#and then the one fucking weekend where i put my foot down and say do not fucking bother me i need alone time work drama happens and i just

[mrfutureboy]

skfkdkksksk

#original entry #cw vent #i am just...so frustrated all the time #not like constantly or 24/7 but every week or every other week(end) i just get refrustrated over the same thing #im in my head abt it rn bc my 1yr anniversary with my partner is coming up but our future just looks so...far away. unclear. #weve talked for a while abt moving in together. nothing happened. i put my foot down like 'lets actually work towards this' and we looked #at places and tried to schedule tours tho unfortunately were never able to bc most placed never got back to us (one place was straight up #and said they werent able to do tours rn which yanno fine) #this was really stressing me out but ultimately out of my control #after that they said they wanted to wait until they got a better job which is fine but its been several months and im not sure when they #even last applied anywhere #on one hand i know that its stressful job hunting and so i want to be patient #but on the other hand sometimes i feel like all i do is wait around for them and im fucking tired of waiting #ive lived at home since march 2020 and am now in a place financially where i could move out but i feel like im being held back #i do want to have a life w my partner but they dont always act like they want to despite saying they do #im fucking sick of spending weekends at their parents house (bc they r in a similar situation like me) and driving back and forth all the #time. i hate leaving bc i feel like i shouldnt have to leave bc we should just be living together #but then sometimes im not sure i do wanna live together #im so conflicted and stressed and i hate that i have to be frustrated over this so often bc i shouldnt have to fucking tell them over and #over i should just be listened to and acknowledged #i want the fucking truth i want their actions to reflect their words i want to actually feel like we can be adults and live together and #work towards a future but they cant even pick out fucking cereal to eat in the morning

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I feel like, Young!Pathetic!Konig would do REALLY well with a Older!Lady-Cougar!Reader, She's maybe been divorced twice and looking ta maybe become widowed this time? May-haps her current hubby has wealth and power but is a few screws short of being a good man towards our poor reader, and there's that Pesky prenup that makes it so she won't get ANYTHING in a divorce...buuuttt if the bastard has a bit of an....*Oopsie doodle*.... Maybe she's looking for someone to take care of her problem, and maybe she likes this young soldier boy, whose all too happy to help with *whatever needs* she might have? Likes how desperate he is for just her hand on his arm, likes how he's on his need begging for just a *taste* Likes that she can teach him how to please a woman, how to make her moan like no lover before....Likes how willing he is to kill the man she's married too...

Asfdf my brain short circuited ❤️ I know I said somewhere that I don’t write cheating but if it’s cheating a bad man with an even worse man König….

CW: 18+ MDNI. Age difference, F!dom/M!sub undertones, praise kink, cheating (your husband is an old dick), mating press & other shenanigans, murder & mentions of blood, König is a lovesick yandere in the making.

It was just one night.

Just one night to satiate your needs because your husband for sure never takes care of them.

But then the young pup you picked off from the pub pops into your workplace next week... With a large bouquet of flowers in his hand and a box of chocolate in the other, your desperate little “detour” looks like a boy who just got laid for the first time in his life.

“König…” you sigh and pull him to an empty breakroom before all your colleagues see you’ve cheated on your beloved husband with a man at least ten years younger than you.

“You can’t be here,” you start, trying to ignore the happy, greedy stares this little—big—soldier gives you.

He’s all the equal to his alias, looking like a king in the making with those wide shoulders and that fierce stare. But his hands are shaking, he guides those eyes to the floor as he puts the gifts on the table littered with crumbs and coffee stains, switches his weight from one foot to the other once you start to tell him how it is.

He listens dutifully as you try to explain how it was only one night, that he was incredibly lovely and you had so much fun but that you can’t see each other anymore. It was wrong of you to do so in the first place, you’re married, and you’re so, so sorry... You were just so sad and lonely.

You tell him he’s a good man. That he’ll find someone special, some lovely girl to call his own. He will find someone who can give him what he wants, someone who will cover him with kisses for bringing her flowers and sweets.

You try to explain it to him even as you get slowly chased into a corner, you try to tell him what a catch he is even when you get pinned to the wall by a hard, lean chest.

You try to tell him that he’s the perfect man for some other girl even when he pulls your strings aside and bullies his cock inside you.

One minute is all it takes as he huffs and groans and fucks you against the wall, your moans and his grunts barely muffled by shirts and fists and lips and skin. There’s lipstick on his clean, white shirt after he’s done with you, teeth marks where his shoulder meets his neck, a spittle of cum on your skirt as he pulls it down with shaky hands.

“Sorry,” he murmurs in your ear. “I just had to see you. I missed you so much...”

Your cunt is what he missed, any woman could see that. Got a taste of it last weekend and wouldn’t let you leave his place at all; a small, miserable flat of 25 square meters, with burned rice on the stove and a thin, cum-stained mattress on the floor. He fucked you on that mattress, four times because on the fifth attempt to part your shaking thighs, you told this horny lad you need to go home.

“I know, big boy. I missed you too. But you need to go now,” you say to your pretty lover. Ugly but pretty, in his own way, his utter lack of cruelty is what makes him beautiful in your eyes.

“I don’t want to,” he dares to argue back and claims your mouth, kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before.

“You have to,” you moan. “König–”

“I love you.”

You’re huffing, panting into each other’s throats as you realize he’s even younger than you thought. Fell in love with your cunt so easily, this big runt, thinks it’s meant to be just because you’re wet and he’s hard.

“Don’t be silly,” you huff and look at the drowsy smile, the messy state of this lovesick man before you fight your way out of his lap.

You want to cry, wail, scream from the injustice. Where was this silly young golden retriever six months ago? Why didn’t you meet him when you were single and sweet? Now you’re trapped in an unhappy marriage with some old fool who was cunning enough to trick you into a ludicrous deal with him. The prenupt you discovered only later, after he swore that you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life and that everything that belonged to him would be yours one day. In reality, you’ve had to beg for every crumb, act the part of a trophy wife who also has to work herself to death. And he won’t even fuck you, only wants you to massage his back and his cock while you’re left all alone without love, without a single kind word.

But König never lets you go: not in a way you beg him to, no, he always shows up at your door. Sneaks into your lonely room from the window, licks you to ruin while you laugh and tell him no, fucks you three times a night, crawls under the bed when a cleaning lady almost catches you two. He shows up at cafes, restaurants, conferences, parties, everywhere where you go but your husband won’t.

He’s so reckless that you have to teach him to be more patient, more gentle. You guide his fingers and his head, even his cock, while locking your eyes with his so that he knows when he’s doing it right. You praise him for a good, unhurried fuck, cup his face and kiss him when he gives it to you nice and slow. Anyone can see he'd want to ram it in until there’s nothing left of him and you, but you kiss and kiss and kiss him until the poor boy moans and cums without permission, just from that tiny taste of intimacy and love.

He gets pets, smooches and caresses, blowjobs that leave him shaking and breathless on the bed. He looks like he has no brains left after you’re done with him, looks a little helpless when you climb on top of him and help yourself with his cock after he only just came.

He’s always up in no time, especially if you tell him he did well. Stares at you and your breasts like you’re a vision from heaven, drools on them once when you won’t let him have a lick. Mopes when you laugh at his predicament, and won’t stop brooding even when you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he’s never mad at you for long, not if you call him sweetie or your silly apple crumb, not if you let him fall asleep in your bed, partly on top of you. There’s always a wet spot on your back if he’s the big spoon, he begs you to sleep naked as he does, says it’s better for your health and then teases you with his fingers come morning, probably thinking he’s so very clever. Takes you to the theater and offers you expensive port wine and cake, tells you how to steal a car, how to shoot any gun. Gives you a hungry kiss in public when you tell him he has to act like he’s your cousin from abroad, vanishes for weeks to his training, sends letters instead of texts, and tells you he’s going to be a big boss someday.

It’s hard to imagine this serious but silly mess as an intimidating officer, not even when you know he has the size and looks for it. He’s too innocent and needy, doesn't know how the real world works yet. Thinks he’s immortal just because he’s young...

There’s a certain darkness in him, and you mistake it for the remnants of some turbulence of his teenage years, just some wrath of a boy who never got what he wanted. Who wouldn’t be a little pissed and impatient in their twenties? He probably doesn’t even know what he wants: hell, you don’t know what you want.

“Like this...?” He asks demurely when he lifts your knees to your ears and sinks his cock into you inch by inch, carefully as if it’s the first time you’re making love.

“Just like that,” you whisper as he spreads you so wide you can’t even breathe, fills you up deliciously, like no one else before. His eyes never leave you, not even when he uses your hole as a place to bury himself and all his bad memories, not even when he makes you squirt like you’re nothing but an oasis in a desert that never ends.

But you know he comes to you for other things than just that.

He comes to you for kind words, breathy praise, soft touches and ruffles of his hair. He comes to you for practice and to get his sense of self in order. He’s your pretty knight in shining armor when others have called him ugly, he’s your strong bull when others have ridiculed his disproportionate limbs. He’s your safe haven, your sunshine, your crazy, silly man, your soldier and your savior, and he soaks up your love and attention like a sponge: every drop gets gulped down like he’s a man dying of thirst. He doesn’t take sips, he doesn’t know how to, and you on the other hand don’t know how to quench the raging drought inside him, long after yours has been satiated.

You sleep like Romeo and Juliet just before their death, and fuck like rabbits in the spring. He takes you in the car, in the closet, in the toilet, in other people’s beds, even at the alley one night.

“I love you,” he always says after he has spilled his cum – it’s like a ritual or a prayer, and you always reach for the baby hairs of his neck in return, and give them the gentlest caress.

“I love you too,” you whisper one night – it just slips when you stroke his cheek. It never comes as a surprise that he gives you the most miserable pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

He knows about your situation, knows enough that you’re trapped and unhappy. But you never knew he saw you as a victim. If anything, you feel like he’s the victim here. Poor boy, saving what little he has for a future with some woman who knows nothing about true love... You’re not the one for him, you’re not even a silly little sex kitten any young soldier would want to play with. You’re just some bored, abandoned wife who wants to feel something, mean something to someone. But you love him enough to know that you’ll let him go when he wants to move on. As bitter as it makes you feel, you know you’ll give him to someone younger and more beautiful, someone who will love as passionately as he does. Anything to make him truly happy.

But the next evening, König doesn’t climb in through your window. He uses the door, the inside door, and you jump from the bed and hurry to him in your nightgown, the only gift your husband ever gave you.

“I killed him for you,” he says, your soldier boy from Austria, your good, good boy with a good, big cock.

You only now see that his hands are stained in blood, and nothing shakes anymore: your wannabe sniper is as calm as ever when he confesses he’s murdered someone.

“...What?”

He comes to you and cups your face, the blood on his hands both wet and cold. You’ve never seen him so peaceful, not even after he’s had a good fuck. The boy who no one ever loved has turned into a man, but what kind of man… You shiver in his clutch, unsure if you’re about to suffer a heart attack from fear or love.

“He didn’t suffer... Much,” he says, his cracked lips only a breath away from yours. “Knives can be messy…”

You gulp while staring into the deep, dark abyss of his eyes, the innocent baby blue nearly swallowed by the darkest of all loves.

This is not how you thought things would go… You were supposed to give the old man the finger and divorce during the summer. Put your finances in order so that you can escape. Maybe fuck König on the side and see if he’s still the man of your dreams once you’re happily divorced.

Now he’s telling you you’ll marry as soon as possible, or that if you want a summer wedding, he can wait a few months… He tells you you have nothing to worry about, he won’t go to jail, not this time. He’ll take care of you now; he just got promoted. You don’t ever have to be sad again.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he says when all words have finally escaped you. “Now we can be together. Forever…”

#könig x reader #d/s dynamic #sub könig is fine with me if he tries to top from the bottom or becomes totally unhinged in order to prove his love ^^ #he's a switch he just doesn't know it

[itsthewritergal]

Please can I hold you? - Bucky.Barnes x Reader

Hello my loves,

I'm trying to be better this year at writing.

Summary: Y/N leaves, and Bucky tries his hardest to fix it.

TW: Kissing, trauma, family trauma, shouting, swearing, (let me know if I've missed some)

January 1st, it was supposed to be their year. They had promised each other that this was it, Bucky and Y/N. Bucky had promised no more long missions away from Y/N, Y/N had promised that she would move in with Bucky so they could finally spend more time together. A good year was what they wanted, what they deserved, what they needed.  But here they were screaming at each other over Bucky not kissing Y/N at midnight. Y/N had explained to Bucky multiple times that she was at the edge, she couldn’t cope anymore with arguing, and whilst Bucky never admitted it, he hated it just as much, if not more than Y/N. Yet here they were. 

“And another thing, I didn’t even want to go to Nat’s stupid New Year’s eve party” Bucky screamed ‘I wanted to be at home with you’ was the bit he failed to include in his insult. 

“You told me you wanted to be with people you loved on New Year’s Eve, I thought it would be fun” She shouted back “You think it was fun for me? Because it fucking wasn’t. All I wanted to do was come home, the whole night, but you wanted to keep drinking” She seethed, Bucky wanted to tell her it wasn’t true. He didn’t want to drink, but he stupidly got caught up in the party. 

“Now you’re going to get at me for drinking? Like you don’t do it every single weekend” He shouted, “Thor never brings that fucking mead, I deserved to have a nice night” He was being mean intentionally, but he couldn’t stop. 

“I never said you didn’t Buck” She said her voice suddenly quieter, Bucky should have noticed it was because she was getting upset but he didn’t. 

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been working? I just wanted one nice night” Bucky should have stopped himself, he knows he should stop but he couldn’t. He was angry at himself for not putting his foot down and saying he wanted to spend time with just Y/N. 

“One nice night?” Y/N parroted “The nights we have aren’t nice? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“No! You’re twisting my words” Bucky snapped, he spoke with insecurity but it came across as anger and Y/N didn’t like that 

“Because I’m the bad guy right? James Bucky Barnes can’t put a foot wrong, but I can. That’s all I do right?” Y/N said, her fears coming to the surface. The insecurity was all from her messed up childhood, Bucky knew that from their late night chats, when they’d lay next to each other and confess everything, but he didn’t realise that the fear was seeping into their relationship. 

“That’s not what this is about” Bucky said realising suddenly how far he had taken the fight, and how distraught Y/N was becoming 

“Isn’t it?” Y/N snapped, her eyes locked onto Bucky as a target.

“You’re making this worse than it needs to be” Bucky said, unknowingly adding more fuel to the fire 

“Yeah that’s me isn’t it? Making everything worse. Don’t worry Buck, I get it” She snapped turning away from Bucky 

“Where the hell are you going?” He called after her 

“Downstairs Buck, I need some space away from you right now” She stormed out of their bedroom and down the stairs. Bucky sat down on their bed with his head in his hands, he had just fucked everything up. 

Taking a deep breath Bucky decided to set an alarm for 10 minutes, and once it had gone off he would go and speak to Y/N calmly about his feelings. That was how they were going to fix it. He knew he had messed up but he would fix it. 

Y/N stood in their hallway, and listened to Bucky close their bedroom door. She knew she had blown things out of proportion, she had made things worse. The little voice in her head told her she had messed things up seriously this time. There was no coming back from this. Bucky hated her, she knew that much. The thought along was enough to almost break her, pulling on her trainers she left the house silently, following the little voice down the streets. She twisted and turned around the streets she used to love walking with Bucky, but now they just felt like they were taunting her as she remembered the kisses they had shared at the bus stop, and the stray cat they had wanted to adopt by the street corner.  She couldn’t cope with it, so she began to run. 

The wind blew in her ears, the kind of fierce that stopped her from having to think, it was dark and the street lamps did little to ease her discomfort. She was on her way home, in the desperate hope that Bucky was asleep, or at Steve’s or Sam’s. She had no idea of the time,  having left her phone at home in Bucky’s jacket pocket most likely, but she sent a silent prayer to the sky that it was late enough that Bucky wouldn’t still be around. She couldn’t face him, not after everything she had done. Her mother was right, she wasn’t made for relationships, she would always mess them up, and now she had screwed up the only good thing she had going for her. This was it. She was done. Y/N didn’t notice the way her hands shivered a little with the cold biting wind, with her furious mood and growing insecurity she had forgotten a coat.  As she turned onto her and Bucky’s street the tears started again, this really was the end. Her and Bucky were about to be done, finished, ended. 

So much for their year. She mused to herself silently, revelling in the cruel twist of fate, her mother was right. 

Pushing the handle of the door down quietly, in the hope to not wake Bucky if he was in, Y/N creaked the door open. She took a shaky step into the house, listening out for Bucky. When she was satisfied that there was no sound of him she closed the door behind her and took off her shoes. 

“Y/N?” Bucky’s shaky voice called out, she froze. “Baby?” He said coming into the hall, Y/N put her hand back on the door handle, she was ready to run again, this was not a conversation she was ready to have. 

“Don’t you dare ever scare me like that again” He said wrapping his arms around her tensed body, Y/N kept herself tensed, she was ready to run if she needed. 

“I know you’re scared, I know you think you’ve messed this all up but I swear to you this whole argument is on me” he said refusing to let her out of his embrace, 

“Bucky stop” she said quietly 

“I’m sorry” He said dropping his arms, she looked up at him with red eyes “Could you come and sit down in the lounge for me?” He asked 

“I should go” 

“No” Bucky said “You’re going to come and sit down and we are going to talk about this, because we are bigger than your insecurities and we are going to fix this” he said, 

“Oh,” Y/N said “oh” She repeated once the words had settled into her head “You aren’t breaking up with me?” 

“Come on doll, come sit down for me?” He said 

“Ok” She said, following Bucky through their house. 

Y/N settled herself into an armchair, where she could curl her legs up underneath herself. Bucky opted for the sofa opposite her, picking up on the fact that she didn’t want to touch him just yet. 

“Before we start, the next time you need to get away you tell me where you’re going. I was terrified doll, I know the kind of people that are out there and if you need space, please let me come with you. I promise I won’t walk beside you or speak to you but I need to know you are safe.” Bucky said “Please?” 

“I’m sorry Buck” She said,

“No apologies. We have to make mistakes to fix them for the future yeah?” He said 

“I don think I can do this Bucky. All your friends hate me, I invited you to a party you didn’t want to be at, I asked you to cut down your missions. Everything I do, makes me the issue in this relationship” She said, 

“That’s not true, everyone loves you—”

“No they don’t, they put up with me” 

“No, no, Y/N. Please don’t do this. I know you’re spiralling, I know that you’ve always been made to believe that its your fault. But I swear to you this one is on me. I wanted to spend New Years Eve with just you. I wanted to kiss you at midnight, but I fucked up. I got drunk and neglected you. You should have been my priority at midnight, not that stupid drink” 

“I should’ve let you have fun” Y/N said 

“No, I should have kissed you” Bucky said, his tone was final and Y/N didn’t want to argue anymore. 

“I didn’t deserve it” 

“You don’t have to earn love” Bucky said, moving to the carpeted space in front of Y/N’s armchair, taking Y/N’s hands in his he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles “I love you, I want to spend my life with you and I will spend every single moment apologising to you for the way I acted” 

“I’m sorry for saying all those mean things Buck” Y/N said “I didn’t mean them I just wanted to make myself the bad person so you could hate me. I wanted you to hate me” 

“Why did you want that?” Bucky asked after pressing another kiss to her hand 

“So you’d end things, so my fears could come true. It’s sadistic, but I guess I’m always just waiting for the end so I just wanted it to happen. Like ripping a bandage off” 

“Oh Y/N” Bucky said gently “You never have to be scared of me leaving. We will always work through our issues, you’re my life. You’re my world, this is it for me.” 

“So you’re not waiting for me to fuck up so you can leave?” 

“No, I’m not” Bucky said 

“I’m sorry” she whispered 

“No more apologies” Bucky whispered “Please let me hold you baby? We can talk more in the morning I promise. But right now I just need to hold you”

“You never need to ask”

#bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #itsthewritergal #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x fluff #bucky x reader angst #bucky x you

[luveline]

could you please write an early!roan fic where maybe she thinks Y/N is actually just coming around to spend time with her and then she finds out that it’s actually cause of her eddie, and gets all grumpy like “i thought you loved me” and Y/N comforts her “i do love you, but i also love your dad!”

thank u for requesting!! eddie and roan 1k, fem

There's a distinct smell of burned toast coming from the trailer. You trust Eddie but you rush up the steps anyhow, alarmed to find him coughing in the kitchen, window thrown open. 

"Will you take her?" he asks you immediately. 

You spy Roan sitting at the kitchen table and swap her for your bag of groceries. She gasps and giggles at your sudden appearance, quick to wrap her arms around your neck when you offer your embrace. You walk her to the open door and stand there sucking in clean breaths as Eddie fans a dish towel around under the smoke alarm. "What's dad burning?" you ask. 

"Um. Bagels?" 

You rub her shoulder. "Hey, I missed you, huh? It's been a long time since I saw you." 

"I missed you too!" Roan says quickly, eager, wrapping her arms tighter around your neck to squish your cheeks together. 

You smile into her hug. You and Eddie have been busy once again, and when you did manage to steal a date night, Ro was at Wayne's. You really have missed the little girl and you intend to show it, stroking your fingers through her hair gently. She dissolves like always. 

"Shit," Eddie says, throwing two blackened bagels into the sink and running the water. "Shit, fuck. I'm sorry, girls, I don't know where my head's at." 

"Cream cheese can't fix that." 

"It's okay, dad," Roan says. "We can get burgers." 

"I can't always feed you burgers, babe, it's not good for you." Eddie rubs his hair out of his face. "And Y/N just got here from work, she doesn't wanna go out again." You're dying to flop on their couch, but if she wants a burger for dinner, who are you to stop her? Still, Eddie puts his foot down. "No, bub. I'll make some more bagels. It'll be yummy. We have salami and everything." 

"Uh," she whines, laying back in your arms. You nearly drop her. You laugh at her dramatics as she slowly drags herself back up, her eyes practically sparkling with an idea. "Me and you can go get burgers," she whispers. 

"I really am tired. Let's get burgers on the weekend, maybe." You don't like letting her down but you have to be a united front with Eddie. Usurping his authority helps no one, especially when she wants something she isn't going to get today. "And I'd miss dad." 

"Who cares about dad?" she says. 

You laugh. "I do! He's my boyfriend." 

"He's your what?" 

Eddie looks up from where he's cleaning. The burned bagels have been disposed of, the kitchen sink washed out and the toaster cleared of scorched crumbs. "You knew that, Ro." He sounds puzzled. 

"He's my prince," you say. "You know? The prince to my princess Polly." 

"What?" Roan stares at you with an extremely amusing expression, her eyebrows tugged in betrayal. 

"Sweetheart, you know me and daddy are together, don't you?" you ask, hosting her higher on your hip. "That's why we go on dates and stuff. And why he brings me flowers, why we had that anniversary dinner, remember, with the melted chocolate?" 

"I thought you loved me." 

"I love you so much," you say, looking to Eddie for assistance. He seems as lost as you feel. "Like, so much. But I love dad too. He's hard not to love, isn't he? He's handsome and funny, and he makes great grilled cheese–" 

Roan does not look happy. She pushes at your chest to be put down and sprints out of the kitchen to her bedroom, where you hear a clattering of things being pushed over and a whine filled to the brim with attitude. 

"Should I…" 

Eddie shakes his head. "In a minute. Let her be angry for a bit. This is her first heartbreak." 

You meander into him and pinch his waist. "Don't say that to me, that's awful. Poor baby, did she really not know we were dating?" 

"Of course she knows. She just forgets, 'cos she loves you and she thinks you're best friends" He wraps an arm over your shoulders. "Wow. I wonder if she thinks of me as the third wheel when we hang out." 

You take the bread knife out of his hand. "Don't bother with that. We're getting burgers." 

Eddie's laugh is more of a girly, cute giggle, like he's just had a shot. You elbow him in the stomach until he cuts it out, and beg forgiveness for being grouchy with a hug. You press your face into his neck and huff. "I missed you before you got me in trouble," you mumble. 

"Nuh-uh, that had nothing to do with me." He kisses your temple. "She loves you. It's nice. It's… You're awesome. It's great that she thinks you love her more than you love me, even if she's wrong." 

"I do love her more than I love you." 

"Are you trying to piss us both off? You can go get burgers by yourself." 

Roan is face down in her bed when you knock on her door a couple of minutes later, completely still. You pick up the plushies she's flung off her bed and sit them up in pride of place against the wall. "Princess, you know I love you," you say. "Don't you?" 

"Yeah." 

"But you know I love daddy too?" 

"Ugh." She shakes her head in disgust. 

"Ugh," you say agreeably. "You're my favourite, though." 

She turns very slightly to peek at you. "I am?" 

"Obviously. That's why I just told dad we were going for burgers whether he wanted to or not." You tickle her side until she laughs and turns on her back to escape you. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, I wasn't trying to. We're still friends, right?" 

"We're best friends." 

"That's what daddy said." You scoop her up into your side for a squish. "We're best friends forever," you whisper. 

She leans up to rub her nose against yours. 

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're convinced you and Bradley could go on the same date a million times over, and you would find something new to love about it each time. You don't want the weekend to come to an end, but at least you get to enjoy time with a favorite visitor on Sunday evening. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, pregnancy discussion

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley was dressed and lounging back on the pillows with his arms tucked behind his head. You were getting ready to go out, and he was thoroughly enjoying watching you put on your red lingerie. His favorite set.

"We could just stay in," he murmured as you clasped your bra and rolled your eyes. Your face was made up and you were standing at the foot of the bed wearing barely anything at all. "We should just stay in."

You scoffed and said, "You should let Tramp out so we can leave in twenty minutes. I want to eat hot sauce with my sexy husband."

"Fine," Bradley sighed with a smile, pausing in the doorway to watch you slip your red dress over your head. The same one you wore on your first date together. The one Bradley loved you in every time you wore it. And then he walked through the kitchen to let Tramp outside. Your new French press was on the counter along with the half unpacked Amazon box that neither of you had time to get to all week. But he reached inside and pulled out one of his new notebooks and took a pen out of the drawer.

Bradley had been working late all week for various reasons. He'd missed a lot while he was deployed. Plus the Slayer and Dean court-martial was moving ahead. And also, Maverick had offered him the chance to meet some pilots fresh out of flight school with the promise that Bradley could help with some training exercises in the coming months. He was tired. Next month was his thirty-seventh birthday. He was feeling his age.

He clicked the pen in his hand and opened the notebook to the first page.

My wife does this thing, and it drives me absolutely wild. When I tell her I'm tired or point out a gray hair in my mustache or mention that I've been feeling my age, she just laughs at me. Sure, I can still run ten miles and lift weights for hours on end, but she can wear me out in an instant. Emotionally, mentally, or physically. She can say one sentence to me like, "I want to go eat hot sauce with my sexy husband," and I am emotionally tanked for the rest of the day. Because I fucking believe her. She actually does want to eat her favorite food with me. And she actually does think I'm sexy. And she's too smart, so trying to keep up with her mentally drains me every single time. And physically... Well. That's where she manages to

"You ready to go, Roo?" you asked, walking into the kitchen looking exactly like you had more than a year and a half ago when you and he were just starting to fall in love. Well, he was already half in love with you by the time that first date rolled around. And by the end of the night, he was a goner.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching out for his hand with a little crease between your eyebrows.

"Nothing," he rasped as his eyes dipped down to your cleavage. "Just thinking about how I don't even have to try to play it cool tonight, unlike on our first date." He leaned down and kissed your lips softly and then added, "You look fucking incredible."

"I don't care what you say, we're not staying in for the night," you whispered, running your fingers along his tattoo and pulling him in for a kiss that was clearly at odds with your words.

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart," Bradley replied. He let Tramp back inside and then walked out to the Bronco with your hand in his. And then he got to do one of his favorite things. He opened the door for you, helped you climb in, and buckled your seatbelt. But as he started to pull his right hand away from your body, you caught it and held him close.

"Hey," you whispered. "I don't have to try to play it cool tonight either."

"No?" he asked, his eyes fluttering closed as your lips met his.

"No. I love you so much," you replied. "And I would go on the same date with you a million times, because each time would be a little different, and I know I would remember them all."

Bradley could feel goosebumps on your arm, and your eyes looked a little vulnerable. Last time you and he had visited the hot sauce restaurant and the pier from your first date, it had been on your birthday. And you cried that night. A lot. Because you wanted to be pregnant, but you weren't. He briefly wondered how many other times you'd cried for that reason that he didn't even know about.

He wanted a baby. He still did. But it wasn't his top priority. He understood now how much you'd let it hurt you month after month. And it wasn't the same for him. He knew that now. And he didn't want you to feel like you were failing yourself, your relationship or him ever again. Because you weren't. You were more than enough.

"I remember every minute I've ever spent with you, Sweetheart. And I dream about it when I'm deployed. And I want to have decades of stuff to remember."

"Just keep feeding me hot sauce."

"I fucking plan on it."

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

The ride up to Del Mar was beautiful. The sky faded from orange to purple as Bradley drove and sang along to his Motown playlist with his hand on your thigh. You thought about how you had a panic attack on your birthday after the negative pregnancy tests, but the memory of it didn't hurt as much now.

"What are you thinking about, Baby Girl?"

You glanced at your husband out of the corner of your eye as he parallel parked the Bronco in front of the restaurant. "Honestly?"

He met your eyes briefly as he straightened out the tires. "Yeah, honestly."

"I still want to have a baby, Roo," you said easily, this time without your heart aching. "I still think about it. But it doesn't make me upset like it used to."

He killed the engine, and coaxed you over to his lap. "Come here." When you were settled on him with your hands on his shoulders, he kissed you. "I still think about it, too. I still want it. But not at the expense of this," he added, gesturing between his body and yours before he let his big hand settle on your hip. "I don't want anything at the expense of this."

You took a deep breath and nodded. "Neither do I. And I know we agreed we can talk about this at length in a few more months, but I don't want to stop trying. And if there's still something wrong after a year, maybe we can talk to some doctors?"

"There's nothing wrong with us, okay? There's never going to be anything wrong. But if we still don't get pregnant, there are other options," he told you gently. "Like... fertility treatment or adoption agencies. But whatever we do, it's 50/50. We do it together. And I promise I'll take care of you better than I did before."

You were silent for a beat, because these were things you'd already thought about. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "I'm just saying, if we want a baby, there are other ways to make it happen. But I'm never going to stop wanting to fuck you, so don't think for a second that we're taking that off the table."

You shook with silent laughter before your giggles bubbled over. "Okay, we won't take that off the table, Roo."

He kissed your cheek and said, "Keep your pussy on the table." But he was laughing too, and you felt really good inside. His hands were heavy on your hips, and his lips were nipping at your neck. "Just let me feed you hot sauce and love you, and then we'll figure the rest out later if we even need to. I wanna give it a little more time, okay? Some more time with you off birth control. Some more time with us just being us. Like this."

"Yes," you agreed. "This is perfect. This feels good."

Now he was rubbing his mustache along your cleavage, and you knew you needed to get him inside the restaurant while you still could. "I'm hungry," you whispered.

"Me too," he agreed with a smirk.

"For dinner," you clarified with a laugh.

When you finally got him inside the restaurant, you could hear his stomach growling, so you didn't feel too bad. "Order two meals you want to try, Baby Girl," he said casually once you were seated.

You loved it when he let you do that, which was most of the time. And he always let you finish whichever one you liked better. And he never complained. You could feel his eyes on your body when you walked around to look at all the hot sauces on the shelves. Every time you glanced at him across the restaurant, he gave you a little nod or a wink. And there was no doubt in your mind that you were just as attracted to him now as you were the first time you were here.

When you brought some that you wanted to try back to your table, a brand new bottle of your favorite green sauce was sitting next to your favorite beer. "How am I supposed to deal with you, Bradley?"

"It's your favorite. And it's a tradition."

You laughed. "You bought me a whole case of 12 bottles online."

"You go through a bottler per week."

"That's actually fair."

Then your meals were delivered to the table, and you doused both of them in a rainbow of sauces and started eating. The two of you ended up sharing both meals, because you couldn't decide which one you liked better. And that one beer made you feel calm, and now Bradley's cheeks were rosy. After your conversation in the Bronco and the past week with him, you felt like all of the weight and pressure you put on yourself was easing up.

After dinner, you were laughing as he led you down the sidewalk with his arm wrapped around your waist. And you couldn't keep your hands off him either. "Why are we passing the Bronco? We should go home."

"Not yet," he whispered in your ear.

You gasped. "Are we going back to the silent disco?"

"Well," he rasped, looking at you with a wince. "Not exactly. I've been trying to get you back there for one, but they always seem to be when I'm deployed. But I had another idea. Let's walk down the pier."

You snorted. "You just want a handjob."

"Please," he replied, leading you across the street and down the pier. "Give me a little credit. I don't just want a handjob."

"Well that's good, because there are a lot of people out tonight," you whispered as he spun you around so your back was pressed against the railing and you were looking up at his face. "You're really handsome."

His cheeks were still rosy, but you thought perhaps your words had deepened the color. You ran your fingers along his scarred neck and across his cheek and into his hair. His eyes closed as he enjoyed your touch, and you studied him closely. He looked a little older than when you met him, with a few gray hairs here and there and maybe another wrinkle or two on his face. He'd been through a lot since then. He had the scars on his arm to prove it. But you didn't want to add emotional scars; he had plenty of those already. You just let him melt into your right hand as your left rested on his chest, and you looked at your diamond ring.

It was yours now, but sometimes you still thought of it as Carole Bradshaw's ring. Not in a bad way. Just as a form of recognition. It felt like an honor that you were wearing something so special. Maybe that was thanks in part to the words Bradley had read to you from his notebook. His recent thoughts and musings. But it was clear that some things were more important than others.

"I love you," he murmured, eyes still closed. "Are you ready for your newest playlist?"

"What is it?" you asked, his question pulling you back to the pier and the grin on his face.

"Just a little something I've been thinking about and finally put together." He pulled his earbuds out of his pocket and held one up for you to take. Then he tucked the other one in his own ear and kissed your nose. "It's all the songs I can remember from the silent disco. Plus what we listened to in the car that night. Oh, and a surprise track. Because I know you'll think it's funny."

Your heart swelled as you slid the earbud into place, and a few seconds later, the Cher song that played at the silent disco was on. And your heart was beating a little faster. And you couldn't stop smiling. "You really remembered all the songs we heard that night?"

Bradley shrugged. "I may have missed some. We'll add them if you remember more, okay?"

"I love this," you gasped, throwing your arms around his neck. "I love you."

He kissed your jaw and whispered, "I told you... I remember every minute I've spent with you. Or at least the way you've made me feel at any given time. Maybe the memories of some of the songs are a little hazy for me, but I remember how fucking good you made me feel that night. And how I was proud to be there with you. I still feel that way."

"Fuck, Bradley. You can't make me cry while Britney Spears is playing."

He laughed. "Okay. Let's dance then."

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

It was dark out. The other people who had been enjoying the view of the ocean from the pier had dissipated. An orange glow from the scattered lampposts softly lit your face like a dream. Bradley had taken to singing all the songs to you, just to hear you laugh and sing along yourself. The random mix of pop songs and '80s ballads and romantic Motown tunes kept a smile on your face. You laughed when Hey Soul Sister played, and you threatened to text Nat. And the whole time, Bradley held you close with his hands at your hips and waist.

"Oh," he said when the music went silent. "That's the end of the playlist."

"It's over?" you asked, leaning back against the railing and looking up at him longingly. You removed your earbud and handed it back to him.

"Baby Girl, it was almost three hours long," he informed you with a laugh.

You tipped your head back and groaned. "It was perfect." Then you gasped softly as his lips found the pretty expanse of your neck and chest which were on display for him. He was sucking gently on your collarbone as you said, "I knew I was in trouble after the first time you brought me here. You were so sincere that night."

Bradley hummed against your warm skin. "I was already thinking about spending the rest of my life with you."

"No! Stop it. We had just met." Your voice sounded breathy as he drew little shapes along your dress with his thumbs, your head still tipped back.

"Didn't matter. Already knew."

Your hands slid up from his shoulders into his hair, and he nibbled along the tops of your breasts as you made the sweetest little sounds. Your nipples were tight peaks against the fabric of your dress, and when Bradley ran his lips lower to feel you, he groaned. The texture of your lace bra filled his imagination with possibilities.

You tilted your head up, and when he met your eyes, you had the audacity to look surprised. "You're hard, Roo."

He raised one eyebrow at you, just short of rolling his eyes. "Listen... when two people love each other very, very much..."

Your laughter filled him. "Oh, is that how this works? You know, that sentence can be interpreted a lot of ways."

He had to close his eyes as you gently squeezed his length through his jeans. "It's how it works with you." He huffed out a breath when you licked his ear and added, "You make me greedy. I want everything."

You hummed softly as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Bradley glanced around to make sure you and he were truly alone as you whispered, "Then let's have everything. Even if it takes some time."

"I love that," he groaned as your cool hand dipped inside his boxer briefs and closed around him. One stroke and he was putty in your hands.

"And we'll start with the handjob that I was seriously contemplating giving you on our first date."

"Oh fuck, Sweetheart. You're too much." Bradley bucked against your belly as you ran your thumb along his balls. He'd let you go a little further with this, but then he was taking you home for the night. Just a little more. Each stroke was incredible as he kissed your lips.

But when you started asking him questions, he should have known he was in trouble. Because you always got unbridled information out of him when you put him in situations like this. "What do you want for your birthday, Roo?"

He was watching your hand pass over his tip as he grunted, "Another sexy calendar."

"That can be arranged," you said sweetly. "And how do you feel about me starting to save up some money for a first anniversary trip?"

"Do it," he growled as you rubbed at his precum with your thumb. But then he wrenched his hips away, and your eyes were transfixed on his cock as it leapt for you.

"You don't want to finish here?" you asked, your eyes moving up his body to his face as you licked him from your thumb.

After he zipped himself carefully back in his jeans, he said, "I don't want to ruin your dress, and I don't want to get arrested. Let's go home." He didn't even wait for you to respond. He just turned and picked you up for a piggy back ride back to the Bronco.

The drive home was similar to that very first date. After you kissed him while he fumbled with your seat belt trying buckle you in, he turned on another playlist before he started the engine. But this time he was driving to the house that you shared, not the apartment you used to live in with Maria. And he didn't have to leave you for the night to prove to himself that he could, and that maybe he was good enough. He was your husband now, and you had deemed him good enough for you.

Bradley's hand was gripping your thigh as he saw the craftsman down the block. As soon as he was pulling into the driveway, you were crawling toward him, and he barely had the Bronco in park before you were straddling his thighs.

"I want you in every way." That sentence was the best example of how you wore him out emotionally. It was fucking beautiful, and he could spend all night just thinking about it. But you were kissing him now, and he was already aroused again as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

"You own me." You really seemed to love that response as your lips stayed gentle on his and your hand drifted down his body to his zipper again. It was so dark outside, even in the neighborhood, but Bradley could see the question in your eyes as you pulled back a little bit. Maybe you wanted to make sure he wanted this, too. Maybe you wanted him inside you instead of anything else. He just wanted to be with you. "Anything you want, Sweetheart."

"Okay."

He shimmied his jeans and underwear down his hips, lifting you up as well with a soft laugh. Then you took his hands in yours and guided them slowly up under your dress. He was treated to the sight of you unzipping your dress and unclasping your bra and pulling them down so he could see your pretty tits and peaked nipples. But then his hands froze under your dress.

"You changed your underwear. Earlier tonight. After I left the bedroom."

Your laughter had your tits bouncing just enough to distract Bradley and lure his lips to them.

"Oh!" you gasped as he sucked on you. "I did. I know you like the red ones, but I wanted these instead. Do you know which ones they are?"

That was a ridiculous question, and you knew it. He ran his thumb up your slit and could feel the satin fabric and the fancy embroidered letters as you bucked. He sucked harder until you called out his name and braced your hands on his shoulders. You were wearing the underwear you had specially made for the honeymoon.

"Of course I know, Mrs. Bradshaw."

"You passed the test!"

Bradley tugged your panties to the side and thrust up into you in one fluid motion until he bottomed out. "That's a test I will always pass."

Your hands were scrambling around his neck as you leaned in closer and kissed him. He led your hips in a slow roll with his hands on your ass and whispered, "Just. Like. That."

You kept the pace going, already panting softly as he brought one hand back up to your tits. His other fingers trailed around your hip, and he tucked them inside the front of your panties. As soon as he brushed your clit with his knuckle, you whined for him. "Daddy."

It had been a while since he heard you call him that. And fuck if he didn't love it. But you looked almost surprised that you'd said it out loud, eyes wide as you rode him.

"I fucking love it when you call me that," he crooned as he pinched your nipple. Your pussy was already fluttering around him as you kept that perfect tempo. Bradley pressed his mouth to yours as you babbled incoherently, and it was just a lost cause as you raked your fingers through his hair. He came inside you as he kept pressing his knuckle to your clit.

"Come on, Sweetheart," he coaxed as your movements sped up and then slowed as your cries echoed inside the Bronco. Then your lips were all over his before you abruptly broke away.

Your voice was a sweet little gasp as you said, "Don't make a mess on the upholstery."

With a laugh rumbling deep in his chest, Bradley opened the door and lifted you down from the driver's seat. "Just one of the many reasons we're married."

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

You and Bradley were lounging in bed on Sunday morning, and he was doing a really poor job of making you want to leave to meet Cam and Maria for brunch.

"Aren't you supposed to be golfing today?" you asked with a laugh as he pinned your wrists over your head on the pillow.

"Yep," he replied softly. "Supposed to meet Jake, Javy and Bob in less than an hour."

You sighed as his lips met the underside of your breast. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed then?"

"I'd rather go for round three and then drink champagne in the bathtub with you."

Now that did sound nice. The weekend had been so much fun. Going up to the hot sauce restaurant had been perfect. You were exhausted all over from having sex and taking Tramp on long beach walks and staying up too late watching movies last night. And Bradley finished reading his notebook to you and promised he'd start from the beginning all over again. Frankly, you could use a nap already, so you weren't really sure how Bradley was doing so well at the moment.

"I'm supposed to go to brunch," you whispered, and Bradley rolled off of you with a groan.

"I'll get side eye for a month from Maria and Cam if you don't go," he said. "So I guess I'll just go play golf."

"We can do round three later," you promised, kissing his ear as you climbed out of bed and started to get ready. "You want me to bring you back some avocado toast?" you asked with a smile.

He made a disgusted face. "You know I hate that stuff. I'll just day drink and eat protein bars like a normal person until you feed me dinner."

"If I decide to feed you dinner later."

Bradley's face looked panicked. "You have to. Please? Sweetheart," he called, springing out of bed and following you to the bathroom. "Please?"

"You're ridiculous, Bradley. Go get a pack of chicken out of the freezer, and I'll make you some Marry Me Rooster tonight."

"Thank you." He kissed you so long and so passionately, you actually felt a little dizzy when he walked out of the room. "He's ridiculous," you muttered as you pressed your fingertips to your lips.

When you finally made it to brunch fifteen minutes late, Cam was glaring at you. "Maria wouldn't let me order anything until you got here. And I'll just bet you're late because Lieutenant Commander Mustache was doing something nasty to you."

You burst into laughter as you slid into the booth next to him. "I mean... I was just helping him with his golf clubs."

"The two of you are fucking filthy," he replied, flagging down the waitress while you and Maria laughed.

Brunch with the two of them was always fun, and you were on your second mimosa when Bradley texted you.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Jake wants to know if we can watch Jeremiah tonight if he can manage to get Cat to agree to go to a movie. I told him I had to check with the boss. He laughed and said he should have just texted you instead of asking me... oh wait, I think he's texting you now. Why did I even bother? And then you got a text from Jake asking very nicely if he and Cat could drop Jeremiah off later on their way to a movie. You told them both yes, and when you got home from brunch, you started to clean up the living room. You found your underwear from last night on the coffee table, and your bra was draped over the arm of the couch.

"Don't look at me like that," you told Tramp. "We were just having a good time, okay?" Then you smiled, because you knew that your pup was going to love licking crumbs off of the one year old visitor and following him around the room. "Your friend is coming over. I expect you to be well behaved."

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

"He's just so fucking cute."

"Roo! Stop swearing in front of the child!"

Bradley looked up at you from all fours on the living room floor. "Isn't he too young for it to matter?" he asked in all seriousness.

You were gaping at him like he was an idiot, and he started laughing. "The last thing I need is Cat mad at me because his first word is the f-word."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "If he doesn't learn it from me, then I'm sure he'll learn it from Jake."

"Yeah, well that's Jake's problem," you muttered, ducking back into the kitchen to check on dinner.

Bradley scooped Jeremiah up and said, "You're so freaking cute. Is that better?" The little bubble of laughter he got in response was most likely a yes, so he just went with it. "Let's see here. It's almost dinner time. And then I'll bet my hot wife will read us that book about trucks that you liked so much."

"I'll read it now," you said as you walked back into the room. "Dinner is not quite ready yet."

"Hell yes, she's going to read it to us now," Bradley said as he and Jeremiah crawled across the floor to the diaper bag where the book was stashed. He unzipped it and watched the kid reach in and pull everything out including the book. "Nice work. But my knees can't take much more."

With a groan, Bradley scooped him and the book up and carried them to the couch where you were sitting with Tramp. And you looked calm and relaxed as you held the child on your lap and opened the book. Your voice was so sweet, and you were so beautiful, Bradley noticed that Jeremiah seemed more interested in you than the story at times. And it made him smile, because that was pretty much the same way he always looked at you, too.

But he was done stressing about all of it. Bradley was in love with you, and the weekend was everything he wanted. Having a kid like Jeremiah all to yourselves would be a cherry on top of an already perfect life. And if you and he were both still keen on the idea next year, there were options to be discussed at length.

Bradley let himself hope, just the tiniest bit, that maybe you and he would get lucky before then. But he wouldn't drown in that hope like he had before. And he wouldn't let that hope overshadow how great things were right now. But he wouldn't abandon it either. He laughed as he thought about how insightful his notebook entry was going to be later tonight after Jeremiah got picked up.

"Should I read it again?" you asked, looking up at Bradley.

He kissed your cheek. "At least one more time, Sweetheart. We can't get enough of your voice."

You smiled as he and Jeremiah settled in to hear the favorite story again.

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

The perfect date to do over and over. Little Jeremiah is too sweet, I'm just hoping Cat and Jake are enjoying themselves, too. Just hang in there guys... Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 17

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[fandomxpreferences]

Take Me Back To the Night We Met

Masterlist

Pairing: rafe Cameron x female!reader

TW:18+, angst, drug use and addiction, toxic and manipulative behavior

Summary: Loving rafe is a tailspin of fights, sex, and drugs until one day he disappears. When he shows back up, your world is flipped upside down.

Word count:2k

A/N: this is loosely based off euphoria with a dash of tvd and I’m not sorry

Two years. Two whole years spent in a downward spiral with Rafe as the two of you plummeted toward rock bottom wrapped up in each other and your partying ways. Seven hundred and fifty five days of white lines and reckless behavior as the you fed off each others careless attitudes and gambled with your lives.

You were just another girl at a party one fateful night when Rafe locked eyes with you. Something pulled you towards him, and before you knew it you were wiping your nose and trying not to let a tear fall as the white powder burned your airway.

It was all fun in the beginning, until it wasnt. Social use turned into casual use at home, and casual use turned into searching for a fix. Still, the pair of you kept going and said to hell with anyone that tried to stop you.

Now, you’re standing on Barry’s door step alone while your tired body begs for rest. Rafe was always your ‘dealer’, but three months ago he left without so much as a note. No one knows where he is, but to say its taken a toll is an understatement.

Regardless of your circumstances, you do love him with your entire being. He’s your best friend and everyday you wonder if he’s ever going to come back.

The screen door rattles as your knuckles rap against the rusting metal, and you wait a few seconds before repeating the motion.

“I know you’re in there, Barry!”

A minute goes by before you hear the click of the lock, and the man’s face comes into view. He runs his tongue over his teeth and tsks while cocking his head.

“I aint got nothin’.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you snort, genuinely amused.

“Sure, whatever you say. Give me my usual.”

Your hand extends to offer him cash, but he just glances between your face and the bills a few times before shaking his head.

“Nah, I ain’t got nothing for you. Not after what happened. Go home, Y/N.”

Irritation claws its way into your nerves as you shift back and forth, a scoff surfacing from deep in your chest.

“You didn’t say that last weekend. Stop with the bullshit, B.”

His eyes cast downward as he shakes his head slowly before he drags his gaze back up to meet yours.

“I can’t sell to you anymore, Y/N/N. I’m sorry.”

He moves to shut the door but your foot darts out at the last second.

“Why? Don’t give me that shit about you caring. You sell drugs to teenagers. You don’t have a fucking moral compass.”

Barrys face twists as your words sting him for a split second before his hardened features return, and he pushes you backwards so he can close the door.

“I dont have to tell you shit.”

Your eyes narrow as you start to put pieces of the puzzle together, and your suspicion only grows as Barry glances behind you every few seconds as if he’s nervous.

“Tell me or I swear to God I will make your life a living hell. I’m still a kook.”


When your threat doesn’t seem to persuade him, you reach out and grab his hand while bending his pinky back. You press down until his knees buckle and leer at him waiting for an answer.

“Ah- fuck, fine! Its Rafe!”

Shock causes your grip to loosen just enough for Barry to break free and he darts to his feet before you can react. He glares harshly while rubbing his finger, and you try your hardest to breathe while oxygen evades you.

“What about him? He told you to cut me off?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you process, and Barry’s silence answers your question. Why would he do that? More importantly, when did Barry hear from him last?

“When?”

Your fingers massage your temples as a headache brews, and the man watches you carefully before deciding to answer.

“Couple days ago. He stopped by.”

The information is like an ice bucket over the head, and you freeze before swallowing thickly .

“Rafe is back?”

Three simple words that nearly bring you to your knees before anger and confusion take over. He’s been back and hasn’t sent so much as a “fuck you” text? Why did he take time to do this but not to let you know he’s home?

Barry’s features soften just barely as he realizes what he told you, and he sighs heavily before taking a seat on the top step.

“Been back a few days. He looks good; says he went to rehab and got his shit together. Sure seems like it.”

Your ears ring as the entire world comes to a screeching halt, and for the first time, Barry has some sympathy for the young woman standing in front of him. His eyes watch you for a moment before he swallows softly and turns to head back inside.

“I’m sorry.”

This snaps you out of your daze and your manicured hand reaches out to grab his arm before he can leave. Your nails dig into the flesh but he pays no mind as he stops and looks back at you expectantly.

“That’s it? Since when do you listen to rafe?” You ask, and the look on Barry’s face fills you in.

“He paid you.” You scoff, and you release your hold to run your hand through your hair.

“In what world do you not take the money from both of us and double cross him?”

Barry just stares for a moment, and you swear you see a glimmer of concern in his eyes.

“Since the incident right after he left. I was going to cut your ass off anyway.”

At that, he slams the door and leaves you alone with your thoughts on his porch. Thirty minutes later you’re banging on Rafe’s door like the FBI trying to bust it down.

“Open the fucking door, Rafe! I know you can hear me!”

Your screams are ignored as you start kicking at the barrier, now fully unhinged as rage takes over.

“You can’t just leave and get clean then come back and control me! Who are you to tell Barry he can’t sell to me?”

You let out a frustrated yell when he still doesn’t answer, and tears prick at your eyes as pain mixes with anger.

“This is your fault! I was fine before I met you. I was fine!”

Rafe winces when your foot rattles the door, and he leans with his forehead pressed against it while he listens to your verbal assault.

“You get me hooked on this shit and then get help while I drown? You drag me to the depths of hell and then leave me there?!”

Your voice is thick with tears now as your cries turn to desperation.

“What is wrong with you? Why don’t you care?”

Rafe finally unlocks the door and cracks it just enough that he can see you without you barging in.

“I’ve got it under control, just don’t take this from me.” You sniffle, and the look in Rafe’s eyes is enough to make you breakdown again.

“No you don’t. You overdosed y/n.”

Your mouth gapes as you try to come up with a response and you cock your head to the side.

“How do you know that?”

He gives you a “really?” look and you know it must have been Barry.

“You didn’t give a fuck when you left. I could have died and you wouldn’t have even known. If you’re so worried than why’d you leave me here to go on a bender after you vanish?”

There’s genuine sorrow swimming In his irises, and you rub at your nose as you sniffle.

“I had to get my shit together.”

He wants nothing more than to wrap his arms around you as you hiccup and cry but he remains glued to his place.

“You could have taken me. I would have gone.”

The sad smile he gives you causes your heart to drop, and he takes a second to memorize your face.

“I know, that’s why I didn’t tell you. We’re not good for each other. You would have been a distraction and I would have failed.”

Your knees nearly buckle when you realize what he’s saying, and that familiar burning seizes your throat as it constricts.

“Please don’t leave me.”

What’s left of Rafe’s heart shatters and his hand comes up to cup your face. You lean into the coolness of his signet ring while his thumb wipes away a tear, and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t have a choice, baby.”

Every emotion in your body explodes when he swiftly moves inside and shuts you out, and before you realize it you’re slamming your limbs into his door like a madman.

“Fuck you, Rafe! You ruined my life and just walked away from the carnage! You are nothing but a selfish, silver spoon, daddy’s money prick! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

With each word, your voice weakens and you sink lower until you’re a sobbing puddle on the ground. All of the fight drains from your body, and all that’s left is an empty shell. On the other side, rafe sits with his head between his hands as hot tears fall off his face with ease.

He winces as you release all your anger at his expense, but doesn’t move or say anything in response.

“I will never forgive you for this.”

There’s a sadness and finality in your tone that causes him to panic internally. He was so sure of himself until you showed up, and now hes disorientated again as your energy pulls him in. He reckons a part of him has always known that you’ll be here if he changes his mind, but now that safety net is being ripped out from under him.

Every cell in his body aches to be near you, but he forces himself to stay in place. Contrary to popular belief, Rafe is not heartless and he hates himself for everything hes done. He wishes he could go back to before he met you; before he set his world on fire and incinerated yours with it.

He’s fist fighting his own demons as they scream for him to just open the door and fall to his knees, but he resists every urge until he hears your car engine start up. He’s certain you’ve been gone a while but he’s been too terrified to even blink, let alone move.

If he does, he knows he’ll set out to find you and pull you into his arms. So he remains in place until his limbs are numb, hours long past as the clock ticks past two am.

After several phone calls and a hoarse voice from hours of driving around screaming, you finally pull into the driveway that’s hidden deep in the cut. An old “friend” of Rafe’s that stopped coming around after Rafe fought him for making a few too many comments about you.

He isn’t the safest option, but it’s the only bridge left that Rafe hasn’t burned. In his attempt to keep you safe, he’s driven you straight into the heart of danger. This guy isn’t just a low life dealer, he’s the king pin. He’s the suppliers supplier, and truthfully even coming here is incredibly stupid.

Still, your feet carry your forward until you’re knocking on his door and fidgeting. It takes a second but you hear a click of a gun before the door cracks open, and you give your best version of a smile.

It doesn’t do much to mask your sorrow thanks to your swollen eyes and splotchy cheeks, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Well well well, it it isn’t the kook princess herself. You shouldn’t be here, darling.”

The grin he gives resembles the Cheshire cat and you ignore the way your stomach drops.

“You’re my last resort.”

It’s a piece of information you shouldnt divulge, but your desperation outweighs any logic.

His beady eyes rake over your figure before he opens the door wider and nods his head.

“Come on in then, sweets.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #outer banks angst

[miraclewoozi]

VERSACE ON THE FLOOR. -l.jh

ooh, i love that dress but you won’t need it anymore –

Or, the time you and your homebody boyfriend* decide to just… not go to your dinner plans.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem reader. content; fluff, suggestive (MINORS DNI). established relationship. warnings; relatively warning free (y'all i didn't even swear???) but just in case -- a couple of dorky jokes, reader wears a dress, makeup and heels, making out, undressing. let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c; 2.4k (apparently i am in my shorter fic era? party.) note; if there's one thing i'm gonna do, no matter what day of the week it is, it's be disgustingly delusional about jihoon. get ur dentists on speedial, it's a tooth rotter (/j). note 2.0; i've had this one in the drafts for so long i had forgotten all about it! but then VOTF came on shuffle a few days ago (and i started thinking about light a flame woozi at the same time, which nearly fucking killed me), so. here we are. enjoy.<3

You don’t go out for dates very often. Not anymore, at least.

When you and Jihoon first got together, he took you out all the time. For dinners, to cocktail bars, to the movies, for walks down the beach, picnics by the river. It didn’t matter where you went as long as it put a smile on your face — all he ever wanted to do was make you feel special. No expense has ever been too great for his favourite girl, after all; he’s always loved to spoil you.

Now several years into your relationship, you’re a real pair of homebodies. Sure, he could take you out for a four course dinner at an expensive restaurant in the middle of the city, or reserve a table at a pretentious cocktail bar that plays slightly too loud music that’s always just to the left of either of your tastes. Then again… He could cook a nice meal for you to have at the apartment you share, where you can make your way through a bottle of bubbles without one of you needing to stay sober to drive home or else risk your lives in a sketchy cab. 

It’s something you’ve talked about several times, and on every occasion, it’s quite apparent that you’re both very happy with the way things are. If anything, it makes it all the more special when he tells you he needs you to keep your weekend free because he’s making plans, and he wants to whisk you away.

Like now, for instance. The hotel suite he’s booked is gorgeous and you’re perched on the edge of the plush bedding, bent over double so that you can properly fasten your shoes while he finishes getting ready in the bathroom. Now and again, you hear a grumble or a click of his tongue float through the ajar door; every time, you feel a smile play at your lips as you shake your head. He never changes. (You’re so glad.)

“Jihoon,” you call to him softly. You can practically see how he’ll be standing – facing the mirror, on his tiptoes to lean over the bathroom counter and get as close to his own reflection as he possibly can. Pouting as his fingers drag through his hair to try and fix the strands in place just a tiny bit better. “Don’t you dare come out here looking like Sonic the Hedgehog. You know the more you play with it, the more annoyed you’re going to get.”

A few seconds later, he emerges, an eyebrow raised in challenge, an amused grin tugging his lips out of their habitual frown. 

(And lo and behold — his hair looks absolutely fine.)

But the second he sees you, whatever witty comeback he was obviously very proud of dies on his lips, and you straighten up with only one of your shoes secured to your foot, the other just slipped on over your toes.

“Wow,” he says, in that soft, deep, quiet way that he does when you’ve really taken his breath away. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows; you see his brow crinkle and his eyes widen, as if he’s trying to see as much of you as he possibly can. “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you nod proudly, sitting back and smoothing your hands over the dress you’re wearing. “From our first anniversary.”

As his eyes move over you, taking in everything from the way the straps sit on your shoulders to the way the hem lays across your thigh, your own eyes move over him. The top three buttons of his shirt are still unfastened and his tie hangs either side, tucked beneath his collar but not knotted yet. His slacks have been cleanly pressed, a neat, crisp seam running down the front of both legs. Shoes shined to perfection. Expensive watch strapped around his wrist. 

He might just be the most handsome man in the entire world.

“I remember you saying you really liked it, so… I dug it out, special.” 

“You look incredible,” he says. It’s so gentle, so sincere, that you think your heart is about to burst clean out of your chest. Warmth trickles the length of your spine, and it isn’t exactly helped when you realise – only now as he starts to cross the room to get closer to you – that he hadn’t moved an inch since he surfaced from the bathroom almost a full ninety seconds ago.

He shrinks down so he’s rested on both of his knees in front of you, skilful hands moving to help with the shoe you hadn’t managed to lace up yet. every time his fingertips so much as brush against your skin, the electricity in his gentle touches shoots all the way from the point of contact up to your brain and leaves it fogged, impossible to make any sense through the thick clouds of intimacy and adoration. More-so as he smoothly lifts your leg a little and presses his lips once to the inside of your ankle, even foggier still as he trails kisses up the length of your calf towards your knee. 

“Jihoon,” you laugh breathlessly, laying a hand on his shoulder as you feel his tongue press lightly against your skin. He finally sits back on his heels, running his fingers up and down the backs of your legs; he’s successfully managed to hike your dress up a few inches now, too, and he keeps flitting his gaze between your face and your thighs. “We can’t – we’ll be late.”

“We have ages,” he frowns, shuffling closer and trying to bump your knees apart, but you keep your muscles engaged and he doesn’t pull at them that hard, so they don’t budge.

“We have to get there, too,” you remind him. He throws his head back and sighs dramatically. The neckline of his dress shirt seems to open a little more when he looks back at you, drawing your attention down the length of his neck to his bulging chest, and the muscular forearms that he crosses in front of it.

“And this is why we don’t go out.”

“What, because you’re horny all the damn time?” You tease. 

He gently swats at the top of your thigh before soothing it with another small kiss. 

“Because when you look this good, how am I supposed to want to go and eat a steak instead?” 

He grins up at you from the floor, quite clearly delighted with himself for his little gag. You, however, flop back onto the mattress and cover your face with your hands.

“That was so bad,” you chuckle. You’ve been trying for years to not melt to his very specific sense of humour, but it’s all been completely futile. Your reluctant laughs turn to sweet, breathy giggles by the time he lays both his arms across your legs and rests his chin on top of them. You prop yourself up on one elbow to look at him; he’s staring up at your face like he thinks he’ll never see anything as beautiful as you for the rest of his life. 

“Maybe… We don’t have to go out for dinner,” he suggests. “Maybe we can stay in tonight, too.”

“Horndog.” You tsk. But you’re not disappointed at the idea of staying in, either, regardless of whether your teasing implies otherwise. “I knew you’d say that.”

“No — really,” he swallows. You aren’t sure if you can feel his heart beating a little faster where his chest is pressed completely against your shins, or if you’re just imagining it. But the tips of his ears are going pink too, so you think it’s safe to trust your intuition on this one. “I mean-… we don’t have to go. I could-…”

He bites the inside of his cheek before he looks down, pressing his forehead against his arms and hiding his face completely.

“I could do it here.”

He says these words quietly. Mumbles them, really. You aren’t sure if you were meant to hear, or if he was just talking to himself. But either way, it has to be worth a shot to find out.

“What do you mean, Ji?”

One, two, three seconds pass. And… Nothing. 

“Hey.”

You bounce your thighs a little so he’s forced to look up at you, and you can see something swimming in his eyes. Something brewing. He sits back from you and pushes a hand through his hair; a few strands lose their stick to the rest of the main body and tumble down over his forehead. Exactly in the way he was trying to prevent. 

“I could just do it here.”

He says this louder. Clearer. With much more finality. You sit up properly, then, both your hands clasped together in your lap. 

“Do what here, baby?”

His eyes find yours and you sit there for a few moments, unwrapping each other's minds with nothing more than a look and a matching pair of gentle — but slightly concerned — smiles. 

He moves one hand down and slips it into the back left pocket of his slacks. You think you can feel the world around you start to slow. 

When he shifts a leg from beneath him so he’s on one knee before you and presents you with a glittering diamond ring, it stops altogether. 

“Jihoon,” you breathe. 

He glances between the ring and you, biting his bottom lip before he speaks. 

“I had it-… I had everything planned.” He laughs, looking away from your face as even more rising heat becomes evident on his own. “Down to the second, even. But just like you always do — just like the first time I saw you, and just like every time since… You threw me a curve ball and… Somehow, you’ve changed everything. But you made it so much better. 

“I think I was supposed to find you, y/n,” Jihoon says. “I don't know what’s up there, what’s in charge of when we meet the people we meet and why we fall in love with the people we fall in love with. but I know that they were really looking out for me the day you came into my life.” 

You can feel your eyes starting to sting at the corners and you will the tears away, desperate not to smudge the makeup you spent so long trying to perfect. You know he’d love you either way — mascara tear tracks and splotchy concealer and all — but… 

“I am so in love with you that sometimes, it really hurts. It hurts because I know that no one’s ever going to come close — about anyone in the world — to feeling the way I feel about you. I feel bad for everyone, a bit. Because you’re not-… you're not with them. You’re with me. But I wouldn’t want any of them to be with you, because-... and… and if you’ll have me, I want you to be with me forever.”

You don't know when you started slowly nodding along to his little monologue, but you definitely are. You’re not sure when you started holding your breath either, but that’s two for two. He looks up at you, expectantly, fluttering his eyelashes and stuttering out a long, deep breath. 

“Y/n, will you marry me?”

Some decisions, you’ve always thought, are made for you at a cosmic level. Your favourite colours. Your favourite foods. Hot and cold weather people. Loving or hating marmite. A predisposition to enjoying scary movies or being the kind of person who hides behind a pillow. 

This is another one of those. You don’t have to think twice about it — you just know. You know because a great unstoppable force managed to squeeze you together at the perfect moment in time; the ever-expanding universe around you has kept you and Jihoon side by side through everything it could possibly throw at you. 

“Yes.”

Of course you want to spend your forever with him. 

The word leaves your mouth in a whisper and everything flies back into motion. The first black droplet rolls down your cheek. His usually so steady hands fumble with yours to slide the ring over your finger. A perfect fit. You’re hurtling through space and time as he gets up off his knees and cups your cheeks, gently pulling you upright and crashing his lips against yours. You stumble into him slightly in your heels; his kiss is more a chaotic clatter of teeth and giddy laughter than perhaps the intense, romantic gesture he was aiming for, but it’s completely, utterly, unequivocally perfect.

Jihoon’s fancy dress shirt creases under your fingers as you ball it into your fists where the top buttons are spread open, pulling him as close as you can, laughter dying down as he loses himself in you and as you lose yourself in him, right back. He swallows all of your gasps and sighs, hands sliding down from your face to the sides of your neck, until he’s resting a palm on each of your shoulders. A single finger slips beneath one of the straps and he pulls it out of the way, down onto your arm, withdrawing from your mouth so that he can press a series of kisses down your cheek and to your jaw instead.

“Ji,” you murmur, tipping your head back and fumbling at the buttons running the length of his torso, trying and failing to get them open. He chuckles, his other hand coming to rest over yours to stop you. You lace your fingers together, feeling him squeeze. Your heart pounds.

“Let's take our time,” he whispers to you, thumb grazing over your collarbone. “Okay?”

All you can do is nod as he kisses lower, and lower, pressing his lips everywhere he can while he’s still standing. Your neck and shoulders feel ablaze, tickling with the heat of the burning stars his mouth paints across your skin. 

“Need-... Ji, you need to-... call… call the restaurant,” you stutter. “Gotta…. we need to cancel…”

The fleeting sting of his teeth against your throat interrupts you and you’re only aware of him reaching behind you to tug the zipper of your dress down when the material falls completely slack..

“In a minute,” he says, helping you walk backwards until your calves collide with the bed behind you once again. He eases you to lie down on the comforter and crawls on top of you, caging you in with both arms, taking hold of your left hand again.

He looks down at the ring on your finger, his entire face breaking into the most brilliant of smiles. Every inch, from the creases at the corners of his eyes to the paling stretch of his beautiful lips. 

“My future wife needs taking care of, first.”

– no you won’t need it no more, let’s just kiss ‘til we’re naked, baby.

hehe thank u sm for reading!! i hope you enjoyed this bc it was a bit special 2 me. likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all, as always, greatly appreciated.<3

#woozi fluff #woozi fic #woozi x reader #lee jihoon fluff #lee jihoon fic #lee jihoon x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #j writes. #* #running off into the void now <3 don't perceive me BYE

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 1)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, angst, enemies, enemies to lovers, (very) slowburn, no pre-established relationship, sass, banter, misogynistic & violent undertones, (Derek is a prick), suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, overall mature content.

Part 2

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Derek hadn't even stepped foot into his family's beach house, and he could already tell something was off.

He hesitates on the porch, waiting for someone to scurry out and greet him, to take his bags and carry them inside. He waits a minute. He waits two minutes. No one comes.

"Daddy's home!" He calls out to the house as he kicks open the door, a truly unnecessary gesture.

Silence.

What the hell? Did he get the dates mixed up?

Derek grumbles to himself as he rolls his suitcase inside. Where the hell is the staff? Even if the butler had fucked off somewhere, there should at least be a maid or two nearby. What gives?

He takes a quick hit of his vape to calm his nerves as he sets off down a hall, determined to chew out the first person he sees. They should know better than to keep a Danforth waiting.

"The fuck?"

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, lounging on the couch and reading a book.

"Hey, been waiting for you." You say, not even bothering to put the book down and look him in the eyes. That alone makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Alarms are blaring in his head. Something isn't right.

"Who the hell are you?" He snarls, plopping down to sit in a plush chair opposite of the couch.

"You don't recognize me?"

This makes him pause again. He studies your face as you set down the book and straighten yourself on the couch. You do look familiar.

"You're my mom's little assistant, aren't you?" He laughs when he finally pieces it together. That's a relief. Does that mean his mom is here after all?

You try to correct him and introduce yourself properly, with a name. Derek just brushes you off, propping his legs up on the coffee table and relaxing back into the chair.

"Alright sweetheart, care to tell me what's is going on here? Where's my mom?" His tone is sickeningly sweet, condescending even.

"She won't be coming. It's just us."

Derek almost laughs again, but when he sees your deadpan expression, he freezes.

"Come again?"

"Aww, did your mommy not give you all the details, Derek?" You respond, matching his condescension with your own.

Okay, that's it. He sits up and plants his feet firmly on the hardwood floor, making a rather loud thud with his snakeskin boots.

"Tell me what's going on. Now." Derek narrows his eyes in what he hopes is an intimidating glare, then takes another puff of his vape and blows it at you from across the coffee table.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You make a sour face and wave away the cloud of mango-scented nicotine. He really shouldn't vape inside, but you decide to ignore it. For now.

"You and I are going to be getting well acquainted over these next few weeks." You give him a purposely vague answer, just to piss him off more. It works.

"W-Weeks?" He sputters, nearly choking on his stupid little nicotine stick.

"Fuck are you going on about? I'm here to see my mom for the weekend."

Of course that's what she told him. You let out a sigh and rub your temples, already sick of this manchild.

"Well, instead you're going to see me for the next three weeks. Twenty-one days. Get comfortable." You let out an amused huff and lean back on the couch, propping your feet on the table in much the same way Derek did earlier.

That really seems to piss him off.

He kicks the coffee table with his boot, sending it sliding across the floor before finally colliding with the couch.

"Listen here, you little bitch. I came here to see my mom and have a quick vacation. If she isn't here, I'm fucking leaving."

"Good luck with that!" You scoff, pushing the coffee table back into place. Seriously? Temper tantrums already?

You shake your head as he storms off down the hall. He'll be back.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Sure enough, Derek soon finds that his only option is to tuck his tail between his legs and crawl back to you.

God damn it. How could the entire house be empty?

He had checked all the bedrooms, the office, kitchen, hallways, hell, even the servants' quarters. Every time he opened a door just to be met with an empty room, he felt himself grow more angry. What the fuck? Was this some kind of sick joke?

He stomps back into the living area, only to face yet another empty room. Fuck. It's like his own house is mocking him.

Thinking he heard shuffling in the kitchen, he ducks around the corner. Sure enough, you were in there, poking through a cabinet.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on? And why my phone has no service?" He angrily waves his phone in your face, intentionally encroaching on your personal space.

"I told you. You and I are going to be staying here together for the next few weeks."

Derek silently fumes as you calmly take a step back from him.

"Don't look at me like that. You can thank your mother for this. She thought it was finally time you get sober."

The word sober cut through him like a knife. His mom was always nagging him to give up drugs. Fuckin' hypocrite. The woman smoked, like, half a pack a day since he was born.

Though, admittedly, Derek did a lot more than nicotine. He felt at his pocket, checking to make sure the little baggie of coke was still there.

"So is that what this is, then? A fucking intervention?" He practically spits in anger, giving you his best glare.

"No, Derek. You've had an intervention. You've had ten interventions. This is rehab."

He nearly choked at that. Rehab? Seriously?

"And what makes you think I'm going to play your little game?" He sneers at you, and pointedly takes another hit of his vape.

"Don't do that in here. I'm about to cook dinner."

He watches as you casually wash your hands in the sink, oblivious to his hateful gaze.

"Answer my fucking question. Why shouldn't I just walk out of here right now?" He stands directly behind you, leaning down over your shoulder and hissing directly into your ear. His breath is still tinged with a hint of mango-scented vapor.

"Because... you can't?" Derek is gently shoved aside as you make your way over to the kitchen island.

He grits his teeth and follows, leaning on the counter and staring you down as you start chopping vegetables, presumably for the dinner he wanted no part in.

The worst part is that you're right. His family's beach estate is... remote, to say the least. Located on a private island, the only way on or off is via helicopter or boat. He had taken a helicopter, obviously. Boats were for servants. Unless it was a yacht.

"How much?" He finally relents, sighing.

"For what?"

"To get me off this goddamn island."

You just smile slightly and continue chopping away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I'm not doing this for the money, Derek. Though your mother is paying me very well for this, I assure you."

That answer didn't surprise him, however annoying it was. "not in it for the money" just meant "you have to offer me a LOT of money".

"Two million in Bitcoin if you can pull some strings and get me out of here by tonight."

"I'm doing this as a personal favor to your mother. And I couldn't get you out of here early even if I wanted to. Your mom is determined to finally get you sober."

Derek's brow furrows as you finally look up at him from across the small section of countertop. A personal favor?

"So what, I'm a goddamn prisoner?"

"Pfft. If you want to think of it that way. But there are much worse places to be held captive than a luxurious million-dollar beach house."

"Four million. Four million-dollar beach house." Derek grumbles, eyes glazed over as he stares off into space and ponders the gravity of his situation. Three weeks? Rehab? With you?

"Ah. Of course."

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air as Derek leans on the counter and watches you chop an onion. It starts to make his eyes sting, so he backs up and scoffs.

"It's not going to work, you know. I'm not getting sober." He crosses his arms defiantly.

"Oh? You brought enough drugs to last three weeks?"

Derek instinctively pats at his pocketful of cocaine again. Truthfully, he had only brought enough of a fix for a few days, maybe a week if he rationed and stretched it out. Two weeks was pushing it. Three weeks was impossible.

"Fuck you." He spits, and starts to take another hit of his vape to calm down.

"Blow that in another room or you aren't getting dinner."

He pauses, holding his breath as he considers his options. He wants to blow it right in your stupid face, but he does as asked, turning and letting it all out into the adjacent living room.

"Thank you."

He stands in the corner, silently fuming. What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Was he seriously expected to just drop everything and let himself be trapped here for three fucking weeks? He had a business empire to run. He didn't have time for this shit.

"I'm not getting sober." He repeats, trying to convince himself as much as you.

"Why? You're going to go through withdrawals and feel like shit regardless of whether you give up the drugs or not. You can either leave here mostly weened off of them, or leave still mostly addicted, having wasted three weeks of your life feeling shitty for nothing."

God damn it. Why did you have to be so sensible? Derek scowls at you from the corner, but of course, you aren't paying attention. You ignore him yet again, scraping the freshly-chopped veggies into a pan on the stove.

"It's gonna be a fucking waste of my life either way. I've tried getting sober before, believe it or not. It's never worked out." He grumbles bitterly.

"I know. I believe you." You respond, still absorbed in whatever you're cooking. It actually smells good. Better than mango vape oil, at least.

"But it's easier when you physically can't relapse, even if you wanted to. Which is why..." You turn around and finally meet his gaze, giving him a sympathetic look.

"...I was hoping you'd give me everything you have on you. Vape, cigarettes, LSD, weed, pills, whatever you're on these days."

Derek scoffs. You couldn't be serious.

"And if I don't?"

"You will."

Derek grits his teeth, but before he can snap back, you speak again.

"Seriously, Derek, please. It'll be easier to give it all up now rather than later when you're craving it."

That makes him pause. Fuck. You really had this all planned out, huh? He's completely and utterly unprepared to argue about this. So, he just groans and leans against the counter, putting his head down.

"Do I have to give up the vape too?" He mumbles, words muffled with his head buried in his arms.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Four baggies of cocaine, two blunts, and a bottle of mystery pills later...

You stare at the defeated-looking man before you as he slumps over the counter, sitting on a stool. His head is buried in his arms, and you can't help but feel a little bad for him. Just a little.

"Hey, you're gonna be glad you did this." You try to reassure him, but he just grumbles incomprehensibly in response.

You sigh, deciding to leave him alone and turn your attention back to dinner. He'd already done more than you'd expected from him, honestly. He gave you everything in his pockets without a fight, and even fetched the rest of his stash from his suitcase.

He'd convinced you to let him keep the vape until just before bed, since the nicotine withdrawals were likely to hit him first. At least he had that small victory.

You ponder over this while you move the veggie mixture around in the pan, the smell of sautéing onions and garlic permeating the air.

"You wanna help me with dinner?" You call out, looking over your shoulder at Derek.

"Pfft. Women's work?" He grumbles, shifting so one eye can peek over at you. When he sees you're looking back at him, he hides his face again.

"With that attitude, you'll be making your own meals." You scold him softly, but can't bring yourself to really lay into him. He looks like he's taking this hard.

"You know, I only packed a few day's worth of clothes." He muses, finally sitting up and leaning his head against his hand.

"Mhm. You'll be fine. There's extra clothes in your room. Your mom picked them out."

Derek groans. "My mom? Seriously?"

"Oh, please. Like her taste could be any worse than yours." You turn and eye him, taking in the cheetah print shirt topped with a green blazer. It all really clashes with those snakeskin boots of his. Not to mention the gold chain... and diamond earring... god, he's a mess. He dresses like a Texan thrift store threw up on him.

"Like you dress any better." He scoffs, furrowing his brow as he looks you up and down, seemingly taking you in for the first time. His gaze lingers near your breasts for an uncomfortable amount of time, so you turn and quickly change the subject.

"Could you grab me the ground beef from the fridge?"

"I'm not cooking."

"Did I ask you to cook?"

Derek mumbles a few curses but stomps over to the fridge and eventually brings you the ground beef. He stands behind you and peers over your shoulder for a minute while you cook, either curious or bored.

"How much longer till dinner?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

Derek sits at the dining table across from you, pushing his food around with his fork. He hasn't taken a bite yet even though he's hungry, partly out of spite and stubbornness, and partly because it doesn't look like anything he's eaten before.

He watched you add vegetables, beef, noodles, cheese, and like ten different seasonings.

The dish was akin to some kind of homemade hamburger helper, but of course, growing up rich and spoiled, Derek would have no idea what that was.

"You gonna eat?" You ask, covering your mouth with your hand as you chew.

Derek sighs and takes a bit of his food. It... doesn't taste bad. Surprising. He takes a few more silent bites.

"So... what exactly are we going to do without internet for three weeks?" He finally breaks the silence, waving his fork at you in an accusing manner.

"What do you usually do without internet?"

"Drugs."

"Oh."

Another awkward silence lingers in the air, and Derek is itching to take a hit of his vape. He could, too, it's still in his pocket. The one thing you let him keep. But he has a feeling you'd react negatively to him vaping at the table, so he waits.

"We could watch a movie? Or walk down to the beach? Listen to music? Read?"

Derek groans. "Aren't you supposed to be more fun than this? You're basically a glorified babysitter, right? You're not going to... entertain me?"

He raises his eyebrows at you, a suggestive tone in his voice.

"Sorry, love. I'm here to keep you sober. Not empty your balls."

He frowns at that. Expecting him to go without drugs for three weeks was one thing, but drugs AND sex? What did he look like? A fucking NUN?

"I'm not saying it's in the job description... but surely you're not opposed to a little... recreation?" He tries again, giving you a sly smile as he props an elbow on the table and leans his head on his fist. His other hand waves his fork around wildly as he talks.

"What, do you want me to call up your mommy so you can beg her to fly out a few of your whores?" You blink at him, smiling sweetly.

Derek grits his teeth. "You bitch."

"Oh? I'm a bitch for cooking you dinner?"

"No, you're a bitch for not wanting to..." He trails off, realizing how stupid he sounds.

Damn infuriating woman. He stands and stomps upstairs to go unpack his things, and take as many hits of his vape as possible before you inevitably take it away.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You watch him leave with a grimace. Well, that went... well?

At the very least, he agreed to try and be sober for the three weeks. You'd work on his lack of cooperation skills later.

You stare down at his half-eaten plate of food. He is not going to like it when you reveal to him he actually has to do chores.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: Sorry if this chapter dragged on! I tried to edit it down, but I really wanted to get the general plot set up in one part. We'll get to the more... juicy stuff later. This is going to be more of a slowburn than my last fic, so buckle up!!

Also sorry most of it is in Derek's POV? Do you guys like that?? His internal monologue is just too funny and deranged not to show

Part 2

#jhutch #josh hutcherson #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth #josh hutcherson x you #josh hutcherson x reader #no use of y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #the beekeeper

[hp-hcs]

the rules (Chapter One of The Doll) — slytherin boys x gn! ‘the boy’ (2016)! reader

Requests: open

tws: dolls, obviously; reader referred to as ‘it’ (presumed inanimate); mentions of past child character death(s); mentions of a house fire—implied arson; violence; & murder

based entirely off of the 2016 film ‘the boy’. very few things in this world are able to scare me more than that fucking doll

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This house is freaking me out, man,” Theodore grumbles, setting down his trunk in one of the guest bedrooms. Mattheo snickers from his spot where he’s leaning against the doorway.

“What, you afraid it’s haunted or something? We went to school with ghosts for eight years, dude.”

“Oh, shut up,” Theodore rolls his eyes. “Not haunted, just… offputting. This feels like the kind of house that has like, secret stairways and trapdoors and shit.”

“The L/Ns didn’t draw their inspiration for their house from H. H. Holmes, dipshit,” Blaise scoffs as he elbows his way past Mattheo to get to his room.

The trio snicker at each other as they all drop their suitcases and trunks in their respective bedrooms and reconvene in the foyer of the massively ancient house.

“I’m just saying,” Theodore was explaining to Blaise as they made their way downstairs. “Nobody chooses to make their house look like a Victorian dollhouse if they aren’t fucking crazy.”

“Guys?” Enzo interrupts timidly. “We have a fucking problem.”

“Oh, I so called it.”

“Shut up, Theo. What’s the issue, Enz?” Mattheo drawls.

Enzo holds up the note that the L/Ns had left them that provided instructions on how they were to take care of and clean the house.

The boys had opted for this choice—staying in and cleaning up some wealthy family’s creepy house over the summer—instead of serving time in Azkaban for their stances in the war.

(It had seemed like the better choice at the time.)

“They’re even more insane than we thought, guys,” Enzo shakes his head. “They got a creepy as fuck doll that they think is their real kid, or something.”

“Yeah no, I’m out,” Theo mumbles, putting his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ pose and taking a step back.

“Fuck you, if we have to do this, you have to too,” Mattheo snaps. “Where’s this doll?”

Enzo points to one of the faded decorative chairs that flank the doorway to the parlor. Sure enough, a terrifying, two-foot tall, porcelain doll sits there, dressed up in an expecting-company outfit with tiny little leather oxfords to match.

“Yep, I agree with Theo. I say we get the fuck outta here,” Blaise mumbles, shaking his head with wide eyes.

“Its name is…” Enzo scans the letter. “Y/N. Oh, wonderful, the L/Ns wrote out its entire daily schedule for us. That was so thoughtful of them.”

Enzo falls silent as he skims the letter further, shaking his head the more he reads. “They’ve got some weird rules, guys,”

“Do I dare ask what they are?” Theo mumbles weakly.

“‘Number one: No guests.’ Well there goes my weekend plans,” he mutters sarcastically. “‘Number two: Never leave Y/N alone.’”

“We’re so getting murdered here,” Blaise grumbles, receiving a sharp glare from Mattheo.

“‘Number three: Save meals in freezer.’”

“Country house. That makes perfect sense,” Mattheo scoffs flippantly, ever the skeptic.

“‘Number four: Never cover Y/N’s face.’ Oh my Merlin, we’re going to die here. ‘Number five: Read a bedtime story.’”

“Honestly, you’re all so dramatic,” Mattheo rolls his eyes. “This is probably just some weird way for them to deal with some trauma they have. Do we know if the L/Ns have any kids? Actual ones?”

“Just one, but they died,” a new voice chimes in. Draco steps into the foyer, folding up his umbrella and shrugging off his soaked overcoat. “Sorry I’m late. Went into town to buy cigarettes, and the guy at the gas station told me all of the gossip surrounding this house. Anyway, why are we asking about the L/Ns’ chil- what the fuck is that?!”

“This is Y/N,” Theodore says plainly. “Come on and make your acquaintance, hm?”

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Enzo clears his throat loudly, getting the two to stop bickering. “‘Number six: Play music loud.’”

“So that we can’t hear them coming when they sneak up on us to kill us,” Blaise bemoans, pressing one hand against his forehead and mumbling under his breath something about how Azkaban wouldn’t have been that bad, would it?

“‘Number seven: Clean the traps.’ Wonderful. ‘Number eight: Only Regulus brings deliveries.’”

“I met him,” Draco interjects again. “At the gas station. He introduced himself. He’s the grocery boy for the L/Ns.”

“Good to know. ‘Number nine: Y/N is never to leave.’”

“We’re fucked,” Theo shrugs, nonplussed.

Enzo gulps. “‘Rule number ten: Kiss goodnight.’”

~~~ Chapter Two <3

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #hp x male reader #x male reader #gay #male reader #gender neutral reader #hp x gn reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #x gender neutral reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #blaise zabini x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x male reader #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #hp x enby reader #enby reader #enzo berkshire #blaise zabini #theodore nott x male reader #theo nott #theodore nott #the boy 2016

[aquaburst3]

Okay, since I haven't seen many posts up yet about this, not that I blame anyone since others are probably at school and work rn, I want make a post summarizing what happened so far in the latest event on the JP server.

Disclaimers:

All of this info came from LuluBelle over on my Discord server, so all the credit for gathering this up goes to them.

Also, I don't know how to speak or read Japanese nor do I have the JP version of the app, making me unable to verify this. Take this all with a huge mountain of salt.

Like I said in my other post, I'm calling him Honest Fellow, since that sounds less awkward and I think it'll be localized to that anyway.

JP Event Spoilers Below

The arc starts with Honest Fellow and Giddel selling the themepark to some faceless NPCs. After some convincing, they enter the park. Honest Fellow evil laughs.

We cut to a basketball game between RSA and NRC. NRC lose yet again. NRC fight amongst themselves, and the teachers break it up.

After the game, Floyd, Ace, Yuu and Grim, wallowing in their frustration at NRC's loss to RSA, decided to go Craneport to get some snacks. There they find Jade and Jack on the way.Jack was there to get some new threads while Jade was there by sheer coincidence.

Kalim and Ortho arrive. They were in a bookstore, because Kalim was searching for books concerning magic potions, since he's struggling with those and Sam's shop was closed. (I have no idea why Jamil wasn't there either, because him leaving Kalim unattended seems kinda ooc.)

Honest Fellow along with his brother swoop in, making their sales pitch. Grim wonders about what Playful Land is exactly. Ace explains that it's a mysterious amusement park that nobody knows where it is. Honest Fellow says that's correct.

Honest Fellow gives the group tickets to the park. When Kalim says they'll go the next weekend, Honest Fellow chimes in, saying, "Oh, no, no! You can only use it until tomorrow!" They both fuck off into the night.

When the group gets back, they tell Riddle and Jamil about the tickets. They're both like, "Hell no!" Riddle shoots it down because skipping classes is unforgivable. (Ace was originally gonna invite Deuce, but he tattled on him to Riddle, since he found the whole thing suspicious. Honestly, good on him.) Jamil finds it suspicious and puts his foot down, telling Kalim that he forbids him from ever going.

Jack tells Leona, who is all like, "Nah, this is kinda fishy." Jack decides that he has to go because he promised Honest Fellow he would, and he doesn't want to break it.

Floyd tells Azul. He says, "Nope, I'm not coming. It's sus, and I don't wanna owe anybody anything!" They tweels laugh, saying that they want to check it out BECAUSE it's shady.

Ortho tells his brother. He shoots it down, since he doesn't like crowds. Ortho then confides in Vil thanks to them being in the same club.

Early the morning, before the sun rises, the group gathers to sneak to the harbour in town. Kalim managed to get the rest of the Light Music Club to come along, because they saw just how sad Kalim seemed and decided to tag along to comfort him. Vil was convinced to come along by Ortho. One, he wants to see what's the big deal about this park. Two, he's also suspicious, and, as a dorm leader, he wants to oversee all of his juniors and make sure they're all okay. Trey followed after Ace because Deuce asked him for his help and had the feeling that Ace would be stubborn enough to rebel and sneak out even though Riddle said no. Leona followed after Jack because he felt like he had to be the responsible one for once and was genuinely concerned about Jack's well being.

Honest Fellow arrives. He is just so dramatic. Half of them go, "Fucking really? Why did any of our juniors trust this guy? He's as sus as a FNAF animatronic!" (Not in those words, obliviously, but along that same idea.)

Honest Fellow shows them around the park. Which looks like this...

The park is more like those travelling summer fairs where it goes from town to town instead of staying in one place like Universal Studios, Knotts Berry Farm or any of the Disney Parks. The boys can kick back and indulge in their darkest desires.

The third years still feel that this whole thing is kinda sus. Since Grim and some of the others head straight to the entry gate, they reluctantly go along with it to watch over their juniors. Grim face plants into the gate, because he didn't show a ticket. Ace shows his ticket. Ace, Grim and Yuu's clothes get magically altered to resemble the ones on the card. The same thing happened to everyone else.

After everyone's gotten inside the amusement park, we have a foreboding speech from Honest Fellow and Giddel about how the young generation are easily skeptical, but can still be fooled by the promises of a fun play park. Honest Fellow mentions how he and Giddel should accommodate their visitors… for it will be the "last'' fun memory that they'd have. Cue End of Part 1.

Some other minor side things...

It's confirmed. Honest Fellow and Giddel are brothers.

Honest Fellow is a mage, but is less magically inclined compared to the NRC boys. Giddel is a non-mage.

Lulu, aka the same person from my Discord server, suspects the themepark itself might be a magic tool of some kind. Considering how it operated in the movie and novel along with fan theories about them, I'm inclined to believe them.

We also finally got a description of what Yuu is actually wearing during this event. (Honestly, it's about fucking time. Because one gripe I always had with these events is that we never get even a small description of what Yuu is wearing, which makes it harder to imagine what's going on in my head.) Basically, they are wearing the same style jacket as Leona, but with the same colours as Lilia's costume. Do with that information as you will Malleus/Yuu shippers.

Honest Fellow has a Honest John pendant on his hat.

More of a personal gripe, but I'm not sure what to make of Honest Fellow as a character yet. Right now, he seems like the mastermind behind this whole operation, but that doesn't make sense. In the movie, Honest John wasn't on board with the Pleasure Island shit, and only went along with it thanks to the Coachman threatening him and Gideon's lives. Wouldn't it be far more fitting for him to be a lacky of another villain and being forced to go along with it out of fear of having the same thing happen to him and his brother? And if that was the case, that would also better align him thematically with Ortho, who's brother is the same way towards him. But I'm reserving my judgements on his character until the event is over.

Playful Land gives me major Joy Joy Land vibes.

I find the idea of Leona, Trey and Vil going there, because they are worried about their juniors adorable. They are really tapping into their big brother instincts, even if I doubt Vil and Leona would ever admit it out loud.

Though, one plot hole with this whole thing is why didn't Jamil, Trey and Deuce rip up the tickets if they were that concerned about the others going to the park? Granted, the tickets could be enchanted so that they're impossible to destroy, but I never heard if that's the case yet. Idk, it's a nitpick, but it's still something that annoys me a bit as a writer myself.

#twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #aqua rambles #fellow honest

[alwaysonf1]

big leagues?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: Language

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: She has a name now *shrug*

“It shouldn’t take that long to tighten it.”

“It wouldn’t if you’d get off my ass about it.”

There’s a huff, but Iman still sees the feat of the hovering mechanic. The man is impossible. Most of the time she doesn’t have any issues being around him, she even enjoys his company and what he can teach her. Their relationship started when he was one of the people in charge of her during an internship years ago. But he’s incapable of chilling the fuck out during a race weekend.

Iman would also love to have slid under the lifted car, tightened a bolt, and got up so that she can do other pre-practice checks, but the damn thing is stripped. She knows it was the older, know it all mechanic who hates her mere existence because she’d asked him to do it. He was smart enough to complete a simple task, but clearly not since he managed to fuck up three of them and now, she has to check every single one.

It’s tedious and she finds that all the others are fine but can’t bring herself to leave it up to chance. She refuses to risk Alex’s race and more than that potentially his safety. Sometimes it almost feels like she’s the only one who understands why being a little overly cautious in a sport where accidents are par for the course is a good thing.

There is chattering in the garage as everyone prepares, but it’s mostly quiet near the car. Her check has halted any work being done and she knows that some people are annoyed with her - outside of the man currently rushing her - but she doesn’t have it in her to care.

As she goes over the last two bolts, she hears the tapping of a foot and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Ben, stop hovering. I would be done already if someone didn’t strip these things. Maybe talk to him about his fuck up instead of helicopter parenting me making sure nothing else is messed up.”

Her tone is firm but doesn’t lean into disrespect. They have a dynamic where she can speak in a way that may seem like she has a lot of audacity to check a superior from an outside perspective, but she doesn’t use it. Not yet at least. As she looks over the last two, she knows that if he has something to say when she gets up words will fly.

Thankfully, Ben regains some sense and walks away. And in less than a minute she’s up and holding the three bolts she had to change out. She dangles them in the air for all to see and gives a pointed look to Gareth, who has the decency to look ashamed and then looks away from her.

Ben still has a look on his face, but she knows it’s out of stress, so she let it slide. Iman levels a look at him and he sighs and then turns to Gareth, professionally laying into the man while everyone else gets back to work.

The rest of the checks are done within the hour and that’s when the drivers begin to hang around their cars.

“Hope you didn’t break anything on my car. Don’t think I don’t know your plans to help Logan win,” Alex jokes.

Iman rolls her eyes.

“How is that plan coming along by the way? I’m in the points, but this guy is in my way. Need his car a little slower this weekend,” Logan chimes in.

They’re both dorks and Iman is unsure of how she puts up with them. She always thought that Logan was the worst in that department and was so unsure of how close the two drivers were, but if they weren’t bonded before they are now in all the ways they can mess with her. It’s like adding another brother to a roster that is already filled with heathens.

“If I wanted to slow you down, I wouldn’t mess with your car, Ally Cat. And maybe if you weren’t a punk and would just pass your teammate things would be easier for you, Logie Bear.”

Both men cringe at the nicknames. Alex's is a full body shudder and Logan looks like he’s going to throw up. Which brings out Iman’s first smile of the day.

“Now stop bothering me and go warm up.” 

With that she turns on her heel and walks away. Every other mechanic is taking a break so they can give their fool focus in the next thirty minutes, and she plans to do the same. Ben - Chief Mechanic - had her come in earlier than the initial schedule called for and she was starting to feel tired. She’d still have more than enough energy to focus until they wrapped things up, but she didn’t want to lag later. Especially since she’d promised to catch a late lunch with the team and then dinner with some of the drivers.

She takes several steps outside of the garage and takes a deep breath, looking around to see where she should go next. It takes a moment, but after little debate, she pulls off her lanyard, stuffs it in her pocket, and heads toward a fan area. 

“Wait. What way would you do it then?” Alex calls out as she starts walking again.

She says nothing. Doesn’t even look back.

“Iman. What way?” he shouts, sounding desperate. 

Laughter slips free and she makes sure it’s loud enough that he can hear and evil enough that a little fear hits him. Alex knows she would never do anything to fuck him over, but over the last two plus years he has also learned to be a little scared of her. Which was by design on her part, she prefers that people are a little afraid of her. And it’s just fun when it comes to her friends and family.

Her chosen path leads her past most of the garages and she doesn’t spare any of them a single glance. What they’re doing is none of her business. But she makes sure she greets anyone she makes eye contact with or who speaks to her. She’s not rude. At least not if they aren’t. 

Iman is pretty sure that most of them know by now that her mouth is worse than Lewis’; she’ll keep it diplomatic, but she’s less likely to hold back. She’s pretty sure Horner still holds some hurt feelings for some slick shit he tried to say in her presence because she refused to let it slide.

Toto high-fived her after and reminded her that she always has a job with him if she wants it. But she wasn’t going to use that connection just yet.

The last garage she passes is the Ferrari one and she can’t help but look at the driver doing his warmups just outside of it. His back is partly to her so she picks up speed to get out of there, but before she can pass his head snaps in her direction as if he could sense her presence.

Charles’ lips curl into a smile when she meets his eyes and then he winks at her. Iman makes a show of rolling her eyes, says hi to his trainer, and continues walking out of there and into the crowds of people milling around.

Her heart doesn’t calm down until she’s far enough that she knows he can’t see her.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black reader #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

[ransprang]

Hello 🤗 how are you doing!?

For the ask can you please do Ace from one piece for the foot fetish? Idk why but that man screams foot kink like my guy worships the ground you walk on ( literally and figuratively) and adores the fuck out of your feet. Have a good day/night

P.s ur fics are really freaking good I recommend them to a couple of my friends who read fanfics <3

Kinktober 2023

Body worship: Ace

It had been a long day exploring Dawn Island, where Whitebeard’s crew had made a stop for the weekend. Ace had insisted on dragging you to all the places from his childhood and telling you stories. It was a lot of fun but now your feet were killing you and you desperately needed a break. You stepped in for a hot shower to relax and were cooling down on a chair when Ace walked in.

Ace's fiery personality always seemed to fill the room, and today was no exception. His eyes lit up when he saw you, lounging in the chair in your bathrobe with your feet exposed. He couldn't help but smile, his heart warming at the sight of you.

"Hey there," he said, his voice softening as he approached you. "Hope I didn’t tire you out too much?"

You shook your head, offering him a tired but content smile. "Maybe a little, but it was worth it. This place is incredible."

As Ace neared you, his gaze fixated on your tired feet. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees in front of you, gently taking one of your feet in his large, warm hands.

"Let me help you with that," he murmured, his voice laced with affection. His touch was firm but gentle as he began to knead your sore arches and heels. The relief that washed over you was instant, and you sighed in bliss.

Ace's fingers expertly worked their way around the curves and contours of your foot, each touch sending waves of relaxation up your legs. He used just the right amount of pressure, finding all the knots and tension points, and skillfully massaging them away.

His thumbs traced delicate circles along the sole of your foot, and you couldn't help but let out a contented moan. It felt like all the stress of the day was melting away with each passing minute. Ace's warm hands seemed to have a magical touch, and he was completely focused on making you feel better.

"Wow, Ace," you said, your eyes meeting his. "You really know what you're doing."

He chuckled softly, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "I've had plenty of practice. You deserve it."

As Ace continued to work his magic on your feet, he couldn't help but compliment you. "You know, you're amazing, Y/N. You've got this incredible spirit, and it's impossible not to have a great time with you."

His words made your heart skip a beat, and you reached out to gently run your fingers through his unruly hair. "You're pretty amazing yourself, Ace. Thanks for making this trip so special."

Ace smiled as he worked his way up to your calves, his touch sending shivers of delight up your spine. "Anything for you, Y/N."

The room was filled with a comfortable silence as Ace's skilled hands continued to soothe your tired muscles. You closed your eyes, enjoying the intimate moment and the affectionate massage that Ace was providing.

You softly moan and sigh as he reliefs the tension from the right spots. He asks, "Feeling better now babe?" "Mmmh yea, thank you Ace".

He stood up from his sit position and you were now at eye level with his bulging dick that is being hidden by his shorts. "Not gonna lie, you made some real cute noises." He put his built arms on the arms of your chair, "Will you let me take care you a bit more princess? Maybe in a different way?" His face was so gentle and kind you couldn't say no. "Thank you baby how about I take you to the bed."

He picks you up from the chair. You squeal at the movement and your hands are thrown behind his neck while he carries you. Laying you down he kisses your forehead, cheeks, and nose. He draws back to look into your eyes and sees the desire in you building. He presses his lips onto yours kissing as though he had never tasted them before.

"Babe you're just so gorgeous I'm so lucky to have you." he says before kissing your lips and starting to untie your bathrobe. Your hands feel up his well chiseled abs and chest, "Have you seen yourself in the mirror, you hunk?" You both laugh a bit till he loses all thoughts at the sight of your boobs.

He massages your boobs and gives them so much love as evident by the kisses and sucking of your nipples. "A-Ace I need you please".

"Your wish is my command princess." He pulls down his shorts and puts your legs on his strong shoulders. His big cock lined up with your pulsating hole, he puts it in gently before moving. "Feels alright love?"

"Yes Ace. Please faster. I need to cum." you plead. He increases his speed along with his pants unable to hold back for too long. Pleasuring your body, even just a simple massage, really made him want your pussy cumming all over his cock. He just can't help it you're so hot.

His cock hits your g-spot perfectly over and over again. "I'm close babe." you say with your eyes shut tight focusing on the pleasure.

After a few more thrusts, you cum, and he let's out a groan cumming at the same time as you. He collapses next to you on the bed.

"Maybe I should give you massages more often.", he teases.

your feet,

admins sar (left foot) & san (right foot)

#ace imagine #one piece ace #ace one piece #fire fist ace #portgas d ace #one piece #op headcanons #op smut #op #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n

[ladylooch]

Timo and Liv getting in a big fight about her and Luca. And Timo accidentally makes Liv cry. And Emma loses it on Timo.

idk if we are ready for this but here we go.🥺

Luca’s lips on Liv’s neck are making her melt into the front door against her back. She knows her parents camera is probably picking this up. But her family is in the mountains this weekend without her, because she was working. She feels safe with her dad hundreds of miles away from her boyfriend. 

Since Liv and Luca’s first time, her first time too, they haven’t been able to keep their hands off each other. He has awakened a part of her she never knew existed. With his sweetness and his hot body, she craves him every minute, of every day. The reality of the summer quickly fading kills her, and her dad’s words about how this was all going to work.

She’d ask Luca about it later. But not tonight. Not when it feels this good to be with him.

“We need to go inside.” She pants to Luca where he is sucking the skin of her collar bone into his mouth. “Babe, don’t mark me.” She reminds him, tugging at his hair to pull him away. His lips attach to hers and she forgets about going inside again. 

“Wanna taste you all over tonight.” He begs. His fingers trail up the outside of her thigh, brushing the fabric of her dress up with each movement. “Taste how sweet you are after our night together.” His finger hooks into the lace of her panties, inching them down. “Feel all the places you’re wet for me.” Liv sighs, resting her head briefly on his shoulder before he kneels down to work the fabric off. She leans against the front door, watching Luca Fiala lift one foot, then the other to pull her panties off.

“What should I do with these?” Liv bites her lip, shaking her head slightly like she isn’t sure. She’s so inexperienced, but wants to be mysterious and sexy for him. Luca catches onto her insecurity and shrugs, putting them into his pocket. He’ll teach her to talk dirty- slowly, like everything else they’ve done. He could take his time with it, draw it out for the rest of her lives, if she’ll let him. “I’ll take them home with me, hang them above my bed so I dream of you later.” Liv giggles, then allows him to spin her by her hips to unlock the door.

She pushes the door open, then comes face to chest with her dad, who is absolutely NOT supposed to be home.

“Ah…” She swallows hard, reaching back for Luca’s thigh. She hits his hard zipper, but he grips her hand, readjusting her to cover him more.

“Livia.” A chill rushes down her spine at her dad’s use of her legal name.

“I… thought you were in the mountains.”

“Clearly.” Timo scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes move past his daughter to Luca. “What the fuck are you doing to my daughter on my front steps?”

“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” Luca begins. Timo laughs wickedly.

“Really? What’s in your pocket right now?” Liv feels her chest cave in. Mortified tears begin to form in her eyes.

“We were saying goodnight. That’s it.” Liv tries instead.

“Oh? And he was going to tuck you into bed? In my house? And that isn’t disrespectful? Get inside.” 

“No.”

“Livia I am not asking.” Timo’s teeth are gritting, dark eyebrows lowered angrily.

“I’m not coming in there. You’re being unfair to us and you don’t get to tell me what to do all the time. You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is controlling me. You would never do this with Lio and I am sick of it!” 

“Lio doesn’t need this kind of supervision.”

“Why? Because he is your favorite?” Timo rolls his eyes. He’s heard this before, always when she’s trying to get out of trouble. From both of his oldest children, actually.

“I am not having any more of this discussion. We are talking about you tonight. Not Lio.”

“Baby, I’m going to go. I don’t want to cause anymore trouble.” Luca releases her hand.

“No.” Liv grabs his hand, keeping him close to her. “Don’t go. You’re welcome here.” 

“Ah, no he isn’t. I don’t want to see you around here again anytime soon. Liv, get in the house. I’m not asking again.”

“I am not going inside.” She snaps back at him. Her jaw clenches and all Timo can see is Emma. The way she defiantly didn’t love him back, picking anyone else over him at times. And he feels angry about the way Liv is dismissing his authority. She may be grown up, but she is still his baby. And he does not agree with her choices.

“I raised you better than this.” Timo steps forward. Liv steps back, forcing Luca down a stair. Luca holds her hips to steady her which seems to ignite Timo further. “Get your hands off my daughter.” Luca holds firm.

“If Liv wants me to take my hands off her, she’ll tell me.” Liv’s love for Luca grows instantly. It gives her confidence to push back against her dad again.

“Why does Lio get to fuck any woman in New York, but I have one person and I’m the problem child?! No. I’m a good kid. I don’t deserve this.” Liv is yelling now, shaky tears running down her face. Emma comes rushing down the stairs after hearing the commotion from their bedroom.

“Are you good still, Liv? Do good girls give men their underwear to bring home with them?” The disgust in his tone makes Liv’s breathing hitch. Shame settles onto her shoulders and pinch the backs of her eyes.

They all let Timo’s words hang in the air. Liv is stunned silent then begins to shake against Luca’s body. The entire conflict with her dad over Luca begins to boil within her body. Her teeth chatter, she reaches wildly for Luca’s hand as an anchor, gripping his fingers tightly, not quite believing what her dad insinuated about her. 

“Baby, let’s go to my place.” Luca murmurs into her hair, pulling her flush into his body. Liv stares directly back at her dad, tears streaming down in thick wet streaks, taking her mascara with them. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Luca eases her back another step gently. 

“Liv…” Emma starts then trails off. She can leave. If it were Emma, she would leave too.

“Bye, mama.” Liv cries out. Emma’s heart breaks in her chest watching as Liv turns to walk back to Luca’s car. Timo says nothing. He watches silently as the Mercedes starts and pulls out of the driveway. They can both see Liv slumped over in the passenger seat, hands covering her face as she sobs.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” Emma yells, stalking down the rest of the stairs. “How could you say that to her?”

“He was violating our daughter on our front steps. How am I the one who is wrong here!?”

“Violating!?” Emma thrusts her hands through her hair angrily. “I don’t know what your problem is but I am sick of this shit, T. So sick of it. You’re pushing our daughter away. She is never here. She doesn’t want to speak to you when she is here. And you don’t even care! Because you have some ass-backwards view on how daughters are supposed to behave.”

“Em-”

“Stop.” She holds her hand up. “I have stood by trying to coach and guide you. I am done with that. Your behavior is out of control You and I have a serious problem.”

“Fine. Then we have a problem. But I am never going to be the dad that stands by while some fuck puts his hands all over my daugh-” 

“How do you not see that “Fuck” just protected your daughter from YOU.” Emma lets her words hang in the air, desperate to see some sort of change in Timo. He crosses his arms tighter, shrugging his shoulders again like this is okay. “You know what, I don’t want you here tonight. Go sleep at Nico’s.” 

Timo flinches. Emma has never kicked him out of the house before.

“Your behavior is disgusting. Inexcusable. And you better start taking a hard look in the mirror at who you are turning into. This version of you sucks.” Emma finishes as she walks back to the stairs, climbing them without another look at her husband.

Emma grabs her cellphone, eager to text her daughter. She is relieved to see a text waiting for her. Until she reads it.

I’m moving out. I’ll be over to pack later this week.

Whatever remains of Emma’s heart shatters into a billion little pieces. 

#Liv X Luca

[sweetheart-satoru]

lego set

he's glad he can live his childhood through your hobbies

author's note: i rewrote everything cuz this sucks 😋 also reader is around the same age as denji so we are in fact no hi*eno #2

denji wished he met you earlier.

he wasted his first kiss on himeno, who not only made his first kiss experience terrible but also vomited in his mouth to make it worse. whenever he thinks back to that moment, his mouth goes dry and he thinks he might cry.

he thinks he might die of humiliation when remembering her vomit's chunky, gross taste. "bleugh!" he groans to himself, and aki turns to look at him confused. "what's wrong?" aki was in the middle of discussing something with someone that denji didn't bother to learn their name.

"nothing, i'm gonna go get water!" he excuses himself and power jumps on his back, "ooh! ooh! let me come! ponytail boy is boring." she sticks her tongue out, which aki ignores. "no, you're both in trouble. power, you need to stay. denji, hurry up." he replies, which makes power frown. "see, boring." but she just walks away and sits in a chair.

denji leaves the room, quickly shutting the door and holding his stomach. he feels like he might throw up. as he walks up to a water fountain, he bumps into a girl holding a bunch of papers in her arms.

"oh, sorry. wasn't watching where i was going." you say, bending down to pick them up. denji can barely form a word, and he thinks you're one of the prettiest people he's ever seen.

"oh- uh," he's not good with words so he just shuts up, bends down and helps you pick it up. "sorry, i also wasn't watching where i was going." he blurts out, scratching his head.

you just chuckle and reassure him that it's fine.

that's how you two first met.

over time, you and denji (and power), have gotten much closer. he comes over to hang out during the weekends or when you're back from school.

today, you're just chilling in your room watching an old show while you finished a new lego piece that you saved enough money to buy. (why the fuck is lego so expensive bro i just wanna build)

power got in trouble again so she is not here as denji knocks on your door. "coming!" you call, pausing your show and putting down whatever part from the lego you had in your hands down.

when you open the door you smile widely when you see a certain blond-haired boy in front of you. "oh, hey denji. wanna come in?" you ask, opening the door slightly more for him to enter. "yeah.. thank you.." he says, looking a bit flustered.

and over time he learned to be more neat and clean when coming over. he never listened to aki when he told him to put his shoes away nicely, so when he first stepped foot into your house and saw all the shoes neatly lined up, he couldn't help but want to please you and do the same.

you lead him to your room, which every time he steps into, he feels nervous. he fidgets with his fingers, not paying attention to where he is going and almost falls down.

"holy shit!" you cuss, trying to muffle your laughter. "are you okay, denji?" you help him back up on his feet, and you watch his face get red. "yeah.. i'm okay." he yells at himself to get his shit together in his head.

holy shit i just embarrassed myself like crazy!! he imagines power laughing in his face.

"here," you let him sit in the chair where your lego was near, "i'll get you ice." quickly, you rush downstairs and come back with and ice pack. when you hand it to him he mumbles a quiet, "thanks." and puts the ice on his little injury.

he turns the chair around to face the table in front of it, "hm? what's this?" he points to the lego. you tilt your head, "that's my new lego set! i jus' bought it!" you exclaim joyfully.

"woahh.." he looks at it closer, "what does that mean?" he asks, confused. "hm? have you never had lego before?" you ask him, "well i mean, i was basically homeless my entire life, and was on the verge of death like every other day trying to make money.. so, yeah.. never had one before." he shrugs, as if what he said literally wasn't crazy.

you cough awkwardly, "oh.." he just nods, still paying attention to the lego set, trying to understand what it is, "well, want me to show you?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

"yeah!" he exclaims, "okay, stand up," you shoo him out of your chair, "see this?" you show him the instruction book, "you need to follow what they're saying. so this page is where i'm on right now, you basically need to look for the pieces the page is telling you, and put them where the picture in the page has them. like this, see?" you show him.

he nods slowly, "can i try the next page?" he asks quietly, looking up at you. grinning down at him, you get up, "sure. here, try it."

author's note: bye i hated how i wrote the first one so here's this :,) but i still have the other version saved even though it's literal dog shit

#denji x reader #denji hayakawa #denji #csm #chainsaw man #i love denji #and power #power csm #power hayakawa #aki hayakawa #i need more lego guys this isn't okay #chainsaw man x reader #denji fluff #I HATE HIMENO #GET THAT GIRL OUT OF MY FACE NOW #akiangel on top

[mcl4r3n]

(wait) they don't love you like i love you

Dando, 800w, Mature (for @landoisokay)

---

There is a mole, right there, on Lando’s left ear, and another, just below it. 

There’s one to the left of his neck. Another, near his chin, hidden by his little patchy beard. Another, on his cheek. Another, by his nose. 

They are guides for Daniel to press his lips to, and he’s always been good at following directions. 

Lando’s body is mapped out with them, instructions on how best to make Lando feel good. Where to bite down on soft flesh so that Lando will close his eyes and sigh through his teeth.

His hips provide Daniel with the trail he needs to follow so that he can put his hands on hardened muscle, into the dip of skin that goes from smooth to rough, into the garden of hair where Lando’s cock lies thick and hard and hot. 

“Daniel.” Lando’s voice is only a measure above a whisper. Daniel loves the way Lando says his name in bed. He’s heard it, over and over—angry, full of mirth, clipped, demanding. The way Lando says it when he’s nestled in Daniel’s comforter is his favorite. “You’re going too slow.” 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Daniel presses another kiss to Lando’s clavicle. He strokes Lando’s cock once, just to tease, before he brings his hand back to Lando’s nipple, takes it between thumb and forefinger, and pinches, sure and steady, while Lando’s back arches off the bed. “I wanna take my time with you.”

Lando’s cock leaks precum from that. Daniel loves to watch when it happens, loves the way Lando’s body responds to him. 

There’s no music around them, just the low hum of the hotel room’s AC and their steady breathing. Daniel braces himself over Lando and steals a kiss that Lando readily gives up, tongue sliding against his, insistent and impatient. He moans into it, and Daniel swallows it with his next breath. 

“Danny,” Lando whines, and this, of course, makes Daniel’s cock twitch against Lando’s thigh. It’s a conditioned response now, really. Lando whines, and Daniel gets hard. 

“What do I do with you, hmm?” Daniel skates his tongue along Lando’s sternum. “Always so impatient.”

Lando is ruinous, to him. Ten years his junior, bright and fresh. A fucking spark. 

Daniel’s tasted love before, held its shape and pressed him palms into it, but never like this, never packaged and presented like this. Lando’s hands claw at his back so that Daniel has no choice but to kiss him again, sucking on the tip of Lando’s tongue while he slots himself between spread legs. 

He hasn’t said it, yet, is the thing. He hasn’t pulled the vocabulary from his brain just yet to be able to transmit that information across with his words. The year has been hard, their relationship only really still very much in its early days, even if it’s been seven months since Lando first kissed him, like a calf getting on its legs and finding its footing. 

But Daniel loves him. Daniel spends days apart from him, and days near him, crossing paths on the paddock when he happens to be there for a race weekend, and they glance at each other over a sea of mechanics and the navy blues and papaya-oranges of teams he used to call home. 

Lando hasn’t said it, either, not to him directly. But instead, Lando posts photos of himself wearing Daniel’s clothing, hats he knicked from his suitcase. Lando gets interviewed and says, “I had dinner with Daniel in Monaco,” and, “I love Daniel,” to a crowd of people. 

But he’s never said it to his face. So Daniel waits, and bides his time. He isn’t in a hurry. 

They move together, slowly, undemanding, despite Lando’s protests, and Daniel chases every kiss with another one. He strokes Lando to completion before he even gets a chance to fuck him, and then does so again, when he’s balls-deep inside of him, unhindered by any sort of latex, Lando’s strong legs locking behind his back to keep him in place. 

There’s spunk that plasters their bellies together, after, having fallen asleep with their limbs pretzeled and bordering on uncomfortable. Daniel comes to, the sensation of fingers stroking through his curls coaxing him from slumber. 

He props himself up on an elbow and wrinkles his nose, and Lando giggles, high-pitched and kind of grossed out, the way they have to unstick from each other like they’re caught in those adhesive rat trap sort of things. 

The sun has set in Silverstone. Tomorrow, Lando has free practice, and Daniel will once again sit on the sidelines while twenty other men live out his dream. Except that he has testing the week later, and Lando’s staying to watch. 

The timing comes to him then, while they’re sticky and sweaty and wrapped up in each other. 

“I love you. I hope that’s okay.” 

Lando smiles, eyes colored like deep moss, crinkling at the edges, mouth stretched so his cheeks bunch up. “Yeah,” Lando sighs. “Yeah, that’s quite alright, Danny.” 

Daniel’s eyes find a mole to the right of Lando’s Adam’s apple. He kisses him there. 

#dando #look ma i managed to not use the word 'know' once! #or 'think'! #writing things #did this to challenge myself with that chuck palahniuk writing thing #dr3 #ln4 #this is also for kay <3 #landoisokay

[charlewiss-writes]

favourite classmate / pierre gasly

masterlist

day 16: midnight (part of one-word november prompts!)

pairing: student!pierre x student!reader

summary: endless amount of teasing during class ends with surprises when the clock strikes midnight and it's pierre's birthday.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: not proofread lmao I tried to make it quick cause I'm so behind 🥹

you looked confused as you read what the paper that had dropped off your locked said. "meet me at midnight".

"secret admirer?" you friend joked as you walked back to your class, recess now being over. you rolled your eyes at her and kept the little piece of paper on your back pocket, figuring that you would get time to decode it later.

the class had started fifteen minutes ago, and still, you didn't get surprised when the blue eyed boy entered through the door, excusing himself to the professor and sitting to your right. not even turning to look at him, you passed him your notes and he mumbled a little "thanks" before starting to copy whatever you had written since the teacher had started talking. once he was done, he gave you your notebook back, not without whispering in your ear "you coming tonight?"

you turned to look at him, confused. he laughed a bit, quiet enough to not bother the man that was writing something on the white board in front of him. "to my party, dumbass". pierre, being friends with the popular guys on campus, was almost forced to throw at party every weekend. and even though you were close due to being classmates, and he invited you to go every time, you never came. "when have i ever come to your parties?".

"I don't know, I thought that, as my friend, you would at least come to my birthday party" he jokingly said, but you could see a little bit of hurt in his sky-blue eyes.

the honest truth was that, given how intense this course was being, with all the deadlines and essays you still had to turn in, you had completely forgotten about your friend's birthday. "I'm so sorry, p, I totally flew my mind". he shrugged it off, not looking at you anymore, now pretending to pay attention to the class. "you can make it up to me by coming, what do you say?".

you laughed a bit louder this time, earning some bad looks from the other students in class. "i'll see what I can do, pierre" you smiled at him and continued taking notes, knowing deep down that you had always complied to whatever he asked you. it's like the frenchman knew he could ask for whatever he wanted and you would move everything in your power to give it to him.

—

so now here you were. walking to his place that was just a couple of blocks away, and you could already hear the loud ass music that was playing over at his house. you told yourself that you would be there just a couple hours, until midnight, to wish him a happy birthday, and then you'll be back home, getting ready to sleep, as you wished you had done.

when you set foot into the house, you were immediately wrapped tightly by strong arms that came accompanied with an essence that you could only recognise as pierre's. and if it still wasn't obvious that the body pressed against your belonged to the frenchman, when you heard his loud scream too close to your ear, you were 100% sure. "my favourite classmate! you came!"

you did everything you could to try putting some distance between you two. meanwhile, he put his red party cup filled with -what you assumed was- beer on your hands, and encouraged you to drink from. after the first sip, you said to him. "easy with the teasing, gasly. who will give you the notes you missed otherwise?". he just laughed and started going away, promising you that he would come back soon to get you.

when the clock stroked 11:58 pm, you started to wonder where your friend was. the plan was to congratulate him as soon as possible, and be back in your bed before 1 am. but if you couldn't get close to him to wish him a happy birthday, your plan would be fucked.

"here you are! you met me at midnight at last".

"you already saw me tonight, pierre, and it's not even midnight yet." you said, annoyed that in just a couple of minutes he had managed to get this drunk. then, the sentence clicked, and you remembered the little piece of paper that you found back in your locker that same morning. "wait, was it you?"

he laughed a bit, now pulling out closer to him by grabbing your waist. "who would it be, mon ange?". you still didn't quite believe him, and found suspicious that he would confess of doing it that quickly. "I don't know, didn't think it would be you". you figured that maybe he was too drunk to know what you were talking about. "disappointed?" pierre said, and you could have sworn that, out of nowhere, he sounded, hurt? with his head over your own, not dating to look into your eyes now. "more like surprised" you mumbled into his chest.

suddenly, cheers erupted and when you saw the clock, it was midnight. you smiled, tilting your head a bit so you could look into his deep blue eyes. "happy birthday, pierre".

after a couple of seconds, the party went on, and it was you too alone again, even in the crowded room where you currently where. "can I kiss you?" the frenchman whispered, with his thumb gently stroking you cheek. it would be an understatement to say that you were surprised to hear that from pierre, after years of pinning over him and he never realising it. "what?".

"it's my birthday gift. can I kiss you?" he was looking directly into your eyes, and now his hand had descended to your neck, gently grabbing it and bringing you closer with each breath. "i think you're too drunk to make that decision, gasly", and when you finished whispering his name, you were already si close to his mouth that your lips brushed.

"maybe, but I've never been so sure of anything in my life".

the kiss was sweet, like it was your first proper kiss, and you realise about the inherent magic there was with having new firsts. he was gentle, like you would disappear into thin air if he was a bit more rough. the crowd had completely vanished, until you heard them all cheering and clapping, which made you realise that you were, in fact, in the middle of a crowded room. blushing hard, you pulled away and hid on his chest, dressed with a button up white shirt.

"I guess I'm your favourite classmate too, no?".

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charlewiss writing challenge #one word november prompts #user charlewiss #f1 x y/n #f1 x yn #formula 1 imagine #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly blurb