#you know if you sit and reread the whole thing at once

[kalpalatas]

hirano took that to heart lmao

[waynes-multiverse]

Hi, I first wanted to say that I’m a big fan of your work, I’m constantly rereading your fics and they have really helped me escape from my busy Uni schedule. I was hoping you could write some smutty head canons about dean, no pressure ofc. I hope you enjoy your day and thank you for taking the time to create and post fics for people like me who need a way to escape their hectic lives.💕

Aww, thank you so much, lovely! I gladly support the escapism 🥰

Sorry this took me so long! I was on a bit of a break there, but I was so excited to get into this. God knows I have so many headcanons 😆

Hope you’re doing well and hope you enjoy this 🤍

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18 for some smutty content (duh)

Main Masterlist || Tag List

Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean

Dean is very hands-on, which means he’ll touch you whenever he can, even if it’s just a hand on the small of your back while you’re pumping gas or walking into a bar.

This also means he takes PDA to a whole new level. He teases you under the table when you’re doing research in the library or eating in the kitchen. He weaves his arms around you when you’re doing dishes. He trails kisses down your neck while you’re cooking.

Especially while you’re cooking. Something about food just turns him on. So much so that every once in a while he stands in front of your door with some whipped cream, chocolate sauce, a cute wiggle of his eyebrows, and a giant grin, begging you to be his dessert.

Sam is mostly annoyed by his brother’s indiscretions, though. Too many times (almost every damn day) Dean has walked into the kitchen in nothing but his gray robe and announced his morning wood to you, not seeing Sam sitting in the corner. That’s when Sam usually folds his paper, takes his coffee, and hurries to the library before Dean’s hands find their way to your body once more.

Sam suffers the most, however, if there’s only one motel room available and the three of you have to share. Dean has zero self-control (and also doesn’t care what Sam sees or doesn’t see). While he cuddles you, he holds you so close to his body that it’s hard to breathe. And again, hands and lips – they wander. Constantly. The man doesn’t possess an off-switch.

It got so bad that Sam has established a rule that the two of you are not allowed to share a bed anymore and Dean has to take the couch for the night. But as soon as his little brother has dozed off, he crawls right back into the warm comfort of your bed.

Speaking of rules, Dean loves breaking them. If there’s a sign that says “Do not enter,” you can be sure as hell he’ll shove you in there and will enter you. For Dean, there’s no such thing as bad timing or an inappropriate place. He even breaks rules that don’t exist and are just common sense like, “Do not have sex in a museum while you’re breaking into said museum.”

And while he loves breaking rules, he also loves following them. Especially when it’s “sexy rules.” He loves when you playfully push him around, when you shove him backwards onto the mattress and tell him what to do. He will smirk at you giddily all the way through and be the best damn boy you’ve ever seen.

Overall, he’s curious about your fantasies and constantly asks you want you want to do. He enjoys it when you take the lead in the bedroom and loves to see what you come up with. He loves being underneath you and watch you ride him with his bottom lip tugged behind his teeth. It barely hides his huge grin. He loves to see your tits bounce from this angle. According to him, it’s the best goddamn view in the world – forget the Grand Canyon.

However, when he’s had a bad day or a rough hunt, he actually likes to be in charge. It all depends on his mood. But taking control of you helps him cope with the things he can’t control in this world. So whenever he comes home with tense shoulders and a tightly creased brow, you know you’re in for a treat.

When he orders you around with his deep voice and sharp tone, you melt into a puddle and only all too happily oblige to his every command. Your legs grow weak when he dominates you with just a look. God, he loves the way you whimper and squirm underneath him, loves how you moan his name when you’re on all fours in front of him, and loves how your lips feel around his cock when you suck him off.

You love to give him comfort in whatever form he pleases. And Dean loves that you trust him with all your heart – and he knows to never betray it. He will always respect your limits, even though he gently pokes them sometimes, testing how far he actually can go.

Sometimes he bends rules like he bends you.

And truth is, he can go pretty fucking far. There’s not much you won’t let this man do. His dirty mouth can convince you to do all kinds of things – things you would for sure refuse if anyone else was asking. But it’s Dean, and one look of his sparkling green eyes will have you on your knees for him.

But honestly, Dean is the same kind of whipped for you, too. He will do anything for you, short of moving actual mountains. Massages, hot baths, ice cream at midnight? He’s got you covered and doesn’t expect anything in return, except for your unconditional love. He’s got it either way, but you do have to reassure him sometimes.

Dean’s a giver, not a taker, so you do have to force him sometimes to ask for the things he wants. But boy, when he gives, he goddamn gives with both of his massive hands. After he’s done with you, there’s not a single inch of skin left on your body that hasn’t been worshipped. You always come first – literally.

Dean takes pride in making you cum, and it doesn’t matter with which body part of his he does it. They are all equally skilled – his fingers, his lips, his tongue, and his dick. He eats you out and fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, because you both know in a life full of monsters, there actually might not be one. He makes every night and every day count.

Then, there’s his mouth. It should be no surprise, but it’s goddamn filthy. He could make you come with words alone, and not rarely, he sure likes to try. A lot of times it’s stuff you haven’t even heard, dreamed, or thought about until Dean’s said it and put it in your goddamn head.

And yes, Dean’s very sexual and a great lover through and through. He enjoys sex, but most of all, he enjoys going to sleep and waking up next to you. He loves cuddling with you on the couch during a movie, he loves holding you close at night, and he loves that special moment when you’re both coming down from your highs and are still connected, bathing in the afterglow.

Dean has been so touch-starved all his life that he enjoys the little things. He loves when your fingernails caress his back and massage his scalp. He loves using you as his freaking pillow. At this point, you’ve learned not to drink too much water before bed, because you know you won’t be able to escape his prison of strong arms – not that you’d ever want to (unless you really do have to pee).

I honestly could've went on and on and on with this one... 😂

MORE HEADCANONS? 👉 Put 'em here.

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @snowayumi

[dustisus]

more hints about Jeremy's possible backstory in tsc I have not seen people mention

so i'm rereading tsc in preparation for tgr and am listing some things i think could be hinting at jeremy's backstory. other people have already made good lists but here are some things i have not seen talked about yet:

"Knowing Bryson was home had Jeremy slipping out the side door. [...] Jeremy would rather leave his keys than risk a confrontation this early in the morning. He was far too tired and sore to put himself through that." (p58) +

"Jeremy asked, 'Do you feel safe with him there?' 'He's my brother,' Lucas said. 'That's not what I asked, Lucas.' (p120) This quote could just stem from emotional intelligence and secondhand knowledge about abuse, and the last quote about him being too tired and sore to confront Bryson could just mean that he doesn't have the energy to confront him verbally. But I think this could mean that Jeremy knows from experience that you are not always safe with family, and the reason that he makes a point of being too sore to confront Bryson could be that he is to sore to fight him. I think Bryson could be physically abusive. The butler also knows to warn Jeremy about Bryson's whereabouts, so it's no secret that they do not get along at least.

"(Annalise) insisted on keeping her own place on the other side of the city year-round." (p118) Jeremy is not allowed to move out but Annalise is. I think we've all kind of figured out that Jeremy has a different relationship to his parents than his siblings do but this is just a clear example of Jeremy's limitations of freedom being just his own, and not equally enforced on the whole family.

Speaking of Annalise, she treats Jeremy very strangely in the scene they have together. Jeremy is sitting and reading rumors about EAU, the Ravens, and Jean on his phone when Annalise comes into the room, and "Jeremy immediately tucked his phone into his pocket and went to meet her at the front door [...] he held the door for her." (p118) Annalise hints at the scandal in his past, and then "He followed her out to her car, but Annalise made him wait as she dug lip balm out of his purse." (p118) Once she has applied her lip balm and insulted him some more, she says "'Door.'" (p118), "He got her car door open, jaw working on arguments that would always ring too hollow. Annalise got into the driver's seat and motioned an okay to him as soon as her legs were out of the way. Jeremy pushed her door closed and took a step back." (pp118-119). If Jeremy had a more seemingly normal relationship with his family I would just read this as him following her out to her car, but as is I think this just reads as Annalise treating Jeremy as some sort of servant. Weird dynamic either way.

Later, Jeremy is talking to Jean about Kevin and says "Oh, to be the pampered elite." (p128) This just caught me off guard because to an outsider, Jeremy would certainly seem as part of the pampered elite. His family has a butler. Only reason I can see him saying this is if he does not see himself as part of the pampered elite.

During these passages when he is at home is when he most frequently thinks about confronting his family, something he has discussed with his therapist. But when Annalise has insulted him and said he's ruined the family in the scene where he acts as her doorman, he thinks "arguments that would always ring too hollow." (p118) Either this is something about Jeremy's skewed perception of how much he is to blame for whatever 'broke their family', which causes him not to be able to form cohesive arguments about why they are incorrectly blaming him, or whatever arguments he could make are actually hollow because whatever he did is not justifiable.

Annalise also says "'Overdue for a new scandal, hm?' she asked. 'End the way you started.'" (p118) This could just mean that the scandal was at the start of his NCAA Exy career, but it could also mean that the scandal was what started it, or started his relative fame as a NCAA big three team captain.

idk i've read some very intriguing theories on here so i just thought i should add some material to those of you who can shape it into theories

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 008 ! accidental but pretty intentional

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note halfway point! i love this smau w my heart but i rlly wanna start a new one ☹️ this ep tho was so rushed bc i have hella hw uh oh

previous <> masterlist <> next

‘can we talk? meet me at the rooftop garden’

hanni reread out loud, constantly going over the text displayed on your phone as you stared blankly at danielle.

“what am i supposed to do?” you let out a groan, falling down to lay flat on the floor of the practice room.

“finish practice then meet him. duh. easy as that.” hyein replied as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“yeah, no shit. but i mean, what am i supposed to say to him? we haven’t spoken in over a week since it happened. plus we have music bank tomorrow.” you mumble in response.

“then you have to figure it out before tomorrow.” danielle encouraged as she pulled you up off the floor. she straightened out a few loose strands of your hair, before cupping your cheeks. “come one. one more hour!”

65 minutes had passed, and you found yourself taking the stairs up to the rooftop. when you stepped out onto the concrete, riki was already sitting on a bench, waiting.

“riki?” you softly called out to get his attention. “hey y/n.” he smiled, before gesturing to the spot next to him.

“so.. what’s going on?” you asked, reaching out for his hand. riki gently intertwined your fingers as he turned to face you.

“i’m sorry. for everything. the cafe was my idea. we shouldn’t have gone somewhere public, and now i’ve dragged you into this whole controversy.” he let out all at once, running a hand through his hair.

his face was just as tired as yours, but his eyes remained puffier than ever. you noticed it as you examined his face when you first sat down. the dating scandal had a huge impact. clearly, the feeling was mutual.

“oh, my poor riki..” you pouted. “hey, it’s not your fault. i’m just as involved as you are. none of this is on you. if anything, it’s that barista’s fault for exposing us.” you grimaced as you thought back to her post.

“i guess youre right. yn, you always know how to make me feel better.” he joked, lightly nudging your shoulder.

“guess it’s my specialty. i wish we could go out again though.”

“next time. when you’re officially mine and we can tell the world, that’s when i’ll take you out to a nice restaurant.” riki smiled widely.

“can’t take me out if your laces are untied.” you chuckled, gesturing to his sneakers.

“oh? i didn’t realize. i’ll tie it later.” he waved it off.

the two of you stayed up there for about two more hours, talking and catching up on everything you missed out on before, riki decided it was time to go back.

“let’s go? we can drive back together.” he suggested.

“i think we should go separately, just to be safe, since it’s not over yet. besides, i brought my car, so i cant leave it here.” you replied, feeling slightly guilty.

“yeah, no problem.” riki nodded, but you could tell he was still disappointed.

you stood up, walking towards the stairwell as riki followed from behind. you stepped about 20 paces before you felt yourself crashing down onto the concrete.

riki had ‘tripped’ over his shoelaces, before he ‘accidentally’ fell onto you. you felt him grip onto your waist before you both rolled over onto the floor, which just so happened to end up with his lips on top of yours.

you gently pushed him off with a groan due to the impact from the fall (and the uncomfortable position).

he let out a pathetic apology as you winced once he realized his left elbow was digging into your stomach. there was definitely going to be a bruise. or so you thought. but it was still quite painful.

“sorry.” riki said with a smug look. you squinted at him as you read his expression. he was sorry, for hurting you. not for kissing you.

you stared blankly at him, before standing back up, to grab your fallen belongings. “i’m just.. i have to go.” you muttered, not looking back at him as you hurried down the stairs.

he remained on the floor where you left him, thinking about whether he went too far or not.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @chaevibes @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae @iheartshopping @istphanie @queenriki7 @academiq @1117promises @nctislifue @haechansbbg @rairaiblog @nabia-bia @pkjay @lixiebokie @hiekoo @r1kizerr @d-dilemma @kingofthekards @iilwji @hoonatic @woorcve @enhaz1

[kinopio-writes]

Hello! Could you write platonic Dad!Adam headcanons? Thank you,

A/N: Lol. Don’t expect too much out of this guy because…it’s Adam. Heavily focused on him rather than the reader, sorry. Also, I might have gone a little overboard with this one because, uh, this was supposed to be only headcanons as you said, and the not-requested ‘drabble’ ended up being a few scenarios with a one-on-one convo with Adam and Sera at the end. 3rd POV and the reader is referred to as they/it, btw. Enjoy.

Holy sh!t I reread your request again and I don’t know if you meant that the reader is supposed to be the child or fuuuuuuuu—tell me if that’s not what you wanted, I had fun writing this nonetheless.

Words: 727 (not including the bullet points, edited)

Warnings: Very vulgar language, Sex is mentioned, Adam being Adam

———

How Adam would be as a Father (Reader is the child)

• first things first, the only way I can see Adam become a dad was because he accidentally impregnated a chick when she fucking swore that, oh, no, Adam, I’m on birth control. Oh, don’t worry, Adam, you don’t have to finish in my mouth. Oh, no need, Adam, I’ve got it covered. Oh, it’s okay, Adam—yes, this is Adam mocking her

• so imagine his surprise when he found a fucking child at his doorstep crying like a little bitch

• “What the fuck?” was his first reaction

• he’d find a note that said something-something about oh who gives a fuck about her and her sob story about having to leave the child in his care?

• what mattered was—“THAT FUCKING BITCH LIED TO ME!”

• after that whole ordeal, he would sit in his gigantic ass living room, slumping on his couch with arms crossed and grumbling complaints as if he was the child

• the first few weeks he would really just let someone else take care of the kid

• Lute would be the caretaker most of the time since she’s around Adam a lot

• the problem was that she’s an exterminator

• her purpose was to kill sinners and she certainly didn’t have babysitting on her list of skills

• so eventually, the responsibilities would fall back on Adam

• of course, he had attempted to get in contact with the woman

• he came back with nothing

• wait, nothing? Holy shit, he left the baby—

• and, if you’re wondering, I don’t think Heaven has adoption centers or whatnot because everyone is responsible when they’re thinking of having a child

• but, hey, how hard would looking after a child would be?

• probably accidentally dropped the kid once before

• will get mad that he can’t do his guitar solos because they would start to cry even louder

• has probably nearly suffocated it by leaving a pillow in their crib

• doesn’t know how to hold it properly

• eventually got it right by observing some of Heaven’s residents

• thinks he’s the best dad because of it

• speaking of residents, they most likely don’t know that the first man has a child

• dude, you really think he’d be caught dead with a kid?

• nuh-uh

• sometimes forgets he has a kid

• have left it in his—I headcanon—condominium completely unattended sometimes

• so, uh, yeah…not looking good for Adam here

let’s get on with the scenarios, shall we?

———

Adam covered his ears with his silk pillows, trying to muffle the sounds of that brat’s whining.

“Ugh! Shut up, Shut up!” Of course, it didn’t shut up.

He banged his head on the pillow repeatedly, swearing he was going to fucking throw this fucking child off the fuCKING BALCONY IF IT DOESN’T SHUT UP—

He had enough and went over to the crib in the corner of his bedroom, snarling. “Y’know, since your mommy was such a quiet whore you’d expect the brat to act the same. She should’ve been honored that she even got my dick. Mine. And this is how she fucking repays me?” The child in question looked up at their father, their cries coming to an eventual stop as he rambled on and on. “Finally.”

The moment he left their sight, however, they started to cry once more.

“OH MY GOD—”

———

Adam arrived home tired as shit balls.

“Not fucking now, bitch,” he dismissed when they reached for him from their place in the crib as he flopped himself on his king-sized bed. At least it wasn’t crying. Rather, it was babbling and flailing its hands and feet. While it was a nice change, it was still annoying to listen to.

Eventually, he decided to shut it up and lazily dragged himself over to the crib, picking it up in his hands and setting it near his shoulder.

“Ugh, there there. Or whatever.” He idly patted the child’s back, plopping back on his bed.

Surprisingly, the kid soon fell asleep without further complaints, nuzzling into their father’s comfortable robe.

Ugh, rude. It fell asleep before he could bitch about his day as he usually did. Instead, he grumbled his own day to himself, his eyelids growing heavy as time passed by.

Adam later dozed off with the baby in his arms, snoring loudly as his wings wrapped around him and the child in his seldom peaceful slumber.

��——

The living room was dark. Heaven’s natural light poured through his open windows and the TV played a movie that was most definitely not suited for young audiences. At least it wasn’t anything sexual. Heaven forbid.

In the midst of the oddly serene environment that is Adam’s residence, holy light flashed from beside his couch and the tall figure of Sera appeared. Adam instantly turned the TV off.

“Adam, pardon my intrusion. You still haven’t submitted your forms and they were due yesterday—” Sera interrupted herself when her eyes landed on the baby next to the first man.

“Sera, what gives? Can’t you see I’m busy? Where’s your sense of privacy? Jeez.”

“Adam, is that a child?” she asked rather accusatorily.

“Ugh, yeah, so what?”

“I didn’t think you would—where’s your wife?” She brushed her hair back behind her shoulder, her brows furrowed. “Um, I figured that after Lilith and Eve—”

“Pshh, you’d think this guy would settle down for anyone? Puh-lease. Imagine a world where you can’t fuck the original dick. Worse than any nightmare you could ever dream of.” Adam averted his gaze as his shoulders tensed up.

“So you care for this child alone? By yourself?” Sera looked more worried than ever, which Adam instantly latched on to.

“Are you doubting me? I started humankind—I know what I’m doing.” He settled his arms on the headrest, legs raising to rest on the coffee table as he gave a lazy shrug.

“How long have you kept this child?”

“What’s with all the questions? Uh, I dunno, more than two months, I guess?”

“What is its name?”

“Oh, uh…” Shit. He didn’t really think about that. He only kept calling it ‘kid’ or ‘brat’. “Adam Jr!” he blurted out the first thing that went through his mind. “Yeah, that’s right, everyone would immediately know that this kid is from me, Adam.”

Sera only narrowed her eyes. “Very well. I’m surprised you managed to keep this hidden from me. The child—”

“Adam Jr.”

“…Adam Jr. seems to be doing fine in your hands. But raising a child is no easy feat, Adam.” She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes momentarily. “We will have our discussion regarding your work tomorrow. Have a good night.”

As the seraphim was engulfed with holy light once more, vanishing as quickly as she came, Adam was left to think if the hassle was really worth this brat.

[dimonds456-art]

Chapter 1: The Mystery of the Missing Brother

Also under the cut for y'all without an AO3

Enjoy, leave me notes to give me powers

Summertime in New Jersey was meant to be spent outside. There were the beaches, the boardwalks, the sun, the trees to climb, the ice cream to eat- sitting inside doing nothing was eating Stanford alive. Typically, he'd prefer to be inside rather than out, but today itself wasn't typical. It wasn't a normal day and he couldn't keep still. He wanted to be doing something, but he wasn't sure WHAT to do. 

Typically, when he was inside, he could just read. He had plenty of fantasy books to get through. The thing was, though, that he'd tried that already, but he couldn't focus on the words. They kept fading into the background as worry overcame him instead. He wasn't even sure what was happening in the book anymore, despite having to reread paragraphs multiple times. He was pretty sure there was a chameleon? That was about it.

He was supposed to be back by now. Ma had said he'd be back before Ford knew it. So where was he?

Ford heard the grandfather clock in the house strike noon, and with a flurry of motion, he slammed the book closed beside him on the floor and sprang to his feet- out the door, through the hall, and over to the table their Ma always sat at when giving people fortunes. She was currently on the phone with someone, twirling the cord between her fingers. 

As soon as she saw Ford enter the room, her posture changed. She went from relaxed and casual to tense. She looked away quickly, grabbing at the cord while her foot bounced. Her tone remained exactly the same, and she tried to remain in the same casual, laid-back pose Ford had found her in, but one more glance at him had her stiffening.

Ford stopped, waiting for her to finish. He knew better than to interrupt her, despite the rolling anxiety doing flips in his chest. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers at the sleeves on his jacket as he studied the floor. 

Wood. Dark oak, maybe? No, that'd be too fancy. Maybe he could ask Ma? Well not right now but at some point later? Maybe? He heard somewhere once that you could tell how long a tree lived based on the rings it had, so would he be able to figure out how old their flooring was? Maybe he could figure out the exact birthday of the trees themselves, wouldn't THAT be something? 

"Yes, I predict your date will be much better now," Ma said into the receiver. "Good day to you." She reached over and set the phone down with a little click! before turning to Ford. "Stanford, did you need something, hon?"

"Yeah." Ford grabbed at his sleeves. "You said Stanley would be back soon," he exclaimed. "It's noon, Ma, and he's still not here! Where is he?"

Ma took in a deep breath, looking away. "I… I'm sorry, Stanford. Stanleys not here. He's…" She trailed off. 

"What? He's what?" The anxiety was only climbing. She knew something, didn't she? Why wasn't she telling him?

Last night, she'd told Ford that Stanley was going off with a friend to make Ford a surprise, and that he'd be back early this morning. When Ford had woken up and Stanley wasn't there, he'd initially assumed his brother was playing hide and seek to scare him or something. But then Ford couldn't find him. He'd searched the whole house, and nothing. Ma said he just needed extra time. How much time did he need?

Ma sighed. "I needed to try and find some way to tell you. He's… Stanley's not coming home."

Ford blinked up at her. "WHAT?!" Did he run off with that new best friend he has, apparently?? Did he get stuck in a sewer somewhere? Fall out of a tree? Did someone come and take him away? Did he get kidnapped by a time traveler?!

"I know, I know, I shoulda told you before," Ma continued. She looked… sad. She wouldn't look at Ford, instead opting to examine a picture on the wall. Well, a picture frame. It was empty now. "He's not coming home and I didn't know how to tell ya." She paused, then took a deep breath. "Stanford, your brother-"

"Ran away." Heavy footsteps entered the room. Ford turned to look as his father stepped through the doorway. He was still wearing those glasses of his, dressed up nice for the shop. His stern expression hadn't changed at all- he could have been telling them it was storming outside, the neighbors came to visit, or that they got a new puppy and that face never changed. "He left last night."

"No…" Ford shook his head. "No, that's not true! If he was gonna run away, he would have told me about it." He balled his hands into fists, swinging them up and down anxiously. "We'd have gone together!"

Pa didn't react aside from tilting his head down a bit more to look at his son. "Well maybe he got tired of always sticking up for you." 

Ford shrunk back in on himself, subconsciously tucking his fingers away under his arms in a self-hug. 

"Filbrick!" Ma shot him a glare. 

Without a word, the man turned and walked back out of the room, footsteps retreating down the hall. Ma moved to stand, but a sharp ringing gave her pause. The phone's shrill cry was loud, but Ma ignored it. She pushed herself up and stormed after her husband instead. Ford watched as his mom passed, watching her with wide eyes.

"Filbrick Pines, you do not get to talk about our little boy like that!"

"He's not our kid anymore, Caryn." 

"That's not true."

"Not our problem anymore, either." 

"Filbrick!"

That was it. Ford spun around and bolted back to their room. Not his. It would always be their room. Unless…? 

No. No, it didn't make sense. Stanley wouldn't just run away without saying anything! That didn't sound like him at all! 

Ford slammed the door, stomping over to the bed and throwing himself on the bottom bunk- Stan's bunk. It was neat- the pillow was fluffed and where it was supposed to go, the blankets were made, and most of the toys had been cleaned off of it. Stan almost never cleaned his bed, and he certainly wouldn't have fluffed the pillow. Ford grabbed at it, burying his face in the fabric. He looped his arms around it so it covered his face, then grabbed at his hair instead.

"Not true," he grumbled to himself, muffled by the pillow. "He wouldn't just disappear like that. He wouldn't!"

He groaned. This wasn't helping. He had to think this through.

Pushing himself up, he moved his hands under his glasses to run them down his face. "Okay. Okay, logic. Stanley got a bad grade in school, and Pa yelled at him for it. Grounded him. He was sent outside to wash the windows all weekend, and I wasn't allowed to help him."

He began to pace, making his way around the room as he rambled aloud to himself. He'd found that speaking like this helped him get his thoughts in order, especially if he was overthinking something. Stan always told him to talk through it, and it seemed to help. Made the thoughts more real- and if they were real, they could be studied. Made it easier to see which were more likely. 

Now, he walked circles around the cluttered room, eyes scanning their shared collection warily. "Pa didn't say why- he never does, why would he now- and then…" he stopped. "Maybe he's mad at Pa? So he ran off to make him feel bad?" That had some logic to it, but Stan had been mad at their father before and he'd never done anything like this. It didn't really seem like something he'd do. 

"Or," Ford began, circling again, "he was washing the windows and that friend Ma mentioned came by and distracted him, and he got in trouble, so when he was given more work, he decided running away was easier." That was more like Stan. He was usually quick to drop responsibilities or take shortcuts, and without Ford there to stop him, he probably got carried away.

"Or maybe," Ford continued, holding up a finger, "someone saw him in the window and thought he was for sale, and when they went to buy him he ran away! Then Pa saw him running and he thought Stan just ran away." He snapped his fingers, as if he were really onto something here. "Then, he got taken by a griffin!" 

Yeah. Logical. 

Ford sighed, pausing his pacing to push the butts of his palms into his eyes. This wasn't helping. "It doesn't matter," he reasoned. "Stan's gone. He's gone and that's that. It doesn't matter how it happened, right?" He stopped, eyebrows raising. He looked up, eyeing the singular backpack hanging on the wall. Stan's was missing. 

Ford dashed over to the spot, grabbing his own backpack and unzipping it. It was full of school supplies and books, including the sequel to the book he was reading now (in case he finished early), a different book (in case he couldn't focus on this one), that book's sequel (what if that one was more interesting or easy to read? Can't be too careful), and a notebook. 

Quickly, he dumped everything out as cleanly as he could on the bed. He made sure the books landed upright with no damage to the pages, but that was about as far as caution went. He rifled through it, looking for a note or anything out of place. Paper, paper, homework, pencils, pen, pencil-stabbed erasers- nothing out of the ordinary. 

Fine, then. If Stan didn't leave him a note, he'd write one of his own.

He ripped out a piece of notebook paper and grabbed one of his pens- a sharpie. Old reliable, honestly. He'd used that pen more than Stan chewed on his pencils, and considering that half the trashcan in the corner was full of broken writing utensils, that was saying a lot.

"He wouldn't wanna do this alone," Ford reasoned to himself as he wrote. "So he must be waiting for me somewhere. And I'm gonna find him."

Mind made up, Ford rushed around the room. He grabbed his notebook and all his pencils and pens again, stuffing them in his bag. Sadly, he bid goodbye to his books. He could always find them again in a different library, anyway. Instead, his backpack was to be filled with only the essentials.

He opened their clothes drawer to find more things missing- Stan's favorite shirt, a pair of shorts, some socks, and underwear were all gone. Ford grabbed his own favorites, giving himself an extra change of clothes in case he needed it. 

From there, he sat down. What would he need out there? He had clothes, he had shoes, he had notebooks, uhh…

Tools! 

He knew his father had tools in the house somewhere, and he also knew that the guy never actually used them. Unless Stanley broke something, there was never any need, and, well, that wasn't happening any time soon, it seemed. So he wouldn't even notice. Yeah. 

Ford quietly opened the door. He could still hear his parents down the hall, and quickly shut out whatever they were on about. He didn't wanna hear it.  Besides, he had a mission. He gently lowered a foot forward, and when a bomb didn't go off, he took another step, then another, then another. Slowly, he crept down the hall towards the stairs.

Before he got there, though, he passed the bathroom. He paused, looking in the open door. Of course. Toothbrush. 

He pushed the door open all the way before shutting it again. He grabbed his toothbrush (noticing again that Stanley's was missing, which was… weird. Did Stan take it with him?), toothpaste, and a hairbrush. Before turning back around, though, a thought occurred to him. They were gonna be outside, and they were gonna get hurt a lot. Ma always kept the band-aids nearby, and when Ford opened the cabinet under the sink, sure enough, there was a box right there.

He tucked it into his backpack and began picking his way closer and down the stairs once again. 

Now on the bottom floor, Ford worried less about making noise. For all his father knew, he was just a customer wandering the display cases. He quickly made his way over to the office, where he knew the toolbox was. Sure enough, tucked onto a shelf, was the last thing he needed before they left. 

Reaching in, Ford quickly grabbed out a hammer, a screwdriver, and a flashlight. Hammers were good for hitting stuff, screwdrivers could be used like a pick, and flashlights were always good to have. The other tools didn't seem as important. What could they use a tape measure for? Not much, he thought.

Was that everything? Ford closed the door to his father's office behind him as he mulled the question over. He tried to picture himself and Stanley, roughing it out on the open road with nothing but their backpacks and each other. He was pretty sure Stan knew how to light a fire (he'd been near them enough for some of them to be his doing, right?), so from there they'd just needed… uhh…

Oh, right. Ford smacked himself in the forehead. Food. 

Quietly, he crept back upstairs. His parents were still going at it, though it sounded like Ma was becoming more and more sad. Pa just sounded the same. Inwardly, Ford's anxiety surged. Sounded like they were almost done.

Quickly, as quietly as he could, Ford scampered over to the dining room table. On it was a little bowl of apples- green ones, specifically. Ford quickly grabbed a couple and then tied them up in a tablecloth. Then, finally, he ran to their room, grabbed the mast from a homemade boat model they'd been building on and off, and tied the little bag to the top. 

One last thing to do, then. He clutched the note close as he left the room, tip-toeing to the table one last time. He left it next to the apples, then scampered down the stairs and out the door.

If Stanley was gonna run away from home, then so was Ford. All he had to do now was find him.

Dear Ma and Pa, 

I know you said Stanley ran away, but I can't let him do that by himself. I'm gonna go find him, so we can run away together! We're probably gonna go sailing, so if you need us, check the ocean first. Lots to discover out there!

I had to leave my books here. Tell Mrs Dunn I'm sorry in case I can't return them myself. I'm also gonna try to keep going to school, so don't worry about that! I'll get Stanley to go with me, too. 

Love you! - Stanford

Notes:

Zpssf Zahumvyk, ol'z illu kljlpclk Aopunz hylu'a xbpal hz aolf zlltlk Vu khyr yvhkz huk aoyvbno aol iyhjr Ol qbza dhuaz av ohcl opz iyvaoly ihjr Whjrhnl klhs- kv uva zlwhyhal Lszl ivao dpss tlla alyypisl mhalz Iba aoha'z h zavyf P ullku'a ylwlha Av johunl aolpy mhalz, Mvyk ohz vul dllr

[iceman-kazansky]

The Burn of Jealousy

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: nobody

Pairings: Ayrton Senna xf!reader

Warnings: Kissing. Jealousy. That's it, I think.

Word Count: 1,102

A/n: Wrote this a week or more ago, just reread it and thought it was ready to publish :))

Taglist: nobody

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

For Ayrton, he'd always been a little sour towards you. Standoffish maybe was easier to explain it. It wasn't that he was rude, no, not at all. He’d just.. had a few difficult times with you at first, but things had improved. Only, you were teammates, a little less than friends, but more than rivals. In some ways. You were both competing for a championship, as were every other driver, so on occasion it put some strain on your relationship.

Yet here he was, sitting on the opposite side of the bar, watching some man practically groveling at your feet for your attention and attraction. It made him feel all sorts of ways he didn't know were possible to feel about you. The way you were laughing at his probably stupid and corny jokes; how you were smiling so beautifully, flashing your precious pearly whites wastefully at him; all of it made his whole being burn with course, bitter jealousy. What did that loser have that he didn't?

Ayrton was sipping on a glass of liquor, watching you two from his seat with a sour look on his usually cheerful, relaxed features. Only when you reached forward and touched his arm did he finally snap. Downing the rest of his drink, he made a beeline to the two of you.

He appeared behind you, arriving just in time to overhear the discussion of this pathetic man taking you on a date. It made a bitter jealousy surge through his veins as he interjected, “She's busy.”

Ayrton didn't spare you a glance as he continued his hard glare at the man who had been hitting on you. Raising an eyebrow, the stranger protested, “Who are you?”

The Brazilian man wasn't in the mood for any further argument and made the, in hindsight, irrational decision to reply with something that would make all of the strangers' advances come to a screeching halt. “I'm her boyfriend.”

Without waiting for another reply from the stranger, Ayrton's jealous gaze snapped down to you and he spoke in a tight voice, carefully curbing his angry jealousy, “We're leaving. Now.”

The seriousness in his voice left no room for argument and you were forced to follow him as he practically dragged you away.

Ayrton clutched your hand tightly and began walking, not stopping to glance back at you as he pulled you outside and away from the bustle of the bar.

Only once he'd pulled you to somewhere secluded did Ayrton stop, turning to face you, “What were you doing with him?” He asked pointedly.

“Talking?”

Ayrton clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing at your flippant response. “It looked like a lot more than talking,” he retorted, “You were getting really.. comfortable with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, so I'm not allowed to be comfortable or have fun with anyone else anymore, am I?”

Ayrton's jaw ticked, his irritation growing with every word you said. He felt the hot, tingling sensation of his carefully concealed anger growing steadily, his eyes hardening. Why didn't you understand where he was coming from? “You know that's not what I meant,” he all but growled at you, taking a purposeful step forward. He could feel the heat radiating from your body, his eyes locked with yours. “It's not about you having fun with someone else, it's about how you were acting with him.”

Sighing in exasperation, you respond in irritation, “He was just trying to ask me on a date!”

Ayrton couldn’t take this anymore. Without fully thinking through what he was about to say, he blurted, “That's exactly my point! I don't want him to take you on a date! Take you away from me! What does he have that I don’t?”

A heavy silence settled over the two of you. Ayrton began to regret his words, the full weight of them sinking in. Had he just possibly ruined a friendship with the person he cherished most?

The Brazilian could hardly hold his gaze with yours, but he braved this feeling of shame, meeting your gaze. Your eyes were wide, your mouth parted slightly in shock, making him feel even worse about his mindless words. “What?” You asked suddenly, blinking at him.

Licking his lips, Ayrton pondered whether to continue or to hold his tongue and try backtracking. “I-” He stuttered, mentally cursing his inability to speak. He was better than this. He knew he was. “I want to know what he had that I didn’t.”

Suddenly, Ayrton realized he was past the point of caring about what his words might do now, he couldn’t stop himself anymore, “I want nothing more than to take you on a date myself. Every time I see you flirting with another guy- I just can’t help it. I get so jealous. Maybe I had just hoped that you would look at me like you looked at them. Hoped that you’d flirt with me like how you flirted with them.”

For a long time, you’re silent and Ayrton feels an unusual dread settle over him. Suddenly everything seems so loud. The cars on a not so far away street roar in his ears, the shadows of the alley he'd stopped in front of to talk to you seemed to grow in size, threatening to swallow him whole, and the streetlights cast a blinding light on him.

“I’m sorry.” He’s quick to apologize, hoping this hasn’t changed anything, but deep down he knows it will never be the same. He feels it.

“Don’t apologize-” Your voice snaps Ayrton from his reverie. He had begun to lose all hope but your voice is something that distracts him, “I feel the same.”

Ayrton’s face visibly brightens, his eyes widening with glee, “Y-you do?” he asks incredulously. He can’t believe it.

You nod faintly. Ayrton is overrun with an immense joy, and for the third time that evening, he acts upon an impulsive thought, this time when he leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

After a few seconds he pulls away, his chocolate irises staring down into yours with a newly defined affection swirling amidst them.

“I’d agree to going on a date with you,” you say to him, smiling as you bring up his earlier statements.

Nothing can stop the smile that creeps onto Ayrton’s face as he beams down at you and nods, “I’ll be taking you up on that”

To Ayrton, this was way better than winning any grand prix. Better than winning a world championship. You were the best prize of them all and you were certainly prettier than any trophy.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚��*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part five

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 3.2k (3232)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part six!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

It was a precise week that Micheal wasn't at home. A week in which you had spent all your time reading all the letters, which you had discovered with surprise to be more than 150: they were often letters to Ness, but also some without addressees where he simply talked about himself. They were intimate letters, full of words that, spoken by someone else, would not have made sense, but by him they did. Letters in which you had asked yourself several times why you had been so blind to his feelings

You had reached a point where you had learned some sentences by heart, many times you had reread them. Phrases that you repeated during the day in the most common moments, such as while washing the dishes or while cutting vegetables. So much so that they had remained imprinted in your mind, you had reached the point of analyzing them

"...The breaking point of our situation is when I realized that you seriously cared about me. Where looks and money played almost no role; where in a room full of copies of myself, I knew you would still be able to find myself. When I realized that there was finally someone who cared about me, I realized that I was screwed, that my whole idea of ​​myself was screwed because of a perfect girl..." you repeated softly as you put the clothes in the washing machine. That particular piece stuck in your mind because of its crudeness

Since Kaiser left, he hadn't lost a single game. At the same time, you followed his matches, all of which ended with the victory of Bastard Munchen. Kaiser was skilled at soccer and you knew it, but watching his games more closely had become another of your favorite things: you reflected his attention on the field as the same with which he spoke about you in his letters

There wasn't a night that went by when he didn't call you, when he said he was only calling to find out if his house was still standing. But now, after reading the letters, everything had taken a different turn: Michael, without making it obvious, was asking for you. He was interested in you and exclusively in you, disguising the excuse of the house to know if you were okay or if something had happened. Everything had taken a different turn, and now knowing the situation you knew how to read the double lines that you hadn't understood all these years

You wondered what all this would be like now that you couldn't even use the excuse of not seeing him every day, since you were now living with him. Everything was a mess and honestly you were more afraid of this than a possible return of Gabriel, who unlike Micheal had not made himself heard since you were no longer in Italy. But now, with this extra weight on your shoulders, you wondered what it would be like once he returned to Berlin. His train would take him home in two days, as the team was scheduled to stay at the spa for an entire day to celebrate their victories

Or at least that's what you thought

With a few letters scattered on the couch and one on the floor, you heard the lock of the house being unlocked by keys. It was evening, soon it would be midnight and you obviously didn't know how to sleep peacefully considering the situation you found yourself in, so to pass the time you were rereading yet another letter

It only took a second to put you in absolute panic. Quickly you had taken everything back and put it back in the box, running to your room. With the box safely in the drawer you were practically running back to the couch, sitting down and flipping through a book as if nothing had happened and you hadn't practically violated the privacy of your... could you still call him your best friend? You had to understand this too

From the entrance, you hear the door open. You lazily place the book on the couch when you see Kaiser poke his head into the living room, examining you in surprise "Still awake?" the boy asks, placing his suitcases on the ground. You nod, giving him a small smile "I wasn't sleepy. Welcome back" you say "Thanks. I missed home" says the boy passing behind the sofa you were sitting on. You pretend to focus back on your book, but you feel his hand shake your hair affectionately before he leaves

It's when everything goes back to silence that the situation hits you back in your face with violence. The gesture had sent small shivers down your spine, which were slowly leaving you. Now, the only audible sound was that of the shower a few rooms away, where Kaiser was probably cleaning himself up after his trip

But why was he early? Shouldn't he have spent tomorrow with his teammates at the spa?

If the last game had been this afternoon he must have taken the first available train or plane. Why all the rush to get home, though? Were you afraid of finding it a disaster since you now lived there too? Or was it simply you that he really missed?. In the calls you had intended him to ask about you in a non direct way, but coming back so early was really strange. What had been going on in Kaiser's head since you returned to Berlin?

You knew Kaiser to the point of knowing that he hated changing things he had already chosen: if he had to leave with his teammates in the evening, why did he leave the next morning? If he was supposed to be home in a few more hours, why was he in the shower now?

The answer, you said to yourself, was you

Kaiser anticipated or delayed for you, to finally have the certainty that you were no longer in Italy with that man he hated so much but safe in his home. He would come back earlier and leave later to make up for the time with him that your relationship had taken away from you

The answer was you. There was nothing clearer than that, not even the hatred you felt for Gabriel

You hadn't realized how much time you'd spent thinking, because shortly afterwards Kaiser had returned to the living room. Dressed in simple gray trousers and his usual loose white shirt that he always wore when he was at home. The clock showed more than past midnight, and after who knows how many hours of travel Micheal was certainly tired. But he hid it well, or at least that's how you noticed it now that he was closer: sitting next to you on the sofa he didn't seem tired, as if he hadn't literally won a game this afternoon and spent who knows how many hours on the road

"Aren't you tired?" you ask, turning towards him, breaking the contact your knees had together. He looks at you, shaking his head "No. I've faced much more tiring training, honestly. Then on the plane I don't feel much discomfort, probably if I had taken the train I would have had this problem" he says taking the small glasses he often wore inside the house from the table "Did you take the plane? Didn't it cost you more?" you ask tilting your head "I haven't had money problems since we've known each other. And then I wanted to go home earlier, too many days out are often strange" he says letting out a laugh

He confirmed it to you. He wanted to be home early for whatever reason you already knew

"But weren't you supposed to spend tomorrow in the spa with the others? At least you told me that on call" you say trying not to sound too obvious. You want to put him in a situation where he almost confirms it to you himself, even though you know it would be strange because you shouldn't know about the letters. He looks at you, perhaps a little surprised by your insistence "Yes, but I can spend tomorrow at the spa here too, in Berlin. It doesn't change much..." he says, and you bite the inside of your cheek so as not to yell "Wasn't this supposed to be a way to celebrate all the victories?" you ask “Y/n, do you have a problem with me coming back early?”

And from the annoyed tone in which he says it, you understand that maybe this isn't the time to push him into saying something like that. You shouldn't even have read those letters, you literally invaded his privacy, and now you also expect him to speak on a topic that you know full well he doesn't want to make public? Hell, maybe you should seriously shut up. You should just be happy that he really came back for you first, yet with the whole situation you can't appreciate it 100%. You sigh, shaking your head as you look up. You move a little closer to him, carefully resting your head on his shoulder. Your heart starts beating faster than it should, but you feel good and being so close to him is somehow relaxing for a nervous person like you

“Sorry. I was just curious” you say sighing, and you hear him sigh too as his tense muscles relax again. His arm moves to your shoulders, which with an imperceptible gesture pull you closer to him. His hand dangles across your chest, coming to the border that traces the start of your breast. The gesture is delicate, as if he were doing it out of fear of annoying you. But it doesn't bother you, the thing that worries you in a certain sense is actually the fact that you like it. And you shouldn't

“Don't worry” he says, and in a way you're reassured that he's not angry with you. You stay like this for a while, and neither of you seems to want to break the light contact that has been uniting you for half an hour now. You wonder if Kaiser, in his thoughts, is also thinking the same thing you are imagining: perhaps in the other universe that you both often mention, there is another Y/n and another Michael who are like this without being afraid to go beyond this species of hug. One where they kiss, caress each other, one where they simply love each other without the situation you're both in the middle of now

That's what scares you. Love again

Loving someone who you have always considered your best friend and who has always been in love with you. As nice as it is to think about it, Kaiser lied to you and continues to lie to you now

And suddenly, you notice something that shouldn't be there: a letter, hidden between a magazine and a tray, is beautifully displayed on the coffee table in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat and you immediately realize which letter it is. It's the most recent one he has, written less than a year ago. It's the one where you remember the most pieces by heart, as you've read it many times. You had kept it out of the box all week because it was usually the one you read last before going to sleep

You must immediately remove it from there before he notices it, or else you can really say goodbye to everything. But how can you do it if you're still in his arms? And then above all, in front of him? How the fuck are you supposed to do it?

Kaiser has now rested his head on yours, and by the way his chest rises and falls you could tell he's probably asleep. You try to reach the letter with your foot, but cause of the tray it is impossible. You sigh in resignation, but still try to get there another time. You're almost there, but Kaiser's sudden movement makes you jump in fear

You look up, and see him rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. You try to ignore the thought that tells you he's extremely cute doing it. His arm returns to its previous position, and the breaking of contact somehow bothers you

"I think I'll go to sleep" he says running a hand through his hair, and you nod breathing a sigh of relief: if he leaves now you can take the letter, put it back and pretend that nothing of the sort has happened. Kaiser gets up from the couch, goes towards his bedroom, but remains still before leaving the living room. He watches you, his gaze still tired and a little dazed from sleep

It's as if he's waiting for something from you, but you can't understand "Everything okay?" you ask turning towards him, and you see him a little perplexed "Aren't you coming to sleep?" he asks "I'm on my way. I want to clean up this mess" you say, and from the way you said it it sounds like you should sleep in the same bed "There's no need. I can do it tomorrow morning" he says, and you refrain from shouting 'no!' against Micheal "No need, I did it and I want you to rest tomorrow morning. Sleep peacefully, I'm coming" you say smiling at him, but Kaiser doesn't seem to like the answer, as he comes back next to you again. With a sharp gesture he grabs your hand, pulling it slightly towards the bedrooms

This short gesture reminds you of when you left the hotel, hand by hand. At that moment, his hand was the only thing still holding you up as you collapsed into your own shit

"I want you to rest too. Clean up tomorrow morning if you care so much, I'll probably sleep until lunch anyway" he says, still pulling your hand slightly. His fingers gently caress yours, and you're really trying your best not to look embarrassed. With a sigh you give in, and with your head tired from sleep, you nod at his words "Okay. Let's go" you say, but Micheal doesn't let go of your hand. He accompanies you to your door, where in the silence and darkness of the corridor you are left speechless. Looking down, look at your hands, which seem so well placed together. Maybe in another universe you often hold hands, otherwise there's no explanation for all this sweet familiarity

You're the one to pull away again, even if reluctantly "Goodnight, Mihya" you say, taking a few steps back, while your hand stops on the door handle. Kaiser nods, making his way to his room, a little further away "Goodnight, Y/n" he says, before entering his room. You enter your room and are about to go out to get the letter, but in the corridor you hear Kaiser's footsteps, probably heading towards the bathroom. With him on the move it's even harder to get to the living room, and you know it will probably take him a while before he finally goes to his room

You give in, sighing as you approach the bed, ending up under the covers. Tomorrow morning you will wake up earlier, take the letter and put it back. And it will all seem as if you haven't read Michael's innermost thoughts. And maybe, in a few days when the situation is fading away, you will feel less guilty about reading things that didn't concern you. The weight in your heart is more present than a boulder, because you hate that you had to find this out this way. You hate it more to admit that you probably love him, and that the roller coaster of emotions that he is giving you, Gabriel has never given you even a small part of it

Loving Kaiser would be the easiest and hardest situation at the moment. For his reputation, being with you would be a fiasco, since you are still in a worldwide scandal. And the last thing you want to do is ruin him or put him through even a fraction of what you're going through. You cared too much about him that you would be so egoista and put him in such a situation, not caring about the sure consequences. Furthermore, there were still many buts to answer, but which had been created by pure and simple sex which however had distorted the situation even more. You hadn't thought for a second that it had been casual sex, and now with the confirmation that Kaiser had feelings for you, you doubted it had been casual for him too

The situation was shit and you weren't going to make it worse, at least not for now. And then, with this sleep, it was not the time to think about such complex things

Waking up after a good amount of sleep, you decide it's time to do what you had to do last night. It's barely nine in the morning, or so the clock on the wall says, when you remove the piece of paper from the coffee table and put it back in the box. With a sigh of relief you close the drawer, and the weight you had inside since last night seems to collapse. You know that Kaiser is still sleeping, and you also know that you need new clothes since the ones from Milano have yet to arrive at your new home. The ones you had in your suitcase are slowly running out, and then maybe going out won't hurt so much

This is how you spend the rest of the morning on the streets of Berlin, filling bags with new clothes but emptying your wallet. When you used to live here, years ago, it often happened that you went out with Kaiser and came back late at night full of bags of clothes that in reality you almost never wore. It was a way to pass the time when he had days off from training. You notice the time “12:04” on your phone when you get home. All is still and quiet, and you suspect that Kaiser is still sleeping. You carry the bags towards the kitchen, humming a song you often heard in Italy

You are surprised to see Kaiser already awake, sitting at the table with a cup full of black coffee next to him. You look at him curiously, but the way he looks up and looks at you makes your blood run cold: on the features of his face you notice a nervousness that he is holding back with difficulty, and you wonder immensely why he is so nervous already in the early morning. Did he dream something bad? Is he hungry?

You look down at the table by chance: a perfectly open sheet of paper with his writing is on the dark wood. Your eyes widen, immediately recognizing what it is: it's the letter you picked up from the coffee table this morning, the most recent one

“We need to talk” he says looking at you, and you can swear your legs feel weak just from looking at him. It is the first phase of the schism that you thought you could still put off

tag(s): @rroxii (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

[hottpinkpenguin]

Easy Company HC's: Letters Home

A/n: I'm really rolling with these BofB headcanons! hope you enjoy :)

Characters included: Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Ronald Speirs, Carwood Lipton, Buck Compton, David Webster, Joe Liebgott

Dick Winters

Writes frequent, short letters

Meticulously dates his letters and includes a blurb about the weather. January 12th, 1945. It’s snowing outside, dark and cold. 

Starts each letter with My dear y/n 

Always asks how you are, even though he’s the one fighting a damn war

Follows up on every little question or story you include in your letters. How was the bake sale? Did you ever hear how Louise Graham’s brother is doing after taking that shrapnel to the shoulder? Hope you were able to get someone out to look at the washing machine.

Ends his letters with classic but sentimental sign-offs, like Affectionately yours and All my love

Makes sure not to include anything in his letters that would worry you. Doesn’t necessarily lie or fake being happy, but just gently side steps that. 

Although every once in a while you get a longer letter where Dick’s handwriting is a little messier. You know it’s from writing fast, you can almost feel the pressure behind the penmarks. He opens up more in those letters, talks about losing too many good men and sometimes will say things that just absolutely break your heart, like sometimes I wonder how all of this is really going to end for the men who are over here fighting. 

Even in these letters, Dick never says “I” or “Me”, always writes about the men and the boys. You know - and so does he - that he’s including himself in those boys.

His next letter he always makes sure to reassure you. And it’s genuine, you can tell. He’ll say something like I have to put some of these heavier thoughts somewhere, and there’s nowhere I trust more than with you. 

When he comes home, you find a stack of letters you wrote to him tied up in a neat bundle and stashed in an inside pocket of his Ike jacket that he sewed in especially for that purpose. You could tell by the flimsy, near-ripped creases and dirty paper that he’d read each one about a hundred times over. Buried in the middle of the stack was the picture you’d given him before he’d left for training. On the back, he’d written simply your name, the date the photo was taken, and a short instruction: in event of my death, please send all personal effects to with your home address. It made you sob but you never told him you found it.

GIF by mads-weasley

Lewis Nixon

Rarely writes. Actually drives you crazy with worry most of the time.

When he finally does, you can tell that he’s initially annoyed at having to put his thoughts down on paper. Letters start off with short, sarcastic sentences like nothing new here. Still fighting the war, in case you hadn’t heard. Enjoying German hospitality. 

But as the letters go on he relaxes into it and stops being so grouchy. 

Because he’s always grumpy at having to write (you should probably thank Dick for cajoling Lew into actually sitting down to write to you), he usually doesn’t write any sort of introduction or sweet address, just dives right into it.

His letters usually don’t say much, he just kind of rambles about how much he hates being away from you and how he can’t wait for the whole damn thing to be over. 

Sometimes he’ll write something so incredibly romantic it takes your breath away, like I’d fight a whole division of Panzers myself if I could just get one more sniff of your perfume. 

Those are the letters you save and reread to yourself over and over again when you’re waiting weeks for the next one.

Always signs off with something kind of sassy but also sweet?, like You know I love you or Keep our bed warm for me. 

Sometimes you feel like you can smell whiskey on the paper, which both worries you but also reminds you of Lew

When he finally gets home and you ask him about what he did with your letters, he kind of looks at you like you’ve gone crazy and says I read them of course, what else was I supposed to do with them? 

This hurts your feelings at first which of course he doesn’t understand, but after a few weeks you start to realize that he actually did read them and not only that he memorized their contents. Like he refers to your mother as “the Wicked Witch of Wichita” (something you called here after you wrote him a long rambling letter about how angry she made you at your sister’s bridal shower) and buys you a bouquet of daffodils because you wrote him a letter with a daffodil doodle in the margins of the page talking about the spring gardens. 

You realize that Lew shows his love in the little details, and it makes you appreciate him all the more.

GIF by beautifulguycollector

Ronald Speirs

Ron’s letters read like military bulletins. 

Doing well despite the cold. 1st sgt sick with pneumonia. Think of you often.

Writes predictably once per week. Never misses a letter. Ever. 

You always write him long, lengthy, romantic letters. Sometimes even a little raunchy, if you’ve had some wine. After one particularly *ahem* suggestive letter, you feel ridiculous and say so the next time you write.

In typical Ron fashion, you get a short, to-the-point reply, but it still puts a smile on your face and a blush on your cheeks: Loved your letter. Keep writing. 

Towards the end of the war, Ron starts a countdown to when he expects to be coming home. Two months now, maybe less. Home for the Fourth of July. 

Also signs off with R.S. Which makes you laugh, as if you could forget who was writing to you.

Whenever your girlfriends find a letter from Ron (you keep them all in a shoebox in your closet), they tease you and ask how you can possibly be in love with someone so stiff and formal. To which you can only chuckle to yourself, because you know it’s just that they don’t understand that Ron doesn’t tell you he loves you, he shows you. Writing a letter every single week. Updating you on everything going on, even short updates, because he wants you to know how he’s doing. That’s Ronald Speirs’ love language.

Maybe three weeks before Ron comes home, you start getting boxes of (stolen?) German silver at your door. At first it freaks you out and makes you feel slimy for having lavish riches from an enemy country, so you don’t unpack the boxes and you just stack them up in the back bedroom. When Ron gets home and sees the boxes unopened and shut away, he immediately asks you what’s wrong. You stammer out an explanation and without blinking an eye, Ron loads them into his truck and takes them to the dump. 

(Later you convince him that a better use of those would be to donate them to the local orphanage, so off he goes in his truck to get the boxes back out of the dump and bring them to shelter.)

One night when you’re lying awake, head on Ron’s chest, talking idly about things that don’t matter, he interrupts you to ask Can you guess which letter I kept? 

You instantly blush, thinking of that risque letter you wrote him when you were halfway through your second bottle of white wine. He shakes his head and pulls a letter out of his nightstand and hands it to you. You don’t recognize it immediately, although you do see that it’s too short to be one of the naughtier correspondences. 

It’s too dark to read, so you ask him which letter. He says it’s the one you wrote to me for my birthday. 

You don’t remember that one and you tell him as much, so you ask him why he kept that one instead of some of the others. He looks down at you with a serious look in his eyes, a little surprised that you can’t figure it out. Then he tells you: it’s the first time you wrote that you loved me. 

The next day, you sneak a peek at the letter and realize he’s right. You signed it, I love you Ron. 

From then on, you make sure to tell him that every night before he falls asleep.

Carwood Lipton

Formal, sweet letters. This man is a king of romancing by words.

Writes as often as he can, but you know that Lip needs peace and quiet for an entire evening to get one of those letters done (he probably definitely writes a draft or two before he gets it right). And let’s face it, Easy Company doesn’t have the luxury of many quiet evenings. 

Always, always, always starts his letters off with Dear (future) Mrs. Lipton, which you honestly think is hopelessly corny but it���s way too adorable to tell him so. And besides, you secretly love it.

He always reminisces about home in his letters. Tells you how much he misses the smell of your baking, the squeak of the front porch swing that you two would sit on and watch the sunset. 

He worries a lot about you and his family. He always asks you to look in on his mother if it’s not too much trouble. 

Lip doesn’t talk much about the war, in fact he hardly acknowledges it at all. And he never uses the term ‘war’ or ‘battle’. Instead, he says things like The boys over here are still committed to doing the job or Easy presses on.  

Lip’s letters get a little shorter and less soft after Bastogne. He starts including the names of the casualties in his company in the P.S. Even though you don’t know these men except by name - and some of them, not even that - you feel honored that he trusts you with their memories. 

Lip has saved your letters and all the pictures you sent to him - he loves pictures, and asks for an updated one of you almost every month - tucked in his foot locker and safely between the pages of his Bible so they don’t get creased or dirty. 

You also find that he’s kept stacks of letters from some of his men that died in the field. When you ask him what he plans to do with the letters, he gets a heartbreaking, far-off look in his eyes and says I reckon I’ll try to get them back to their families. 

You take on the burden of doing that, and you write to some of the families introducing yourself and introducing Lip and offering to forward them the letters.

All the replies you get back mention that their soldier talked about how good a leader and friend Lip was. Their replies bring tears to your eyes. For some reason, you don’t show the letters to Lip, although you do tell him about them. He never asks to read the letters, he just kisses you on your forehead and tells you that he’s never loved you more. 

Even after he’s home, he’ll still write you a letter from time to time, usually at Christmastime or for your birthday in the summer. His letters are always talking about his favorite memories with you, and there’s always a paragraph at the end where he talks about how in love with you he is. It’s borderline poetry and it makes you cry every single time.

GIF by balladofthe101st

Buck Compton

Basically just writes a list of questions for you to answer in every letter.

Wants to know everything about what’s going on at home. Especially sports teams.

Doesn’t write frequently, so sometimes it’s hard to feel like there’s a conversation happening. 

But he always includes sweet little notes about how much he’s thinking of you and how he’s counting down the days until he can hold you again, so you’re not complaining. 

Not the most poetic writer. Always says what he thinks and feels though. Completely honest and open. 

Does not tell you anything about the war. Basically ignores the entire thing. 

Sometimes you think about asking him about that, but you figure that he’s not talking about it for a reason, so you follow suit.

Calls you baby in his letters. 

Doesn’t actually say ‘I love you’ in his letters, although says everything else. Miss you baby. Dream about you all the time. When I get home, I’m putting a ring on your finger. 

One time he writes that he woke up last night out of a dream and swore I could taste you and it makes your toes curl.

You save that letter, tuck it in your underwear drawer. 

Signs his letters very simply: Buck. Sometimes he’ll put something in like until next time or I’ll write soon. But usually nothing super romantic or sentimental.

Doesn’t save your letters, but that really doesn’t bother you too much because all you wrote in them was basically just rambling details that Buck requested about your boring day-to-day. 

Buck’s always better in person than in writing - he’s a quality time and physical touch kind of guy - but you know that your letters were his only lifeline to normal during the war, and you’re just happy to have him back at all. 

He does surprise you one night when it’s really quiet in the house and you’re sitting on the couch together, each reading a book. He suddenly turns to you and says You know baby girl, your letters saved my sanity over there. It’s the most he’s really ever said about the war, but it’s enough, and you kiss him so he knows that you get it.  

GIF by balladofthe101st

David Webster

Unsurprisingly, Web is probably the best letter writer in all of Easy Company. 

He helps a lot of the other guys write letters home, especially if they’re trying to say something important. Web just has a knack for words unlike any other. 

He writes a lot of letters home, not just to you, but to the rest of his family, his siblings, some of his friends, and definitely his professors. 

So because you’re close with Web’s family, you do get to read a lot of his writing. 

His letters to you are different though. They’re darker and a little less polished. Sometimes, they frighten you a little bit. Web talks about things you’re not you really understand - like how pointless death is, how empty it makes him feel to see his friends get KIA, how he carries around guilt about surviving this long like an anchor. 

Refers to you exclusively in his letters by your first name, his writing is always serious and somber and drenched with heavy emotions, so pet names just really don’t fit the vibe.

He quotes poetry and literature quite a bit when he writes. It all feels a bit Gothic, but you’ve always known that Web has found clarity in the world through books, so you don’t begrudge him a little poetic license.

Signs his letters Yours in perpetuity, David K. Webster. 

Asks you to send books. Sometimes he asks for something specific, but other times he’s happy to get whatever you pick out for him. Your tastes are different from his; you prefer to choose shorter, gentle pieces about life in the British countryside or Western adventure novels. Web would prefer Wadsworth or Hemingway, but he figures it’s probably in his best interests to read things that don’t tackle dark themes. You always tuck a letter for him into the first few pages. 

He doesn’t save your letters, per se, although he does save every single book you send to him. When he gets home, he puts them all up on the bookshelf in his office. Even though they’re beat up and stained and not at all fitting with the rest of his collection, they’re front and center. 

Sometimes he takes a stab at sketching in his letters. He’s not bad, either. You try to encourage him to take lessons when he gets home, which he never does. He secretly loves how much you love his drawings though.

GIF by yourspeirs

Joe Liebgott

KING OF DIRTY LETTERS

You definitely like to re-read his letters… again and again…

Not every letter is a dirty one. But most are. Or at least have a dirty section in them. 

You don’t know how this man makes you feel wanted from halfway around the world, but somehow he does. Lord knows you love a lot about your Joey, but you didn’t realize how good he was with words until you found yourself practically stalking the mailman, hoping for another delivery from Joe.

Uses a lot of pet names in his letters. Baby girl, Doll, Princess are some of his favorites. Literally never calls you by your name.

Always signs off with Your Joey. 

Even when Joe is clearly in a dark place, his letters are saturated with how much he needs you and how he can’t stop thinking about all the ways he’s going to have you when he gets home. 

When your mother finds one of Joey’s letters to you, she throws an absolute shit fit and freaks out that you’re sleeping with someone before you’re married. It takes a long time for you to convince her that you haven’t slept with Joey yet, you’re just… really into dirty talking.

She kinda chills after that but still looks at you suspiciously every time you get a letter from him.

She never tells your dad though, which makes you think maybe she’s more supportive of your relationship with him than you realized.

After working up the courage, you write Joe a letter that is so sinful you actually doubt whether you should send it in the mail, it just feels so wrong.

When I say this man goes crazy for that letter, it is an understatement. He is out of his mind and immediately writes you a reply telling you so. Basically begs you for more.

Even though your letters back and forth with Joe are pretty raunchy, there’s also a sweetness to them. He’s always sure to mention that This ain’t just all talk, Doll. When you’re Mrs. Liebgott, you’re gonna see exactly what I’ve been writing about. Which you know is still pretty dirty, but hey, he’s basically proposing to you, right?

You are not the least bit surprised to know that he kept your naughtiest letters when he finally gets home.

But, Joseph Liebgott is a man of his word, and even though he is clearly dying to and you’re practically begging him to, he doesn’t make good on all those dirty promises until after you’re wearing his ring.

Much to your delight, you find that he is just as good with actions as he is with words.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Four

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note this chapter, except a moment of sickeningly awkward cuteness (I'm so sorry). All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.8k

A/N : The aftermath of last chapter. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Four

You woke to find yourself on the sofa, covered with a blanket, alone and with only a vague recollection of what had happened the night before. Your hand had been bandaged and you felt worse than ever. The room was spinning, your head pounding, and finally you understood why; blood loss. You’d drawn blood and, then, you’d let him drink from you; it had been too much and you’d lost consciousness.

It took a moment more for you to remember everything else that had happened; how he’d pressed his body to yours, how he’d kissed you, and how you’d - oh god, your boss had made you come. 

Panic washed over you for a second, your hand reaching between your thighs, terrified that something had happened after you passed out. No. You breathed a sigh of relief and found yourself feeling silly for even thinking that Billy would do something like that. From what little you knew of him, you didn’t think he was capable of that.

Despite being completely alone, you pulled the blanket up, hiding your face and your embarrassment. You closed your eyes and all you could see was his face, blood covered lips and dark eyes filled with hunger - and not just hunger for blood.

You remembered his lips on your neck, the scrape of teeth - fangs - as you came. Gingerly, you ran your fingers over your skin, searching for puncture marks but, thankfully, found none. 

As much as you wanted to move, to go back to your bedroom, you were too exhausted and, soon enough, you ended up falling asleep again. 

Hours must have passed and you certainly felt better for it when you finally opened your eyes again.

At some point a bottle of water and a note had been left on the floor next to the sofa, though you couldn’t say if they’d been there the whole time or if he’d placed them there after you’d fallen asleep again.

You decided to start with the water, taking a slow drink to steady your nerves before reading the note. It was impossible to stop your mind from going into overdrive, from thinking of all the things that the note might contain; was he going to fire you for your unprofessional behaviour, was he angry that you broke the rule about being in the penthouse after 9pm?

Your fingers shook as you unfolded the note and started to read.

I want to apologise for my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable and I understand if you want to terminate your contract because of it. If you want to leave, please let Lissa know and she will retrieve your things from storage. If you choose to stay, you will have the next couple of days to yourself to recover. I’ll be gone until Friday and won’t need blood before then. 

Whatever you decide, I’ve arranged for my friend Karen to visit you tomorrow and, if you still want to, you have permission to go out with her for the day. If you want to leave, she will help you with whatever you need to do so. Please take care of yourself.

Billy.

You read and reread the note, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. The note felt so detached, almost like he was assuming you’d want to leave. 

(Did you? Was that really what you wanted?)

You read it again before sitting up, noticing the dried blood on your pyjamas. Common sense told you to leave, to get your things and get out of there as quickly as possible. Last night had been stupid and reckless, you’d done the one thing you’d promised yourself you’d never do; you’d let a vampire drink directly from you.

Okay, so he hadn’t bitten you, but what was to say that next time he wouldn’t? But, by the same logic, what was to say that he would? He could have done anything he wanted to you, but he hadn’t. And what he had done you’d allowed. No, you’d been an active participant. You’d enjoyed it. (Who were you trying to kid? You’d wanted it.) He’d told you to stay away and you’d ignored him. It had been your choice to feed him, your choice to let him kiss you, even though you knew he wasn’t in his right mind.

Embarrassed as you were, some part of you had wanted what had happened last night and, now, you had to live with the consequences. 

You read the note one last time. Please take care of yourself, you weren’t sure if those five little words made it better or worse. He always seemed so concerned with how fragile you were, and you still weren’t sure if it came from a place of caring or of liability, but it felt like he was staying away from his own home because of you.

No, you quickly decided, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t. You needed the money and last night was as much your fault as Billy’s. 

Staying was still far better than the alternative.

Eventually you managed to get up and move to your rooms, grabbing yourself a bowl of cereal on the way to bed. You put the TV on, but more for background noise than anything and spent the rest of the day dozing, only getting up to get more cereal.

Instead of thinking about what had happened, you started thinking about tomorrow, about finally being able to go outside and see some of New York City. What would his friend Karen be like? Would she be able to tell you anything about Billy? Finally, you had something to look forward to, even though you were worried that Billy had only arranged it out of guilt.

You felt much better the next day when you woke up, in part because you were excited to finally go outside and see some of the city but, also, because you were looking forward to meeting Billy’s friend and having someone new to talk to. The weather outside looked cold and wet, so you dressed accordingly, pulling a lovely blue jacket and pair of boots from your wardrobe to put on over your jeans and blouse.

Just before midday, you heard someone calling your name, and you quickly went out to greet them. She had stunning red hair and skin so pale you might have thought she was a vampire if you weren’t about to go out in daylight with her. It was enough to make you pause, to make you wonder how she knew Billy, an odd twinge of jealousy filling you for a second.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she smiled and held out her hand. You took it and introduced yourself properly, even though she already knew your name. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, looking down at your bandaged hand for a second. “I caught it taking some cookies out of the oven.”

“Ouch,” Karen winced sympathetically, seeming to buy the lie. “Billy said you wanted to go for coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you answered, feeling overcome with relief the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“You got any place in mind?” Karen asked, subtly looking you up and down like she was trying to get a measure of you.

“I - I don’t know. This is my first time in New York, I don’t really know where anything is.” 

“And this is the first time he’s let you outside,” she stated.

For a second you looked at her, confused, wondering how much she knew, how much she was supposed to know. Lissa had told you that Billy valued his privacy and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to say in this situation. The uncomfortable look on your face must have been enough to tip Karen off that you didn’t know how to answer.

“He has his reasons,” she started again as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and you stepped out, “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but he is trying to look out for you.”

“How do you know him?” You asked.

“I met him through his best friend when we started dating.”

“Oh. And is he...?” You left the question unfinished, not sure if it was polite to ask.

“A vampire?” She smiled the sort of carefree smile that you couldn’t help feel envious of, like she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. “Yes, he is.”

Stepping out onto the street, you couldn’t help but stop for a moment, turning your eyes skyward and taking a deep breath. It took a second for your eyes to get used to natural light and, all the while, Karen stood watching you.

“How long has it been?” Her question pulled you back to the moment.

“A couple of weeks, I think?” You tried to remember, but you’d lost track of how long exactly it had been after the first week. However long it had been, it wasn’t really long enough to warrant that sort of reaction from you. Your cheeks warmed a fraction as you looked at Karen. “I’m not really used to being cooped up indoors all the time.”

Karen just nodded, waiting a beat before starting to walk. You fell into step beside her, your eyes taking in the sights of New York. You had no idea where she was leading you but you didn’t care. You were finally seeing the city and you couldn’t be happier.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself in a little coffee shop, looking at the pastries and cakes on offer before you realised something.

“I don’t have any money,” you told Karen, your cheeks turning red, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind; you always had a purse with you or your phone, but Lissa had taken them and you weren’t going to be paid until you’d completed a year in Mr Russo’s service. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Karen replied, starting to fumble around with her purse before pulling out a black credit card and handing it to you. “Billy asked me to give you this for anything you need.”

The card had your name embossed on it but there was nothing else to indicate - well, anything at all. You didn’t know if it was a prepaid card or if it had a limit, and there was no way of telling where the money would be coming from.

“The PIN is your birth year,” Karen continued, though she seemed more interested in eyeing the food selection than she was in you.

After a moment more, you decided that you’d ask Billy about it when you next saw him (assuming you ever saw him again, after the other night). You choose modestly, not wanting to spend too much on a card that wasn’t yours and that you couldn’t control. For all you knew, you were spending Billy’s money and the last thing you wanted to do was take advantage of this gesture of kindness.

And that was something Karen did notice, watching you from the corner of her eye with a somewhat bemused expression on her face as you calculated just how much money you’d be spending getting a drink, a panini, and a muffin. Then, you held your breath as you used the card for the first time, preparing yourself for the embarrassment of it being declined.  It wasn’t. You breathed a sigh of relief before following Karen to a little table by the window.

Your eyes were fixed on the street outside, watching as it started to rain, but you could feel her eyes on you.

“You’re not like the others,” she finally broke the silence. 

“What were they like?” You asked with a healthy degree of caution, still not knowing what the rules were and what you were allowed to talk to her about. “Lissa said that they disappointed Mr Russo?”

She sat back, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile. You couldn’t tell what part of it she found amusing and you didn’t want to ask.

“Disappointed is one word for it, I guess?” she took a breath, obviously composing her thoughts before continuing. “Did you know that you’re the first one he didn’t interview himself?”

You shook your head; you’d applied for the job by email and had spoken to someone (you now assumed to be Lissa) very briefly over the phone. In retrospect, it seemed strange given the amount of money that was at stake.

Unless he didn’t bother because he assumed you’d disappoint him like the others…

“The problem with Billy - with the whole job, really - is that it usually attracts a... certain sort of person. Most of them have only been interested in the money and spending a year living in the lap of luxury. The others are...” she fell silent, smiling as the barista brought your toasted paninis over and, when you were alone again, she looked like she really didn’t want to finish her thought.

“The others are...?” You prompted cautiously.

“They’re the sort of people who want more from the arrangement than Billy is prepared to give,” she answered and, when you obviously didn’t catch her meaning, she continued. “Billy is a very rich man and he’s going to live forever. A lot of people find both of those prospects very attractive.”

“They want him to...” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, a lump stuck in your throat at the thought. Karen nodded. “And you’ve done this before? Gone for coffee with... someone like me?”

“Not quite like this, but I did spend time with some of them.”

“What do you mean not quite like this?” 

She paused half way through lifting her cup to her lips and, for a second you could have sworn she winced. Still, she took a drink and didn’t try to answer until her mug was back on the table again.

“His rules weren’t always so strict.” Her head shook. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you any of this. Billy has his reasons for why things are the way they are; it’s to protect you as much as it’s to protect him.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions but no words came out. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how or why the rules had changed because you’d agreed to them. You’d agreed to the job and you needed the money, so the last thing you wanted to do was get Karen in trouble and maybe jeopardise future outings like this.

“Thank you,” you told her, then quickly clarified; “for telling me.”

Karen smiled, considering her words for a moment. “Billy is a friend, but trust me when I tell you that if I didn’t believe what he was doing was necessary, I would have told him so.”

“It’s okay,” you conceded quietly, shrugging, “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do this.”

You turned your attention to your food, cautiously picking up your panini, trying not to burn yourself on the molten cheese that was leaking out the side as you took a bite. It was heavenly; toasted just the right amount, the cheese was sharp, and the tuna -

You dropped the panini back to your plate, horrified with yourself.

No. No-no-no. How could you have been so stupid? You felt your chest tighten a fraction, your stomach tying itself in knots. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Karen asked, obviously concerned.

“Tuna,” you stated, your voice breaking. “I’m not supposed to eat tuna. It’s on the list. He’s going to -”

“Whoa-whoa, back up. What list?”

“The list of things I’m not supposed to eat,” you tried to explain, unable to conceal the panic from your voice. 

This wasn’t you - you didn’t break rules, you always tried to stay in line - and, now, you’d messed up. All you could think was that you were going to lose the job, that Billy would kick you out and you’d have no choice but to go home. You were going to end up back where you started all because of a stupid toasted sandwich.

“Hey-hey, calm down, it’s okay,” Karen tried to settle you.

“You don’t understand I can’t lose this job.”

“You won’t,” she reached across the table, taking your hand in hers, “if Billy finds out, we’ll tell him it was my fault, okay?”

“But -”

“No, buts. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain the panic that was clawing beneath your ribs. You’d been raised to be good, to be decent, to follow the rules and not cause problems. You’d been raised to fear consequences and, even though you were far from home, that mindset was difficult to escape.

“Here,” she offered, sliding her plate towards you, “we can swap, I got ham and cheese. You only had one bite, Billy will never know.”

It was like she understood, like she could tell just by looking at you how desperately you needed to keep the job - not just because of the money on offer but because you had nothing and nowhere else to go without it. 

Taking the offered plate, you ate slowly, quietly. From time to time, you’d catch her looking at you, concern on her face. Conversation that followed was stilted and awkward as you picked apart your muffin until it was gone. And, once your mug was empty, the outing was over.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,” she apologised as you started back towards the penthouse. “I’ll make more time next week; we can spend a whole afternoon doing whatever you want. We’ll make it a regular thing, every Thursday.”

Agreeing, you thanked her as she rode the elevator back up to the penthouse with you, making sure you were okay before leaving you with the promise of seeing you again next week.

It was strange to know that you were completely alone in the penthouse for another day but, after the incident with the panini, you were very deliberate when it came to the rules. You sat on the sofa until just before 9pm, watching the cloudy sky slowly darken and give way to night before returning to your rooms, even though no one would have known if you’d stayed in the penthouse longer.

That night you laid in bed thinking about Billy - or, rather, you thought about what it was going to be like to see him again after what had happened. Was he as embarrassed by it all as you were? Did Billy Russo even get embarrassed? Maybe it would be better for the both of you if you just pretended that it never happened.

Friday passed in a blur. Every time you heard a noise in the penthouse, you would creep to the door to your quarters and press your ear against it, trying to hear if he was back. Of course, some part of you understood how ridiculous you were being; Billy was so light on his feet that you’d never be able to hear him. But, still, time and time again you found yourself pressed against the door.

After drawing blood, you moved across the penthouse as quietly as you could, looking for signs that he was home and finding none. Once you reached the kitchen and placed the blood in the fridge, you allowed yourself a sigh of relief before turning and -

There he was.

Standing between you and your rooms, a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher.

For a second your lips parted, wanting to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. Your cheeks started to warm and the silence dragged on for at least ten seconds. Billy looked uncertain, so uncomfortable in your presence. His normally calm and collected demeanour was gone, replaced with a look that made you feel unsettled, guilty even. More than that, you couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked - you hadn’t even realised that vampires could look tired before now.

“You decided to stay,” part-statement, part-question. All you could do was nod, letting your feet carry you a couple of steps closer to him. “I’m glad. I didn’t think you would.”

“I want to stay,” you offered quietly, breathing slowly, trying to keep your heart from racing.

“I’m sorry for the other night. I never wanted you to see me like that,” he said, standing a little taller and seeming to regain some of his usual composure. “It won’t happen again. I never wanted to make you feel unsafe here.”

“You didn’t,” your voice still small as you struggled to find a way to describe any of the things you were feeling right now. “You told me to stay away and I didn’t listen, and I didn’t ask you to stop when I should have. But I just...” you trailed off, not sure how to say the next part.

“What?” He prompted softly, his attention entirely fixed on you.

“I need to make it clear; just because you’re paying me, it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to -”

“I would never think that I’m entitled to fuck you just because I’m paying you,” he interrupted, just as offended by the notion as you were. “Anything that happens here only happens with your consent.”

Did that mean it could happen again if you wanted it to? You didn’t dare voice the question, instead you just nodded.

His gaze dropped awkwardly and yours followed it, noticing something tightly gripped in his hands. A stuffed toy. Before you could ask, Billy had cleared the distance between you, holding out the toy to you. After a moment of confused hesitation, you took it, frowning first at the toy then him.

“When you said you were lonely, you mentioned a dog and I -” he let out an uncomfortable huff of laughter, “- well, obviously I can’t let you have a real dog here but I thought - I hoped - maybe this would help.”

Your gaze dropped to the stuffed toy in your hand, shaped like a beagle with floppy ears and a little pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought you such a thoughtful gift and that sad thought caused your heart to give an uncomfortable squeeze. When you looked back to Billy, you started to realise that there was far more to the man than you’d originally believed.

“I didn’t know what kind of dog you had, so I just...” he continued, trailing off when he saw your smile.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.” 

It was Billy’s turn to simply nod, seeming just as lost for words as you were for a few seconds before deciding to let you go about your evening. “Anyway, I won’t keep you.”

The conversation was over giving you the perfect opportunity to walk away and recover from whatever this had been, only -

“I broke one of the rules,” you blurted out without thinking, not wanting to carry the weight of it after Billy’s gesture.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face but was quickly reined in. “Which one?” 

“I ate tuna in a panini when I went out with Karen,” you stated, sounding so ashamed anyone would have thought you were confessing to murder. “It was just one bite. I forgot tuna was on the list. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, Mr Russo. I promise.”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, or the way the tension seemed to leave his body. His hand found your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“But the list -”

“Tuna is on the list because I don’t like it. If I’d been here and had your blood, it would have been unpleasant for me, but I wasn’t here so I’m willing to forgive it.”

(Well, that explained why certain foods were on the list. They were things he didn’t like - did that mean he could tell what you’d been eating from your blood?)

“I spent twenty dollars,” you admitted a moment later, like you were confessing all of your sins to him. (Or maybe you just wanted to keep the conversation going a little while longer, keep his hand on you a little longer.)

His hand moved to your neck, his cold touch on your skin causing your heart to beat a little faster. And you knew he could tell, you knew he could hear the effect he was having on you. 

“You spent eighteen dollars fifty-five,” he told you, amused by whatever this was. “I don’t think you’re going to bankrupt me.” When his little joke didn’t manage to draw a smile from you, Billy sighed. “I’m the one that should be sorry. I haven’t really explained things to you, I guess because I didn’t think you’d even make it past the second week.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m asking a lot of you. Maybe too much,” he told you as his thumb began to softly brush against your jaw. “The truth is, I need things to be like this. I need to have control. I need to stay in control because when I don’t...”

He didn’t have to say it, you could fill in the blanks. The other night was what happened when Billy lost control, it was what happened when the monster overwhelmed the man.

“But,” he continued, “I know it’s not easy to be the person who’s being controlled. I know you don’t really want this.”

“No, I -” the words started to slip out before you could stop them. Billy looked at you expectantly, silently demanding you finish the thought. Your cheeks felt like they were burning, but he was giving you honesty and you needed to do the same in return. “I’m used to rules. I like knowing what’s expected of me. It doesn’t make things easier for me, but I like knowing where I stand. So, I guess I don’t mind following your rules.”

It was clear he had questions but clearer still that he didn’t want to ask them. You were grateful for that.

“You always have a choice here, little hummingbird, even if I sometimes make it seem like you don’t,” he told you, leaving his hand to linger on your neck a moment more before it dropped to his side. Somehow, you felt colder for the loss of his icy touch. He was quiet a moment before; “do you like Thai food?”

You nodded despite the very sudden change in conversation. “I love it.”

“I’ve got nothing planned this weekend, perhaps we could spend some time getting to know each other a little better? Maybe that would make things a little easier,” he offered, a small smile on his lips. “We could order from a great Thai place I know and I could try to answer some of your questions about things.”

Your fingers tightened on the stuffed toy as you smiled. Finally, you felt like you were getting somewhere, like this could become something bearable, something good.

“I’d like that,” you answered.

“Okay then, tomorrow evening at sunset,” he nodded and looked ready to leave.

Nodding in return, you finally stated to move back towards your rooms. Your hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Why did you help me?” You could tell from his tone that he didn’t want to ask the question, but the curiosity had gotten the better of him. “You didn’t have to help, you could’ve stayed in your rooms. Instead you put yourself in danger to help me. Why?”

You turned back, despite not knowing how to answer him. And, for a few seconds you found yourself looking at him. There was something there, something about his expression, something that made you wonder if anyone else had ever helped him before. It seemed like such an alien concept to him that anyone might go out of their way to do anything for him.

“You looked like you were in pain,” you shrugged, “and, even though I haven’t always felt completely comfortable here, I think you’ve always tried to be kind... in your own way. So, I couldn’t just stand by when I thought there was a chance I could help you.”

Billy swallowed, like he was trying to rid himself of a lump in his throat. Then he nodded, clearly lost for words. That look you’d noticed only seconds before seemed to intensify and Billy didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

“Thank you,” he finally managed, before giving you one last look and turning away. 

For a second you allowed yourself to watch him as he made his way towards the kitchen but you knew you couldn’t linger, not when the pounding of your heart gave you away. Slipping through the door, you quickly shut it behind you, pressing your back against it for a moment. Looking down, you realised that you had the stuffed dog clutched to your chest. It was silly, such a ridiculous gift, but the fact that he’d listened to you, the fact that he’d thought about what you’d told him, it meant so much.

End Note : Billy was having a Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen version) moment when he handed over the stuffed toy. Place your bets on what she’s going to to call it. I know this one was slow and a little cutesy but I wanted to build some more tension before things start to ramp up next chapter.

As always thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much to all my new followers (I did not expect 200+ followers when I started posting on tumblr). I hope you all have awesome weekends!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, dubcon, dark Ari, liar Ari, cheater Ari, mean Ari, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, slight voyeurism, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

𝐀/𝐍: So I wrote this quickly in the past few hours. It’s probably filled with mistakes as I have not reread it even once. But please do enjoy! And tell me what you think.

“Ari, no.”

You pout, but all that does is make him smirk. And it’s not like you’re strong enough to stop him as the beefy 6’6 brunette drags you into the locker room.

“C’mon, babe. Just a quickie while the rest of the team is busy.”

“But I’m not talking to you!”

Ari raises an eyebrow, reaching up to rub his thick beard while his other hand remains pressed to the small of your back. “Oh yeah? Is that why you came to watch me play? And sat in the front row and batted your lashes and gave me those fuck me eyes?”

Your jaw drops open, “You meanie! I did no such thing!”

But Ari uses that moment to shove you through the locker room door, locking it behind you before he pins you against it. And in a second, he’s all over you. This huge, hunky basketball player, his muscular biceps all sweaty from practice, his vest sticking to his toned body that you know all too well. He presses his lips against your neck, sponging wet kisses as he tries to unbutton your top to feel you up, “Just a quickie, honey.” He repeats, “I know how badly you want me.”

“I don’t!” You protest, albeit weakly. But you manage to press your arms against his hard chest and push with all your might. But you might as well be a fly combatting a rhino because of how much bigger he is than you. And yet, you continue pushing and batting at his chest, till he stops kissing you and looks down at you with a raised eyebrow and a mildly irritated look on his face.

“What’s your problem?”

“I told you, Ari! I’m not speaking to you.”

The beefy brunette rolls his eyes before backing away and peeling his vest off. You gulp, trying not to grow distracted by how hot his body is, how big and muscular he is, how defined his sixpack is. He’s the hottest guy on the basketball team. No. Scratch that. He’s the hottest guy on campus and it’s crazy to think that he’s crazy about you.

Ari sits down on the wooden bench by the lockers, taking up the whole area as he spreads out with his legs open and pats his beefy thighs. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you come sit on daddy’s knee and tell me exactly why you’re mad, sweetheart.”

Oh, he was so cocky sometimes! Ari had the worst reputation among all the girls in your college. An asshole. A player. A fuckboy. Your friends had warned you not to fall for his charms, they’d told you he’d prey on you. Take advantage of you because of how “innocent” you were. That’s what he did with everyone else.

But you were different! That’s what Ari had told you when he’d taken your virginity weeks ago at a frat party. You’d felt dizzy from the one singular sip of alcohol you’d consumed and had gone to lie down in one of the upstairs bedrooms. And not ten minutes later, you’d felt the bed dip and you’d opened your eyes to see the hottest upperclassman on campus sitting right next to you. The rest was history. But he’d told you how beautiful you were that night, how he couldn’t take his eyes off you. How he’d had a fight with his girlfriend and maybe you could cheer him up?

And he’d made you feel so good. The two of you had been fooling around ever since. It was crazy to you, how a senior as hot and perfect as Ari Levinson (captain of the basketball team and the most popular guy on campus) seemed to be so interested in a random freshman like you. And he’d done things to your body that no other fumbling boyfriend could ever figure out how to do before. Yes, in your eyes, Ari Levinson was a God.

Which is why you obediently perch down on his lap in the locker room, and the older boy smirks, pushing the neckline of your top to the side so he can play with your bra strap. You feel hot all over but try to remember why you’re mad at him, despite the fact that he’s so close to you and completely shirtless.

“Ari, you didn’t keep your promise.” You begin, but he’s already begun kissing up your jaw, pressing your body flush against his till you can feel his boner digging into your ass.

“Mm? What promise was that, baby?”

You try not to grow distracted by all the cut pet-names he calls you, or the fact that he’s kissing and touching you so ravenously, making you feel so beautiful and sexy and desirable because he of all people wants you so bad. But you need to stay focused and get your point across before he has you completely helpless underneath him.

“Well, you told me you were gonna break up with your girlfriend last week, but Wanda says she saw you hanging out with Sharon yesterday at the ice cream parlour.” You sniffle, “She said… She said you looked all cosy, huddled up in the booth with her. She even saw you guys kissing!” You shake your head and scrunch your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry.

“Aww, baby.” Ari coos, his heavy arms wrapping around you and cuddling you close, and you can’t help but cry into his bare chest. He was so warm and hairy and just so huggable, and his hand rubs soothingly up and down your back as he hugs you hard. “This is all just a huge misunderstanding.”

You look up at him, “It is?”

“Of course.” Ari says confidently, his expression not wavering for a second as he strokes your cheek. “I was at the ice cream parlour with Sharon, but I was only there to break up with her. And then we hugged it out and she gave me a goodbye kiss on the cheek. That’s probably what Wanda saw.”

“B-But Wanda says you guys were embracing for a long time.”

Ari blinks, and for a fleeting moment, something dark crosses over his features before they relax once more, and he gives you his winning smile. “Well, that’s because Sharon’s uncle died.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to tell you that since it’s kind of private, but since you wouldn’t let it go… Well, Sharon’s uncle died, baby. And she was really sad about it, so I gave her a long hug and comforted her.”

“Oh.” You pause, trying to makes sense of all this new information. Your friends had told you in the past that you could be gullible – but Ari wouldn’t lie about someone dying, would he? You look up at him, seeing his pouty pink lips smiling down at you gently while his big hands continue to rub over your back, slipping down under your top to do so. “Well that’s… That’s really sad, Ari. Is she okay?”

“Hm?” Ari’s too busy staring down your cleavage, and his finger hooks under your bra strap and snaps it lewdly against your skin, his pink tongue darting out to run over his lips. His usually blue eyes look blown out and navy, and he lifts your top over your breasts to give them a squeeze, “What’d you say, baby?”

“I said, is Sharon okay? Deaths within immediate family can be hard to deal with. Was she close with her uncle?” You can’t help but feel bad. Sharon had been Ari’s long-term girlfriend for a while, but Ari had told you that they’d been having a lot of fights recently and that he was meaning to break up with her. He’d told you that Sharon was insufferable and mean and that you were sweet and lovely. He said he wanted to make you his new girlfriend, but it would have to wait until he broke up with Sharon. And now he’d done it.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Ari answers distractedly, gesturing for you to lift your arms up so he can peel your top off you. You yelp in protest when he throws it across the room before expertly unclasping your bra with one hand. And your bra goes flying across the room as well, and Ari wastes no time in latching his mouth onto your nipple, sucking harshly and making you throw your head back and gasp out loud.

His hand slips up to massage your other breast and pinch your nipple which is hard as glass. You pant, loving how you turn into putty in his hands as soon as he touches you. He’s just so experienced and makes your body feel so good with the simplest of gestures, and you can’t help but grab his long brown locks that reach down till the base of his neck, pulling hard at the same time he gives your nipple a hard suck, practically suctioning your whole breast into his mouth.

“Ah, Ari! Does this mean you can finally make me your girlfriend?” You ask, despite all the sensations your body is feeling. You’ve been waiting to be his girlfriend for weeks now. It’s been hard having to meet up with him in secret all the time. Waiting for him to text you late at night, or wait until the early hours of the morning when he shows up to your dorm room for sex. You want Ari to take you out on dates, hold your hand on campus and let everyone know that you’re his girlfriend now. And Ari had promised he’d do all of that for you. Was now finally the time?

“God, you have the prettiest tits, baby.” Ari murmurs against your breasts, pushing them together and burying his face in them, licking and sucking and biting the sensitive skin while you pant and wail. “You had me distracted the entire time I was playing. Kept looking at you jumping up and down every time I scored, fuck!” He drives his hard crotch up against your ass and you whimper, holding steadily onto his broad shoulders. “Felt like you were putting on a private show for me, baby.”

Despite your pleasure, you can’t help but feel indignance towards his lewd insinuation, “I was not!”

Ari smirks, “Oh yeah? You weren’t purposely bouncing your tits for daddy? I guess I forgot what an airhead you can be, not even realising how sexy your body is in all these tiny outfits that you wear especially for me, huh?”

“Ari!” You smack his chest. He could be so rude sometimes, a complete asshole! But he was also the one who’d called you beautiful when he’d taken your virginity. When he’d praised you for being the most sensitive, understanding and sweetest girl he’d ever met. Oh, as much as he made your blood boil with his lewd remarks, he also made butterflies flutter in your tummy with his words that were sweet as honey!

The captain of the basketball team smiles down at you, his blue eyes twinkling with lust as he leans back against the lockers behind him, folding his arms over his chest as he looks you over.

“Get up and turn around, baby. Daddy wants to see your ass.”

You immediately obey. His deep, commanding voice always resonates with your submissive side, and your pussy throbs as you stand up and turn till your back is facing him. Shivers run down your spine when you feel his hand press against the small of your back, pushing you forward till you’re bending over, your ass pointed straight to his face.

“Now take this tiny excuse for a skirt off. And do it slowly.”

With care, you slowly slip the blue denim skirt with pink frills down your bare legs. Ari was right, you’d worn this slutty outfit especially for him – whether you wanted to admit it or not. You were addicted to him and the attention he gave you. Sure, you were mad at him, but that hadn’t stopped you from attending his basketball practice in these tiny clothes, hoping he’d pay you some attention. Which he had.

But it was all okay, and you didn’t even have to feel bad anymore! Ari had broken up with his girlfriend which meant he would make you his new girlfriend!

“Daddy, isn’t it great we won’t have to sneak around anymore?” You ask him cutely. But he’s too busy staring at your ass to answer. You step out of your skirt and shiver when you feel his hands groping your bare ass. You’re wearing a tiny candy pink G-string which barely conceals anything, and Ari’s going to town as he squeezes and fondles your butt to his heart’s content.

“You have such a cute baby ass.” Ari murmurs, pressing kisses on your fleshy cheeks as he keeps a firm grip on them, “Best ass I’ve ever seen, honey. I can always see it peaking out from under your slutty little skirts. I’m always itching to give it a smack and see how it jiggles.” H squeezes it roughly, “Tell me to hit you, baby.”

“Huh?”

“Tell daddy you want to be hit for being a naughty little girl and wearing slutty outfits.” Ari says, his voice deep with carnal lust.

“B-But.”

“Do it. Or I’ll take you over my knee and spank you twice as hard.”

You pout at his threat, but you know he’ll follow through with it. A week ago, Ari had seen you flirting with his friend Curtis. It was completely innocent on your part – you just liked to talk to people, after all! – but Ari hadn’t thought so. He’d reminded you that you were his, and that you couldn’t speak to any other man. And then he’d slung you over his knee and spanked you till your ass was raw and glowing with pain.

You swallow harshly, “Daddy, please hit my baby ass.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause I was wearin’ a slutty outfit.”

SMACK.

You’re almost knocked off your feet with the force of the slap, but it also resonates straight down to your cunt. And from your bent over position, you can see your slick dripping down your leg. God, the effect Ari has on you is insane. He plays your body like a fiddle, and knows exactly how to get you so wet.

He continues playing with your ass, slapping it and squeezing it and groping it. And you know he’d happily do this for hours if he had the chance. He’d actually done that once, when he’d come to your dorm room at 3 in the morning. He’d been high and horny as hell, and had asked you to lay on your stomach naked while he played with your ass and ate you out from the back for what felt like hours. Not that you were complaining – you were sure you’d fallen asleep and woken up several times to him still playing with your butt. It was clearly his favourite part of your body, and he’d even stuck a finger up there. That had woken you up and made you squeal, and Ari had just laughed and told you to stop being a baby…

Back in the present, you huff indignantly, growing impatient and hoping he’d get the message. But Ari’s in the zone, spreading your ass cheeks and practically making out with your asshole, muttering about how hot your ass is and how he’d tattoo his name on it if he could.

“Daddy! I’m getting’ sore!” You grumble, because your back is hurting from bending over for so long. Mercifully, the brunette chuckles, grabbing your arm and pulling you back up into his lap. But not before he grabs the flimsy lace of your G-string and rips it in half. You gasp although you’re not too surprised, and grab onto his shoulders as he helps you straddle him. And you both let out collective moans as your core nestles on top of his clothed dick that is hard and poking out against his basketball shorts.

“Poor baby,” Ari teases, nipping and biting against your neck as he humps up against you. “Weren’t you mad at me a second ago? And now look at you, naked in the locker room like you’re getting paid to be my personal slut.” He smirks, liking the sound of that as he can’t help but give your ass another rough squeeze, “The captain’s personal slut. You like that, baby? You like being my slut?”

You pout, “You said you’d make me your girlfriend once you broke up with Sharon.”

Ari sighs, grabbing your hand and pressing it against his hard crotch, “Are you still thinking about that?”

“Well, it’s what you said! And now you’ve broken up with her, so –”

“Honey, I will make you my girlfriend.” Ari chucks you under your chin until you giggle, looking up to meet his sparkling eyes. “But we gotta lay low for a while. You know, since Sharon’s uncle died. It wouldn’t be very nice for me to rub my new girl in her face, would it?”

You blink, “I guess not.”

“It wouldn’t.” He confirms. “Look, you’re my special girl and you already know that.” He gives you a quick kiss while his hand holds yours in place over his crotch. “I already told you I’ve never met anyone else like you, haven’t I? So of course, I’ll make you my girl, but you have to be patient.”

You nod slowly, “Okay, daddy. I can do that.”

“Good girl. Now take my dick out.”

Ari presses your hand inside his shorts, and you feel his dick – so hot and hard – as it pulses against your fingers. You wrap them around the base and pull him out, mouth watering slightly at the sight of his length. Under the bright locker room lights, he looks doubly huge. Every time you see it, you wonder how exactly he fits it inside of you.

You still remember your first time, with the party music blaring in the distance. Ari breathing sweet words against your ear, coaxing you gently while you cried like a baby. Clutching his huge body close to yours as he penetrated you for the first time, calling you his special little baby. Calling you his perfect princess, telling you how good and tight you felt around his daddy dick, promising you how good he’d take care of you. God, it had hurt so much when he’d stuffed himself inside you, but the pleasure that came afterwards was so beautiful and you couldn’t get enough of him since.

“So big, daddy.” You pant, feeling especially little as he holds you in his lap with his hard dick, so red and angry with pent-up lust, throbbing in your hand.

Ari bites his lip, gazing at you with hunger, “Yeah, baby? You like my big dick?”

“L-Love it!”

“Mm, you like how it barely fits inside you? You like how I break your little baby pussy in half every time I fuck you, huh?” He wraps his hand around your smaller one, making you run your hand up and down his length and jack him off.

“Yes, daddy, I love it! Love havin’ you inside me!” You say earnestly, and Ari moans out loud.

His phone vibrates then, and you snap out of your lustful reverie long enough to glance down at the bench where it rests. You see the name SHARON flash on his screen before he grabs it and throws it into his gym bag.

“She’s calling because she wants to set up a time to grab some of her stuff from my dorm room.” Ari explains smoothly when he sees your expression. “Don’t doubt daddy, baby. You know I’d never do you dirty like that.”

You’re all too ready to believe him, letting him lift you up by the hips before he slams you down on his dick. And one second your hole is weepy and empty, and the next you’re stuffed full to the brim with his thick dick. And Ari has to force you down to get it in all the way, his teeth gritted as he drives his huge monster length up your tiny pussy, and you feel like you’ll tear in half but in the best way possible. And all your thoughts and doubts about Sharon are forgotten as Ari completely manhandles you on top of his dick, and you feel so full and you gasp into his mouth as he grabs your face and kisses you sloppily.

“My slutty little girl,” Ari murmurs against your lips, “Coming to all my practices and cheering me on just so you can get your little pussy stuffed to the brim, isn’t that right?”

“N-No! OW! Yes, okay?! YES!” You can’t help but agree with him when he slaps your ass, before lifting you up with his strong arms and driving you back down.

“Tell me you’re my little slut.” He commands.

“I’m your little slut, daddy. Please!” You cry.

“Say it again.”

“I’M YOUR LITTLE SLUT, OKAY? PLEASE, DADDY!”

Ari loves to make you beg and you know it. You remember once in the past, he’d sauntered into your dorm room in the early hours of the morning. He’d sat on your bed like he owned it and lit up a joint, despite you protesting that smoking wasn’t allowed in your dorm. Well, that night he’d sat there and blown smoke in your face while he made you suck his dick. Lazily guiding your face with one hand while he held the joint with the other. And he’d made you beg him to fuck you, beg him for hours before he’d relented. He’d told you he loved playing with you, loved unravelling you till you came undone in his hands. Loved pushing you till the edge, till you were so submissive for him that you could cry.

And cry you had. Big, fat tears pouring down your face as you’d begged him to fuck you. To just put it inside you, even if it was just a little bit. “Just the tip, daddy!” He’d made you beg while your mouth was full of his dick. And you couldn’t believe that you, who’d entered this college as a virgin, were on your knees for the college senior fuckboy while he blew smoke in your face and laughed while you begged and begged for his dick that he’d made you addicted to.

But he always relented in the end. He always gave you that sweet release and then some. Ari was an extremely skilled lover, and he knew just how to make you come undone till you were pulsing around him, almost passed out with pleasure. And then he’d light another joint and when you’d timidly ask for a puff, he’d tell you that babies like you weren’t allowed to smoke. And then he’d laugh some more.

Back in the present, you’re moaning like a wanton whore while Ari bounces you up and down on his dick, and it feels like he’s piercing you open from the inside out while he murmurs dirtily in your ear. And the small locker room is filled with the lewd sound of panting and skin slapping against skin, and you almost don’t hear the loud knocking on the door and the doorknob as it rattles.

“Hey, Levinson! When are you and your side chick gonna be done? The rest of us have to change!”

You head snaps up but Ari presses his lips against yours, his kiss swallowing up all your suspicions.

“It’s just Curtis, you know how much of a dick he can be.” Ari murmurs against your lips, grinding his hips in just the right way that has you feeling that delicious feeling. He moves you up and down at lightning speed, like you’re just a ragdoll that weighs nothing in his strong arms. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head when you feel your clit rubbing against his pubic hair, making you clench around his dick and causing him to swear profusely.

“Goddamit, baby, so good. Your pussy’s so tight and sexy, baby.” He squeezes your tits harshly, twisting your nipples and adding to your bliss as you feel your pleasure mount up.

“G-Gonna cum, daddy,” You whimper, and earn another slap to your ass.

“Not yet, dumb baby. Not unless daddy says so.”

But you can’t wait, you just can’t! Ari had told you once it’s because you were a virgin and knew nothing about sex, nothing about holding your orgasms. He said he’d found it cute how you could never hold it, how you always chased your release selfishly. But you just couldn’t help it! He made you feel so good! How could he expect you to hold anything?

The invisible rubber band snaps inside you and you explode, your slick walls pulsating around his dick as you cum. Waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making your legs feel like jelly as Ari continues to bounce you up and down. His abs and thighs are covered in your cream, and his eyes grow distracted as he stares at the mess you’ve made. And you sob and cling to him, feeling so needy and overwhelmed as he continues to fuck you.

“What a stupid little baby you are.” Ari mocks, slapping your cheek condescendingly while you gaze dazedly up at him. “First, you dress up like a little attention seeking tart just to get me to fuck you, and then you can’t even play by your daddy’s rules, can you? Always so needy, always cumming without permission. Baby, one of these days I’m gonna fuck you in front of my friends just so they can see how badly you take instruction. Maybe that’ll straighten you up, huh?”

“Nooooo…” you cry weakly, pounding at his chest because you feel overwhelmed as he continues to piston his hips up and pierce into you.

“The whole basketball team’s gonna watch me fuck my little slut next time you cum without permission.” Ari says through gritted teeth before he suddenly throws you off his dick. And you gape, staring in awe at his pink dick completely coated in your sticky cream. But not for long, because Ari mauls your naked body till you’re bent over the bench on your hands and knees. He gives your ass three hard smacks, the force of which would’ve knocked you over had his other hand not been holding you in place. And then he shoves himself back into you, fucking you doubly harder than before.

“Oooh my god!” You squeal and you hear him smirk.

“Not God, sweetheart. Just me.”

And then he well and truly shifts into jackhammer mode, thrusting into you so hard that his hips become a blur. He grabs you by the hair and pulls you upwards, till your back is against his hairy chest and you can feel him biting against your neck. He gropes your breasts lewdly, pinching your nipples as he angles your head to face forward.

“Look at that, baby.” Ari coos, and you gape at the sight of yourself getting fucking like a whore. He’s made you look into the huge full-length mirror that takes up one side of the room. And you can’t believe how much bigger Ari is than you, like a giant dwarfing you completely as he fucks you. As he completely breaks you in half and mocks you as he does it. “Look at you, getting what you deserve. This is what you wanted, huh? You want me to make you my girl, huh baby? Well that means you let me fuck you whenever and however I want, you got that?”

“Y-Yes, daddy, yes, yes, yes!” You cry, ready to agree with whatever he says as you begin to see stars again.

“Whatever daddy says goes, you got that?” He holds your head in place, forcing you to watch as he ruins you. Forcing you to watch the sweaty mess you’ve become as this beefy, giant of a man has his way with you. “If I tell you I want you to lick my cum off the floor, you’ll do it and say ‘thank you, daddy’, won’t you?”

“I will!”

“And if I tell you I want to fuck your ass, what’re you gonna say sweetheart?”

“Do it!” You sob, delirious and ready to agree with whatever he says. He’s making you see stars like no one else could, forcing the pleasure out of your body through his expert hands, his fat dick and his dirty, controlling words. You love how Ari has the upper hand, how he has control over you in every single way possible. He’s older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you, and he holds you at his mercy and you love it. You get off on it. And you’d do anything he’d tell you to.

“That’s my good little slut.” Ari praises, and you can hear the wolf whistles and hoots through the door of the locker room. You know his friends are on the other side, and you know the walls are thin. You know they can hear every little thing, from Ari’s dirty talk to the sick slap of your skin against his to your wanton moans. You see Ari’s expression in the mirror, and he looks smug and proud, like he’s the king who’s on top of his world right now.

His hand snakes down to rub your clit, and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your sob, loving how well he knows your body. How he circles your clit with his finger before pinching it, rubbing it sensually like only he knows how to. And all the while holding you in place while he fucks the living daylights out of you.

“And what if I want you to service my friends, honey? You’d do that too?” Ari whispers darkly in your ear, casually running a hand through his long brown mane as if he hasn’t just said the dirtiest thing in the world. His gaze is locked on yours, gauging your reaction. And why does your pussy clench around his dick when he says it? He laughs mockingly, “What a fuckin’ slut you are, baby. You’d service the whole basketball team, wouldn’t you? Shake your little baby ass for all of them and let them tuck money into those slutty little panties you always wear?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan pitifully, grabbing his forearm as he continues to play with your puffy bundle of nerves. “I’d do it for you, daddy. Fuck, don’t stop! I’d do anything for you!”

“Damn right you would.” Ari boasts, holding you tightly in place against him as his hips continue to move. And you’re sure you’d have fallen down to the ground had he not been there to hold you up. Like a propped-up doll, ready to do her master’s bidding. “And then I’d fuck your ass in front of all of ‘em, so they’d know you belong to me. My slutty little plaything to do with what I please. Remember that.”

You cum so hard, you feel like you’ve blacked out for a few seconds. You squirt violently around his dick, milking him as you whine and scream his name, thank him for fucking you so good, making you feel so addicted to his cock as the searing pleasure courses through you. And that’s when you feel his heavy load release inside you, burning you from the inside out.

Ari never wore condoms with you. He said he wanted his pretty baby to feel him raw.

And you can feel him, alright. Every bit of his thick cum as it overflows inside you. Trickling down your thigh because you can’t hold it in, there’s way too much of it. Your legs give out underneath you, and Ari hoists you up into his arms like you’re his little baby. Trembling in his giant arms as you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his hairy chest. His dick is still inside you, pulsing out the remainder of his load which seems to be never-ending.

“Attaboy, Levinson, you fuckin’ dog! Thanks for the show!”

You hear the voices laughing and hollering from the other side of the locker room door, but you’re too fucked out to care too much, only focusing on Ari and how big he is as he holds you close.

“Daddy,” you whimper, feeling needy. And Ari presses your face with soft kisses.

“You were so good for me baby,” He praises you, “So good for daddy.” And then he grows distracted by his cum as it trickles out of you, swiping it up from your pussy and pressing it into your mouth. You’re so exhausted but you lick it clean, hoping to impress him. He watches you suckle his finger dry, and you can feel his dick hardening inside you again. “I’ve got you trained so well, baby.”

You look up at him needily, “Am I your girlfriend now, daddy?”

Ari chuckles, setting you down on the bench as you try to catch your breath. He already looks like he’s ready for round two, standing tall and barely having broken a sweat, his dick almost fully hard once more and slapping against his abs. He gives you a condescending pat on the head before pushing his shorts off.

“Soon, baby.” He says before making his way to one of the stalls. He turns and shoots you a wink. “Come join me in the shower once you can walk.”

THE END AKFHSDLANA

I’m so nervous yall! i wrote this so spontaneously and it is the first time in a long time that i have posted an ARI FIC!!! please please let me know what you think! please reblog and leave feedback! let me know what you think of ARI! Is he gonna make her his gf?? is he a good guy??? HOW WAS IT??? let me know!! thank you ily all bye hehe

[10thmusemoon]

Since you are one of the leading experts on YQY, I wanted to ask your opinion on the 5 year gap, when SQQ was supposed that.

I was wondering why YQY at one point, after so many failures from LQG, didn't just go by himself to retrieve the body.

Like, the novels don't say anything about his mental state in that period, the same way we don't know how he was after thinking SJ gone the first time. What do you think?

Like, rationally of course he couldn't go and retrieve the body, for diplomatic reasons and shit, but would he really care, if his beloved xiao jiu was on the line? And, I mean, he already subdued a heavenly demon once, if he and LQG were to join forces, they could def steal the body back.

I tried to search a bit, but atm I haven't found a fix about that precise moment in time either. What's your thoughts?

I remember the book mentions something about him being in seclusion or training and then having to abruptly leave that when the realms start splitting. When we see him again I think LQG is feeding him spiritual energy to maintain the sect’s barrier? I vaguely remember It’s implied he’s like tired or drained or something and he’s sitting?

I haven’t finished my reread but I always assumed he qi deviated again (though not to the same extent) or went into seclusion due to his grief. This was, after all, the second time he thought SQQ had died. But this time it was ‘real’ something they all saw and not just the rumors of some surviving servants outside a burned down house.

Maybe a part of him hoped LBH would succeed in bringing him back, he had a front seat view to what heavenly demon blood was capable of, maybe a small part of him hoped LBH would succeed. Or maybe he was strengthening himself to the point where he could draw Xuan su long enough to retrieve SQQ’s body. LQG wasn’t weak, his continued failure was a barometer of YQY’s own strength and where he needed to be to win and live long enough to return to the sect.

YQY’s whole thing is that acting impulsively ruined his life, he second guessed and forces himself to move slowly and with a level head. When he’s near death he mentions something along the lines of maybe he should have acted impulsively, so it was a thought he had at one point. Whatever he wanted to do had to be weighed against the responsibilities he already had and the reality of the situation.

After all, what would happen if he failed? SQQ’s body would remain with LBH and his would never rest. I don’t think that was a risk he was willing to take. Dying? That’s fine! SJ losing his place in the cycle of reincarnation? Not so much.

[defenestrationn]

Sebek Angst

trigger Warning *technically major character death?* Yuu has already passed and this is following sebek's Journey of mourning his love

Indented areas are flashbacks

The sounds of soft clicking fill Sebek's study while he worked. Writing had become the crocodile's escape once he was done with his shifts guarding his lord, Malleus. For a while, the loss of his beloved, Yuu, had rendered him a husk. A husk who refused anything out of his routine. 

Wake up. Eat. Guard. Eat again. Journal. Sleep. Repeat. He did that for his whole life. But it felt so much more hollow now. Books full of his grief filled his shelves. The rows above are full of stories you two shared. So many are full of his love and admiration. 

One such book laid open on his desk. Between the furious bursts of typing, he would reread parts of the journal. Relive that moment so he could write it once again. To now allow the world to know his love for you. A part of him wished the stories would go back to you. So you can hear his love once again. 

  laughter filled the broken-down dorm as the first year's all spoke over their notes and food. times where the group just got to be school kids. Not fighting overblots or some crazed person or a ghost bride. They were just allowed to be themselves. 

  Sebek swore only Yuu could foster this environment.  It had been almost a year of their constant blood sweat and tears to make this place habitable. Hell, Even other students enjoyed spending their time here, with or without the prefect.

  Slowly, as the night went on, the students began to go and do their own things. Some go to bed, and others just retire to their rooms to wind down. However,  Sebek stood in the kitchen with the prefect. It had become a routine for the pair to clean up together. light chatter filled the air as the boy was handed wet dishware to dry off. 

  “Human.  I've noticed you've read most of the books in your possession.  We shall go together to select more. Do you need any other stationery?” 

  “I would love to go on a date with you,  Sebek.”

He froze at the way you laughed. Was his intention that obvious?

A soft smile sat on his lips as he relived the beginning of your relationship.  Human.. oh how that word cuts him deep now. humans had such short life spans, even to the half fae. You had passed well into your 80s. And from what Lilia had explained, that was a long healthy life for a human. 

He had kept about 70 years worth of writings about you. Every date you had, he would write in detail, every milestone would have a chapter. All of the love letters you had both sent. He kept all of it. Every memory he had of you. 

Devoted. That's all the boy had ever been to you or Malleus. If he could live, eat and breathe you. He would.

But now, in the nights,  he lives his life glued to his computer.  Giving you another life. Giving you both a new live story. One in the world you would tell him about. One where magic didn't exist. One where he was human too.

 A world where you could live and die together.  Neither suffering for centuries begging for the other. 

  The day you both graduated was one sebek could never forget. You looked absolutely glowing, proud to have kept up in a world that felt like it was against you. And yet, he was the one who screamed your praise the whole way. 

Once the ceremony was over,  Sebek couldn't stop himself from running to you. It was like you were magnetic.  

“Yuu! We did it!” 

He scooped up his partner in his arms as he spun them around. Words couldn't describe the pride and joy he felt over this. After all. He had an important question he had been sitting on since they got together.  

“Yuu! Now that we have graduated. Will you come live with me in Briar Valley?”

He looked back to his bed. Your favorite blanket sat folded beside his pillow. Malleus had enchanted it many years ago to never endure wear and tear. A few years later, sebek had enchanted it to forever smell like you when he had to leave for a trip. 

For a while he had cursed himself for that. The smell would make him cry himself to sleep. Begging the stars to let you return to his arms. But now? He finds great comfort in the blanket. After all, It was the first present when you had agreed to live with him.

His eyes drifted down to the black metal around his finger. It was like a traditional fae wedding ring. One of his homeland. And your matching ring sat on a chain around his neck. As close to his heart as it can get. After a few seconds of looking at his ring, he took the book from his desk to bring back to his shelf. he only took another in it's place. The one labeled “Wedding”.

The book was full, page to page,  about the events of your wedding and honeymoon. About your silly misadventures and how lucky he was to be the one to be by your side through it all.

 The wedding wasn't huge, but Sebek had paid special attention to inviting those close to you. The found family you had made in your time in this world. His family also joined. His siblings teasing the boy relentlessly for his nerves. 

The ceremony was held in a large meadow full of flowers and fireflies.  Thorns grew over arched metal that had been set long before their time. Their guests lined the isle while he stood by the officiant, clad in a dark black suit with accents of gold. His hair wasn't gelled back for once.  Instead,  he allowed the fluffy green hair to rest naturally,  the way his dear partner loved so much.

Sebek couldn't help but fiddle with the hem of his leather gloves. Once he heard the music began to fill the wind, he took them off. It was time to see his beautiful spouse. 

“You looked radiant as always, my heart.” His voice was soft as his fingers brushed over the picture of them having their first dance together.  Tears burned his eyes as he held the book close. What he would give to truly be back in those moments. One day, he will be back with his love.  Until then. He will continue to give them a new life through these books.

A/n!

This has been eating at me for a week. Hopefully yall enjoy!!

[myarmytinyzen]

Lando Norris OneShot

** So I decided that for my next fic. I would do Lando Norris as a tribute to his Singapore Grand Prix win just today.** IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM.

Request: No

Warnings: None

Genre: Comfort, Fluff

Lando has been trying to get passed this P1 curse for a while. You have watched him constantly get P1 in qualifying and then proceed to lose it in the first lap. You could tell that it was affecting him more than he let on. You have encouraged and supported him through it all but you had a really good feeling about this race.

This was finally the day that his love was going to make it to a race since before the break. He knew he had to do a good job. He has been struggling with all the ridicule from the public as well as reporters. This was the race right before their fall break and he had to show that he can do this. He already had P1 in quali so he just needed to keep that position throughout the race. He already has a face car, he just needs to keep P1 at the start of the race. Once he did that he felt he would be in a good position.

As you walk out from the bathroom, you see him rereading the race strategy over and over again. "You really should take a minute and relax love, you shouldn't be going into this race so tense", you say as you walk over and massage his tense shoulders. "I just want to make sure this race works out as good as possible, they have to see that I'm capable of WDC". You really hate when he beats himself up about all this. He is doing wonderful and the people that really know him and love him can see how well he has been doing this season. Everyone has these type of moments and he just needs a really good race to bounce back.

He has a little bit of time before the driver's parade so you are just sitting for a little bit in his driver's room. Once you finally get the go ahead to head over to start the parade, you give him a kiss and head on your way to hospitality to watch the parade. Throughout the whole parade you can tell that he is still thinking about it, and you try to think of a way to get him away from it. You think of talking to the team but remember that there is still a lot of tension with the team after Hungary.

Finally getting him to relax, you watch from the garage has he takes off onto the tarmac to get into the starting positions. You are anxiously watching the closer it gets to lights out while hoping that this race ends in the way he needs. Time slows down to milliseconds as the lights start to light up and with a bated breath it goes lights out.

As you watch the start, you see that Lando and Max were evenly matched when it came to reaction time, but emotions and joy resonates around the room as you all watch Lando keep the lead he needed. You could feel the energy increase in McClaren as the laps keep going and Lando stays in P1. 20, 30, 40, 50, it just keeps going. P1 every lap over and over. The happiness you feel could not get any higher. He is showing every person that he can do what they expect and much more. Finally you get to the last ten laps and you are counting down the laps as they go. Lap 62 rolls around and everyone starts getting prepared for the best welcome for the three time grand prix winner.

He has won, he lost his fastest lap to Daniel and that may come into problems later on but the important thing is that he won. He did it, finally showed that he can keep his qualifying placement and never lose it. You run out into the pits to meet your race winner as he pulls up to the P1 placeholder. He hops out and makes direct eye contact with you and runs over. You embrace him and tell him over and over again "You did it! You Won! I love you! You won!" You release him to let him celebrate with his team because you know that you can have a personal celebration with him later.

You watch him as he accepts his trophy and a laugh of happiness bursts from you as you watch his iconic champagne pop. You know this is what he needed and you cant wait to see how much more he does this season but you can't wait to celebrate and show your love for him over the next few weeks before the US Grand Prix.

** Thank you for reading. Please leave any comments and critiques that I can improve on. I do have a couple more and I can't wait to show you. I will be alternating between the different fandoms I love and I will give a more detailed list of what fandoms I will right for.**

--Popcorn

P.S: Sorry if it's not good. I am very nervous to put out any fanfics but I feel if I don't do it now I never will. Well Bye.......

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @cuips-not-cute! cuips_not_cute has six fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @cuips-not-cute:

he could be brave

blood is an aphrodisiac

honeyed affection

blinking red light

cyclical

"cuips is a master of taking the reader on an emotional roller coaster ride. The amount of times I've laughed and cried at the same time reading his fics have been too numerous to count. Especially the depth of the sex scenes and the character beats and growth they portray are gorgeous to read - and also very titillating. I love Steve and Eddie in every one of cuips stories, adore the little mannerisms they are given and the way they interact with each other and other characters. Besides the inspiring prose cuips can pull off a plot like few other people I've found so far - since blinking red light is still ongoing, I'll just point to cyclical for that. I'm very thankful to cuips for writing and posting these stories and for being a very active part of this lovely fandom." -- anonymous

Below the cut, @cuips-not-cute answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

i don’t even know. i was happily in the ofmd fandom when i watched season 4 almost three years ago now (oh god) and then the characters… they got me. i fear they’ll never leave.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

god, so many. they’re all kinda the same flavor though so i’ll list out what i’m always filtering for to find a new fic: bottom/sub eddie, creature/monster eddie, post s4, canon compliant, soft dom steve, sex pollen, spit kink, rimming (perhaps my FAVORITE ever thing to read), switch eddie/switch steve… the list goes on.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

probably also rimming. there’s just something so romantic about eating ass. and i really love to stick with post s4 canon compliant aus, too, i don’t think i’ve written an actual for real au yet, though i do have an idea for one after brl.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

i don’t know if i can pick!! my ao3 bookmarks host my many all-time faves, but if you wanna go by the fic i’ve reread the most it’s probably the affliction of the feeling. it’s so fucking good.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

YES!!! i have never written omegaverse!!! which is crazy, ‘cause i like it a LOT. i have a post-s4 omegaverse au kicking around in my head currently, and i cannot wait to sink my teeth into all the messy biology and politics that come with the omegaverse.

What is your writing process like?

chaotic, in a word. usually, i’ll get a fic idea while i’m balls-deep in writing another fic so i’ll shove it to the side and let it simmer while i finish that first one, then i’ll spend a good long while planning it out in ridiculous detail, and THEN i’ll start actually drafting. i like to have a fully fleshed out outline and a couple chapters written and edited before i start posting, and once posting begins i tend to deviate quite a bit from my outline but it’s all good fun.

Do you have any writing quirks?

definitely. i don’t like pointing them out for fear of other folks seeing them in everything i do, but they’re there. one that i don’t mind so much is my absolute abuse of the word “little.” everything is “a little” of this, “a little” of that, but i try to cut my usage down significantly while i’m editing.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

i always TRY to keep a schedule but… yeah. it never works. i’m far too busy for one, but attempts are made. i’d like to one day write a fic in full before posting it, because i think it’d be a whole lot better if i let it sit for that long but lord, i sure do like getting ao3 comments on every chapter. they make the writing motivation go WAY up.

Which fic are you most proud of?

brl, definitely. that fucker is LONG and i’m barely halfway through it. i think i’ve done a lot of cool things with it and i’m going to do some more cool things and i’ve made a lot of really awesome friends in the process of writing it so it’s got some pretty insane sentimental value to me. it’s definitely going to be a fic i’ll miss writing once i finish it, but that’s what the epilogue series is for!!!

How did you get the idea for blinking red light?

from another fic!!! @racketghost is the author of one of my favorite things i’ve ever read, which is the good omens zach and miri au, closed set (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320960/chapters/55862155 <- hyperlinked), wherein crowley has been lying about the existence of some angelic sex tapes to all of hell, and then he and aziraphale have to actually make the tapes. it’s awesome. it’s gorgeous. brl is one big giant love letter to this fic, because it means so fucking much to me and i think about it ALL the time. 

When writing honeyed affection, what was something you didn’t expect?

hmm, i don’t know? ha is, i think, a pretty easygoing fic with lots and lots of porn stuffed inside it, and that was all i intended it to be so i cannot think of anything i was surprised by!!

What inspired blood is an aphrodisiac?

i just wanted to write vampire eddie. it was july ‘22, kas theories were everywhere, i had to try it. these days i think i would change a LOT about it because my ideas and hcs surrounding the characters have evolved significantly, but i’ll write vampire eddie again and “fix” everything i no longer like about biaa.

What was your favorite part to write from he could be brave?

…the fisting. i genuinely think some of my best writing is in that scene, and while i feel the same way about this fic as i do biaa, the fisting scene will always hold a special place in my heart. i’m very, very excited to write the fisting chapter in brl because of this scene. fisting rules.

How do/did you feel writing cyclical?

i wrote cyclical during a very weird few months of my life, so writing it was sort of my way of dealing with all the insane shit going on around me, and i think it shows. in a good way, though, because cyclical is a timeloop fic so it needed to be a little angsty and insane. i’m stupidly proud of that fic. @ryeallytired actually BOUND it into a PHYSICAL BOOK and SENT IT TO ME and when i tell you that is the singular most precious object i own, i mean it.

What was the most difficult part of writing blinking red light?

PLOTTING THAT BITCH. GOD. i’m so happy to be actually WRITING it now, the planning was genuinely so brutal. my issue was that i was sticking too close to the plot of closed set (<3) which just… did not work for steddie. closed set’s premise centers around crowley lying about making sex tapes, yes, but he lied about them to PROTECT aziraphale, which is the messiest, kindest, riskiest fucking thing ever. and it’s awesome. in the early planning stages of brl, i was trying to put eddie in the crowley role of lying about having made sex tapes with steve, but it reallyyy didn’t work. there was an oc and i absolutely hated him, plus i didn’t like what that premise was doing to eddie’s character… ugh. it was a MESS. it took several rubber duck-ing conversations with my brilliant friend @lollaika and a rewatch of zach and miri to finally realize that it had to be STEVE who brings up the idea of sex tapes so that he could protect eddie, rather than eddie bringing it up to save his own hide (yikes).

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

oooh, lots. reallyyyy loved chapter 8 of cyclical with all of the pov shifts, that was super fun to write. i also really enjoyed writing the dry humping/sex tape convo in the first chapter of brl, and i’m stupidly excited to write chapters 12, 13, 15, and 17, because of specific scenes that will happen in each.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

i do!! after brl is completed i’ll have to choose from two story ideas (because i cannot have two wips at once or i’ll get SO stressed), one being a semi-realistic steddie cowboy au based off my own experiences with growing up on a farm and featuring messy, earnest cowboys and not-fully-human eddie, and the other being the omegaverse au i want to write, which will have a very fun mix of vampire eddie, dubcon bitching, and accidental mating bites!!!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

i cannot think of anything!! this was super fun :D

Thank you to our author, @cuips-not-cute, and our anonymous nominator! See more of cuips_not_cute's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[weirdmorefics]

So Very Basic- Spencer Reid X Reader

A/N- This may have just been an excuse for me to infodump about Pride and Prejudice but I swear the fic is still good! Reader is also very Autistic coded but I am Autistic so that happens a lot when I write hope you don't mind.

Pronouns- She/her

Tooth-Rooting Fluff

Word Count- 822

Summary- Spencer judging your book tastes on the jet back home.

Spencer and I have made it a habit of sitting next to each other every flight home. We usually talk about the recent books we have finished or are currently reading. Sometimes we just sit in silence and read together. These are my favorite moments in my life I never feel calmer in the jet with Spencer by my side or across from me. This time it felt different though Spencer's eyes have not left me once I swear he hadn't flipped a page of his book.

"Hey Spence, What's your book about?" I say trying to hint at the fact that I can obviously see he has not flipped a single page.

He seemed startled by my sudden question but proceeded to tell me the entire synopsis of his book.

I slam my book shut and shout, "You have read that book already!"

He seemed perplexed by my reaction "There is no rule against rereading books I think authors would prefer you reread their works."

I groan, "There is when you spend the whole flight staring at me distracting me from my book."

Spencer flushes and I am one hundred percent sure I am right now.

"Hotch the children are fighting again!" Rossi shouts like a mother making me shake my head at him.

"Hotch Spence is poking meee," Emily teases in her best Y/N impersonation. JJ of course joins in playing the role of Spencer, "I am not Y/n." She draws out my name.

Spencer and I look as red as two tomatoes and my safe space has turned into an inescapable nightmare.

He leans in and whispers in my ear, "You know this is your fault for picking the most basic Jane Austen novel."

I gasp dramatically which of course just causes more stares from the team.

Derek sighed knowing this Y/n gasp all too well, "Pretty boy what are you doing offending Y/n? Do you want to listen to another one of her defensive rants for thirty minutes?"

"I quite enjoy them," Spencer smiles.

Rossi rolls his eyes, "You would."

I stand up, "Pride and Prejudice is beautiful from its book, it's movie, and it's BBC Special!"

JJ sighs," Here she goes."

"The drama in the book is spectacular as it delves into each sister's feelings about marriage and how at the time it was their only option. Don't even get me started on the twenty-seven with no prospects speech! Oh my goodness Darcy is the perfect match for Elizabeth with them both being so headstrong makes for the best enemies to lovers! Speaking of Darcy in the film when he does that hand-clench thing it was not even in the book! It wasn't even scripted! Which made me feel he was the perfect actor for Darcy he understood the role perfectly!" I ramble out putting my hand on my chest the rest of the team is annoyed at another one of my outbursts but Spencer is looking at me like I am the only person on the plane and I flush when I meet his eyes.

Hotch shouts at me, "L/N would you sit down we are about to go into a patch of turbulence." He of course says this too late and I embarrassingly fall on top of Spencer.

I immediately try to scramble off Spencer but he holds me there. I look away from him trying to hide my flushed face and he asks if I am alright.

"Yup, just mortified but everybody needs a good daily dose of that am I right." I smile trying to play it off but I play with my hair a common tell of mine that everyone in the BAU knows by now.

"You know I have never seen the Pride and Prejudice film," Spencer says slyly.

My eyes light up "You must see it! It's on Netflix I have seen it over a hundred times! I can probably quote all the words by now."

"I actually don't have Netflix I don't really watch television," He rubs the back of his neck.

"That's fine I could totally bring my laptop to you to watch it! Or we could watch it at my apartment!" I ramble out coming off more excited than I meant to.

"That sounds great," Spencer smiles, "Do you really know all the words you could recite some now?" He teases.

I turn the deepest red I think I have ever been in my life and of course, Derek has to jump in.

"Oh pretty boy has moves," he whistles.

Spence rolls his eyes "Shut up Morgan."

"Could we all shut up? Some of us like to rest so we can actually focus on work when we get back." Hotch says in his typical annoyed-with-us voice.

"I guess reciting Pride and Prejudice to you will have to wait," I whisper into Spencer's ear it was finally my time to make him blush.