, either.”

If Steve didn’t follow those words with a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, he probably wouldn’t have believed them. 

[captain-marble]

silly thought that i’ve been rotating at might write someday (although knowing me…)

anyways!

someone gets mad and pranks the justice league by releasing clips of their embarrassing moments on tower (nothing that could reveal identities but still embarrassing)

it’s stuff like marvel failing at cooking

batman being sleep deprived and trying to parent different league members (namely marvel)

flash running into walls and things (a lot)

superman being afraid of a shoe and litterally leaping into the air to get away from it. (it was green)

anyways everyone find this hillarious and the members are a lil mortified. But fawcett takes it into their own hands to give marvel food (litterally he has too much food to know what to do with) to the point he ends up like going around sharing it with the homeless kids and stuff

not only that but the league decide to take it into their own hands to teach marvel. cut to videos being released of marvel learning to cook with different leaguers

superman: marv can you pass me a rolling pin? so what you’ve got to do is-

marvel looking at a pot of utensils questioning…. before tentatively holding out a masher: ?

superman: (blinks)

supes probably teaches him how to make apple pie and talk about how if you don’t use the sugar you can use the pie crust to make savoury pies too and blah blah life hack. his parents probably mean he’s the worst offender for trying to shove food or recipes onto marvel

hal and barry prolly teach him how to make like single guy with a shitty job type grind shit that’s like carb loaded and you can just bulk make and store ands got everything you need (cuz they always busy as hell and ain’t rich or anything so don’t got the time or stuff to make tons of food) (it kinda looks like struggle food but yk it gets them through)

hal: so yeah you just dump everything in and if it starts to look radioactive then you know it’s cooked-

billy ‘orphan street rat will eat anything’ batson: damn bitch you live like this? /silly

diana teaches him a greek dish from her childhood that she thinks marvel would feel nostalgic for (i mean billy doesn’t but he remembers eating it in past lives and the thought diana put into it really comforts him)

bruce either a) refuses to teach marvel anything as he himself cannot cook and won’t let the work know that (as all of these cooking videos have been being leaked to the internet who are EATING IT UP like it’s not just fawcett anymore everyone loves cap now becuase you can tell he’s just that authentic cuz his ass does not know these are being filmed) b) cannot cook so it ends up just being a hot mess c) they learn to make a new recipe together d) he has alfred teach him how to make something so he doesn’t embarrass himself e) he teaches marvel how to make struggle food that’s worse than hal and barry’s

marvel: aren’t you funded by a billionaire?

batman: hm

marvel: batman….damn bitch you live like this???????????

everyone just dogs on batman online for like banging bruce wayne (no one believes that the butts match :/ ) and yet still being ass at cooking, like bro is at nuclear levels of damn you live like this with his struggle food

anyways cap finds out about the cooking with cap vids and immediately gets all embarrassed that people know he sucks at cooking, fawcett lay off a little on giving him food now they know that the JL are helping him, but he regularly receives copies of old cook books and someone’s nans favourite recipe and stuff and he’s taking home enough food from the JL to actually eat well and is therefore a lot happier and so the JL are like wow marv really likes cooking, and so at least like once a week (usually more) someone (or sometimes just he will) will cook with him and he’ll take home the left overs (if people eat any otherwise he just takes it all himself (despite him frantically offering the food out to people cuz he feels bad for taking so much))

years later when the identity reveal happens they’re like wow??? this makes so much sense???? i’m so glad we’ve been inadvertently feeding the homeless child??? yippee for him not starving and being more healthy that he would’ve been????

but yeah it’s so silly and i think billy would actually love having the chance to eat foods he’s never had before, especially where he spent so long on the streets that he kinda was forced to like ration and buy cheap food, so like he’s being treated by trying new foods and risking not liking it and stuff

but yeah i just think cap cooking and baking is neat teehee

[lustlovehart]

Caught In Her Web

A/n: I love women

Summary: [Yandere] Dinner never seems to go right with Kafka

Warnings: Toxic date, memory erasure, unwanted touching, unconscious kiss

Her gloved fingers tap against the wooden table, every sound only increasing the tension through the room.

"Hm? Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna eat you dear."

At this rate, you wouldn't doubt if she did take a bite out of you.

"Kafka, quit this, what do you need from me this time?"

"Don't be so heartless [Name], maybe I just wanted to have dinner with my favorite person through the universe's."

"Cut it out."

"I'm not messing with you," her leather covered hands slowly make their way into your own, both palms caging your own in hers as she makes heavy contact into your soul. "Let's just eat shall we?"

You don't reply, only looking hesitantly at your hand covered by her malice.

You knew of the existence of scripts, she never hid information from you. Whatever information she did withhold probably would’ve been stuff you wouldn’t wanna know anyway.

The food laid between you two, the steam floating off it being very visible, yet Kafkas eyes completely overshadow them, rather than being drawn to the appetizers your focus is entirely on her, you don't look into her eyes, but just staring at her gloved hands is enough.

She has that effect on people you assume.

Her left hand plays with your arm, the digits of her limb playful crawling up your skin until they catch onto your chin, forcing you to finally look at her.

"You know darling, it's common coutersy to look at someone when you talk to them is it not?"

"I'm not gonna look at you."

Her fingers quickly release you from her hold, a playful 'hm' leaving her lips as she takes a fork and, somehow, makes stabbing a steak look both violent and elegant at the same time.

"Fine, be that way, the least you could do is let me feed you."

"I doubt you'd give me a choice."

"Hm, you're smart, good," the knife cuts through the meat, her utensil slowly lifting it to your mouth, her lips telling you to say 'ahh'. "Be careful dear, it's hot."

You don't give her the satisfaction of listening to her, despite the heat of the food radiating off of it, you don't blow. You'd rather burn your tongue than make this criminal happy with you.

You were right, your mouth is in so much pain. You try to keep your face neutral, but you can't help letting a little of the pain escape.

"See, I told you it was hot. I just praised you too."

You swallowed, it hurt like hell, but you swallowed. You're sure if it wasn't boiling it would've been delicious, but what's done is done.

"Try to at least enjoy our dinner, this will be the last time I see you for a while"

"Hm, maybe you're right, that does sound like something to celebrate."

"Oh, so you're only witty when it comes to remarks against me?"

"Was that not obvious?"

"You wound me [Name]" she looked down at the food again, instead of giving you more she only sighs and pushes the plate to the side. "Seems the dinner plans fell through. That's okay, Elio saw it coming."

"So even your 'heartfelt' dinner was apart of the script."

"Not all of it, we were just meant to sit at table filled with food, that wasn't apart of the plan."

"So you decided toying with me would be funner?"

"Playing with anyone is enjoyable to me, it's just nicer when it's you." She smiles after her words. Just that, a closed lip smile at you.

You look at the clock she had set up, it felt more like a countdown than a way to keep track of time. 3 hours left, that's too long for you.

"What, so you added your flirtations into this dinner?"

The more you think, 3 hours left till what?

"Hm, I did, is there problem? I don't think I hide my liking towards you."

Your brain can't remember what it was you were waiting for. It's like the memory of what waited for you at the end wasn't there anymore.

"You don't, but I wish you did."

Keep... Date... As long... Possible...

She leans across the table, her lips ghosting over your earlobe, a deep laugh escaping from her throat.

"How will I express my adoration for you then?" Her whisper came out teasing, yet if you looked past that, you can hear her underlying annoyance slip through the cracks. "Perhaps lock you in a golden cage like an innocent bird? Or should I do like a spider and trap you in my web." You sit still, not daring to move.

"Jokes of course, though, I would like for you to stay with me."

Feint words of broken memories invade your head, beating like some painful headache.

"Once this is over, you'll be different. It's sad I won't be able to keep the [Name] I cherish, but it's the price we have to pay for the script. These last moments will be what I'll have left of you, so I hope we can enjoy it together.

The whispers felt familiar, like you've been through it before. Spirit Whsiperer...

"Now, can we please enjoy this last meal of peace before it changes ?"

Your hands grab onto her as you push her to her side of the table. Your breaths were heavy once you remembered the situation the damned clock. Looking back at the time, how could time go by so quickly?

1 hour left.

"Don't try using that shit on me Kafka. It was 3 hours left 10 minutes ago how the hell could that be."

"That's the [Name] I like to see." She doesn't answer you, not a single question. While you frantically shake her.

"I told you myelf, I really do enjoy messing with you." Her hands aren't gloved anymore. The leather long being discarded, her fingers slowly reach up to your cheek pulling you closer to her face.

Her fingers are cold, like a corpse. You don't shiver though. Her touch is the most undisturbing part about her. It's what makes her so horrifying.

"Times up dear." Her thumb ghosts over your lips, gently placing her digit on you. She stand up from her seat, being eye to eye to yourself, her other hand placing itself on your waist, seemingly pulling you closer.

"Boom."

Your vision blacks as your head falls forward, the last thing you remember being the soft feeling of your face resting on her shoulder. Ice cold fingers are left stroking your head as the sound of a door opens.

"At the end of the day," Though you're out cold, deep down she wishes you can feel the way her freezing lips place a chaste kiss on your own. "I'm a selfish woman."

------

A dim light is all your blurred vision can see, the sound of a feint hum ringing through the empty space as well. Your head is rested on what feels to be someone's thighs, whoever it is must be the one rubbing circles into your chest, more specifically, the area where a heart would be.

It's not beating. Your hearts not working.

"You're awake." Your eyes clear as you look up at the woman smiling from above. She's beautiful.

She's familar.

"Do you remember me?"

"..."

She waits.

"Do you like me?"

“I…”

She doesn’t say anymore, only tracing patterns into your skin as she waits, that unwavering smile still on her face. The lights grow darker. You don’t hear a throbbing in your ears, something someone with a heart would hear in distress. You don’t have that anymore. Well, maybe not anymore, you can’t remember if you ever did have one.

“Who are you?”

——

[overlyspecific]

Part 4 of Merlin as Robin Hood

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

The results are in, it was pretty neck and neck so i’ll try to get the other option posted pretty quick here too. This part gets a little dark towards the end so warning for injuries and angst for the future (whats merthur without a little trauma, you cant do hurt/comfort without the hurt).

Gwaine: *carrying a crate of fresh apples into the small clearing they’ve made into a hideout* I just don’t get it. Why would he risk getting captured just to see someone who would run him through first chance he got?

Lancelot: *smiling a little to himself* Oh, you don’t know the first thing about it, friend. You should have seen them when Merlin worked as his manservant. He would spend all night saving the castle with magic just to yelled at all morning by Arthur because he forgot to polish one piece of armor.

Gwaine: *he takes a seat on his makeshift hammock and takes a swig from his suspiciously ale-smelling water skin* I just don’t get why he cares so much about him. We do good work here stealing from rich douchebags and giving to people in need. I dont see what is so different about Arthur, isnt he the worst of the worst for rich douchebags? Merlin himself calls him a prat.

Lancelot: oh I see whats going on…

Gwaine: what?

Lancelot: You’re jealous.

Gwaine: No, I’m not. Look, Merlin’s great. I just don’t like him risking everything for someone who has proven they wont do the same.

Lancelot: and what? you would be better for him?

Gwaine: I could be, at least I wouldnt toss him out to fend for himself in the woods all alone.

Merlin: *returning from his forest meeting with Arthur catching the tail end of the conversation* Gwaine, I appreciate the sentiment, but no offense you werent there and *turning to lancelot* neither were you Lance. You don’t know what went down or the hard choices we ALL had to make. so respectfully butt out of it.

Gwaine and Lancelot: *feeling guilty for getting caught* sorry merls

Merlin: its alright. Let’s just take stock of everything we got so we can distribute it-

Merlin is cut off by a yell in the woods and they all go quiet.

Lancelot: Merlin, your magic is still in place, right? No one should be able to find us.

Merlin: Yes, no one can find us unless we allow them to. Stay here, it’s probably just a lost traveller.

Gwaine: No, you shouldnt go alone. We’ll go with you.

Merlin: If its a traveller by themself then it will be better to go alone to not spook them. I have my magic to back me up and i’ll shout if they are injured or need help. Stay here.

Merlin walks into the woods alone out of the magical safety of the hideout.

Gwaine: I dont have a good feeling about this…

Meanwhile in the woods, Gwen is searching desperately around the area largely covered by trees that look the exact same.

Gwen: *to herself* c’mon gwen focus! Did he say the trees with the fruit above or below the leaves?

Merlin: *appearing from the woods like the forest druid he is at heart* I actually said the trees with the blue berries and white blossoms. I think below the leaves means they are safe to eat.

Gwen: *running to Merlin and throwing her arms around him desperately* Merlin!

Merlin: *from inside gwen’s tight bear hug* As much as I appreciate the hug, do you want to tell me why you are in the woods alone trying to find me?

Gwen: *releasing Merlin from her death grip* Merlin, you are in danger! I came from the castle as quick as I could to warn you-

Merlin: Gwen! Gwen! It’s okay! I just got away from the knights, I’m fine. Better than fine actually. Arthur saved my life…

Gwen: *trying to get a word in but Merlin has started excitedly rambling about Arthur* No, Merlin. Listen to me.

Merlin:…and the way he looked at the knight that tried to kill me, Gwen, it was like he wanted to murder HIM. Can you believe it?

Gwen: Merlin!

Merlin: *Finally realizing something isn’t right and looking around the forest* Wait, we aren’t alone.

Gwen: That’s what i’ve been trying to tell you, Merlin! The king sent Arthur as a distraction. Arthur doesn’t even know. Uther hired a witchfinder with a really powerful magical tracking amulet. You’re the biggest magical target in the vicinity. Its going to lead them right to you! You have to run, get as far as you can!

Merlin: Gwen, I cant leave Arthur. He’ll die without me.

Gwen: He’ll die if you die. You have to go!

Merlin: Fine, but I’m scrying everyday to make sure he’s-

Merlin is cut off by an arrow plunging its way into his side. He falls onto Gwen who tries to keep him standing.

Merlin: Gwen, get out of here! Find Lance and Gwaine, they’re just beyond those trees. They wont find you there. You cant be caught with me.

Gwen: Merlin!

Merlin: Gwen, go!

Gwen takes off into the woods in the direction of the hideout. Merlin falls to his knees and calls his magic up but his eyes only flicker gold for a second before dimming. Collapsing all the way to the ground, Merlin sees black boots approach him from in front of him. Merlin doesnt have the strength to raise his head but he knows if he did, he would be met with the satisfied face of the witchfinder.

Witchfinder: So you’re the great and powerful Emrys, huh? I thought you’d be harder to find.

Merlin feels one of the black boots make contact with his injured side and everything goes black.

Sorry to leave you all on a cliffhanger but I had to do it. Next part will be a flashback to the magic reveal and then we’ll see how Merlin Hood gets out of this sticky situation.

[portgasdwrld]

Strawhat reactions to a chiropractor or massage therapist joining their crew? (Sfw) I know they get injured and could use it.

I love those random ideas lately 😭helps me out if my writer block💕

📂Strawhat + chiropractor/massage therapist reader joining their crew

Mostly them reacting to you proposing them a session

Luffy

He’s so fucking excited. He’s jumping everywhere, begging to be your first client. He’s already laying down in your office to have his body cracked, but then you realize as you do it that his body is literally made of rubber and it’s impossible for you to work on him. When you tell him the news, he’s whining and tells you to try again😭 He’s all pouty so you decide to massage him and that put him out to sleep real quick. He went from sulking to sleeping. When he woke up, he commented about how good this was and truly he never felt this alive in a while.

Zoro

He would totally refuse at first and complain about how he doesn’t need it and how he only needs to rest a little (a good nap), and he will be fine. But then you actually try to convince him to do it, as you saw how much his body had to go through with his training, the battles, his poor sleep position… He finally agrees only after Chopper tells him how it can better his performance and make him feel more relaxed. He barely admits that it did in fact made him feel better, but now he jumps to the occasion whenever you propose it 🚶🏻‍♀️

Nami & Robin

The girls are so freaking happy especially Nami. She pretty much asks you for a session whenever she feels sore after working hard on maps or when she had to fight. She chats to you about life and tell you some gossips. She loves to make conversation and treat it a bit like a spa day.

Robin was down to try it, but she usually use her devil fruit if she feels sore somewhere and need to release some built up tension, because of stress or battles. Basically, she never needed someone for that, but after Nami told her how amazing you were, she gave it a try. She’s mostly silent and take this time to relax her body and empty her thoughts.

Usopp

He’s a bit scared at first because he heard some people talk about horror stories at the chiropractor. He heard some people got their bones cracked with no going back to normal or how some doctor were secretly psychopath 💀💀💀 To say the least, he really didn’t see the appeal to risk his life like this 😔 If you poke fun at his ego, he might do it just to prove it to you that he isn’t scared (his legs are shaking the moment he enters your office). He has difficulty relaxing which put you off , You have to wait for couple minutes, make him sips some relaxing tea. When it finally happens, he’s bragging about how cool it is and how everyone should do it🙄 there is legit nothing to be scared off pfff???

Sanji

I don’t know why, but I get the feel Sanji would somewhat be shy 😭 When you ask him if he wanna have a session to help with his stress, he would just look at you like 😳?? He would try to make analogy to food, like it’s a bit like how he hit(?) the meat before cooking it so it’s tender, but in that case it’s gonna make him relaxed. You kinda just stare and nod because whut 😭 He honestly could use it with all the cooking he does and the fights. He loved it but he got flustered a lot. He was red-shy when he left 🚶🏻‍♀️

Brook

He’s a skeleton.

Franky

Finally FRANKYYY, this man was BORN for this. He is so excited and is so talkative. He asks you when you started and why did it became your profession. He pretty much tell you to only focus on the back of his body because it’s less solid than the rest of his cyborg body. So you went in for a massage and he’s really vocal through it. As it ends, he tells you he’s happy you joined and he will be a regular which makes you laugh because you two are literally on the same boat lol 😭