#This is part of a fanfic that I will never publish because

[cutielando]

conflict of interest ~ lando norris

request: i recently saw a lando fanfic where the reader was a famous football player’s daughter and she was besties with maguis ex bf (joao another football player) but the story line was that she’d gone to a gp lando grew an interest in her but she rejected/dissed him because of the rumors of him and magui and i was wondering is you could do something like that!

warnings: a little hate towards magui (i have nothing against her and her relationship with lando in any way !!!! but it was necessary for the story to be spicier), jerk!joao (for like a split second)

a/n: part 2?👀👀👀

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you got invited to attend a Formula 1 race weekend.

You knew nothing about the sport or how it worked, the only thing discussed in your household being football and your father’s career. Day in and day out, the only thing that surrounded you was football.

Even though your father had always said that he didn’t want to pressure you into liking or practicing football, he secretly wanted you to follow in his footsteps.

Imagine his internal disappointment he felt when you told him you wanted to become a model. He, of course, supported you and helped you in every way that he could have ever thought of, instead shifting his entire focus regarding football on your best friend, João. 

You and João have known each other ever since you were little children, growing up in the same neighborhood and given that he had always looked up to your father and his career. Growing up, whenever you would hang out with João at your house, him and your father never missed out on the opportunity for some early-on training and strategy talks.

That didn’t stop even when João actually became a football player. Your father and him sometimes talked more than you guys did, if you were being honest.

But you understood the shared passion that made their connection so deep.

Even with your modeling, you were keen on following your best friend’s games, always finding time and watching it wherever you were around the world. But that was not the only sport that you followed.

Formula 1 had become your guilty pleasure ever since you did a photoshoot with Charles Leclerc for a jewelry brand in Monaco. You became very good friends with him and his girlfriend, Alexandra, whom you talked to regularly.

To nobody’s surprise, a couple of weeks after the photoshoot was published, you received a formal invitation from Ferrari to the race weekend at Silverstone. The most exciting thing in your life, by far, was getting the opportunity to experience the true feeling of the race weekend from the garages.

Figuring you shouldn’t go alone, you took João with you. 

“Why do you want me to come, again?” he asked while on the place, not particularly excited to attend an event in which he didn’t really have interest in or knowledge of.

“Because you love me and I didn’t want to go to the UK by myself” you had replied, which was enough for the footballer.

After you had checked into the hotel and made your way to the track for the qualifying session of the weekend, you were amazed by the multitude of people screaming all around the paddock and reporters taking dozens of pictures of you and João.

An interviewer motioned you over for a quick interview, prompting you to halt your walk towards the garage.

“Y/N, such a nice surprise seeing you here. Not really the kind of sport we’re used to seeing you attend, is it?” the woman asked, making you smile and laugh

“I suppose not, haha. I’ve been a huge F1 fan for a while now but my schedule has made it impossible for me to attend an actual race up until now” you explained, making the woman nod.

“And who are you the guest of today?” she continued.

“Ferrari. I did a photoshoot with Charles in Monaco a couple of weeks back and we because friends, so I’m guessing he talked the Ferrari team into inviting little old me to Silverstone”

“We saw you came with João Felix, is he your partner? What can you tell us?” 

You laughed, hearing João snort from behind you.

“No, far from it. We’re best friends, we’ve known each other since we were little kids, but there is nothing else going on between us”

You answered a couple more questions before deciding it was getting late and you would miss qualifying if you spent anymore time with the woman.

João and you made small talk as you walked towards the garage, seeing Charles talking to a guy in papaya.

“Hi Charles” you greeted him once you were within earshot, the Monégasque immediately hugging you and João.

“Y/N, João, I’m so glad you could make it. This is Lando, he drives for McLaren. Lando, this is Y/N, a model and very good friend and João Felix” Charles introduced you, making you smile at the curly haired man.

Making eye contact with Lando had been one of the most intense feeling you had experienced in a long time. The intensity of his gaze and the way his eyes moved over your body had your senses tingling.

“It’s very nice to meet you” he said, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

You almost blushed, but a scoff from your right made you snap out of your happy bubble. João was glaring daggers into Lando’s head, which made you furrow your eyebrows as you looked at him.

He shook his head and mouthed later, making you nod.

“Well, we have to get in the cars, but I hope you have a great time” Charles said, saluting you two before departing with Lando, who smiled and winked at you as he walked back to his garage.

“No” João demanded once he saw the way your eyes were following Lando as he disappeared into his garage, giving you one last look before he was out of sight.

“I didn’t do anything” you defended yourself, scoffing once you saw the distaste with which João was looking at you. “What the hell is your problem? You don’t even know the guy and you’re acting like he killed someone”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have to know what he’s like to know that he’s an idiot. Do you not read the news?” he asked, at which you shook your head. 

You didn’t really have the time nor the desire to read tabloids, knowing what kind of articles they tend to write.

“You know I don’t believe in anything the media writes” you explained, rolling your eyes.

“Well, I believe what videos say. And he’s been seen with Magui” your eyes widened at the mention of his ex-girlfriend.

The mere thought of Magui being in a relationship with anyone made you sick to your stomach, especially after what happened with João.

“Oh” was all you could say, and the conversation ended there.

You couldn’t lie and say that the new information didn’t disappoint you. Wanting to see it with your own eyes, you decided to look it up on the internet and, fair enough, there were videos and pictures of Lando and Magui driving around Monaco.

While driving around didn’t really mean anything, you felt it like a punch to your gut. Every single time you would become slightly interested in someone, something had to come in between.

Shaking the thoughts from your head and deciding you would not speak to Lando for the remainder of the weekend, you enjoyed qualifying to the most, the feeling of watching firsthand what was happening was unlike any football game you had ever attended.

It was something special.

After you had arrived back at the hotel and were left alone once João decided to hit the city, you decided on having a quiet night in with some room service and a movie. Settling into the comfy bed, you had barely put on the movie when you heard your phone go off.

Looking at the notification, your heart starts racing when you see it was a text from Lando.

lando

hi there

is this y/n?

y/n

yes?

how did you get my number?

lando

charles gave it to me😅

y/n

hahhaa lol

did you need something?

lando

yes, actually

i think we both felt something earlier today

when we were introduced

and i was wondering if you wanted to go out?

y/n

ummm

hahaha

i don't think that's a good idea

lando

why not?

did i misread the situation completely?

i tend to do that sometimes

y/n

you didn't misread anything

i felt something as well

but i don't think your girlfriend would agree to you asking me out

or even talking to me right now

lando

girlfriend?

i don't know who you're talking about, i'm not dating anyone

y/n

lando

let's not pretend people don't follow the news

you've found magui, and i wish you both happiness if you're together, but given what happened with her and joao, who's my best friend, i don't even think we should be speaking right now

lando

woah, woah, woah

slow your horses

i don't know what news you've been reading

but i'm not dating magui

she's simply a friend, we have the same friend group but that's it

i know about the situation with joao and i would never associate myself with someone like that

does joao think i'm with her?

y/n

yeah

he's the one who told me to be careful

cause he saw the photos and video and shit

lando

i can assure you

i'm not dating her and i don't have the intention to date her

y/n

i don't know

lando

please, just think about it for some time

you don't have to give me an answer right now

y/n

okay

i'll think about it and let you know

lando

thank you, thank you, thank you

Throwing your phone on the bed as far away as possible, you let your mind wonder. Was Lando telling the truth? Was he really not dating Magui?

João had seemed so sure that they were together, so sure that she had just moved on to the next celeb and sure that Lando had just fallen for it. That’s why he had been so hostile towards him and so against you even talking to him.

But you couldn’t deny the butterflies that you felt when you talked to him just now, how excited the mere thought of being with made you. You couldn’t ignore it, and frankly, you didn’t want to ignore the feeling.

You hadn’t realized how long you had been stuck in your own thoughts, not until you heard the hotel room door open and João stepped into the room.

“What were you thinking about? You were lost in thought” he said, shrugging off his jacket and falling backwards on the bed beside you.

“You’re gonna hate me if I tell you” you said, playing with your fingers.

He raised his head at that, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Hate you? I could never hate you, no matter what you would do” 

You sighed, knowing he was right. There was no way he would ever hate you, he physically couldn’t think badly of you.

But this would test that idea pretty well.

“I talked to Lando tonight” you said, not even looking at him but knowing how he was glaring at you.

“I told you to stay away from him and her” the venom dripping from his tone at the thought of Lando and Magui didn’t go unnoticed.

“Look, I know what she did to you was unforgivable, and I hate her for how much she hurt you. You know that. But I talked to Lando, and they’re not dating. She’s just a friend he has in common with the people close to him, he would never date her because of what she did to you” you explained, trying to diffuse the situation.

João sighed, shaking his head. He turned to look at you, seeing the look on your face; a look he knew all too well.

He knew he had no right telling you who you should or shouldn’t talk to. He didn’t like it when you did it to him, he had no right doing it to you. But he had just been so angry at Magui for what he had done to him, time and time again after he had forgiven her, and he lost it when he saw the man in front of him.

However, looking at you in that moment, he knew you needed this. And he didn’t want to be the one depriving you of that.

“Okay” was the only thing he said, making your head shoot up and your eyes widen.

“Okay? What does that mean, okay?” you asked cautiously.

“If you want to go out with him, you can go out with him. I have nothing against it” he said, which prompted you to squeal and jump on him to hug him, chanting thank yous in his ear. “But, if he does anything to hurt you, I’m not afraid to fight him” it made you laugh.

Without wasting a single moment, you picked up your phone again and sent Lando a message, smiling giddily.

so, about that date?

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#imagines #oneshots #fanfiction #one shot #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 #mclaren #mclaren f1 #f1 2024 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris blurb #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris drabble #lando norris one shot #lando norris is a race winner #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic

[eclipsethedarklingiscanon]

He didn't know how it happened

But he had fulfilled his purpose

But at what cost

He was no longer there

And he took the only thing he cared about with him

Now he was being chased

Not only by the government but by him

Was he going crazy?

Or is it a punishment for having destroyed everything he loved

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fandom #shadow the hedgehog #sonic fan art #eclipse the darkling #sth #This is part of a fanfic that I will never publish because #1 I'm not a writer so whatever comes out will either be shit or it won't be understood #2 I'm very sick and it hurt me to finish this #3 I'm also very lazy #but in summary if you are interested Shadow died #and being the hive mind he took the dark arms with him #and now eclipse is fleeing the government because team dark found shadow's body #but he is also haunted by “the ghost of Shadow” #hunted au

[sailforvalinor]

Just had a reverse “you think about your old writing through rose-colored glasses but when you go back to read it it’s kind of terrible” moment, I went back and read some of my pre-uni/pandemic writing fully expecting it to be terrible and was like “oh this is…pretty good actually?”

#there are certainly things I would fiddle with but not as horrific as I was anticipating. honestly I wrote so much faster back then #it was narnia fanfic btw #sadly probably never something I will ever go back to (even though my oc’s for it are very very beloved to me) as it was something me and #my ex-best friend were writing together and now she hasn’t talked to me for two years #it was also a bit sad to read because in some ways I’m not that girl who wrote that anymore. like I am and maybe in some ways I could get #her back but it’s been more than three years. that girl was dreamy and idealistic and was so happy to write something that might never be #published and now I still like to think I’m dreamy and idealistic but I’ve become so bitter and I don’t like it and writing is so much #harder (you think studying for a degree in it would help but it has the opposite effect) #and I don’t really have anyone to talk to about my writing irl anymore and I think part of the problem is that it’s all bottled up inside #and can go nowhere but the page (and that’s so much pressure!) #anyway ignore my tag rambling #maybe I’ll incorporate those narnia oc’s into something else because I really did pour so much into them #it seems a shame to let them die

[breninarthur]

feeling a bit down about my writing and characters

#i dislike talking about it in public because i dont want it to look like im fishing for compliments or reassurance 'cause im really not #i just need to vent #so I've come to my least populated social media lol #this place truly does feel like a void #i hate that i dont know how to describe my characters or plot #it makes me feel like a bad writer with nothing but amorphous blob ideas #and i find it hard to believe that anyone cares about them even if they say they do #i have never seen confidence modelled or whatever my therapist says #part of the reason i wanna get into art is 'cause i feel like people would care more #no one wants to read thousands of words of what i have to say #if no one wants to read my fanfic than why would i think anyone will want to read my novel? #if i can even get it published #or finished #op

[fantasyoverreality98]

there's a specific scenario that I've imagined so many times for wayhaven and I want to write it but also I feel like the idea of it vs. the execution of this idea is going to be difficult

#also i can't even remember the last time i wrote fanfic #it's been at least a year i'm sure of it #i'm supposed to be focusing on my own story but i find myself wanting to get back into writing fics #maybe just this one thing #because it's just an idea i'm obsessed with #and it will make the history major part of me happy to write #maybe i will do it #not sure when #but i think i've gotta write it #and we won't even talk about how many times i've wanted to write stuff for fallen hero #if i go down that rabbit hole again it will be my choices fanfic era but even worse #meaning i won't be able to stop writing stuff #and then my original fiction will never get finished and i will be even further from potentially considering publishing #but i mean maybe becoming consumed entirely by writing is what i need to do again

[aviolettrose]

A fanfic idea:

Bruce was able to rescue Jason before he died, and after this experience, Jason stopped being Robin.

He became afterwards the golden child, he goes to college (with a scholarship), helps out in the city library, teaches children (helps with their homeworks and helps them to study), works part time in a car garage in crime alley, and is a supportive brother.

And it pisses his siblings off.

Because there has to be something fishy because no one, really no one, is that perfect.

And there is something fishy.

He is also Red Hood.

No one knows, and the vigilantes never talk to Jason about "the family business" because he needs to concentrate on his studies and other stuff.

So imagine, Batmans suprise when the JL was able to catch Red Hood.

Someone takes Jasons helmet off in front of Batman, Nightwing, and other members

And Jason, who wears also a domino mask, doesn't look Batman in the face even as he says :

"Hey Dad. I can explain."

And Dick loses his shit, he laughs so hard because, Jason, The golden child, the one who gave up on being a vigilante, who reads to children in the library, is a goddamn crimelord.

Bruce just stands there frozen because wtf Jason?!

And Dick takes selfies with Jason being tied up and calles the other Batkids in because they should definitely not be left out of it.

(Edit: As someone who doesn't really write (or can write good stories), I want to say, feel free to use this prompt for a fanfiction. Just please give credits to me (because I don't know if someone else had also this idea and posted it) and please inform me if you publish something (because I want to read a fanfiction like this too))

(Edit: people we got a link, pls leave some love there for @radioactivepigeons, https://archiveofourown.org/works/55499164

And for those who have struggles with the link, the fanfiction is called Prodigal by Carbon65, and you only have access to it with an ao3 account, BUT I pinned the tumblr version)

#jason todd #batfam #comic #dc universe #dick grayson #bruce wayne #justice league #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #duke thomas #dc #dcu #dc comics #fanfiction idea #ao3 being down is fr an apocalypse #hope yall are safe

[dashiellqvverty]

the thing is in my brain throam is genuinely very good in many ways but also i haven’t read it in years and it very probably is Not

#the THING IS #the reason i like it so much and my affection for it has endured #is because it’s SO distanced from reality that it truly feels like just an original story with rpf inspiration for flavor #like i have never been big on rpf fic. just the shipping and lore part. #but THAT STORY #i was simply genuinely invested #i have thought about rereading it again so many times but i haven’t yet. i’ve started. but i haven’t gotten far. #anyway regardless of whether it’s as good as i remember i do firmly believe that #if we as a society have to continue publishing rewritten fanfic & rpf as original fiction #then it is one of the strongest candidates out there bc. like i said. the story is SO elaborate and original #like the side characters aren’t meant to be ‘in character’ to the people they’re based on they just use the names for flavor #and the authors notes acknowledge this up front and i APPRECIATE that #it’s just such an elaborate and fleshed out au that it doesn’t feel weird in the way rpf usually does to me #idk #that aside. after all this time it does still make me crazyyyy to think about regardless of how good it is #r.txt

[fixyourwritinghabits]

FINISHED MY MANUSCRIPT AND YEETED IT AT MY LIT AGENT time to get some slee - oh shit NaNoWriMo is here.

Erm.

Right, so if you're like me and you have the opening line of your NaNo project and a vague idea, I'd still like to encourage you to take part in NaNoWriMo. A large number of responses I get at this time are people who drop out in the first week. You have a whole month! If you need some nudging to stay in the game, please consider:

Any writing done by the end of the month is more writing than you had before. The biggest benefit of NaNoWriMo is having accomplished something, be it 50000 words or a couple of chapters. Using NaNo as a tool to carve out writing time can be really useful, and it's worth giving a try if you've had trouble figuring out how to get things done.

You don't have to write a book. You don't even have to work on the same project every day! Whatever needs writing - those fanfic drabbles, that personal essay you really want to publish, those three ideas you can't pick between - can be written during NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo is a great way to connect with other writers, both local and online. Listen, it's hard to find other writers. My current group is spread across the world and we have trouble pinning down Discord meetups. Sometimes finding an in-person group can really help, but how to do that is hard. NaNoWriMo can be a chance to find people you vibe with - or don't vibe with, but can sit next to for an hour to write in silence. Anything helps.

No writing is bad writing. Even if you never look at it again, sitting down to write is like working out. You are practicing and improving your skills, even if you don't realize it. The only way to get better is to keep doing it.

You don't have to win. You don't have to write every day. You can even lower your goals to 300 words a day and still being doing NaNo, because you're putting in the work.

You can jump back into NaNoWriMo at any time. Have a bad day? A bad week? A final exam you must spend all your time and energy on? Don't give up on Day 3, Day 15, or Day 25. Every day of the month can be a new opportunity to write, no matter how many setbacks you have.

If you've never done NaNoWriMo before, give it a try! If you've tried it before and pounding out a novel in a month doesn't work for you, make NaNoWriMo your own thing. A paragraph a day, a drabble a week - whatever keeps your words flowing, this is the perfect month to set goals and try things out to figure out your writing styles.

Good luck!

#NaNoWriMo #good lord am I going to need luck lmao

[infamous-if]

Happy 1 year anniversary to this blog!

It was yesterday...though I do find it fitting that I've been focused on writing so much that I forgot lmao

When I first had the idea for Infamous, I didn't work on it right away. The concept was cool, yeah, but was it enough for interactive fiction? A medium I never even tried before?

I let it marinate in my head for a while wondering if it would be a good story or not. I listened to a lot of music, made a lot of idea boards and outlined routes but told myself I wasn't actually writing it. Just playing in a new literary sandbox with no strings! I was very close to not publishing my idea because it felt like it wasn't a story that I could handle. And it was daunting. I've published stories before, but they were completed novels that I could just forget about it and move on from once I was done. This was a commitment! I kept asking myself if I was even a good enough writer for the plans I had haha

But it didn't stop bothering me and I was getting irritable over my own brain creating this whole world without my permission. So I posted the intro post on a whim just to see what would happen! Turns out, I'm really happy I did!

One year later and there's been a whole community of people who have enriched the story and elevated it to a place that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own. The amazing fanfics, the head canons, fan art and the suggestions, it's been really nice to work on this with the support and encouragement I've gotten. I think the best parts of the story so far have come from the collective, not me, and knowing that there are people who watched me serve my ideas on a platter like "here. take it pls." and accepted it is really nice. I'm grateful :)

thank you guys for reading the story and being kind to me and my ideas and having so many discussions over these characters that were once just in my mind, alone with me to tend to them. and to the if authors who have been here much longer, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. thank you to the group of if authors in particular who took me under their wing and gave me advice on how to handle things and how to move forward. you didn't have to come into my dm's and give me guidance or help me, but you did anyway and im eternally grateful!

I'm excited for 2024 to be the year that we really dive into the story. I still can't believe we're only 2 chapters in. it feels much longer, doesn't it? lololol

thanks!! <3

#one year anniversary #Amy yapping

[forzaferraris]

I CAN HEAR THE BELLS — cl16

MASTERLIST ! you are not to publish, recreate or translate this on tumblr or other platforms without my explicit permission.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: when charles received the wedding invitation from a close friend address to him and company the embarrassment he feels knowing it would just be him after his recent breakup. now he's dateless and desperate with the wedding in two weeks he's gotta find someone, and who better than you.

warnings: fluff, minor angst because god do i love a good miscommunication trope, poorly translated french, every romance book cliche ever, charles leclerc has the worse possible game ever and yet somehow always pulls, arthur leclerc you chronic shit-stirrer (/pos), if my dream wedding pinterest board was a fanfic, always the bridesmaid never the bride, unless, best friends brother trope.

word count: this is a potentially big fic, multi-part series so i can't give a baseline for the word count but definitely more than 5k. style: written series with smau elements

authors note: welcome to my newest series, this is one i've been workshopping for a while now, characters are made up in terms of charles friends geting married and the ex-girlfriend, as i don't want any alex hate on my account. this is set during the 2024 season, races are altered to fit the timeline of this universe so consider this an alternate universe as well, if you want the nitty gritty details of the series itself.

add yourself to my taglist !

" With Great Pleasure, Amelie Windsor &&. Henri De Santa Invite you to celebrate their love on August 15th 2024 "

PART ONE / a deal is a deal. — written fic, warnings on the chapter. ( coming may 25th )

PART TWO / 27 dresses is wedding prep. — smau, small written blurbs, warnings on the chapter. ( coming soon . . . ) PART THREE / the italian rivera with the lust of your life — written fic, warnings on chapter. ( coming soon . . . ) PART FOUR / i found my love in portofino — written fic, smau elements, smut mention, other warnings on the chapter. ( coming soon . . . ) PART FIVE / i do. do i? — written fic, warnings on the chapter. ( coming soon . . . )

authors note: romance is in the air and because im desperately lonely and adore the early 2000's romance films, they just don't make them like they used to anymore, enjoy please be excited for this

#𐙚 paige’s works #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc smau #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagines #formula one imagine

[lady-raziel]

yeah fuck it i'm not done with my fanfic rant. it's very very clear that many of the people out there saying 'i don't read fanfic because its not canon and its poorly written'...have never really, truly spent the time to interact with fanfiction. it's kind of like they heard all the bad criticisms of fan writing, and just assumed they were true and never bothered to check for themselves.

yes, there are fanfics that are poorly written. yes, there are fanfics that are just porn. yes, there are even fanfics that are alternate universes of canon that may even have OOC characterizations. all of these things are true, and pretty much every fanfic enjoyer will agree with you.

but the point of fanfiction. the whole point is that you have to search around and find what you like. because for some reason, canon isn't doing it for you. or you just want to know what someone else's interpretation of how things could have happened is!

there are brilliant fanfictions. there are truly amazing, incredibly written fanfictions that take the good parts of a story and make them better. there are fanfictions better than actual published works that are better plotted out and researched than anything canon has to offer. but you have to FIND these fanfics, whether through recs or by searching yourself.

the people who say all fanfic is bad and poorly written seem to live with the expectation that good media will simply be handed to them and they can consume it unquestioningly. regardless of the slew of bad books, shows, and movies that exist and are thrown at us on a daily basis. would you really go so far as to say 'all tv shows have poor writing' because it took trying to watch several bad shows in your streaming recommendations to find one you liked? or do you really, honestly think that because something was made with profit in mind it inherently has better quality and more value than something made out of passion?

fanfic haters, find the love in your heart to engage with media you love outside of the context of it being sold to you. you may even find a gem among the coal that makes you love the original property even more.

#fanfiction #all of this has been said many times before but god #the battle is no closer to being won

[angelnthsnow]

All Too Well

pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader (+18)

summary: enemies since childhood, y/n and joe burrow meet again in LSU, joe to play for the university's team while studying consumer and family financial services and y/n to study mechanical engineering, while also being a cheerleader for the team. what happens when they encounter each other after a fateful night?

word count: 7.1k

warnings: cursing, implied smut, fratboy!joe, asshole!joe, reader skinpicks, angst, use of y/n, author not knowing how an american uni works.

author's note: first published fanfic! i hope you enjoy! keep in mind english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry in advance for any mistakes, also this wasn't proofread bc it's too long and i'm lazy lmaoo.

Sat in the airport, legs over your luggage, you started to question the decision you had made a month ago. It all started in June, when an old colleague from LSU reached out to you via email with a simple, yet — to you — terrifying invitation.

Your colleagues from university were planning a Fourth Of July party in Baton Rouge, the one place in earth you swore to never step foot on again. Well, it's not like the city itself had done anything to you, more like the college life did. Your college years were a part of your life you desperately wanted to forget, partly because going to LSU meant giving up on your dream of studying abroad, and partly, well, let's just say a certain blonde with a degree on consumer and family financial services was to blame.

With an acute voice echoing through the airport gates, you sighed, getting up to get on the plane.

As the aircraft was in the air, you get your playlist blasting on the headphones and not long after that, you drift off to sleep.

You wake up when there's 20 minutes left to land on the city, and as you get your phone to send a message to your friend, Emily, the device decides to make this trip a little harder than it should have ever been. On that bright screen, on a small box with "Years ago on this week.." written over it, was the picture.

It was night when you woke up, tangled on the white strawberry sheets of your own dorm bed. Opening your eyes quietly, you saw the one man that had put you on that position earlier. Sat with his back to you, there was Joe. He had only his sweatpants on, and you could see the reddish marks, the ones caused by you, were starting to fade on his skin. His hair was messy and he breathed slowly, seeming oddly calm giving what had just happened.

Joe and you had been, well.. enemies? since you could remember. It all started in school, you had a dream of becoming a world famous dancer, a cheerleader in college, and Joe just thought it was stupid, all of it. He was quite shy, but you knew he had a dream as well. Joe wanted to be a football star, but nobody knew that. He'd just let it slide once when you two were fighting on the school's playground. When you two got to the age in which people go to university, you thought you had finally seen the last of him. How foolish, truly. After two years of studying engineering at Louisiana State University and being in the cheerleading team, there he was, ready to make your life miserable for another few years.

That was, of course, until now. You'd never imagine you see him like this; half naked, messy hair and your cat on his lap as he caressed her head, whispering in a baby voice to her as she purred softly.

You smiled, because why wouldn't you? Shifting quietly on your bed, as if he was a scaredy animal you could scare away with any abrupt movements, you get your phone, taking a picture of him. It was dark, blurred, but you didn't mind, you could tell it was Joe, his big silhouette right in the center of the photograph. In your head, you knew you wouldn't need to keep this blurry memento, you were certain the amount of opportunities to take pictures of him now were infinite, or so you thought, drifting to sleep again.

The pilot's voice pulls you out of your little daydream, announcing the plane had arrived in Louisiana.

"I shouldn't have come." You chant in your head as you exit the plane, heading over to the landing area to wait for Emily.

You and Emily had met in LSU, and became inseparable since then. She was your roommate and, despite being highly introverted, you managed to develop your longest friendship ever with her.

When Anna, the colleague that invited you to the party, emailed you, Emily was the first person to text you, begging you to come and enjoy a night with the people you hadn't seen in so long. She also missed you a lot since both of you hadn't seen each other much after college, of course, you somehow managed to see each other every year and talk almost everyday, but it wasn't as close as you wished.

Emily lived in Louisiana with her husband, Dave, who had also gone to LSU with you, and of all the times you had seen each other, she had gone to your home, so you technically kind of owed this to her.

Waving in a frantic manner, there she was. Slightly different from last time, but still your best friend. You smile, walking towards her.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she says once she gets a hold of you, hugging you as if you could run away at any moment. You kind of wished you could, but she made everything better. She had that superpower.

"I'm glad I could come, Ems. I've missed you so much." You smile, looking at her as she helps you with your heavy bags.

The two of you start walking towards the exit to her car, catching up after a long time. Emily put you to date on what every single old colleague was up to now, and you laughed at the amount of gossip she was able to retain.

"Where's Dave?" You furrow your brows, just realizing someone was missing.

Emily opens the trunk and you help her put your bags on it. Panting after carrying so much weight, she replies "Home. He was working so he couldn't come, but he's super excited to see you." as you two get into the vehicle.

And with that, the engine starts and soon you're on the highway, on the way to her house.

The week in Emily and David's house had passed very quickly, and you throughly regretted ever wishing you hadn't came. She had shown you every bit of the city, and things had changed a lot. Now, you were in their guest room, getting ready to the reason that had you coming all the way from New York to Louisiana.

It was fourth of July, and you had heard fireworks all day around the neighborhood, even stopping to watch them for a bit before going for a shower.

"They're pretty, aren't they?" Emily said through the kitchen window as she saw you looking up outside.

"Very much." You turned around, smiling at her.

"Anna told me they're having fireworks tonight, I think you'll like it."

You got a bit excited, you've always loved fireworks, they were like drawings in the biggest canvas you could ever get, the sky.

"Looking forward to it!" You said, going up the stairs to get ready.

Looking in the mirror, you sigh. You wore an USA flag bodysuit and jean shorts. This whole patriotism seemed stupid, but Emily dragged you into it, alleging you were allergic to fun. Nonetheless, you looked good.

"Y/N! Let's go, we're gonna be late!"

Breathing in deeply, you close your eyes and stare at yourself one last time. You knew Joe would probably attend the party, he loved parties, and still, you came. You couldn't give up now, you couldn't get this stupid thing get to you. He probably doesn't even remembers everything that happened that day.

You shake your head, moving those thoughts away as you go downstairs, seeing Emily and Dave ready sitting on the couch.

"You look amazing! I told you you'd rock this fit." she gets up, hugging you.

"You too, Ems." you laugh, fixing your hair after she lets you go. "Shall we?"

"After you, Miss United States!" David jokes, signaling for you to get out of the house first. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

The three of you get in the car, and the drive to the party is filled with singing and more of Emily informing you of your colleague's current lives.

When Dave finally pulls over to the party, you can already hear the loud music in the car. Looking out the window, you see the last thing you'd expect to see today: Joe's parents house.

When Robin and Jim were away, Joe would always throw parties in his house instead of in the frat house. It made sense, giving the fact his house was a bit bigger. Snapping back to reality, you froze, but still had hopes of not seeing him tonight, after all, the amount of people that would come to the party was huge.

Entering the house, you were struck by fairy lights hanging on the roof, from a wall to another, and USA flags all over the house. There was a big wood table in a corner with punch and other drinks, but other than that, the place looked pretty much the same. It was weird coming back after all these years, but it still had a familiar air to it.

After almost 50 minutes, Emily was already drunk and fooling around somewhere with her fiancé. You were finally alone, and by now you had roamed the entire house, gladly not meeting Joe not even once. You thought about leaving, but not before going to your favorite spot in the house, the only one you hadn't explored today yet.

Joe's house had a small attic, which you adored. When he threw parties in high school and you couldn't get away from your friend's pleas to come, this was the place you found yourself in. So, after 6 years, there were you again. On that narrow wooden space that had a somewhat medium window with a view to the back of the house, where the party was most wild. You were surprised to see they hadn't moved a thing, it felt like you had time-traveled to your school years.

In front of the window, there was an old blue armchair, the one you would sometimes sleep on waiting for Emily and the others to want to go home. The rest of the attic was filled with boxes, some with trophies and pictures of Joe, with his family, his team, and his coach.

You sat on the armchair, arms hugging your knees as you looked at the window, the music that once made your head hurt because of the volume was long gone, sounding now like white noise.

Entering the football team frat house, you could see neon lights and hear music blasting through the speakers. Soon enough, all the other cheerleaders and Emily were dancing and having fun, after all the team had won the game, there was no reason not to celebrate. Except for you, because a win for LSU immediately meant running into Joe Burrow, or seeing his face all over the university for a week or so.

Sitting on a couch in the living room, you had a privileged view to the enormous door that swung open, revealing a sweaty but smiley Joe. He walks in as he normally does, exhaling an air of cockiness around him. He has a bottle of beer in hand, and already looks drunk as he laughs to his teammates. After being showered in praises and congratulations, he's free to walk a bit further, which is when he sees you. His eyes immediately glance at your jersey, and you immediately regret having done what you did.

Earlier that day, before you left for the party, it started to snow, and you realized you hadn't brought a single coat to the game. The girls were about to leave and they didn't want any delays, so you looked around for anything that could cover your body and protect you from freezing.

The only thing you could find was an old LSU football team jersey with the name "BURROW" stitched on the back. You sighed, but tried to confort yourself by thinking nobody would see it, after all, the lights at the party were pretty low.

All of it cumulated to this moment. This disgusting look he gives you as he looks down, glaring at his jersey. "What the hell are you wearing?”

Of course he would recognize it, it was his, after all. You cursed yourself mentally in all the languages you know, and prayed that Emily would come to you out of the blue to take you home. She didn't.

"Please, don't start, Joseph." You say, trying to ignore him. "I was cold and this was the only thing I could find."

“Yeah, right. Just say you were trying to piss me off, like always.” he scowls.

"Not everything is about you, QB." You get up, furrowing your brows at the audacity, annoyance dripping in your voice.

“Everything is most definitely not about you either, cheerleader.” he scoffs, and his teammates laugh. “You're still not even good at that.”

"And you're still not even good at your little games, idiot." I scoff. "Let me remind you, I'm the one going to the national competition while you're still playing football in college."

This time, his friends mutter a low "oooh".

He's stunned for a moment, then he scowls and gets closer to your face. “Watch your mouth. This is my last season here anyway, then i’m going straight to the NFL and everyone's gonna know my name, who knows what you’ll be doing.”

You just still didn't know he actually meant it.

"The NFL?" You laugh, hands on your chest. "You know, Joey.." You say, calling him by the nickname his friends had given him, in an attempt to piss him off. "To be on the NFL, you gotta be one of the greats." You stare at him, getting closer. "Something you.. are not."

He scowls, and his friends are surprised, the nickname really got to him. Before you can get another word in, he grabs you and pulls you close, his voice is low and cold. “Who the fuck are you calling Joey? You don’t get on the nickname level with me, Y/N."

Your squirm under his touch, trying to get off of him. A bit of fear seems to be creeping up in your eyes, and you try your best to not let it show.

"Don't fucking touch me!" You slap him, getting some inches away and staring at him in awe.

He recoils a bit, then glares. His lips are trembling, and you’ve never seen him angry like this, even his breath is shaky. He doesn't look like the Joe you once fed turtles in kindergarten with. He clenches his fist and looks around, he’s got the attention of everyone at the party “Are you seriously gonna slap the quarterback?”

"Fuck you! You're a horrible person that thinks that because you're a star you can do whatever the fuck you want, well, breaking news, YOU CAN'T." You scoff, angrier than ever, while removing the jersey off of you, throwing it at him, eyes swelling with tears.

"You're a fucking parasite, a manwhore who thinks everything's about you. I hope you never get to the NFL." This time it comes out lower, like a personal threat. You desperately crave to hurt him in a way he won't be able to laugh at or make jokes. Turning around, you walk out of the house, everything seemed to suffocate you.

He's stunned, no ones ever talked to him like that, specially you, the one person he was so used to getting shit from. He just stares at your back, the BURROW that was once hidden by your messy hair now gone, in his shaky hands. A range of emotions go through him. He's mad, but then there’s a sadness, he feels unwanted, as if the only reason people talk to him is because he is the quarterback. He doesn’t want you to leave like this, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just yells “Where are you even gonna go?!”

"Somewhere you're not!" You scream, not even bothering to turn around to face it, crossing the door and walking through the garden in front of the house.

At this point, the party had gone back to what it once was, a loud, fun mess.

He sighs, then chases after you. When he catches up, he grabs your arm and forces you to turn around to face him. “Where the hell do you think you're going? You're not safe, there's a bunch of drunkards out there today."

"Like you give a fuck." You shrug, shaking your arm to get away from his grip. You turn around and start walking, the cold getting to you again. The snow fell mercilessly and all you had was the thin sweater that covered your cheerleading clothes.

He sighs, then realizes you’ll freeze outside. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in. You're so incredibly small compared to him you can feel his heart beating fast and his muscles tense from anger. “I do care. Just… come back inside, you're gonna freeze out here."

"Leave me alone! I fucking hate you!" The tears start falling as you punch his chest in a frantic way. It didn't hurt him, of course, but you didn't know that.

He scowls when you do so, gritting his teeth, then just watches you cry. He sighs and pulls you in tight, his body heats yours up. He rocks you like a baby, and whispers “Let me explain. I didn't meant for things to be like this.”

"Like what? Like living hell?" You away from his embrace, but part of you wishes you hadn't. Joe was so big and warm you didn't even needed a coat. "You hate me. Why are you even doing this?" you yell, the loud blasting music from the party muffling your screams. "Go back to your stupid party with your friends and your girls. I'm going home."

He grabs your arms and makes you turn to him. “I don’t.. hate you. I just get mad and take it out on you. I know that’s not right, i’m trying to fix it. Let me take you home.”

"Oh please." You scoff, tears still falling. "No need. I'll walk." You say, shivering due to the cold.

He sighs again. “You're not going home alone, it's not safe. I don’t care if you hate my guts, i’m not letting you walk alone.”

Joe's words and actions pierce you like a bullet. Never, in a million years, you had imagined you'd hear him talk to you like this. Of course, it was still rude, but there was a sweetness to it. You say nothing, as you couldn't bring yourself to. As he puts the jersey you once threw in his face back on your shoulders, the shivering reduces a bit, and your lips stop trembling, their reddish color that was once white from the cold, reappearing. His big hands stroking your back felt so gentle, and helped you get rid of the cold as he gently and quietly led you to his car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and waits for you to get in. You do so, surprisingly, and he closes it, turning around to get into the driver's seat.

He climbs in the drivers seat and starts the engine. The warm air that comes out of the vents warming you up as he looks over at you. You watch him drive, he seems so focused, and when he speaks, it’s in a quiet voice “I'll walk you to your door, then you should probably take a hot shower to warm up, your gonna get sick like this.”

"There's no need. I'll survive." you say, pulling the jersey closer and breathing in the warmth.

“I'm not gonna risk you getting sick just because you decided to be stubborn now.” You can’t help but notice how gentle his voice is, a nice contrast to how cold he seemed towards you at the party.

"Fine." You whisper, and after a few moments in silence, he finally pulls up to the dorms. You open the door of the car and get out, the cold getting to you again. You sigh.

Joe does the same and the two of you walk in silence towards the entrance of the building. Once you reach the door, you turn around, "You've done enough, Burrow. I mean it. Go back to your party, you have a win to celebrate." You say, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door.

“I wanna see you safe in your house before i go, I feel responsible for you getting cold out here.” he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care about you, when it’s clear from the way he’s acting he only thinks of you and your safety right now.

You nod, his gentle words feeling like daggers in your heart, making you almost regret the way went a few rounds with him earlier.

Getting into your aparment, you take off your shoes, holding the door for him to do the same, and when he does, you lock it again, before making your way to the small kitchen.

"Can I get you anything? Water, tea..?" You ask, trying to be a good host. You and Emily never expected no one to come to the apartment, so there was never many food or drink options.

He follows you to the kitchen, shrugs and looks around. The apartment is not very big, but it’s homely. From the kitchen, you can see the entire living room, including the door, and then there's a small hallway that leads to the rooms and bathroom.

He looks at you when you offer him something and smiles, it breaks his scowl, it looks good on him. He looks at you for a moment, then says “Can i get a glass of water?”

You nod and get on your tip toes to open the cabinet, getting a glass and then filling it with water, handing it to Joe as you take a seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen's island.

He takes the glass and drinks from it, still holding on to his scowl, but it slowly drops off as he begins to relax. He sits down beside you, close enough that his knees are touching yours “Your apartment is so different from mine.”

You sigh, making small talk with him was the last thing on your list for today, but still, you gave it a shot.

"How so..?" You say, not even bothering to look at him. Instead, the cup of water you had poured to yourself in front of you was the one getting all of the attention. The fact that the only person in the entire campus that hated you was the one to bring you home was already embarrassing enough, so you were still to wrap your mind around the fact he was still here.

He watches you and looks around the kitchen, not sure how to explain it to you. For a few moments he just looks at you, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just different from anything i’m used to.”

"Calling me poor now, are we, Burrow?" You shrug, letting a small laugh fall from your lips.

He glares, then realizes you were joking and laughs a little bit. You can notice he still smiles when he looks at you, which is surprising considering how he always scowled at you. “I'd never call you poor, especially not after seeing your outfit tonight.” he looks you up and down.

"Mr. Joseph Burrow's a fashionista?" You chuckle, this wasn't something you'd ever expect from him. There wasn't any monograms or brand names on the sweater you wore, but if you were a someone into good clothing, you'd recognize it.

He laughs and shakes his head, he can’t help but notice your curves and he looks down, trying not to stare. “I wouldn’t consider myself a fashion guy, i just know something looks nice when i see it.. and your outfit looks very nice on you."

"Yeah, sure.." You nod, standing up and grabbing both of the glasses. You take them to the sink, putting your hair up in a bun and washing them. "I'm okay now, Burrow, really. I don't know why you did what you did tonight, but thank you." The thank you comes out like a whisper, but you pray he does notice. "Come back to your party, enjoy your teammates and your girls. There's still time."

He shifts in his seat and watches you as you wash the glass, his mind is conflicted. Part of him wants to follow his teammates back to the party, the other part wants to stay with you, see how long the small talk can go before it turns into a fight again. His eyes watch you as his breathing starts to pick up a bit. When you thank him, he realizes you don’t want to talk about the fight or why he did what he did at all.

He shakes his head and stands up. “I guess I better get going then."

"Yeah.. of course." You flash him a shy smile, and the awkward silence sets in again.

He notices your smile and smiles back, not knowing how to express himself right now, although he doesn’t know how to leave either. He just awkwardly stands there, staring at you, his eyes are locked on yours, he can’t help but notice how beautiful they are. The two of you lost in your own thoughts, the silence filled with tension. Then he speaks “Can i ask something before I go?”

"Yes."

“Why'd you wear that jersey? You knew it would piss me off, so why’d you wear it?”

You sigh, you had already explained that, but Joe seemed so drunk you thought maybe he had forgotten. "I told you, I was cold and I had forgotten my hoodie." you point to the couch, where the green hoodie rested on. "I knew it would piss you off, and trust me when I say I wasn't going for that today, but it happened. I'm sorry for it, you can have it back now." You say, taking the jersey off for the second time that night, except this time you don't throw it on his face. Instead, you just gently hand it to him, like a peace offering.

He takes it, looking down at it in his hands, then he looks back up at you. He sighs and is suddenly filled with mixed feelings, anger, sadness, his emotions feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want to yell and argue with you again, but he also doesn’t want to leave. He can’t stop looking at you and your eyes, he can’t help but love how pretty they are. "Can I please keep this? Please..?" he whispers.

"Why are you asking me that? It's yours, it has your name on it." You say matter-of-factly, fidgeting with your hands, something you do when you're nervous.

You can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile at you, his voice is soft when he says “Yeah… but it’s got your sweat on it… your smell… I want something to remind me of you… even though, you know… we always seem to get each other mad.”

You don't understand, after all, you see each other every single day. The best "something to remind me of you" he could ever ask for was standing right in front of him everyday.

You furrow your eyebrows. Years of fighting, screaming and pissing each other off leading to this moment was something you couldn't wrap your mind around. "Do I need to remind you we hate each other? Until this morning, you'd get me suspended from LSU if you could."

He laughs, and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable and soft state. "We both know I don’t wanna get you suspended from LSU, I mean, come on.. just look at you.” he stares at you, you see his eyes roaming your body like he always does, but there’s a different look about them. "You deserve this scholarship more than I do, you've always have."

"Yeah.." You scoff, not believing a word, looking at the jersey on his hands and then at his eyes. His big, blue eyes that you got lost in countless times before.

He smiles at you, realizing the snarkiness he just heard. He doesn’t mind the teasing, in fact, he kinda likes it. He stares at you for a minute, then he looks back down at the jersey “I like how it fits tight on you.” he says without realizing it.

"Tight? You're big as hell, it looks huge on me." You laugh, remembering how the jersey looked on you when you put it on earlier today.

He laughs silently to himself, a big smirk appears on his face. He looks at your body, then smiles. “You're just too small, but I do like how it fits on you."

You feel goosebumps throughout your entire body and your cheeks heat up. You curse yourself mentally for letting it all show so easily.

He's still staring at you, but doesn’t realize just how much he’s making you blush. He continues to speak in a low voice "I can see your belly button when you dance for us on the field.." He pauses, but decides to go on, and it's like you can hear the engines turning in his head. "I can see your bra strap when you go so high in the sky I feel my hands covered in cold sweat in fear that you'll fall and I won't be there to catch you. I can see your collarbones when you get so close to me when we're fighting that I wish I would just lean in and shut you the fuck up. I can see how you blush when I sweep you off your feet and leave you speechless, like i'm doing now." He steps closer. "I can see all of you. Matter of fact, Y/N, I think you're all I have ever wanted to see." He states, like it's a fact, like he has always known that. You feel your eyes starting to water and you feel stupid. "Every inch of you looks amazing in that jersey, it fits you like nothing else i’ve ever seen."

You sigh, it's almost like you can feel your skin being touched by him just by the way he’s looking at you. You feel like a forest fire, and his voice tone doesn't help. "Stop.."

His voice is so low when he talks, you want him to keep speaking. You want to hear his voice go on and on, to get you worked up, but also to lull you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in years. He keeps staring at you as he speaks “Just look at your shoulders, the fabric wraps all around them so perfectly, they’re such beautiful curves, just like the rest of you. Just look at you.. Jesus." He sighs.

You squirm under his gaze, but in a split second you're reminded of everything that happened before this moment. Before being here, in your small dorm, talking to the man you earlier thought to be the meanest person you knew. "I won't fall for it. I'm not the girls you get after winning games."

He chuckles and looks away, clearing this throat before going on "Those girls are just something to make me feel good, they don’t even mean anything to me. But you.. even when you make me angry, I want nothing but to feel you in my arms. You make me feel so good, even when you piss me off.”

"You don't mean that." You mutter, trying to stay calm. You pick the skin on your arms while staring at him.

His eyes shift back to yours when you speak, he sighs and you can tell for a minute he’s conflicted on what to say. "I know you don’t believe I mean all those words, but honestly, I mean every word. You are the only girl who's ever made me feel something, even if we’re arguing, that means we at least have some emotion we want to put towards each other. I'd rather have you making me mad than have someone making me feel nothing at all."

A single tear slides down your cheek. "You're drunk, that's what it is. You're drunk and this.." You point to yourself, and then to him, "..must be a prank."

“I know that’s all we’ve known for years, but maybe the reason you make me so mad is because I have feelings for you. You are the only girl I have ever wanted to talk to like this. You're the only girl that makes me feel this way. I never want to stop talking to you, I just want to tell you how beautiful you are, even when you make me mad, or when you push me so far it makes me want to push you towards the wall and kiss you."

You stare at him like everything you've ever known has finally made sense. A few more tears drip from your eyes and you sigh. "You promise?" it comes out in a whisper.

He smiles and you can tell it's not a fake drunk smile. This is the smile he flashes at someone when he's letting down his guard and being completely honest and vulnerable. "I promise. I don't want anyone else, I want you. I wanna be the guy who makes you happy like no one else could. I want you to be there when I get into the NFL and I want to be able to look for you on every game, waving at you when I see you're wearing my jersey because you finally want to, because it means something."

You look up, melting over his voice, your eyes meeting his like never before. His eye color seemed different now, a more vivid blue. His eyes seemed more relaxed, a nice contrast to the ones full of rage that always came with a furrowed brow. "I want you, too." You whisper.

He smiles, a real and sweet smile. This time when his eyes roam your body, you feel like he isn't looking at you in a nasty way like always, he's just looking at you because he thinks he's the luckiest boy in the world.

You smile, "Do I need to call you some names to have you kissing me now?" It makes him laugh, and your eyes lock on his. There isn't any words, just feelings, and you can see it in him when the realization sets in that you want him too.

You get on your tip toes as Joe pulls you towards him, your lips finally touching each other. Your belly feels as if you just rode a rollercoaster, as if the LSU football team had won, as if there was fireworks inside of you like there's in the sky on the fourth of July. But instead it was all him, the same boy that you once hated so much, doing all of this to you without even trying.

Immersed in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone opened the door and came in, what gave it away was the smell, and you wondered if it would ever change.

"Joseph..?" you froze, again, but still managed to turn around on the armchair, feet now touching the ground.

His eyes meet yours for the first time in.. well, years, since that fateful night. He looked.. the same. Although his hair was shorter now and he looked bigger than ever, his face was the same. The same mesmerizing ocean blue eyes, pointy nose, and rosy cheeks, which you always found funny, because it looked like he had blush on. He wore a threadbare white shirt, shorts, and a tennis shoe, but they weren't the same as years ago, and you thought to yourself how an outfit of his now would cost probably more than your monthly earnings. He also wore a USA flag headband, which you had seen earlier laying on the wood table for everyone to get one. You thought it looked.. funny.

"Y/N." He nods. It felt like forever since your name had left his lips for the last time.

"Sorry, I-" You start, getting up from the chair as you wrote a full apology in your head for being in a private part of his home. "I thought nobody would need the room, I'll leave now."

"Nobody does." He takes a sip of his drink, his hands looking huge as he holds the red cup. "Dave told me you came with him and Emily, had to see it for myself."

He says, getting closer and finally leaning onto the window, arms resting just above it. Another sip, and you find yourself sitting again.

"How'd you know I was here?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding a thing. His eyes don't wander from the view. You're stiff, and you think you've probably never felt so nervous.

"You always are."

If you thought your eyebrows couldn't furrow any more, you were wrong. As soon as the words fell from his lips, you were in complete shock. Does that mean he knew that, all this time, you spent the parties in his attic, alone, dying to go home? That he knew you slept here, not once, not twice, but several times before?

"What?" Is all you manage to say, embarrassment taking over you.

"I mean, when I threw parties in high school you were always here. I know you don't like parties but you would always come because of Emily, and somehow your nights always ended here."

Your eyes widened, and you swore that if your mom could see you now, she would say something along the lines of You look like you've seen a ghost.

You kind of felt like you had.

"I'm surprised you like the place, it's kinda small." He finally shifts, taking his arms off the window and setting his now empty cup on the small wood piece that rested under the window. You blush, after all this time.

When you woke up in the morning, Joe was no longer there. You didn't panic, just thought of it as typical him. Getting up from the bed, you saw Emily on her chair, watching something on her computer.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." she says as she hears you yawn.

"Morning, Ems." You smile, sitting up straight. "D'you have a good night?"

"Obviously, duh. Dave's a gentleman." she states, bragging, and you laugh. "He also told me you and Joe left together last night.. what was that about?"

You sigh, flashes from the night before coming back to haunt you. "We.. uh.." you start, but words can't really explain what went down in this apartment yesterday. "We kissed, and had sex.. and, uh.. he might've said he likes me.." you whisper, like it was a crime.

"WHAT?!" Emily jumps from the chair, startled. "Y/N.. Oh my God.." she gets closer to you, getting on her knees in front of you. "How was that? And, most importantly, how's that gonna work now?" she states, as if something had changed overnight.

"What do you mean?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

"Well, you know he's been drafted to the NFL, don't you?" she says as if it was something everyone knew, incluiding you.

You felt your heart sink.

So it was a prank, after all. The worst one he could ever pull on you.

He left, and he wasn't coming back.

You knew he meant every word he had said last night, but he also had really left. Joe had confessed his love to you the night before just to leave in the morning, leaving you mercilessly stranded.

You don't say anything, because how could you find the words to? Emily immediately understands and hugs you, but the only embrace you could possibly want at the time was miles away now.

You were surprised at his ability to pretend like nothing had happened, like the last few years hadn't been torture to you, wondering where did it go wrong. Years of blaming yourself, of recalling the night over and over and-

"No need to be ashamed, Y/N." he chuckles, the sound of it filling the quiet room.

"I'm not ashamed." you lie. Letting him see through you was the last thing you needed today. "Just thought nobody knew."

"Well, if it helps, I'm the only one who does." he finally sits on the ground, back glued to the wall where the window was. A beat, and then he was back with the personal questionnaire. "How are you?"

"I should be the one asking that question. Huge team, getting all the girls, abnormal paycheck.. Superbowl." your words dripping with disgust as you stare out the window, hoping for something, anything, anyone, a divine intervention to get you out of there.

"I don't really get that many girls," he says as he stares at you. One of the things about him that bothered you so much was his courage. You could never, ever, not a million years, bring yourself to stare at him the way he'd do to you. It was intimidating, raw, and worst of all, familiar. He'd always do this when the two of you fought in high school, that's how he'd always win the arguments, not by words, by having the courage to look you in the face and leaving you feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze. That's also the same way he stared at you that night, after saying all those nice words that made you melt under his touch.

"Mhm.." You nod, not knowing what to say.

"Aren't you going to answer me?" he questions, again.

"I'm fine, finishing my doctorate now."

You don't know why you told him that, but it felt right.

He lets out a breath, "Fuck, Y/N.. That's huge." he congratulates you, and although he couldn't see it due to the poor lighting, it makes you blush. You had never seen it as that big of a deal, it was just the thirst for knowledge you always had, but it was nice knowing someone Joe thought about it as something nice.

"Thank you"

"Thank you coming today," he finally says, awkwardly, as he gets up, grabbing his cup as he does so. "tell your folks I said hi."

"Will do."

He opens the door and gets lost in the crowd, leaving quietly and sneakily like he did that night, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #nfl #cincinnati bengals #bengals #reader insert #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x y/n #y/n

[dejwrld]

⊹˳⁺ ♡ important announcement.

i have some quite sad news (happy news for the haters i guess lmfao), but i think i have fallen out of love with writing fanfiction. although, i do still enjoy reading it...but writing it, i just don't feel the spark anymore as much as i did when i first started it. perhaps it's been due to the shift of tumblr fanfic culture on here or it's been work getting a little too hectic or maybe it's my mind finally telling me to go work on this novel i been blabbering on about. idk what it is but writing fanfics for me isn't the same anymore. the once spark i started with when i created that geto suguru fic cam competition to nanami kento fic muse...isn't there anymore. that terrifies me as a person who fucking love writing and reading.

i have created a private blog to blabber on about the media i consume and my future novel/novel journey. however this go around, i will be selective on who i want to be following me and who i will be following.

i do plan on posting the last two parts of marry you and this sukuna fic i've been writing too, but after that the ideas i put into fanfics truly have to go into one of my dreams and that's to become a published author.

so i just want to thank all of y'all for being with me during this journey from dejwrites to shunsuist rebrand of this blog to me politely begging that one user for the chosoist url to dejwrld. i appreciate the support, love, and friends i've made during this long journey. i am grateful to have written many fics where black readers could relate to (hell non black readers too tbh). i am grateful to have read many amazing fics from you guys. i am grateful for some of you being just amazing individuals. thanks for all the wonderful and fun memories (the north remember y'all putting my man zeke in a pack on the dash on dejwrites lmfaoooo) that i created with some of y'all since 2021.

remember, you're that bitch (gender neutral) and never let nobody dim your light because they're not confident with themselves. remember, choso got the fattest dick in jjk, osamu is the hottest in hq, and bleach got the most attractive character cast in the big three.

signing out.

ʚ₊˚‧⌇𝓂𝓎 𝓈ℴ𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁𝓈 | navigation | server

𝟽𝟽𝟽 ⸻ last creations

⊹˳⁺ ♡ marry you, ushijima wakatoshi (last 2 parts coming soon)

⊹˳⁺ ♡ untilted, sukuna ryomen (coming soon)

#pls reblog. #pinned post. #feel bad posting this so late at night #but i just been thinking about this for a while now

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

[ifyoucandaniel]

i know we all love our jason “reads classical literature and makes obscure literature references” todd, and usually damian is the other reader in the family and they either bond over their love for classical literature or try to kill each other. however i would like to take this a step further and say that EVERYone in the batfam are big readers. i come from a big family and all of us read in some way or another so here are my headcanons for the bats:

jason, as we know and love, is a massive classic literature buff. pride and prejudice, the brontë sisters, the iliad (he swears achilles and Patroclus are the greatest love story of all time), etc. he IS pretentious and everyone groans when classic literature is brought up in any debatable capacity. however his all time favorite book is the princess bride and he would die for buttercup. when the whole family starts watching jujutsu kaisen, jason reads the manga just so he can spoil things for damian that never actually happen. the day a new episode comes out jason tells damian panda was actually a spy and kills megumi. damian tries to kill him with his cereal spoon

while damian was with the league talia made sure he was sufficiently educated in classic literature in all their original languages, and he doesn’t mind a good classic. however i think he actually reads a lot of manga and children's classics. he read where the red fern grows and old yeller and cried, but he won’t ever admit it. he loves shonen and shojo manga, he really likes naruto and attack on titan (i can’t really decide what i think he’d like actually)

Dick is a smut slut girly!! he is in a bookclub with babs and steph where they read the sluttiest books to ever make it through publishing. He read ACOTAR and was constantly facetiming babs to rant. they're currently reading haunting adaline. Bruce once asked what the big deal was when the girls were talking to dick about fouth wing in the kitchen and they all looked at him with such offended expressions he never asked again

tim is also a pretentious fucker, but he reads dark academia. he will ride or die for Donna Tarte, his copy of the secret history is always on the desk by the batcomputer and he takes if we were villians on patrol with him. jason fucking hates his books and they're always fighting on who's taste in books is better. jason actually really loved a little life a cried seven times while reading it, but he would rather die than concede

steph is an AO3 girly!! she's part of the slut bookclub with dick and babs, but at heart she's an ao3 girly. she's also written her fair share of bruce wayne x batman fanfics. she once read a superbat fanfiction out loud to the boys and dick was absolutely enthralled, duke was morbidly facinated, damian had never been more disgusted in his life, and jason laughed so hard he almost threw up

duke reads a lot of comics (spiderman is his favorite because i say so and the MCU is their comic world), and he likes X-men and wolverine. he also really likes high fantasy and has read every book brandon sanderson has ever written

Cass like romance novels and ya books. damian acknowledges her taste in books after she defends his stance on harry potter and percy jackson being classics when jason tries to argue that they don't belong in the same category as his books. she read the cruel prince and convinced bruce to get her a snake she named percy. she reads books damian recommends and he would never actually say it out loud, but he secretly loves sharing his books with her and feels a lot closer to her because of her willingness to read what he recommends

bruce isn't typically a reader (he's too busy serving justice and kicking ass) but he will read books that his kids ask him to. he read the entire wheel of time series with duke and would go on patrols with him after just to talk about it. he read the golden compass to dick when he first took him in, and he read all of jane austen's books after jason told him he must be illiterate if he'd never picked up a classic

now what about alfred...

i dont have time to do everyone else and this is super rushed, but I just couldn't stop thinking about dick and babs having a little book club and reading the sluttiest books ever

#batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #barbra gordon #bruce wayne #duke thomas #batman #batfam headcanons #alfred pennyworth #i feel like i definately could have done more with this but this is just off the top of my head #i feel like i messed up a few of them but you get my point #theyr readers and theyre all besties

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk

Word Count: 1.7k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123

A/n: I had so much fun writing this part! Quick reminder, it’s based on the Scream 1996 movie so there will be a lot of the plot in it 🙂 Let me know what you think of this chapter down in the comments below 👇🏻 criticism is also appreciated, but don’t be too harsh lol. It just leaves room for more improvement, and if you want to be added to the taglist let me know below 🥰 Lastly, it’s also my first time writing a smut-like scene, so hopefully it isn’t too cringe… I haven’t proofread yet, but I’ll be doing that as it’s published and I’ll make changes as I go. Thank you for reading! I’m excited to see where this series will go!

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 5

The landline rang and rang, interrupting your peaceful slumber. You groaned, slowly sitting up on your couch, sinking into the black cushions, tossing the fuzzy-dark purple blanket to the side.

“What the?” You murmured, half awake. You groggily rubbed at your eyes, attempting to get rid of any sleep that lingered.

You glanced at the blinking red and bold numbers that flashed across the alarm clock that sat quietly on the couch-side table; indicating that it was now 10:30pm.

School had ended several hours ago, so who could possibly be calling?

‘Hmm, maybe it’s Sidney calling to apologize.’ You thought, jokingly, knowing that she’d never do that.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming!” You moaned, annoyed at the frequent ringing that seemed to get louder and louder.

Pushing yourself off of what was your comfortable ‘bed’, you trekked to the kitchen where your landline was blaring.

You picked up the black phone, placing it against your ear.

“Ugh, hello?” You asked.

No answer, but you heard heavy breathing on the other side. “I said, hello?” You narrowed your eyes, leaning up against your marbled-kitchen counter.

“Hello…” A man spoke, his voice was odd, but eerily beautiful sounding. “Who is this?” He asked, and you tapped your fingers against your cheek, somewhat pissed.

“I should be asking you that.” You retorted, “But I’ll bite, who are you trying to reach?” You were genuinely curious to know because it’s not often you get phone calls like this, you should probably help in some way or another, right?

“What number is this?” He asked yet another question, ignoring what you had already asked.

You scoffed, he’s playing games, that you can tell.

“Why don’t you look at your caller ID and see?” You snipped, not in the mood for any pranks.

“I could do that, but why don’t you tell me?”

“Ah, no thanks, I assume you have eyes. You can do it yourself.” You mumbled, “What I can tell you, is that you have the wrong number.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, no shit. It happens, though. Take it easy.” You huffed, hanging up.

You went to walk to the front door, but your telephone started to ring again, you turned on the soles of your feet, starting your journey back to your previous spot.

“He wants to play games, fine, I’ll play.” You gritted your teeth, picking up the bulky phone again.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number.”

It was the same guy.

“And you dialed it again, because?” Your attitude rises with each word you speak.

“To apologize.”

Smooth…

“Okay, you’re forgiven, bye..” You sighed about to hang up again.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” He quickly spoke.

“What is it?”

“I want to talk to you.”

You smiled, your mood drifting from annoyed to intrigued. You are somewhat enjoying this now, but you didn’t know why. Maybe it had something to do with his voice; it was attractive and husky sounding, almost hoarse. Voices like that always had you in a chokehold, the gruffness could and would send you spiraling, maybe that is why Steve was able to charm you so easily.

“They’ve got over 500 numbers for that.” You chuckled, “But I’m honored you chose this house to annoy… but I really should be going now.” You fibbed, hanging up.

You walked to the front door to make sure it was locked, thankfully it was.

Your basic horror-movie instincts kicking in.

Peaking through the eyehole, you looked around to see if anyone was dawdling around.

Ring… ring, ring…

There’s that damn phone again.

You headed back to the landline, brushing your hair out of your face, and placed the object against your ear for what seemed like the millionth time.

“Hello.”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” He sounded upset.

‘Does this guy ever let up?’ You asked yourself.

“Alright, who is this?” You nagged.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine.”

“I don’t think so.” You unraveled the phone’s cord, walking towards the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bag of chips, which made a crinkling sound.

“What’s that noise?”

“Oh, sorry, I was grabbing chips.” You giggled, not meaning to apologize to a complete stranger about grabbing chips, it was a dumb thing to apologize for.

“Chips? I only ever eat chips during a movie…” He prolonged the word movie, making it last longer than it should.

“Huh, maybe I should put one on…” You said out loud, insinuating that it was a good idea, it’s not like you will be sleeping tonight, anyways. You had a 6 hour nap today, hence why you woke up so late. You’d probably still be sleeping right now if this strange person hadn’t called you.

You debated whether you should or not watch a movie, but decided that you would in the long run.

“Really? What movie?”

“I’m thinking of a scary movie.”

“You like scary movies?”

“Uh-huh..” You smirked, biting the tail end of your thumb nail.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Halloween… easily. Something about a tall-masked man that stalks his prey, almost like a game of cat and mouse, turns me on..” You blubbered, the smirk never leaving your face.

…Silence…

“I’d watch that over a good porno any day.” You admitted, inadvertently getting yourself turned on, Michael Myers, was easily someone you’d try to escape just by fucking him; in your rules of Fight, Flight or Fuck, you’d go with fuck, even if it got you killed for trying.

It’s a peculiar thought and probably something you should get help with; especially if it involves wanting to fuck a slasher of all things, but no one needs to know, well, minus that this complete stranger now knows it.

The person on the other end was completely flustered and not expecting what you had said, usually his victims fall prey to these little games, and he finds out more about them during the process, making it easier to get into their home. However, with you, despite already knowing you, he didn’t know that…

You’re a slasher-fucker.

“Hello?” You spoke, bringing the unknown male back to reality.

“Really now?” He sounded flabbergasted, “Do you usually tell strangers this fact about yourself?” He teased.

You laughed, “No, I don’t actually. You’re the first, not even my best friend knows that dark fact about me.. Billy he’s—“ You stopped yourself, not meaning to blurt out his name, what if this was the killer?

You coughed awkwardly into your hand, changing the subject. “What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Guess…” He taunted, but his head was elsewhere, ‘Huh, so I know something about (Y/n) that Billy doesn’t…’ He grinned behind his mask, feeling a bit of triumph.

“Umm, A Nightmare on Elm Street?” You uttered in his ear, bringing him back with the lull of your voice.

“Is that the one where the guy has knives for fingers?”

“Yeah, Freddy Krueger.” You gleamed, another Slasher you’d like to get your hands on as sick as you are, too bad he was also fiction.

“Freddy, that's right. I liked that movie, it was scary.”

“Really? I didn’t find it that scary.”

“So, you got a boyfriend?” He asked, changing topics. “Or is it just Michael Myers you’d love to have?” He rambled, a hint of lust hanging off a thread in his words. He was enjoying this too much, the fact that you’re probably just as twisted as him was enough to send his mind into the gutters, God, did he ever want to feel your cunt around his shaft; just knowing you’d probably let him fuck you because he’s a masked killer was giving him another hard one. He couldn’t help but reach under his cloak and start rubbing one out as he watched you from a distance.

You giggled again, completely enamored. “Why? You wanna ask me on a date?” You taunted, bending over the counter again, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. Your silk-black night gown, riding up your thigh, revealing more of your skin and your pink undergarments during your movement.

Unbeknownst to you, this caused the Watcher to struggle.

“Maybe. S-So, do you have a boyfriend?” He stuttered, not meaning to, as the pressure of his gloved hand shifted up and down faster and faster. It felt too good, and your voice was edging him on, getting him closer to his summit.

The cloaked figure rutted into his hand as his hot seed filled his palm. ‘F-fuck…’ he thought, jerking his hips as he finished his climax.

“Mm, no.”

“You never told me your name.” He grumbled, cleaning himself up, tucking his dick back into his pants.

“Why do you wanna know my name so bad?” You questioned,

“‘Cause I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You froze, becoming spooked. You gulped, “W-What did you say?”

You waited for him to speak, but all that was heard was silence, “Hello—“

You were cut off mid sentence by your doorbell ringing and you snapped your head up in that direction, you hung up immediately.

You placed the phone face down on the counter, walking over to your door. You looked out the peephole, seeing that no one was there.

Swiftly, you unlocked your door, hesitantly opening it, poking your head out, trying to get a better look outside, but all that was there was your car and a few stray animals scattering about.

You stepped out, but your foot had hit something. You jumped back, looking down.

There was a pink-coloured box with a red ribbon tied around it and a note.

You quirked a brow, picking it up. It was on the heavier side, but not completely.

You walked back to the kitchen gently placing it down on the counter next to your phone, carefully taking the note off and reading it out loud;

“You look so pretty when you’re spooked, especially in that little-black nightgown you’re wearing right now…” You gasped, your legs beginning to tremble in fear as your hands shook, but you roughed it out, wanting to finish the rest of the note, soon fearing the worst. “I brought you a little something from your ‘boyfriend’ Steve… Signed, G.F.”

“What… What the fuck?” You grimaced, putting the note beside you.

Gulping, you ripped the ribbon off and opened the box. Only for it to reveal another medium-sized box, you took that out, placing it outside of the other one.

You were quick to notice the red-splotches and felt the wetness of it. You shakily opened a drawer, and took out a kitchen knife, and cut the box open.

Your eyes widened as tears glossed over them, you dropped the knife to the ground and it cladded with the tiles as it seemed to have bounced in slow motion. You cupped your mouth, wanting to scream, but nothing came out, just silent whimpers as you looked at the human heart that laid in the box.

The phone rang again, causing you to twitch at the sudden sound.

You didn’t bring it to your ear this time, but you still heard that voice loud and clear.

“I hope you like your gift, (Y/n).”

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