#and then start saving up for a new car!!!!
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PICK A CARD: Your FS' Secret Kinks
❦ “She lowered her lashes until they almost cuddled her cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theatre curtain. I was to get to know that trick. That was supposed to make me roll over on my back with all four paws in the air." - Raymon Chandler, The Big Sleep
Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.
p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4
✦ Pile One ✦
Poor lil pooh pooh. This person struggles to “fill their cups up” so they get off on denying themselves pleasure. They secretly like the feeling of hitting whatever rock bottom looks like to them. Honestly, they want to be saved. They are wallowing at the bottom of a well, waiting for their savior to swoop in and throw them a rope.
In a more literal sense, they want a person to be their reason to live. Their reason to feel daylight on their skin again. Everyone and everything around them is unsatisfying and “fake”. They want something real to coax them out of their hell and entice them with all the thrilling things life has to offer.
However, they also like this dark and brooding side of themselves. They have a bit of a corruption kink.
They fantasize about a virginal angel coming down to save them, but they end up convincing the angel to sink down to their level.
They like exciting, spontaneous people who are willing to jump up and run out the door to do something fun at any moment, but think innocent fun. Like going to the movies to theater hop, and getting away without paying. Or, running around the Target parking lot in shopping carts and trying not to bang into cars. Maybe even steal a few street signs.
Innocent childhood fun that you’d see in early 90s movies. But add a sadistic twist to it that only they are aware of.
You would be the innocent virgin (doesn’t have to be true, it's their fantasy) who is unknowingly leading this beast (also not true, they are just extremely self-deprecating) to your pretty little happy places which they plan to desecrate.
They want to fuck you in your family home and make a mess of your childhood bed, making you scream so loud that you’re family starts to look at you differently. They want to take you to your favorite movie spots where you usually chill and hangout with your friends and turn it into a place where all you can think about is them covering your mouth in the back of the theater while you’re squirming in their lap, trying to escape out of their grip as they edge you to the new Marvel release.
They have a kink for turning all of your innocent, fun moments into their very own filthy fantasies.
Ps. Fisting came out of the blue so lube up!
Come To Me, My Senseless Angel
✦ Pile Two ✦
I don’t believe this is a future spouse, to be honest. This might be a situationship you need to move past. They seem emotionally immature, or at least this is a side of them that exclusively comes out when they’re aroused.
They can be quite abrasive and feel like they are constantly under attack so they’re incredibly defensive. They have a history of lashing out at their loved ones when they feel overwhelmed and get so blinded by their emotions that they disregard their affection for their partners and say really unforgettable, harmful words which permanently alters the connection for the worse.
They carry guilt from these actions and are in a constant state of regret. In this state, their sense of pleasure is a little twisted. They get turned on by causing a genuine issue in the relationship. They like the idea of pushing you to your limit where you’re this 🤏 close to your breaking point and at your absolute lowest. It’s when you reach your rock bottom and realize the need to move away from this person and you scream out, “I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS.”
They like to grovel. You know that cycle where somebody fucks up and then they’re in the dog house buying flowers and being extra fluffy just to get in the victim’s good graces so they can do the same thing over again. So far, pile one and two’s respective partners like to feel like shit. They secretly like the moment where they completely fuck up a relationship and have to beg on their hands and knees to get their person back orrrrrr they get off on emotionally tearing someone down to the point where they get on their knees to bed for this person’s attention.
Either way, there's a lot of fucked psychological issues underneath this fantasy that I’m not unpacking here because it differs from person to person.
In its best light, this person glorifies struggle love. At its worst, this person is purposefully emotionally abusive with the intent to tear their partner down for their own sexual gratification.
They’re conscious enough to know their actions are toxic but don’t have the emotional maturity to work past their actions. They’re at the phase where they’re just aware and are like “I know I’m shitty but that’s just who I am. If they stick with me and the sex is good, it’s meant to be.”
I’m honestly getting twitter relationship hypotheticals with this one. Iykyk.
They’re also an edgelord. Less in an internet cockroach way and more in a witty- can be funny if done well- way, but they get pleasure from shocking people nonetheless. This energy can be directed toward you to piss you off and annoy you with the intent of getting in your pants later.
I’ve been guided to switch the conversation briefly: If this resonates and is someone you are dealing with. It is time to move on. This person gets gratification from hurting you and will not get past that high of tearing down a relationship and then having a messy recovery. They have their own issues to work through and cannot see how they are hurting you. There is no future with this person, they came into your life to teach you a lesson about your self-value. That cycle has run its course and it's time to move on.
To be honest, I’m not a fan of this person and don’t even want to list the explicit kinks that came out but I will just in case this message is for you but you’re not sure.
Random messages: Hot tub/pool sex, hair pulling, break down crying, interracial, milk, broken condom, “i fucking hate you”, “whore”, mirror, drunk sex, complaining, smack a bitch, twitter
P.S. You’re too sexy for the bullshit! There is bigger and greater out there, you just need to believe that for yourself!
This person will not get a mood board out of me.
✦ Pile Three ✦
Okay, so this person has some deep religious guilt. This is a male presenting person. I am being clear with their sex because it plays a role in this reading. They have some majorly repressed feminine energy. They may even be attracted to the same sex.
This is a fs reading, so they are likely bi, pansexual, or trans. Either way, their family is close-minded and is not supportive of them. They were forced to leave home so they could finally live their truth. They have lived their entire life fitting somebody else’s narrative. They were the hypermasculine bro type to “cover up” their femininity.
So, they have a kink for hyperfeminity. It’s almost to the point where they obsess over the caricature of girlhood. I see lots of pink, high heels, full-glam, all-day mall shopping, pinup curls, flashy jewelry, sleepovers, day spas, that scene in Scott Pilgrim where that girl is like “SHE’S PROBABLY LIKE 25!”, and everything else that gets associated with “girlhood” nowadays.
They fantasize about you in your receptive energy, being waited on and cared for hand and foot. They like to observe the way you move. Everything about you and your feminine aura is incredibly alluring to them. The way with each breath your breasts fall, the way your hips swat with each step, the cute way you match your accessories with your outfits. They notice everything about you.
You know those paintings of wealthy women lying on their sides and being fed grapes? That. They’re not in the serving role, they're the painter. Their kink is capturing you in those everyday moments where the world seems to be waiting on you like you’re the collective’s queen.
They see femininity in a higher light than the general population. They see women as automatically deserving of this type of care, they also want this care.
They have a secret hard-on for pregnant women and women with swollen breasts. They have a lactation kink. They fantasize about cumming in you over and over again. They see you as a Goddess, so they want to see you masturbate at church on an altar, like you're waiting to be worshipped.
A lot of their fantasies, they’re not even included in. It’s just you looking God-like and being worshipped by the world around you. This person may hate when you wear clothes. They act like the fabric is committing a sin by covering your body. They just want to capture your essence. Like an admirer and a student.
P.S. Dick game goes CRAZY. They watch a lot of women-focused porn to study what gets a woman off. Like Maddie in Euphoria, here is there to study.
Pretty In Pink
✦ Pile Four ✦
WE GOT A PLEASURE DOM IN THE BUILDING Y’ALL STAY CALM. As my mama would say, they love your dirty drawls!
You could do no wrong in this person’s eyes. They’re the golden retriever type. Head empty, leading with heart and IN LOVE>>>>>
You are the pot of gold and the end of the rainbow they’re chasing. They appreciate a good fling but they’ve never felt this before. The emotions you stir in them are unprecedented, this is puppy, sandbox love that most people lose touch with after life jades them.
This is raw love at its most unprocessed. I taste honey.
They have a kink for the power you have over them. It’s like you have a carrot on a stick and they’re the pig being led to a love den they can’t escape. And they’ll happily be the squealing pig in every lifetime they get with you. This is a soul yearning.
You will know this person because they will proactively pursue you and they will have no doubts in their mind about it. They are really attracted to your physical form, your curves. Even if you’re on the slimmer side, they like your structure and the dips in your spine. They’ll stare at you when you’re talking and zone out, thinking about how attractive they find you.
They’re not used to having to try to get someone to sleep with them. They have to put effort towards you and they like that. This person is downright thirsty and craves intimacy with you.
Their fantasies aren’t even dirty, they’re passionate. They want to put you in a mating press, with your knees pressed all the way up beside your ears. They want to penetrate (could be with a toy) deeply and touch that gooey part of you that makes you see stars.
They want to see an imprint of them in your lower belly. Any position where you’re in their arms is a go for them because they like having you. They want every moment to be just you and them away from the world. So very sweet and intimate. They also love marking you, expect lots of hickeys.
Ignore them from time to time too (healthily, these conditions should be discussed beforehand)! They see you as the ultimate prize, so if you delay their satisfaction, they’ll feel like they’re chasing again, which gets them off. They like to feel like they’re convincing you to sleep with them. You both are consenting, but they like the idea of you having better things to do and they’re trying to convince you to stay and party with them.
They are very action-oriented and love movement. Anything that involves an adventure together, they are down for.
PS. Surprise them with a bubble bath together, they’ll love that. And tease them while pulling their hair a bit!
Ode To My Darling Sun
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"Clothing tags, travel cards, hotel room key cards, parcel labels … a whole host of components in supply chains of everything from cars to clothes. What do they have in common? RFID tags.
Every RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tag contains a microchip and a tiny metal strip of an antenna. A cool 18bn of these are made – and disposed of – each year. And with demands for product traceability increasing, ironically in part because of concerns for the social and environmental health of the supply chain, that’s set to soar.
And guess where most of these tags end up? Yup, landfill – adding to the burgeoning volumes of e-waste polluting our soils, rivers and skies. It’s a sorry tale, but it’s one in which two young graduates of Imperial College London and Royal College of Art are putting a great big green twist. Under the name of PulpaTronics, Chloe So and Barna Soma Biro reckon they’ve hit on a beguilingly simple sounding solution: make the tags out of paper. No plastic, no chips, no metal strips. Just paper, pure and … simple … ? Well, not quite, as we shall see.
The apparent simplicity is achieved by some pretty cutting-edge technical innovation, aimed at stripping away both the metal antennae and the chips. If you can get rid of those, as Biro explains, you solve the e-waste problem at a stroke. But getting rid of things isn’t the typical approach to technical solutions, he adds. “I read a paper in Nature that set out how humans have a bias for solving problems through addition – by adding something new, rather than removing complexity, even if that’s the best approach.”
And adding stuff to a world already stuffed, as it were, can create more problems than it solves. “So that became one of the guiding principles of PulpaTronics”, he says: stripping things down “to the bare minimum, where they are still functional, but have as low an environmental impact as possible”.
...how did they achieve this magical simplification? The answer lies in lasers: these turn the paper into a conductive material, Biro explains, printing a pattern on the surface that can be ‘read’ by a scanner, rather like a QR code. It sounds like frontier technology, but it works, and PulpaTronics have patents pending to protect it.
The resulting tag comes in two forms: in one, there is still a microchip, so that it can be read by existing scanners of the sort common within retailers, for example. The more advanced version does away with the chip altogether. This will need a different kind of scanner, currently in development, which PulpaTronics envisages issuing licences for others to manufacture.
Crucially, the cost of both versions is significantly cheaper than existing RFID kit – making this a highly viable proposition. Then there are the carbon savings: up to 70% for the chipless version – so a no-brainer from a sustainability viewpoint too. All the same, industry interest was slow to start with but when PulpaTronics won a coveted Dezeen magazine award in late 2023, it snowballed, says So. Big brands such as UPS, DHL, Marks & Spencer and Decathlon came calling. “We were just bombarded.” Brands were fascinated by the innovation, she says, but even more by the price point, “because, like any business, they knew that green products can’t come with a premium”."
-via Positive.News, April 29, 2024
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Note: I know it's still in the very early stages, but this is such a relief to see in the context of the environmental and human rights catastrophes associated with lithium mining and mining for rare earth metals, and the way that EVs and other green infrastructure are massively increasing the demand for those materials.
I'll take a future with paper-based, more humane alternatives for sure! Fingers crossed this keeps developing and develops well (and quickly).
#I do really wish it could be read by regular scanners already though#that's what I thought at first#and that would've been fucking amazing#but this is still pretty cool#electronics#science and technology#green technology#ewaste#landfill#lithium#lithium mining#human rights#environment#climate action#climate hope#rfid#rfid technology#rfid tags#good news#hope
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The Window (5 of 7)
Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 // Ch 06--- AO3 Link
You couldn’t see anything. You knew you were in the backseat, but you didn’t even know what kind of car you were in. They’d stolen you from your bed. As the road rushed by you, jostling you around, you had no idea where you were headed. The two men on either side of you hadn’t said a word, but when you tried to peek, they reinforced your blindfold, keeping you in the dark.
“Alright, bonnie,” Soap’s voice was in your left ear, “Ready for your surprise?”
You turned to him, hoping he could see the glare through the cloth,
“Are we there yet? ‘Cause blindfolding a pregnant woman in a car while she has morning sickness is like a new level of cruelty.”
“Sorry, love,” Gaz took your hand and you felt his lips on your fingers, “Almost there.”
Price was in the driver’s seat, and you felt him pull the car to a long, braking stop.
Gaz took your hand, helping you out of the car, walking you up past the hood, one foot in front of the other.
“Can I look?”
“Alright, pretty girl. You can look,” John’s voice washed over you, and you took off your mask.
You were facing a modern-style home. It was the only house around, surrounded by trees, illuminated by bright sunshafts glittering through the leaves of the canopy.
“Bought it for you, love. Wha’d’ya think?” Simon’s comment barely registered.
When John had told you things would be different, he hadn’t really been clear. He’d promised to do everything he could to take care of you and the baby, and that he would somehow prove it to you. You had no idea that promise would include a whole damn house.
“Your name’s on the deed, and it’s paid in full. But,” John shifted his weight, treading lightly, “We were hopin’ you’d let us move in with you. We just… we don’t wanna miss a moment, love.”
“What?” Your voice sounded so small, “You… you bought me a house?”
“Aye, with a wee pool and everything! Come see it, bonnie,” Soap grabbed your hand and rushed you in.
The house was unfurnished except for the appliances, but there were boxes in every room. You opened one to find a bedframe, and one in the kitchen had pots and pans. Had they bought everything new? How did they get the money?
“John,” you found him as Soap was taking you around for the tour, “How did you afford this?”
He smiled,
“Four single men, all with over ten years of service… let’s just say we had some savings.”
“I can’t afford to pay you back,” you admitted.
“Don’t need you to. It’s yours. I told you, love,” he pet your cheek, kissing you chastely once, twice, until you relaxed into his touch, “We’re here to stay, but it’ll be on your terms.”
“I don’t know what to say,” you were in shock as you stood in the big, empty living room, gaping up at the high ceilings and black, wooden beams. It was a gorgeous home, and you were speechless.
“Do you like it, love?” Simon put his arms around your waist and held you, looking down into your face for your appraisal.
You nodded,
“I do. It’s perfect. Thank you for everything. I wasn’t —”
He bent down to kiss you, interrupting you, and he was anything but gentle. Something about seeing you in his home had Simon all worked up, and you were being subjected to its effects.
His hands lifted you onto the kitchen island with incredible ease, and you spread your legs to accommodate his huge frame as he settled himself against your hips. He wouldn’t stop kissing you, forcing his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your lips, and fondling your tender breasts through your thin tee shirt.
“You two are gonna start a fire you can’t put out,” Gaz chastised Ghost, sidling up to you and kissing your neck.
“Join in or fuck off, mate,” Simon’s voice was like a growl, snarling at his sergeant before returning his mouth to your body, sucking on your soft nipple through the fabric of your tee, making the cloth cling to you as he licked and nipped at your peak.
“Easy, Si. We’re gonna unload the bags, and we’ll be back. Get her all warmed up for us,” Gaz’s sinister chuckle hung in the air as he left you at his lieutenant’s mercy, of which there seemed to be very little.
Ghost was usually so careful with you, but today, in the echoing expanse of the kitchen he’d bought for you, he was messy and needy. You could feel his cock straining against his pants as he rubbed it against you. Wearing nothing more than a pair of bike shorts and a tee shirt, you were able to feel every touch, every warm inch of his dick through your thin clothing, and his repeated thrusting told you exactly how hard he was.
He whined as he kissed you, teasing his head against your covered hole, but sensing where the warm entrance was, prodding it as if he might break through. You comforted him, placing your hand on his cheek as he kissed you. It seemed to bring him back to earth, if just for a moment.
“You alright, Si?” You asked in a low whisper, watching over Ghost’s enormous shoulder as the other three men brought in bag after bag of supplies and belongings, preparing to move in. They kept stealing hungry glances over at you and your tall blond lover, not jealous per se but feeling ready to be included.
Simon nodded,
“Yeah, love. ‘M fine.”
He pulled back a bit to look down at your body. He lifted your tee shirt to stare at your belly. You weren’t showing yet, but he didn’t care. He placed an enormous, tattooed hand over your womb protectively, whispering,
“Can’t believe you’re havin’ my baby. Doesn’t seem real yet.”
“How do you know they’re yours?” You asked him gently, putting your hand over his and tracing comforting circles across his skin.
“Don’t know,” he kissed you again, “Don’t care.”
Simon pulled off your bike shorts, forcing you to lift your hips off the counter, and ripped them off of your feet in one quick swoop. Your shirt disappeared just as fast, and the cool air in the empty kitchen rushed across your body, making your flesh pebble from the shock. But, you melted as soon as you felt Simon’s thick fingers spread your pussy lips apart, reaching for your tight, wet hole. When he found your warmth, you both sighed into each other, relieved and yet ablaze.
His other hand was still pressed to your belly as if he was keeping you and your baby hidden from the world, holding you both in his palm possessively. The contrast was mesmerizing. His fingers pounded into you, sheathing themselves down to the knuckle, wet and sticky, while his other was gentle and soft, caressing you as sweetly as he could. You felt a strong, rushing orgasm build within you, and as soon as you began to clench around him, he took his fingers away, leaving you teetering on the edge with nothing to grab onto.
“Ungh! What… Si? Please,” you whined, looking up to him with wide glassy eyes.
His expression was serious, and he leaned in close to taunt you,
“Whose baby are you havin’?”
“I don’t know. We said we would —”
His fingers were back, pressing down cruelly into your walls, making it feel like his fat dick was prodding through your entrance,
“Whose…” His fingers sank into you, making a popping wet noise. “Fuckin’...” He pulled them out of you, painting your wetness on your lips, “Baby…” Back in. “Is…” Back out. “It?” Back in, and this time, a third finger joined them.
“Simon!” You cried out, but you were alone in the room. The others must have been outside dealing with the moving boxes.
“That’s right,” he brought your face up to his, tangling a fist into your hair, “Tell me it’s mine.”
“It’s too much, Si…” You were shocked by how stretched you felt, and your pussy was soaked, trying to accommodate its intruder, your muscles shaking from being spread apart.
“Whose —”
“Yours… fuck! Si, you’re gonna make me come!” You felt it break inside of you, bursting through like a firework, crackling through your belly and making you squirt on his hands… and your brand new kitchen tile.
“Oh, bloody hell. That’s a good girl.”
Just when you thought he would give you his cock, he began to slowly press his hand into you again, fucking you with his three wide fingers still inside of you, stretching you all the way down to his knuckles.
“Si?” You whimpered, confused, starving for the comforting feeling of his heavy rod.
“Wha’ is it, love?” He didn’t even look up at you. He was transfixed, focused on your swollen hole.
“Fuck me… please?” You reached out for him, grasping at his wide forearm, trying to coax him to take the next step.
In an almost dismissive way, he caught Price before he walked back outside and nodded at him,
“Oy, mate. Hold her for me, yeah?”
To your shock, John walked over, studied you for a second as you writhed in your predicament, and stood on the other side of the island countertop, behind your head. He chuckled,
“What have you gotten yourself into, pretty girl?”
The captain took both of your arms and locked them in his, sticking them up behind your head, watching your tits hang freely, bouncing up and down as Ghost pounded his hand into your sopping pussy.
You gritted your teeth, feeling your body respond to your capture, ready and eager to come again so soon after its last onslaught.
“I can’t… I’m…”
“Gonna come again,” Simon grinned, “Yeah, I can feel it. Needy thing, innit she?”
“She is,” John agreed, pinning your arms just a little tighter, ready for you to try and wriggle away.
You were breathing heavy, and your muscles kept tightening up on you, freezing you in place as you tried to squirm free. If only you could pull your arms around you, maybe you could hold off the brutal fire building in your chest, burning down your ribs and spinning like a spiral in that impossibly tight coil that he was working with his fingers.
It was when he bent to suck on your clit that you lost it. You felt the knot that was tangled up inside of you slip, the long rope sliding against its own bite, loose and unwieldy, letting you freefall through the sparkling, black abyss of your impossibly deep pleasure.
“That’s what I wanna see, love,” your blond beast growled up at you, showing you his white fangs, “Give me that come. Give it to me! Yes! Fuck!”
You heard the wet noises that were coming from you, not understanding where they were coming from or how, but also not caring one bit. All you cared about was riding the relentless wave of pleasure. The more he fucked you on his hand, the more you rolled through the tumbling ebb and flow of your bliss.
Hot tears cut across your temples, and it was John’s soft mouth that kissed them away, shushing you,
“It’s okay, love. Be good for Simon, yeah? Be our good girl. You can do that, right?”
You nodded weakly, leaning your cheek into his scruffy kisses, letting him nuzzle you, comforting you as Ghost pulled you apart.
John used his warm hands to pet your breasts, plucking gently at your nipples, lingering on their silky skin,
“Such a pretty little thing, lettin’ Si use that pussy. You look bloody beautiful like this, love.”
His praise made you feel drunk. Now, all you wanted was to be good for them. You wanted more of that lovesick approval. What more could you give them? How could you appease the gods of your pleasure?
You canted your hips, humping Simon’s hand, letting him reach deeper and deeper on each thrust, rocking your body against the hard countertop.
Ghost made a painful groan inside his throat, obviously pleased with your performance, and he leaned forward to suck on your breasts, biting and licking more than he was kissing, but it was enough to make you keen in high-pitched whines, catching Soap and Gaz’s attention in the other room.
You didn’t halt your shameless undulation for their benefit. You were far beyond the point of shame. You were only focused on coming again and again and again — as many times as your commander needed you to — built to serve him. Them…
Gaz’s bright smile widened as he came up beside Ghost,
“My, my, my. Makin’ quite a mess, hm, babes?”
“A right gorgeous mess,” Soap added, licking his lips, obviously eager to taste the honey Simon had harvested from you.
Now that he had his team with him, Simon pulled you off the counter top and put your feet on the ground. He positioned you so that he could fuck you from behind, but he was too tall. So, he simply held you up, easily supporting your weight, his heavy arm underneath your hips. Price, Gaz, and Soap all stood in front of you, their belt buckles in your line of sight, and watched as Ghost fed his solid cock into your wet hole. The captain grabbed you by the hair, forcing your chin up, and with each thrust from Simon, your mouth crashed right into Price’s zipper.
“Mm,” he sighed, “Perfect height, innit?”
With his free hand, he unbuckled the belt, pulled down his zipper, and let the button free from his pants. Then, you were face to face with his fat dick, as hard as steel and ready to be buried in your throat.
You opened your mouth, trying to look up at your captain, but it was no use, you couldn’t see him, all you could see was the head of his cock being pressed into your lips, inch after inch of him disappearing into your mouth, making you gag.
As Simon thrust forward, Price pulled out, and then the reverse. As you felt your pussy empty from its delightful stretch, your throat was invaded by Price’s uncut, drooling monster. You were always full, no matter what, and your brain had no idea how to prioritize your efforts. So, for the most part, you were helpless, hanging limp between the two huge men, being used by them in a cyclic, tantric rhythm, ceaselessly and towards a blinding, white-hot joy.
Suddenly, you felt two mouths on your hanging breasts, suckling from each nipple as if you would feed them, laving at your skin relentlessly. You knew it was Gaz and Soap from the feeling of their kisses, but you couldn’t see them, so every movement was a surprise. Someone’s hand began to play in your folds, discovering the hard round body of your clit and teasing it as SImon slammed himself into you.
You came, but it was silent. Price’s cock wouldn’t let any noise escape, but he could feel you screaming. He took a step forward, fully sheathed inside of you now, cutting off your air, making you choke roughly. Your whole body clenched down before you told it to relax, and the sound that came from Simon was a singular delight. It seemed like he was in some kind of heaven.
“Oh, fuckin’ hell. Tha’s damn good,” Ghost hissed, “Do it again, Cap.”
Price obliged, choking you down on his cock, making your jaw stretch to its limit, burying your nose in his soft curls. You lapped at his base with your tongue, participating in the small way that you could, balancing yourself on his hips.
“Ungh!” Price groaned, emptying his load into you.
Simon was coming too, and you could feel the heat from both of them pooling inside of you.
You weren’t sure whose arms you were in, but someone held you tightly, helping you stand on shaking legs, petting your face, telling you not to swallow.
“Hm?” You tried to catch your bearings, and Soap held your face in his hands, his thumbs trying to pull your mouth open.
“C’mon, bonnie. Open up. Show me his come, yeah? Lemme taste it.”
You were out of your mind, but you were pliant and fully drowning in your subspace, eager to obey. You opened your mouth to him, feeling him lick Price’s come out of you, sucking it off of your tongue. Then, he dropped to his knees, licking it back into your cunt, mixing it with Simon’s, eating you out and filling you up at the same time.
Gaz was still on his knees as well, and you could feel his huge hands pull your ass cheeks apart, the tip of his strong tongue prodding at your asshole, trying to squeeze itself through the tight muscle.
He found a way in, and you were being eaten from both sides, held upright by Soap’s strong arms. You held onto his mohawk for help, trying to steady yourself. Their mouths were so warm, and yet you shivered, the pleasure overwhelming you.
A big thumb came and wiped more tears from your cheek,
“Shh, pretty girl. You can take it, yeah?”
It was John. He was comforting you, his softening cock still hanging heavy and low outside of his pants, shining from your mouth. He coached you,
“Breathe for me. Gonna come for them, aren’t you? Yeah, tha’s a good girl. Just let it happen. Shh, shh. Pretty little thing…”
“Ahhhngh!” You screamed from deep within your chest, and you knew you had squirted again, all over Soap’s face. You felt it happen. Now that Simon had primed you for it, you nearly had control, but not quite. It was like a button that was too high to press.
“Fuck, yes, lass. You taste so fuckin’ sweet. Holy shite,” Johnny came up off the ground and held you up so that your legs were straddling him. It didn’t take much for him to stuff himself into your pussy after Simon’s work, and yet he filled you in an entirely different way. At the same time, you felt Gaz behind you, his fingers playing in your asshole, and then, his soft cockhead.
It took Gaz much longer to get fully settled, but as Johnny fucked his dick up into you, he found a way. You felt Gaz’s wide palm wrap itself around your throat from behind, not to choke you but to hold you upright, keeping you straight even though everything in you wanted to collapse.
“That’s it, babes. This tight little arse belongs to me, yeah? Tell us who you fuckin’ belong to.”
“You… ungh, I’m… ahhh!” You tried to speak, but it was so much easier to whimper.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” John was back, fondling your breasts as his men fucked you in both of your holes, “You can do far better than that.”
You met his eyes, and behind the icy blue, there roared a blazing fire. Simon had come to join you on the other side of Johnny, and the same flames lay within him as well.
“I’m yours,” you promised all four of them at once, “This baby is yours,” you heard them collectively groan at varying levels of excitement and possession, “All yours. Always.”
“Good girl,” Simon praised you before Price could, parting your lips with his fingers, the same ones he had tortured you with, and stuck them in your mouth, “Now, suck.”
You did, keeping your eyes on him as you licked your own come off of his skin, feeling Price’s beard brush against your chest, latching onto the nipple he loved to abuse, biting at it to make it stiffen.
“Mmff-fuck,” the captain mumbled as he sucked on your skin, “I can’t wait for your milk to come in.”
“Dinnae even start. Gonnae make me come just thinkin’ about it, Cap’n,” Johnny agreed, bending his neck to suck from your other breast, imagining drinking from you.
Simon pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, and because of Price’s earlier invasion, you took him easily, proud of yourself for not gagging, using your mouth and tongue to take Ghost’s hand as far as he wanted it to go. You could see what your performance was doing to him. His chest was rising and falling, breathing hard from the excitement.
Gaz’s cock was now pounding into your ass with as much power as you could take, and as he increased his speed, you started to feel yourself come in a new way. The sparks were still there, but they were coming from somewhere dark and mysterious, flowing over you softly, like frothy waves of foam, ethereal and light.
You reached back and grabbed his neck at the nape, digging your nails into his flesh, spurring him on.
“Ungh, goddamnit,” he cried out, kissing your throat that he still held in his hand, biting you none too gently.
“Kyle… please, I need… I need you,” you pulled your mouth away from Ghost and whispered to him, and with whatever strength he had left, he fucked his long shaft into your ass, feeling your beating pulse deep within your body.
His mouth was right on your ear, and he whispered,
“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming… I’m — ahngh!”
“Oh, fuck!” Soap lay his forehead on your other shoulder, and began to rut into you without any mercy, the idea of Gaz’s throbbing cock filling you up too much for him to bear.
They held you between them, frozen in time, letting their cocks erupt inside of your warm belly, filling you with their load. As they pulled away, you heard the wet noise of their spend hitting the tile, pouring out of you in a lurid stream. You hissed from the empty feeling you were left with, and the only thing you could hold onto was the memory of the feeling.
“You alright, love?” John asked you, petting your cheek.
“It’s alright, I’ve got her. You lot can finish settin’ up. C’mon, love,” Ghost told them, swinging your limp body up into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom.
Inside the large bathroom, you saw that they had packed all of your toiletry effects, and they were strewn about, tossed in bags, waiting to be organized. Simon sat you down on the edge of the tub and began to fill it, checking the temperature with his hand before helping you sit inside.
The water was warm as it began to pool around you, and you had the pleasure of watching Ghost undress, preparing to join you. He was a tall man, but the tub was large, and you were eager to feel his body against yours again.
In the bright light of the bathroom, his scars were on full display. They didn’t bother you, but they made you feel very protective. As if you had a time machine and could go back and slaughter the bastards who had made them. He caught you staring and teased you for it,
“You lookin’ for round two already, missus?”
You blushed, looking away shyly.
“Nuh uh,” he chided, sinking into the tub behind you, “Where’s my nasty little slag who squirted for me in my kitchen, hm?”
“Si…” You played coy, snuggling back against him in the water, feeling his flesh slip against yours, just as warm. His furry belly jerked from his silent laughter against your back, and he used his huge hands to rub soap down your arms as he began to clean you.
“Pretend all you want, love. I know the truth. You love being our filthy girl, innit that right?”
“You got me,” you sighed, letting him clean your body, feeling his hands rub you up and down, lingering on your breasts a little too long. He pulled at your nipples, soft at first and then cruelly, until you made a noise of protest.
He teased you again, rubbing them in slow, agonizing circles,
“You gonna let me have a taste, hm?”
“Huh?” You looked up at him over your shoulder, not understanding what he wanted at first.
“When your milk comes in,” he used both hands to squeeze your tits, making them rise out of the water, pressing them up until they looked huge on your chest, “Bet they’re gonna be so full, so big. I read that book Johnny bought. Says your nipples might get darker. I’m ready to see that.”
“Are you sure? You might not like the way I look,” you said, testing his desire.
“Bollocks. Dark nipples, huge tits, drippin’ milk, big swollen belly with my fuckin’ baby in it? You’re proper mad if you think that’s not what I want. Fuck, it’s all any of us can think about.”
“What else do you think about?” You asked dreamily, closing your eyes and letting him massage the soap into your breasts, squeezing them in a steady, slow pattern, comforting himself with their heavy softness.
“Think about hearin’ their laugh. About what color eyes they’ll have. Think about comin’ home to you and the lads. Christmas morning. All the wrapping paper torn up all over the floor. Think about crawlin’ into bed with you every damn night. Thinkin’ about holding them for the first time. About how much I love you.”
You opened your eyes then, looking up at him to see the truth, and when you saw how earnest he was, no longer hiding behind his snarky jokes, something in you opened. A door. Some new beginning.
“I love you, too, Si.”
Idk how many more of these chapters I've got in me. Just submitting to the process, I guess. Do y'all still even want to read these? Who knows.
While you wait for the next installment, please consider checking out my other work. Thank you!
#call of duty#fanfiction#mw2 fanfic#captain price x you#simon riley x you#johnny mactavish x you#kyle garrick x you#tf 141 x reader#task force 141#tf 141#cod 141#task force 141 x reader#poly 141#141 x reader#tf141#poly tf141#x female reader#the window by the californicationist
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pierre gasly x figure skater reader or lance stroll is an idea i havee
skate around my heart | LS18
pairing: lance stroll x fem!figure skater!reader
summary: when lances dad brings him to a figure skating practice, lance couldn’t help falling for one the skaters his dad sponsors.
type: smau (with some writing)
faceclaim: none, pictures from pinterest
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
“why are we at a ice rink?” Lance asks his dad as they pull up to a huge arena for ice sports.
“we’re here to support y/n, i’m one of her sponsors and she’s training for the Olympics” Lawrence replies as he parks the car.
“i didn’t know you sponsored figure skaters”.
“trying something new son”.
lance stroll posted a story
caption: i see why my dad invests in ice skating now
replies:
username: welcome to the world of figure skating!
username: who is your dad sponsoring?!
yourusername: it was nice seeing you and your dad!
lancestroll: no thank you! you are very talented!
[instagram] yourusername
liked by lancestroll, yourbff, and 638,826 others
yourusername | has been a wonderful training season this year! cannot wait to start the Olympics this weekend!!
username: ugh you’re so pretty!!
username: so talented!! can’t wait to see you bring home gold!! 🙌🙌
lancestroll: let’s gooooo!!!
yourbff: gonna bring back winnings for CANADA!!! 
you posted a story
caption: 9:35am, first event of the day in less than an hour
replies:
username: GOOD LUCK!!!
lancestroll: i’m pulling up now!
yourusername: can’t wait to see you!! 🥺
[instagram] yourusername
liked by lancestroll, yourbff, and 937,629 others
tagged | @/lancestroll
yourusername | great weekend!! won gold and spent time with my number one fan 🫶🏻🫶🏻
lancestroll: YOU DID GREAT DEAR🥺
yourbff: NUMBER ONE FAN?!?
yourusername: sorry!! 🫣🫣
username: y/n and lance?!
username: wait that’s kinda cute
[instagram] lancestroll
liked by yourusername, fernandoalonso and 739,794 others
tagged | @yourusername
lancestroll | still cannot stake to save my life but y/n is teaching me 🫶🏻
yourusername: you’re getting better baby!!
lancestroll: don’t lie to me 🥲
yourusername: fine, you suck
username: the first pic?!?
username: lance is so sweet!!
username: a true gentleman
username: this couple is so cute
a/n: very short since i dont know much about figure skating and ive been busy with work 🫣
#f1 smau#f1 instagram au#f1 social media au#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 smau#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula one#lance stroll#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll x you#lance stroll x y/n#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1
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Fast Car
Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Summary: The three times that Sam watched Dean and Y/N sing along to one of their favorite country songs and the one time he didn't.
TW: Pre-established relationship, fluff, dancing, kissing, marriage and children.
Sam sat at a small table in the corner of the crowded country bar as he looked through news stories on his laptop. They had just finished a case in Oklahoma and Sam had the responsibility looking for their next hunt.
He looked up from his screen, eyes quickly finding his brother across the bar. Dean's hands were resting on his girlfriend's hips, holding her close as they sang along to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.
"You got a fast car
I got a plan to get us out of here
I been working at the convenience store
Managed to save just a little bit of money
Won't have to drive too far
Just 'cross the border and into the city
You and I can both get jobs
And finally see what it means to be living."
Dean pulled away slightly, taking her hand and spinning her around with a wide smile. She laughed, leaning into him as he pulled her back in. Y/N had always loved country music and she had been slowly expanding Dean's musical inventory to include her favorite songs.
Fast Car had quickly become their song and they couldn't go on a road trip without playing it at least once. Sam couldn't bring himself to be annoyed because of how happy it made his brother.
How happy Y/N made his brother.
They were perfect together and there would always be a part of Sam that hoped to find a love like that again after he had lost Jess.
Dean's hands slid from her waist into the back pocket of her jeans as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
There was something almost sad about the song, it was something that he and Dean would probably never be able to experience.
A simple life.
Settling down and starting a family.
And Dean deserved it more than anyone in the world.
...
The impala sped down the highway, the music was blasting and the windows were rolled down. Sam sat in the backseat, staring out at the vast field that ran alongside the highway.
The summer air was hot and the roads were empty as they drove back to the bunker after a successful hunt.
Y/N was in the front seat, body turned towards Dean as they sung along to the song.
"So I remember we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged
I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone."
Dean looked over at her, watching the wind blow her hair around as he drove. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her over to his side before his eyes returned the road ahead of them.
Sam watched them for a moment, smiling to himself as Dean drummed his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.
Y/N turned her head, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek. He smiled, thumb stroking across the material of her t-shirt fondly.
She rested her head down on his shoulder, hand resting on his knee as she listened to him sing along to the music.
...
Sam made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen after his run, glancing at his watch with a frown as he paused in the doorway.
Music was blaring from Y/N's speaker as her and Dean moved around the kitchen making breakfast. Y/N chopped up strawberries on a cutting board while Dean flipped a pancake in a pan with bacon crackling away on another burner.
Dean suddenly turned towards his girlfriend, using the spatula as a microphone as he sung to her.
"You got a fast car
We go cruising to entertain ourselves
You still ain't got a job
And I work in a market as a checkout girl
I know things will get better
You'll find work and I'll get promoted
We'll move out of the shelter
Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs."
Y/N smiled widely, abandoning the knife on the cutting board before singing the next line into the spatula. Dean reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around before pulling her back against his chest.
Y/N laughed, hand resting on his forearm as they swayed together. Dean spun her back around before releasing her with a wink.
He turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake before sliding over to his girlfriend and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. His hands found her hips before pulling her away from her cutting board and into his arms. Dean spun her around in his hold, taking her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist before guiding them in a few practiced steps. He held her close to himself, singing along loudly before pulling away and spinning her around.
Dean pulled her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple before sweeping her back into their dance.
They glided around the room, he spun her a few more times before wrapping both of his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her's in a gentle kiss.
Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair before they reluctantly broke apart and returned to their tasks.
Their relationship almost seemed effortless to Sam.
It was almost like everything else faded away when they were together. It was the purest form of love that anyone could hope to find in this messed up world.
...
Dean turned off the television, tossing the remote aside with a sigh, "Nothin' on, buddy," He muttered, looking down at the Terrier mix who blinked up at him from the floor. Dean grabbed his phone from the coffee table, clicking the power button and feeling relieved when he didn't see any notifications on his screen.
Sam was supposed to come over for dinner to see some of the renovations that Dean had done on the new house. Dean still couldn't believe how many changes had occurred in the last few years.
Dean had made the decision to leave hunting behind and finally made a life for himself. Sam was finishing up a quick case a few states over before going into his own version of hunting retirement. They had both given so much of their lives to hunting and now it was time to live for themselves.
Dean looked over at the bookshelf, his eyes finding the stereo sitting between the books. Dean stood up, making his way over and turning on the power. He flipped through the channels, quickly turning up the volume when he heard the familiar tune start.
"No way," He muttered.
"So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk
City lights lay out before us
And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged
I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone
You got a fast car
Is it fast enough so you can fly away?
You gotta make a decision
Leave tonight or live and die this way."
He straightened up with a smile, "Baby, c'mere for a minute," Dean called. Y/N made her way into the living room of their home with their daughter held against her side.
"Is that-?" "Yeah... I thought that maybe my two favorite girls would wanna dance," He said.
"Of course," Y/N smiled.
Dean carefully took their daughter from her arms, cradling her in the crook of his arm before holding out his hand.
Y/N rested her hand in his, gold wedding band catching the soft afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.
She wrapped her arm around him, smiling down at their daughter as he guided them around the living room. Dean carefully spun his wife before drawing her back in, singing down to their daughter as they swayed together.
This was the life he had always wanted and now he had it.
His beautiful wife, his baby girl, his brother, a house and the dog.
Dean never would have thought this kind of life would be possible for him and now he couldn't dream of living any other way.
He had everything he could possibly want and he was finally happy.
#sam and dean#dean winchester#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#sam winchester#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester imagine#supernatural imagine#supernatural#dean winchester x female!reader
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A random assortment of Kinley hcs
They go on picnic dates a lot. Buck loves packing up a basket or a cooler with cold cut sandwiches, fruit, their favorite snacks, etc. He'll grab a blanket for the beach or the park and kidnaps his boyfriend after work. He loves spoiling Tommy with romantic moments like these as often as they can when their hours match up.
Drive-in dates!!!! Bucktommy at the drive-in sit in the back of Tommy's pickup truck (pretend he has one for the sake of this hc, I dont remember if they ever confirmed his car in canon) with the softest blankets, pillows, a popcorn bucket to share, and all the cuddles.
Buck will send Tommy random bursts of texts throughout the day. Research spirals, things that happen on calls, things that the 118 get up to. Tommy thinks the information is always interesting, and he loves that Evan feels comfortable to ramble on like this. He's even been able to use an Evan Fact to save a patient's life a couple of times.
Tommy has an open invintation to 118 family dinners at the station, and eventually gets invited to the Nash-Grant barbecues and family nights at Athena and Bobby's house.
While Tommy knows how to cook he doesn't like doing it because he was forced to learn how to take care of himself early on with his parents' divorce and only does it for the sake of not dying of starvation. When Buck finds out he claims he owes Tommy cooking lessons in exchange for the helicopter lessons with the hope he can help create new, happy, kitchen memories for Tommy.
It takes Tommy at least 1 1/2 months to start calling Bobby "Bobby" instead of Captain Nash.
#evan buckley#tommy kinard#bucktommy#911 show#911 abc#kinley#headcanons#bonus: they fuck in the back row at the drive-in
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HOLY CURSE ♱ CHAPTER ONE
DAY ONE
January 1st, 2019, Sunday.
22:17
The blue trim on the walls is quite irking for you as your eyes scan every bit of the space in front of you. The floor plan of the store was well thought and executed — there were two separate doors for entrance and exit, and all the aisles were situated neatly apart. The doors were automated with sensors; upon a customer's arrival the entrance door would produce a low mechanical ding. To the side of the same door, was a stand of newspapers and magazines — right in front of which located the cash register with an uncomfortable chair for you.
"Thank you, visit again!" You feign your cordiality whilst handing the customer their grocery bag. You bow slightly at the old woman and sigh in relief watching her walk out to her parked car in the lot.
You sit yourself on the chair, leaning back, your eyes drifting away to the far end, where the cold storage aisle was. One of the tube lights there flickered every five minutes, irking you. Though, you couldn't care less about it. It was your first day at work. Mr. Haruki hired you almost immediately without any interview. He even requested you to start at the earliest of your convenience; since Mr. Haruki was old and forgetful, he could longer manage the night shift by himself. Which would explain why he started hiring the young crowd from university for past three months, but all of which resigned almost after a month of working. He even conveyed his concerns about you leaving the job as much like the few ones who worked before, but you reassured the old man that you won't be leaving anytime soon.
Now looking back on the empty promise you made to Mr. Haruki, you regret having to say it. Of course, you were not going to be here forever, you were going to keep the job for as long as it took for you to save up enough money for your dream. The one dream you dreamt on the new year with your boyfriend. You want to leave this town behind and move in with your boyfriend; you had thought of renting an apartment and living on in the city next door. Wooyoung and Mitski had the same plan outlined since, and so your group made it their aim to get out of this town.
You stare at the flickering light, as it annoys you even more so now. You huff in ire and stomp on your feet to get out of the chair. The sound of your rushed footsteps clatter against the floor, resounding around the vacant store, while your eyes stay fixed on the light. Standing under it, you croon your neck up to examine it. You stared and studied it as if you could fix it yourself. You sigh yet again, trailing your gaze down to find a reflection of man staring at you one of the glass doors of the refrigerator.
"Oh fuck," you curse under her breath, turning around to meet with the man you just saw. He wore a long trench coat, or maybe he was just as tall; he also had a muffler around his neck, secured and warm.
He stood by the cash register, seemingly lost staring at you. You don’t think much of it, and march back to your designated place. Anxiously, you tug on your name tag, which remained pinned to your chest, while your other hand straightens the end of the apron clad over your clothes. As surprising it was, the store didn't have a set uniform for the employees. The dingy coloured blue apron was a must, however.
"How may I help you?" You fake a smile, stepping behind the register.
The man's lips curve slightly, "oh, do you happen to have restocked on dried berries? I came in last week and couldn’t find them.”
"Oh right. We did. You’ll find them in the aisle six, right down there." You point to the middle somewhere, to which his smile gets deeper and he excuses himself to disappear around there.
You release a breath. You were relieved somehow. Well, in the point of that, you knew what kind of customers would come to the store at night. It were mostly the late night runs ins in the store; seemingly for ramen, or something that people liked to label as their comfort food. You also knew there would be drunks making their way to the store, however you weren’t worried much about it. Mr. Haruki had installed numerous cameras around the building.
"It's cold out there, isn't it?" the same man's voice breaks your trance.
"It is." You agree, looking down at the stuff he kept on the counter.
Some dried berries, and a box of chocolate. He has a sweet tooth. Who were you to judge him, anyway. You ring up the items and prepare a polythene bag for the same.
"Card or cash?" you ask as you tie a knot to the bag.
"Card, please." He hands you his card.
You make the payment and hand him his receipt for the purchased items, murmuring a soft thank you.
"Did Keiko leave her job?" his question catches you off guard. He grabs the bag and stares down at you for a moment.
"I believe so," you reply, looking away.
"Ah, there's never a familiar face around here." He adds, "you'll find a new face every month. I’m tired of befriending them only to have them leave." Maybe it was supposed to be a joke, but you don’t seem to take it as one. "I'm Seonghwa, you might see a lot more of me from now on."
"I'm..." you trail, pointing at your name tag. "You already know me. And I look forward to seeing you."
Seonghwa, with his coarse voice, mumbles a dainty thank you before leaving out the doors. Your lips curl up slightly watching the taller man make his way to his car. The car zooms out the parking lot with a loud roar of engine resonating behind. You’re in awes at the man; Seonghwa, he was insanely good looking, sporting his pink dyed hair and a black choker around his neck. You had a newfound admiration for the job. If you were going to meet such cute guys, then maybe the job wasn't so bad after all.
Time drags on slow while you text your boyfriend. He's talking to you about the cat he rescued from a tree in the evening today and brought her home. You were a bit furious, but after comforting series of text from San, you had composed yourself to make a rational decision. Well, with the back and forth of spite, you both decided to keep the car. San even named the cat; ‘Luna’ was her name.
San:
*attached image*
meet Luna
isn’t she cute?
Deiji:
she's super cute...
reminds me of certain someone
San:
im flattered
haha
how's work?
met any pervert yet?
Deiji:
not really
but a sweet guy did stop by
San:
you know you’re dating me, right?
Deiji:
i love you too
see ya sannie
You hated cutting your conversation short, but you placed your phone down when you heard the similar mechanical ding reverberating around. A shiver runs down your spine, and your breath hitches as you watch a man clad in all black make his way in. He doesn't look at you, or even acknowledge your presence. His feet guide him straight to the aisle holding housing materials. You slump back into the chair, trying to burn the picture of the man from your mind. He looked ethereal, for someone who’s dressed in black. There was something about his eyes, suffocating you somehow, almost gagging you out by slithering his gaze around your throat; there was something about his tall stature that you couldn't figure out yet. There was something about the man you couldn't resist. It was the temptation of dwelling into his darkness, the shadows his leaves behind him as he walks.
As you try to get your head out of it, the man now stands in front of you with two industrial size bottles of bleach on the counter. His eyes are dark as they stare at you; most of his face remains covered under a black mask, a curse for you as you wouldn't have mind taking a peek at his entire face. The collar of the shirt adores the name of the brand; Fendi, a luxury brand. He paired the black shirt with black trousers and overlayed it with a black leather coat. The bleached tips of his hair sift tidy on his forehead, parted in the middle. You notice the man's complexion, he was pale, as pale as snow.
"That would be 40000 won." You inform, ringing up the items.
"I’ll be paying by cash." His deep voice lingers in your ears, as he proceeds to slide you a stack of bills. "It's the exact amount. Don't mind counting them." he deadpans, grabbing both the bottles in either of his hands and heading out.
You clutch onto the receipt of his purchase, wide eyed and confused at the man who just left. He had an eerie aura, but the worst...
He reeked of blood.
PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | MASTERLIST
#ateez#ateez fanfic#jeong yunho#ateez yunho#atz#ateez x reader#jeong yunho x reader#jeong yunho x you
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car mirror selfies || james potter
pairing: james potter x bestfriend's sister!reader
826 words, reader is sirius' little sister, secret relationship at the start, accidental announcement?????, suggestive joke towards the end.
a/n: THIS CAME TO ME WHEN I SAW A TWEET BUT I LOST THE TWEET (also, not proofread pls be nice)
"When do you think we should tell them?"
You're with James. You're right next to him but you're also with him romantically.
It just sort of happened. One of those moments where you're hanging out and he just leans in and you also lean in and suddenly you're kissing. It's been very slow and sweet between the both of you since then.
As much as your now boyfriend would love to scream from the top of the hills about you, there's just one tiny problem.
"You want me, your girlfriend, to tell your best friend, my brother, that we are dating?"
"Well, Remus too-"
"Still! You see my point."
James lets out an exasperated sigh and shrugs. "We'll have to tell him eventually."
You bite the inside of your cheek. "I feel like at this point I rather him find out accidentally."
You should probably watch what you wish for.
It's Saturday afternoon, before your bi-weekly hangouts with your brother and his friends. Sirius had told you and James to meet at his car which was parked in the mall car park while he and Remus ran errands.
Five minutes pass by since the both of you arrive, and the other two are nowhere to be seen. It's not likely for them to be late, but you'd still let it slide.
"I wonder what's taking them so long..." you say. You decide to take out your lip gloss and reapply it, using the car's window as a mirror.
James smiles at you. He loves the way you concentrate and slowly apply it onto your lips and smack them together when you're done. He knows you'd kiss him on the cheek later and he'll keep the gloss stain on for as long as he could.
"Come here, babe," he says, using his arm to wrap around your neck as he pulls you closer to him. He pulls out his phone and aims the camera at the window. He starts to snap a photo.
"Cute," you say, smiling.
The both do a few poses. Smiles, sticking out tongues. You pucker your lips to pose, and James presses a kiss to his cheek and takes a photo of that, and you kiss his cheek back.
Just then, the car window slowly winds down.
"What the hell are you two doing?" Sirius asks, his brows furrowed and mouth agape.
You've never wanted to bury yourself underground so badly in your life until this moment.
The three of you are in silence for what felt like forever. James breaks it first.
"We were... taking selfies?" Wow. James, the love of your life, cannot even save his own life.
Sirius gets straight to the point. "How long has this been going on?" he asks.
You decide to speak this time. "Like... three weeks ago?"
He raises his brows, he looks curious now. "Before or after March 31st?"
"Before."
Sirius gasps, so loud that you and James flinch. He claps his hands, the sound echoing through the underground car park. "Remus owes me so much money!" he exclaims.
What?
"You bet on us?" you almost yell, once you realise what he said.
Sirius laughs. "On New Year's, Remus said he thought you two would get together by the end of the year. I knew better, you'd have it solved by March." He shrugs.
You scoff, "I can't believe this."
"Oh come on, I believed in you! You finally did something!"
James cuts in. "I made the first move," he announces confidently.
Sirius turns to look at him, his face now deadpan. "You're my best mate, James. But if you hurt my sister don't think I won't hunt you down."
James backs up suddenly, losing all said confidence. He mumbles an 'okay'.
You look at your brother. "You're not mad?"
"Why should I be? If anything, I rather have you be with James than some random git." The look on your face doesn't change much. He sighs. "You know what? Fine, I'm happy for both of you and I only want the best for you, blah blah blah. Are you happy now? Get in the car, and hold hands or whatever, I'm fine with it."
You and James look at each other. He smiles at you and shrugs, opening the door for you to enter. He gets in with you and doesn't hesitate to link his arm with yours, intertwining your fingers together. He squeezes your hand, and you know it's for reassurance.
Sirius happily sighs from the driver's seat, watching the two of you from the interior mirror. "Ah, young love," he says, crossing his arms.
"Please shut up, you're just a year older than me," you say. "I still can't believe you bet on us like that."
"Be happy for me! I'm now a whole one grand richer."
"You bet one thousand quid?!"
"Yes. But honestly? Remus can just repay me with really good he-"
You kick the back of his seat.
a/n: i know it's not teacher and james but!!!! don't worry babes have this in the mean time, may this be the start of my motivation coming back. thank you guys! <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated
#marauders x reader#marauders imagine#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter imagine#zee writes
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The trains roll along the tracks behind Michelle’s house in succession, one after another, iron wheels on iron tracks. They usually can’t be heard inside the house, but in the garden the sound of them mingles with the rustling of new leaves in the trees, the faint buzz of midges congregating beneath the canopies and catching the light just so, little glowing specs that almost remind me of fireflies.
It’s a day wasted indoors, that’s what Debra said before hauling a basket load of damp washing out onto the lawn, and that’s where she is now, pegging up bed linens as she keeps one paranoid eye upon the barbeque.
Michelle is cooking, prodding and turning the chicken skewers a bit too soon, but it doesn’t matter, because Debra insisted she would take them inside and put them in the oven afterwards anyway. She's got this fear that we’ll all go home with salmonella poisoning and waste precious exam study time being violently ill.
Jen is nervous. The barbeque was her idea, a way for her to get closer to the girl she wants to ask to the debs without it seeming obvious about her intentions, so she’s hauled Michelle and I along to sit in and make conversation under the strict orders that if things go well then we should make an excuse and then conveniently disappear.
I don’t know Hazel well from school, we were never in any classes together but I know vaguely that she’s the girl with that lanky skeleton man pattern all over her school bag. She is tiny with hair the colour of straw and eyes, big wide and pale blue, an intense, unblinking gaze about them as though she knows how and when you will die.
When she appears in the garden twenty minutes late, smiling serenely with a kitten in her hand, we all pause.
“Hello,” I say. To her or the kitten I’m not completely sure.
“Hi, am I late?”
“No, not at all, um!” Jen gets up from the patio table and rushes to give her a side hug, being careful not to squash the kitten in the process. She scratches its tiny head with her fingernail and it purrs. “Who is this?”
“Goose,” Hazel explains, “I found him under a car in the housing estate last week and I’ve been nursing him back to health. He was so hungry, gosh.”
“He’s cute,” Jen pets him again and he strokes his downy grey fur against her fingers, his eyes closed in bliss, causing an explosion of protective adoration inside me for this little creature. It’s possible I've never seen something so cute.
“Do you want to hold him?” Hazel asks me, and I nod, holding out my hands as she deposits the little warm ball into my hands. Such a small, fragile, trembling ball of energy he is, I've never been so keenly aware of my size, my hands are practically the length of him save for his slinky tail, pointed straight out as I nestle him in the crook of my arm. Goose mews at me, mouth clean open, four sharp teeth and dove grey eyes that look in two different directions. He’s got a weird face, like he doesn’t know he exists or where he is.
“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” says Hazel at my shoulder.
“Yeah he’s a cool little guy. Do you think he was abandoned?”
“I don’t know, perhaps he ran away,” she reaches for him and he clambers up her sleeve, where she grabs him before he can start clawing at her hair, “he’s skittish. He doesn’t like to be alone, yet paradoxically he’s always trying to escape.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, he yearns for life on the streets,” she sighs and says to Jen, “I hope it’s okay that he’s come along, he would just be so unhappy at home.”
“No, of course! Oh my God,” Jen says with a big, dippy smile. “You can bring whatever, like, whoever you want over. We can keep him inside though if that’s better?” She’s touching her hair and smiling a lot, something I make a mental note of so that I can torture her about it later.
“I think if he’s there in the dining room and he can see me through the window he’ll be comfortable,” Hazel agrees, “I think he prefers to feel included.”
I don’t know if Goose has even a remote concept of what he does and does not prefer, but she and Jen head inside to lay some newspapers on the floor and fill a little bowl from the kitchen with water for him anyway, laying them right by the door so that he has the best view of the garden. I’m transfixed by him in there as they set things up, weaving himself between Hazel’s ankles, pushing his fuzzy cheek into the smooth leather of her Dr. Martin boot, and I grin as his claw catches in her lace, which sends him frantically swatting his paw to free it.
“It’s so cute how much you love cats,” Michelle comments as she slaps a raw burger over the coals, “I would have never thought you were a cat person if I hadn’t witnessed it myself.”
“Well look at him! He’s just cool.”
“It’s not just him, it’s all those cats along your street! I just think it’s so funny whenever you step out of the house and they just emerge from somewhere.”
“They know they’ll get pets from me.”
“Yeah, and food.”
“Occasionally.”
She smiles over her shoulder, “Maybe when we move in together we should look for a flat that accepts pets. Then we can get a cat of our own.”
“Mm. It’s a big commitment, a cat, though, isn’t it?”
“No, we would just feed it and clean out the litter box. It’d be very easy.”
“Yeah, I dunno.”
“What don’t you know?”
“I’d have to think about it.”
“Oh, okay.”
Debra finishes hanging the washing and quickly slips back inside through the conservatory door.
I listen to the sounds of the garden instead of talking. A lawnmower drones somewhere across the suburban fences and there is the aroma of something sweet, heady and floral under my nose each time the breeze comes. When it’s still it smells like charred meat and smoke, which is welcome because the afternoon is getting on and I haven’t eaten since before dropping Ivy off at her friend’s house at ten.
“Are you mad at me?” Michelle says.
“No. I’m just hungry.”
“Right.”
Beginning // Prev // Next
#lucky boy 2010#hello goose <3#tbh nothing melts me more than Jude interacting with cats and babies#more to come in future i swear
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Hi there. I wanted to pick your brain about something. A critique I often see of Taylor is that she's greedy, which is something I would agree with. My issue is that her being an a-hole is often conflated with her being a capitalist, that's where my objection comes in. I'm the daughter of a bank manager, I studied economics, I've been investing my savings since I was a child, and I make more money than most people my age. Here's something I learned about making money, after you buy a nice home and a nice car, and have money stashed away in case your investments blow up in your face, any money you make above your monthly expenses, is actually money you never see. They're just numbers on a paper, they have no perceivable value in your life due to the fact that they'll never be spent. What I'm trying to explain is that I believe what makes rich people a-holes isn't that they're good at making money, but rather, that they don't give away/set up funds and allow others to benefit from that money. Taylor selling 10 different versions of the same album and crazy people buying them? Good for her. But Taylor not paying for Ana Clara's funeral and the parents asking for donations? That's what makes her an a-hole.
So, here's my hot take: yeah, her being obscenely wealthy is part of the problem.
1. Nobody needs to be a BILLIONAIRE. No one. They're inherently unethical. Whether you actually have that much cash in the bank or not is irrelevant. Taylor swift has two private jets that she uses like bicycles just because she can. That's unethical. Not only is it killing the planet needlessly, but the money spent on those could be better used being donated to those in need. Her fifty bazillion dollar outfits for tours don't need to cost as much as they do, especially when half the time they look like they're only worth about $100. She over spends just to flex how rich she is, and that money could be paying for the dinner of a needy family or getting a Palestinian family to refuge from the genocide instead of buying Taylor Swift a new shiny thing to flaunt.
2) the way she markets her music is absolutely an asshole move. She creates (often faux) scarcity with five different "limited edition" version of an album, then acts like they're all THE most incredible thing ever. She's convinced her fans that she's some kind of impossibly intelligent god that can only create perfection, and luers them into buying 5-10 copies of the exact same damn CD for not reason. That's predatory. Put the one singular bonus song on each CD all on one with five bonus songs and call it the deluxe edition or whatever like EVERY OTHER musician does. To do nothing but add a single different song is nothing short of greedy. Same with randomly releasing a single of Fortnight SOLELY to try and beat out Espresso on the charts. Everyone already has the album, WHY do they need a single with no other added extras? To stroke Taylor's over inflated ego?
An example of an ethical rich person is Abigail Disney, daughter of Roy Disney (Walt's brother). She donates exorbitant amounts of money to various charities, has started some of her own, and actively fights for more equality between economic brackets. She'll always have more money than she needs, much like Taylor. The difference is Abigail actively seeks to even the playing field - Taylor wants to be the queen bee on top.
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Hi hi! I really love reading through all of your mha x inner child fanfics, theyve honestly helped a lot lol.
I was wondering if I could request Present Mic with (his) child reader after an unsuccessful suicide attempt? They attempted to go out by hanging but were saved at the last moment, so their throat is in complete pain. Just maybe some comfort and angst in his eccentric, silly ways, not wanting reader to hurt more but still hurting himself lol (but feel free to spin this however you want!).
(TRIGGER WARNING: Please note that the following contains sensitive content: attempts at suicide, self harm, mental abuse directed at oneself. Please be warned and don’t read if you are not in the right mindset to do so. This is a comfort fic aimed at comforting those who have dealt with or felt like this at one point)
Present Mic x Child Reader: Perfect to Me
You had been born Quirkless. The media had a field day with the news of the Voice Hero: Present Mic’s own child being quirkless. It was hard enough to be quirkless, but when everyone knew your father had a strong quirk, it made things even harder. You were always compared to him by your peers and even some of your teachers. You got bullied relentlessly by other kids. No one wanted to be your friend and the teachers would turn a blind eye to it all.
The kids would say things like ‘I bet you’re actually adopted and Present Mic is just too much of a hero to get rid of you’ ‘your dad must be super embarrassed his kid is quirkless and a loser’ ‘if no one knew you were his kid then he’d probably get rid of you’ your dad’s a lame hero so it makes sense he’d keep a quirkless kid’. The other kids always said things about how your dad must be putting up an act and probably just sees you as a charity case.
The teachers were bad too. ‘I can’t even imagine having a quirkless child’ ‘imagine how it must be having a child like that’ ‘the poor man is probably so stressed all the time, worried about his kid’ ‘it must be so disappointing to find out your kid is quirkless’. The teachers would whisper about how it must be such a burden to raise a quirkless child. They spoke rumors about you being his illegitimate child and that he’s probably only kept you to make himself look good.
You never told Mic about anything anybody said. You knew he loved you, you’re his whole world… right? After a few years of torment and bullying from other kids you started to doubt yourself and your father. You started to believe that you were just a burden on Mic and that he’s only putting up a loving act. He’s your dad, so of course he’s supposed to love you, plus he’s a hero, so how much of his love is really true and not just stuff he’s supposed to say. How do you know if your dad actually cares for you or only tells you this because he’s a good person and is just being nice?
Eventually in 5th grade when you were 11, you couldn’t take it anymore. You truly believed that your dad was only trying to make you feel better about being quirkless. You believed that you were a burden and that your dad would be better off without you to look after. One day, you decided to skip school and returned home after your dad left. You had been planning this for some time. You had grabbed an old 10ft phone charger cord and tied one end into a slipknot and tied the other to a wooden beam in the kitchen. You decided to write your dad a note before taking your life. You then stood up on a chair and slipped the cord around your neck before kicking away the chair.
Mic had been halfway on his way home from UA because he realized that he forgot some of his students English papers that he graded. He got a call from one of your few nice teachers who informed him that you weren’t at school. He had seen you leave this morning so he knows that you left, were you skipping school? Why? Guess he’ll ask you when he gets home. He pulled into the driveway and parked before exiting and locking his car. He unlocked his front door and entered the house, closing the door behind him before calling out your name.
“(Y/n)? You home? I’m not mad, I left some papers that I had graded on the kitchen table. C’mon, let’s have a talk, I’m sure you have a reason for skipping scho— Oh God NOOOOO!”
As Mic had walked from the living room, through the dining room and into the kitchen, he paused when his eyes took in the sight of your body nearly limp and hanging with a cord around your neck. The moment he saw it he ran to you and grabbed a knife to cut the cord. The moment he did, your limp body fell into his arms.
“Oh my god, my sweet baby, no. Please, (y/n) baby, please don’t be dead, please don’t did on me, Daddy’s here now, Daddy’s got you, come back to me baby” Present Mic cried as he cradled your body and dialed the emergency number for an Ambulance. While he stayed with you, he saw the note and grabbed it, when the paramedics arrived they got to work getting oxygen into you and had to stick a tube down your windpipe to get oxygen into your lungs. Mic rode in the Ambulance with them as he called Shota and let him know what was happening. Shota then told Nedzu what happened.
While you were being treated, Mic pulled the note out and read it.
Dear Dad,
I’m sorry that you had to find me like this. I know it’s a burden having to deal with and care for a quirkless child and that dealing with my death is just more of a burden. I’m sorry I’m quirkless, I know that you always say it’s okay but you don’t have to lie anymore. I know you must have been disappointed when I didn’t get a quirk and I’m so sorry. Thank you for taking such good care of me even though it must have been an immense burden. Thank you for being a kind and loving father even if it was just an act. I love you so much and I’m sorry that you had to endure living with me for so long. But that’s all over now so you can rest now. Thank you for everything and thank you for putting up with me. You’re my hero.
-Love,
(Y/n)
Hizashi had tears rolling down his cheeks when Shota got to the hospital and found him sitting in a hallway outside your door. When Shota took the note and read it, he too, shed some tears.
“W-why? Why didn’t they tell me Sho? Why didn’t they say anything? Do they really believe that I don’t love them? What did I do wrong?!?”
“Shh, I know Zash, I know. This isn’t on you, this isn’t your fault”
“My baby is dead?!? Sho! How am I- what am I gonna do, how am I supposed to deal with this?”
As Hizashi cried to Shota, one of the nurses exited your room.
“Excuse me, Mr. Yamada, your child is awake now. We’ve put them on the Suicide watch and a psychoanalytic will be visiting with them later to determine what caused this and what the best course of treatment for them is. You can go in now and see them” the nurse moved aside and motioned towards the door.
Hizashi immediately jumped to his feet and ran inside the room only to stop and stare at you. You had your head down and your hands in your lap as you sat in the hospital bed under the sheets wearing a hospital gown. Tears swelled in his eyes as he realized you were alive. Hearing and seeing the beats on the heart monitor was a relief to him. He ran over to you swallowing you up in his arms as he cried.
“Oh (y/n) my sweet baby, you’re alive, I was so scared don’t you ever do that again you hear me! I love you so much, I’m so happy you’re alive. No matter what anyone says or thinks, you’re perfect to me. Just the way you are. Quirk or no quirk, you will always be my sweet baby. I love you so much”
Hizashi cried as he hugged you and cradled you in his arms. He kept rubbing his forehead into your shoulder. You carefully removed his glasses and put them aside as you kissed his forehead.
“Dad I’m-“
“No no, shhh… it’s okay, explanations can come later. If you don’t want to talk about it right now then we don’t have to, I’m just so grateful that you’re alive. Promise me you’ll talk to me before you ever do this again, please”
“I promise”
“Pinky promise”
You looked at the serious look and your dad’s face as he held his pinky finger out to you. You couldn’t help but smile at his silly antics and linked your pinky with his.
“I promise”
“Okay good.”
After that, Hizashi crawled into the bed with you as you sat on his lap and snuggled into his arms. Shota sat in the chair to the side and smiled at you.
The following week was filled with snuggles and eating junk food while watching movies. When you got home after the suicide watch ended, your dad surprised you by letting you go to UA with him and letting you do your homeschooling there. Nedzu decided that it would be best for you to be in an environment where you would be safe from bullying and what better environment than a school for heroes? You got to stay in the faculty room and did your homework, you got to eat lunch with your dad and he’d show you off to all his coworkers.
Needless to say you still had some doubts but therapy was helping. Your dad loves you and it’s obvious to you now just how much.
#present mic x child reader#present mic x reader#present mic#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha x child reader#bnha x child reader#hizashi yamada x child reader#hizashi yamada x reader
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I think, Meghan (allegedly) filed a case against the IRS to contest some charges/tax returns that she felt were unfair. Or because she thought she was charged extra and deserved a hugher refund than she got. And then she lost the case and had to pay the IRS for the filing a case against her. I don't know how true that is, just that she did file a case against the IRS. This was probably around 2010/11 so around the Trevor years. This is off the top of my head though, no factual receipts. Just something I remember reading on the old Tumblrs that are now defunct.
But about the financial fraud, I don't know if it counts but it is interesting to me that Meghan's lifestyle was mostly sustained on gifts and favours. She hardly paid for anything. At first, while she was auditioning, she lived with Trevor. They had a decent enihouse. But her dad says that he sometimes gave her money and it was mostly Trevor who sustained their day-to-day. It's believable and nothing wrong in that if that's the understanding that the couple has.
Then in Toronto, the suits producers got her a rental home. And later, a chauffeured car to get her to and from the set. This was a favour pulled by her friend rick hoffman.
There are some conflicting reports that say that she moved in with Cory mainly to save on rental. As in, it was his place and she moved in with him immediately after they started dating.
The Soho ambassadorship that she did, and later her small scale endorsements and Tig sponcerships got her a lot of goodies. All of her hotel stays, 1st class travels, food etc was almost always sponcon.
The only thing she allegedly spent her own money on was (probably) the air travel when she started dating Harry and they had their 2week arrangment. (Either one of them would travel to the other every 2 weeks). But she later moved in with himwhen suits ended.
So I'd say, Meghan does not understand finances, other than accumulating money in her own name in her own bank account. She has big dreams - foundations, charities, galas, UN missions, commonwealth, holiday homes, private jets etc etc... but has never paid for anything out of pocket so does not know how to sustain those dreams.
I was thinking of a different case of financial fraud - in 2020 or 2021, it was revealed that the SussexRoyal Foundation was being investigated over some allegations made about the way Harry and Meghan handled some transactions. I don’t remember the specific details and I can’t look it up at the moment, but there was a very haughty Sussex “we told you we didn’t do anything wrong” statement made when the investigation closed/cleared the allegations.
Whenever the Sussexes get in the news for their finances or Archewell paperwork, I always remember that incident, and specifically their response. It really rubbed me the wrong way and because they seemed to be gloating about having been cleared of wrongdoing, it makes me think that there actually really is something shady happening behind the scenes. I think they’re lucky it hasn’t been caught yet, chiefly because their MO is to distract us with semantics and petty “it’s the AG’s fault” blame game-type BS, but this week makes it clear they’re living on borrowed time.
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A week on from Miami 🌴☀️🏎️
Let’s talk about how that may have been the most significant race week in about a year and a half. And no it’s not because I’m a Lando fan.
McLaren’s upgrades
Ok first we heard they won’t be significant, then Lando got given virtually a new car! Then we are told that what Oscar has is worth 2 tenths, what Lando has 4 tenths. Seems pie in the sky until Lando started sprint quali on medium tyres and suddenly it wasn’t bullshit! Lando won the main race and only lost fastest lap to his teammate. That car has pace and the drivers to unlock it. Also consider Lando won his first Grand Prix with a car he wasn’t happy about the setup on. There is more to come from that car. By the end of the weekend McLaren had fighting talk. They expect to be in the Championship mix before 2025 if not before.
Aston said they would, McLaren just knuckled down and did it!
Ferrari seem to be checking the wrong things!
Another weekend, another he pushed me/he gave me no room incident between the scarlet teammates. In the main race by lap 6 there is the usual squabble of let me try and pass (insert driver here) if my teammate can’t. Thing is around lap 10 Lando got a message telling him he was saving his tyres better than Oscar and the two Ferraris. So consumed with the fight to go forward, they forgot to look behind them and left the door open for Lando. Ferrari you have the car, the drivers, the knowledge. Just engage your brains. Right now there is a chance for Red Bulls to have mirrors full of scarlet and papaya. Don’t fuck it up!!
Fingers crossed the Imola upgrade package steps them forward as McLaren has done.
VisaCashapp RB’s, the paint job wasn’t the only thing with impact
Daniel’s first points in the sprint and another solid weekend and points in the main race again for Yuki show that their upgrades work. If Aston continue to flounder this is the team to watch step out of the “also ran” pack. Quietly just getting on with it.
Red Bull lost its vavavoom?
Not even sure where to start with this. Sprint race, no surprises. Quali, more of the same. Race, well. The Red Bull dominance is boring, because we have seen Max gets podiums with half a floor or a hole in his side pod. The RBs are the cockroach of the grid, unkillable. Bleeding every last bit of hope out of the other teams.
So the idea that floor damage meant Max couldn’t keep up with Lando after the safety car and that Checo never really looked in danger of a podium from the first corner is difficult to understand. Max complained about that car ALL weekend. Yes there are upgrades coming but to see the Red Bull not just hit hyper mode and check out was new.
Which leads me to my point why this was so important. This season is far more open than any we have seen for a while. After the 21 from 22 Red Bull show last year, they have already missed out on two wins this season. One due to a brake failure (see earlier cockroach comment) and another to an apparent lack of pace. (Where’d the pace go?)
More importantly two other teams have already taken the top step this year. Two teams that are showing the capability to fight back at last. I fully expect to see at least 7 different race winners this year.
And with Lando now a Grand Prix winner, can we all agree that with a decent midfield car, Yuki is in fact the most underrated driver on the grid and has been for sometime?
#f1#formula one#formula 1#f1blr#longread#lando norris#oscar piastri#charles leclerc#carlos sainz jr#carlos sainz junior#yuki tsunoda#daniel ricciardo#max verstappen#sergio perez#f1musings
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Douzième Fille
12th girl
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Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?
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Joseph Descamps x Reader
Warnings: steamy ASFF???, angst, swearing, alcohol consumption, shlut shaming (fuck that old man), implied smut in the end (i didn't write smut yall im nervous)
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Chapter nine: You belong to me
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You and Joseph called consistently. Phone bills got higher, but both of you could care less. Both of you sent letters, pictures, and postcards like you promised.
Joseph often sent you pictures of him and George. He sent you postcards from Italy, Germany, and some cities in France.
You often send pictures of yourself, Callum, and photoshoots. You sent him postcards from Milan, New York, Copenhagen, and more. Mostly fashion capitals in the world.
Every letter you'd send each other would contain your days, food you tried, people you met, places you've been. But in the end of each one, there'd be the same sentence.
"I love you. See you soon."
It always said that.
Years pass, the calls get less consistent, the letters talking about your days now talk about your weeks, then they start talking about your months.
You talk about college now, parties you've been invited to, alcohol you tried.
Less and less postcards. Only three to five would come in a year now, the only thing written in them is the place they've been to.
Seven years have passed. It's 1971 now. You're 23 years old. The phone ringings have stopped. The letter boxes are empty.
Joseph was now merely a memory. Something you've locked inside you. He's beginning to collect dust.
You write in your notebook about your day. You sit on your matress, only an underwear on and some sheer shirt. Your hair is up in a messy clip, bangs blown on your forehead.
Safe to say you're famous. You've been in countless magazines, influencing famous celebrities. For example, Jane Birkin with your full bangs. You actually have her number. It's in the room... somewhere.
Life in Paris has been... alright, you could say. Sure, it smells like piss, and sure, it's filled with rude people, but you grew up here, so might as well accept it.
Callum's been a big help. He's a famous photographer and car enthusiast now. He's done almost all of your photoshoots. There were some rumours that developed about you two being an item, but you quickly shut that down.
A knock is heard on your flat's front door. Callum walks in, a paper bag in hand, and a lit cigarette between his lips.
"Pretty girl," a nickname he never seemed to want to let go, "your wine is here."
You get up from your place, strutting down some steps and kissing Callum's cheek in greeting. You head to the bag placed on the kitchen counter.
"Fuck yes. Thank you, Callum. You're an angel." I place them in a gift bag, saving them for a future event.
In three days' time, a gala was to happen. It would be filled top to bottom with riches, designer clothes and items, jewels, and anything else that screams luxury. And what you're most excited about is the fact that it's a masquerade.
You, for one, were invited to this gala. The people who were invited are sort of a VIP. Only close friends of the host would be there, and knowing the host, they were luxurious as well.
Your dress was ready. Your gift was ready. Everything was ready. Even your plus one, who is very obviously Callum, was ready. Everything would be perfect.
But you were nervous. Something deep inside your gut was telling you something would happen, and you couldn't tell whether it was a bad sign or a good one. You were hoping for the latter.
It crawled through your skin. You weren't one to get nervous, especially after all the exposure to the media in the past couple of years. So this wasn't exactly normal.
Your heart was exhilarated. Your mind was all over the place. What if you didn't look your best? This was a question you haven't asked yourself in a long while. You've been so self-assured, but what changed it now? That gut feeling sucked.
You take your mind off it. You'd rather talk about your plans for that evening.
The dress you, Callum, and your stylist picked was an archive of Audrey Hepburn's 1956 film Funny Face. It was fluffy around the bottom, the end cutting off in the middle of your calf. It was off shoulder, drop waist, coloured white with accents of pink and blue for the flowers imprinted.
Some things to add on were long white silk gloves, your mask that covered anything but your eyes, along with a pair of white kitten heels, pearl earrings, and hair pieces. It reminded you of when you were young. You, in high school with your puffy skirts, pearl jewellery, and kitten heels.
There was something bugging you. Something you're missing. It was a nostalgic memory. It's something you were trying to figure out, but before you could, Callum's arm wraps around your shoulders.
"You alright, pretty girl?" He asked, worry etched in his tone.
You simply smile at him. "Yup. All good."
××《☆》××
You were riding around Paris in your vespa, the wind blowing through your hair and messing it up. It was an hour before midnight, the air colder, and the streets lit up with lights.
You wanted some air. Something about what happened earlier made your mind jumble over what it could've been. You needed to stop it from running around. It would've kept you up all night.
Your coat was on, keeping you warm. You had borrowed it from Callum, using the excuse of the fact that it was bigger, meaning it would keep you from the cold. Which was true.
He barely even used it anyway. It didn't even smell like him. Callum smelt like new cars, cigarettes, and hair gel. This coat wasn't too far, but it wasn't that close. It smelt like cigarettes, yes, but also expensive cologne. Callum doesn't wear that type of cologne.
It got your mind running again. You roll your eyes to yourself. You thought this would help. You speed your Vespa up, making it around l'Arc de Triomphe, turning to a road and going straight ahead.
The wind blew harsher, your nose getting irritated from the cold. You guess Callum's coat wasn't enough. You make some turns again till you get to Pont d'léna, now making you ride face to face with the sparkling Eiffel Tower. You got here in time for it.
Your awe for the tower never really faded even after seeing it almost every day for the past several years. Many people wish to see it for the first time again, but you, it will always feel like the first time.
You turn your head back to the road when you go right, on your way back to your flat. Your neck hurts a bit from craning it to the tower, but most of the time, it's worth it.
Again, you feel nostalgic. There's a tall figure standing on the side of the road looking up at the tower. His hair was messy, so as yours, and he was smoking a cigarette. He had something wrapped around his head. You couldn't quite focus on what he looked like exactly from the speed you were going.
You turn your head to the road again. What was that? It was probably a man you've seen around the streets, or somebody you worked with. You shrug it off and continue your ride home.
××《☆》××
It was the morning of the gala. It would start somewhere around six in the evening for dinner. You woke up early for the day.
You're outside a café with Callum, sipping on piping hot coffee and eating your pastries. Every once in a while, a flash is seen in the corner of your eye. Fans or paparazzi, you pay it no mind.
"Is there anything else we need to do or get before we prep for the gala?" You say, putting your cup down gently onto its plate.
"Nope. You seem a lot more nervous than usual. Is there something you wanna change up?" Callum asks, taking a puff out of his cigarette. You shake your head.
"Yeah, I don't know. I've been feeling it since yesterday. There's just... I think something's gonna happen. Something big." You shrug, crossing your arms and leaning on the table. Callum nods, leaning forward too, mirroring you.
"Ah, well, is it good or bad?" He questions, butting of his cigarette. You think for a while, reminiscing on the feeling.
"Actually, it might be good. That's why I'm nervous, you know? I don't want anything to get messed up. Because if something bad were to happen, well..." I shrug, hissing. Callum chuckles.
"Well, alright. We'll double-check everything so it goes smoothly for you, pretty girl." He pats your arm, reassuring you. You grab a hold of his hand, squeezing it and saying "Thank you."
It was afternoon now. You began to prepare for the gala. Your team came in a few minutes ago, and they begin working on you. You're sitting in your chair with your makeup artist fixing you up when the phone rings.
"Callum, can you get that, please?" I shout towards him. He comes out of the kitchen and into the living room we were in. He picks the phone up. You had a clear vision of everything. He leans against the wall, greeting the caller.
Then, his face shifts. It morphs into something you can't read, but Callum seems to hold in a smile. When he notices you looking at him, he turns his back towards you. Instead of speaking in a normal volume, he began to whisper.
What the fuck was that? Who could the caller be? It's probably one of his hookups, for sure. You let it slide. You'll ask about it after.
When Callum hangs up, you immediately call after him.
"Callum, who was it?" Callum turns around, hands in his back pockets and lips pursed. He does this when he's trying to hide something. You raise your brows.
"Just... someone special." He flashes a quick smile and then runs out of the room. Oh. You were right.
"Someone special" was a code name for one of the boys he fell in love with during your time here in Paris. You both were still in college. He was from the architecture department. Things happened, and things fell apart.
But then, you weren't so sure. Every time someone special called our place after their relationship, Callum was always sad after. Maybe something new happened?
When the clock hit five, everyone was on their way down stairs. You were fully prepped now, in your makeup, and dress with your jewellery and heels. Your mask was on, and you put on a large white fur coat.
Upon exiting your apartment complex, bunches of paparazzi blocked by barricades took pictures of you with their bright flashes. Callum and your team huddled around you, trying to get you safely in the car.
You get in your vehicle, and Callum had made an arrangement that he was to drive it. Nostalgia has filled your senses these past few days. You wonder what would come next.
When you arrived at the venue, wlaking through high ceiling halls and large oak doors, the room was filled with masked people, all dressed in various colours. They stood, laughed, and talked, all while drinking their preferred drinks.
It was a bit chilly in here, and you started to regret leaving your coat in your car. You didn't want to ask Callum to go with you to get it, seeing him already in conversation with the guests. You decide to go to the bar area instead.
You get your drink, fiddling with your hands as you wait. The ballroom was elegant, so much more brilliant than you thought it could be. Though, it felt rather lonely. You shake off the feeling once you receive your poison of the night.
Then, an announcement was heard. Everyone was to grab a partner to accompany them to dance. You promised Callum to enjoy the night, and you guess a dance could fulfil that.
You opted to a man who was sitting in the same bar you were in. He brought you a sense of familiarity for some unknown reason. He was slouched in his seat, ash brown hair a bit messy. He was turning his glass in circles.
"Hello." You greeted. When he turned to you, your eyes widened in wonder. He only had one eye hole, the rest of his face covered like yours. He blinks, and you could slightly hear him breathing.
"Hi." He says simply. You scan him, and there's a feeling in you that you definitely knew who this was, you just couldn't pinpoint it.
"I know I'm not in the position as a woman in this economy," you roll your eyes, "but, would you like to dance with me?"
His back straightens, and you think you've made him uncomfortable.
"Oh. I'm so sorry for even think-"
"Yes." He cuts in. He offers you a gloved hand as he stands from his barstool. You're surprised. He's taller than you imagined.
You take a hold of his hand. It's warm. Familiarly warm. He leads you into the middle of the ballroom, other guests already forming into formation. He gently takes your risks into his hold, moving up to his chest. Again, it's so familiar.
He drifts his hands to your sides and clutches it a bit. You feel as though you knew these hands. Like you've memorised the lines on the palm, the way the fingertips swirl, or how the muscles twitch and the joints move.
The orchestra starts to play, and you start to move. There's a flow you follow, and it feels so easy. You hadn't even known there was choreography, but the man you were with did. And he showed you through it.
You couldn't stop looking. Even if your neck started to hurt from looking up, even if you twirled, even if your eyes started to dry. You couldn't stop. And you didn't want to.
His eyes stayed on you all throughout the dance. The way he held you, the way he felt. He was so warm even if his body was covered in multiple layers of fabric. You could feel it. Like you've sunk into his skin.
When the dance ended, and he asked you to go with him, you agreed. You didn't know what he looked like. You only feel like you knew him, but you weren't sure. But even with that running through your head, you agreed.
The outside was cold but warmer than inside. You still shivered as you did before. Just then, a coat is wrapped around your shaking shoulders. You look up at the masked man. He took his coat off, now only dressed with a white button-up and a vest matching his pants. His already messy hair messes up even more now. It's in perfect condition to run your hands through.
You both make your way to the large railing of the balcony, taking a seat on it. It viewed the beautiful Eiffel Tower, its lights sparkling in the night. The wind blows once again. It's peaceful.
You turn your head to the man, and you almost fell over the rail. Sitting in front of you, his face finally unmasked, was Joseph Descamps. Out of all people, you didn't expect your first love to be sat in front of you. Seven years have passed, and he's still beautiful.
Your eyes began to sting as you lifted your hands to your face, discarding your own mask. He smiles, his pretty pink lips curving upward. He looks down, fiddling with the inseams of his pants. Again, it's familiar.
"Hi, Y/N." He whispers gently, taking a hold of your shaking hand. He takes your gloves off, putting them aside. He connects the tips of his fingers to yours, then encapsulates it in his warmth.
You can't speak. You can't breathe. You can't stop your heart from beating the way it was now.
"Seven years, and I finally see you again." He shows his teeth in his smile, and again, you can't stop looking.
"Still not talking?" He asks with a teasing tone, tilting his head.
"Did you know?" You asked, your voice so low you were surprised he even heard. Of course he did. He payed the closest attention to you.
"Know what?" He raises his eyebrows, anticipating your next words.
"That it was me?" He chuckles and shakes his head.
"Of course I did. I mean, I recognised you with one eye. I think I'd recognise you blind." He moves closer, bringing your hand up and placing a kiss on your knuckles.
You laugh. You lift your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into it, head laying heavy on your palm. He looks up at you, his eyelids heavy. Fuck.
He closes his eyes, taking his other hand to clasp at your wrist. He kisses your palm, leaving some wet patches from his open mouth. He trails his kisses up to your pulse, and you can't help but grab on his hair.
"Y/N, I've been looking-" Callum says as he runs towards the entrance of the balcony, stopping in his place at the sight of you.
"Oh, you finally met." Finally? You furrow your eyebrows, trying to figure out what he meant. Joseph pulls away from your hands, keeping his eyes on Callum. You turn my head back to the man in front of me, raising an eyebrow.
"What does he mean finally?" You ask Joseph. Callum walks towards us slowly, hands clasped behind his back.
"Uh..." Joseph looks to Callum. Callum raises his hands up. Joseph looks back to you, licking his lips before answering. "I planned it... sorry?"
"Planned it? Sorry? Joseph, why are you saying sorry? This is the best thing ever." You exclaim, and the two men just look at eachother.
"Not to ruin whatever the fuck you guys were doing just then, but the host wants some pictures, so..." He gestures to the door. You purse your lips in disappointment but nod. You get up and straighten your skirt, wiping off any wrinkles.
"I better go." You take your gloves and mask from where you were seated. "Can I see you after the gala?"
Joseph nods. "I was already planning on it." After prepping fully, you just stand there. You then lift your hand. "Bye."
Why was that so awkward? You'll save your self-beating bit later. Before you could even walk a step, Joseph takes your wrist again. You turn around to be met with a kiss on the corner of your lips.
"You look as gorgeous as the day you left." He whispers and presses another kiss on your cheek. They're beet red, you can feel it. He walks away, waving a bye to Callum, too. Callum slowly turns his head to you, then ushers you to go with him.
"What was that?" There's a cheeky smile on his face, and you try to hide your growing one.
"I don't even know."
××《☆》××
He was... clingy. The host, you meant. He was tall and built, but he was honestly so annoying. He kept bragging about his riches and talking about himself. The only time he shut up was when he took a sip of his whiskey.
You look around subtly, trying to keep yourself from rolling your eyes in front of the man, even though he could barely see them from your mask. Speaking of, he didn't wear one. This might've just been a party to make him somewhat the centre of attention for standing out.
"Dance with me, darling." You grimace. You're very glad for these masks. That nickname will be the death of you. And in a bad way.
"I don't feel like dancing. My feet are starting to hurt." I shrug, pointing to my ankles. You thought you were so smart, but he was just so insistent.
"Well, why don't we go upstairs? My office is free, and, you know," He comes disgustingly closer. You can smell his bad breath from his rotting yellow teeth. "I can help you with the aching."
Before you could retort, an arm wraps around your waist, keeping you still. You would've pushed away if you hadn't recognised his touch or his scent.
"Excuse me, sir. I must bring Ms. Pardine home immediately. She is busy tomorrow. And most definitely busy tonight." He turns his head towards you. He felt so tense. Like he was keeping something within him. A feeling so strong.
The man huffs like a child. "And who are you supposed to be?" He crosses his arms. He looks so immature, even with that saggy and wrinkley face.
"A close... friend." Joseph's hand slid down to my hips, clutching it slightly. He tugs you in closer, making you lose balance and place a hand on his chest. You refuse to look his way, or even anyones.
The other man scowls, disgust now visible in his face. "What a slut." He mumbles, finally leaving you alone. Joseph's grip on your hips tightens, and it starts to hurt you a bit.
"Joseph." You say, trying to gently push his hand away. He immediately lets go, turning to you worriedly.
"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He rubs your hip to relax it, but you don't relax one bit. Your heart hammers in your chest, and there's a feeling deep in your stomach.
"It's alright. Just take me home." I caress his neck before grabbing his hand, moving through the crowds of people. You try to look for Callum, but when you find him, he's talking, or quite literally eye fucking some guy he was conversating with. He can get home, you guess.
Joseph takes you home in his car. This felt weird. Not badly, just that you've never been driven by him. It felt comforting. You could get used to this.
You tell him the directions to your place, and when you make it, you pause.
"Come in?" You turn your head. Your masks were already long gone, and all you could see was his beautiful face again.
"Are you sure?" He asks, voice shaking. You can't believe he's still nervous with you, especially with that stunt he pulled with your wrist on a public balcony. You'll tease him about it soon.
"With you? Always." So then you went up to your room, and as soon as you did, his hands were on you again. He backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You're both breathing so heavy it's the only thing you could hear in the entire flat.
"I missed you. And I need you. So fucking much." He whispers, one hand cupping your face and the other roaming your waist. Your legs go wobbly, so you take your heels off, making you shorter than you already were standing in front of him.
"Fuck." You mumble. "Kiss me already."
He smashes his lips against yours feverishly, and you could taste everything he had that night. Wine, whiskey, cigarettes, and even strawberries. His tongue swipes your lips as he lets out a groan.
He pulls you closer, kneeling a bit to grab your thighs, then carrying you with ease, all while he loses his breath from kissing you. He lets go of your face to let his hands roam the area, not wanting to accidentally hit your wall.
"Bedroom?" He asks, parting for only a millisecond before placing his pretty pink lips on yours again. You have to fight the urge not to drown in him.
"To the left." He nods, continuing to kiss you as he reverts his way to the left side of your flats. You bump a few things on the way, like some side tables and magazines.
You finally make it to the bedroom, and he lies down gently onto your bed. He slows his lips, savouring the way you tasted. It makes you squirm in anticipation, and you feel a smirk on his lips as he continues. He parts away, a small string of saliva accentuating it. He pants before he speaks.
"I wasn't lying. I really fucking need you. Please. Please, tonight." He whimpers, arms wobbling from where he placed it to hover over you. You just can't say no.
One nod sealed the deal for him, and his lips were on you again. This time, it's on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyes.
He pecks down to your neck. Everything inside you feels so fuzzy, especially when he kissed and sucked on those sensitive parts. He lowers down to your shoulders, and you can feel the bruises forming. You love the way it feels. You love the way he feels. You love him.
××《☆》××
End - Chapter nine: You Belong To Me
Next - Chapter Ten: I love you
××《☆》××
WHAT'S UP GUYS??? So, like this is nice (i need him so bad OMFGGGGG) totally can still breathe after that last scene (i can't i want him pls omg) so like hope you enjoyed THAT cliffhanger. It's better than my old cliffhangers, right? But overall, i hope you enjoyed THE WHOLE chapter bcs its real nice, and it's all me. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!
#joseph descamps#joseph descamps x reader#mixte1963#fanfic#reader insert#reunion#paris france#reunion smut#“i missed you” smut#implied smut#steamy#time skip#time lapse#after college#after highschool#childhood love#enemies to friends to lovers#enemies to lovers
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Forever Be Mine
Wrote this like a month ago and never posted it, but I've been hyperfixated on romantic/intimate whumpers, and decided to post lol.
Please send asks about them if interested, I've been trying to get motivated into writing again!
CW: Yandere whumper, kidnapping, drugging, alcohol, overall creepy behavior
...
Rowan never got out often, save for groceries and occasionally visiting the bar every other weekend. The most adventure he had in the past five years was going on a hiking trail every now and then, appreciating nature. It was a temporary relief to his chronic loneliness. He had only two friends, and even then they were just coworkers at the insurance firm.
He thought about getting a pet, but was too worried about having to leave an animal home alone all day. They were far too much commitment for him.
He wasn't exactly a fan of animals anyways, so maybe it was better that he didn't get one.
One night, he decided to drink his sorrows away at a new bar. It was downtown, a club more on the expensive side, but one of his coworkers suggested he check it out. He'd never been there before, but tonight felt like as good a night as any to go.
He dressed in a black dress shirt, slacks, and loafers. Sure, he may have not been the wealthiest man alive by far, but he did love an excuse to dress up.
If he were lucky, maybe he could leave with someone.
He didn't often hook up with people. In fact, he'd only had a few hookups in his life. But he was tired of going to bed alone.
Rowan parked his car on the street nearby and walked into the bar. It was fairly crowded, bustling with the noises of conversations. He ordered a glass of whiskey at the bar.
As he sat there, his eyes began to wander around the club. The interior was nice and classy, a good attempt at making it feel like an upscale place. A few tables were occupied with people, either eating or chatting.
Suddenly, everyone's voices died down and Rowan glanced to the stage to see the performance. The musicians were tuning their instruments, a few patrons of the bar clapped lightly in anticipation. And then the singer came onto the stage, dressed in a khaki suit and a silver tie.
The moment Rowan saw him, he felt his heart jump into his throat.
He had a history of growing obsessed at first sight with certain people, but each time he told himself that this one was the last. This was the person that would finally fill the emptiness. And every time it fell through.
Rowan's eyes were locked on the man. The lights reflected off of his hair and sparkled in his eyes, catching every subtle movement of his body. When he opened his mouth to sing, it felt like the whole world had stopped. Rowan wasn't sure if he'd ever heard someone with a voice so lovely.
His eyes followed the man as he strolled around the stage, watching the way he moved so gracefully.
His heart pounded in his chest, so loud that he almost felt deafened by it. Rowan found it difficult to breathe, completely entranced. It was as though everything else in the room had disappeared, and the man on the stage was all he could see.
God, he was perfect. His voice was deep and sultry, yet sweet and gentle. Rowan couldn't help but be completely taken away by him.
"Big thanks to Indigo for having us," the raven-haired man spoke. "We'll be back next week."
Rowan swallowed the last sip of whiskey in his glass as he watched him step off the stage and begin to walk towards the bar. The alcohol was starting to cloud his mind a bit. He forced himself to put down the glass before he made a fool of himself, if he wasn't already doing that by staring. He watched the singer order a drink from the bartender, who seemed to know him fairly well.
"The usual, Sawyer?" the bartender asked.
He smiled charmingly, "You know me so well."
Sawyer, his name is Sawyer. Rowan repeated the name in his head until it was etched into his mind.
He looked over the singer again, from his shining eyes to his smile, the dimples on his cheeks, the shape of his body. And his voice. Oh god, that voice. Rowan felt his heart flutter a bit as he imagined Sawyer murmuring his name in such a sweet tone.
Rowan remained silent, observing Sawyer as he sipped his drink. The singer didn't seem to notice Rowan was staring at him, or if he did, he didn't say anything. He felt a pang of sadness. Sawyer wasn't looking at him, wasn't speaking to him.
Just as he tried to speak, Sawyer stood up and went towards the back door of the bar. Rowan felt like a fool, watching him walk away like that. But something took over him and he followed after him.
It was snowing outside, the cold nipping at his skin. Rowan wished he'd brought a coat. He spotted Sawyer out on the sidewalk, his back turned to him.
The singer's breath came out in soft clouds, visible in the air. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Rowan thought that maybe it'd be best if he didn't interrupt him, but his mouth betrayed him.
"Nice night," Rowan said.
Sawyer startled a bit at the sound of his voice and looked back at him. Rowan quickly panicked, but did his best to keep his composure.
"You were great in there," he added, smiling politely.
The singer's eyes went wide for a moment before relaxing into a smile. Rowan wondered if Sawyer even recognized him from inside, or if he'd already forgotten about him.
"Thank you," Sawyer replied, turning back around and lighting a cigarette.
He was so beautiful under the moonlight. The snow was falling, and it looked so peaceful. Rowan couldn't take his eyes off of him. Sawyer inhaled deeply from the cigarette and then breathed out the smoke into the air. Rowan watched the grey cloud leave his lips and disappear into the cold sky. Sawyer flicked the ashes onto the ground and then took another drag.
"Do you always smoke outside after a show?" Rowan asked, hoping to start a conversation.
Sawyer gave a lighthearted laugh, "No, I don't smoke often at all, actually. Been trying to quit."
"That's good, it's not very healthy for your lungs," Rowan pointed out.
"Yeah, it's a bad habit." Sawyer sighed. "But I've had a rough night."
He paused, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing out more smoke. Rowan just stood there quietly, unsure of what to say next.
Sawyer looked back at him again, and Rowan noticed how tired his eyes looked. He wanted nothing more than to give Sawyer a hug. He wondered if he could smell the whiskey on his breath.
"I'm Rowan," he introduced.
"Sawyer," the singer replied, then tossed the cigarette butt in a nearby trash can. "Thank you again for coming to listen, Rowan. I'm gonna head out now, maybe I'll see you around again?"
Sawyer started to walk away and Rowan felt like the words were dying on his tongue. He was so close to being able to talk to him more.
...
It was easy to learn the nights Sawyer performed at Indigo. He worked there every Friday from 8:30 to 9:30 PM.
Rowan became a regular at the bar every Friday night, the same spot at the bar each time, where he had the perfect view of the stage. Sawyer's presence was like a drug to him. It wasn't enough to watch him from afar anymore, no matter how long he stared at him. He couldn't shake the obsession.
After the fourth week, Rowan followed him home. It was a little difficult to, given Sawyer took the bus, but he managed to look like he was casually going the same direction.
When Sawyer got off, Rowan followed, a baseball cap hiding half of his face. He tried to act casual as he watched Sawyer unlock the door, conveniently living on the first floor of his apartment complex.
Sawyer then slipped inside and shut the door behind him. Rowan lingered around the area a little longer, feeling a sense of emptiness and disappointment. He was so close to him, yet still so far away. His chest ached. He just wanted to be with him.
Rowan practiced writing love letters to him on days he wasn't at work. He filled pages upon pages of loose-leaf paper with words full of adoration, spilling his heart out onto the paper.
Each letter was just as lengthy as the last, his longing for Sawyer only growing with each passing day. He didn't realize how many pages he'd written until he started running out of space. Sawyer was his new addiction, one that consumed his entire being.
Watching Sawyer constantly, he learnt quite a few things about him.
Despite Sawyer's confident and suave exterior, he was incredibly timid on the inside. When he wasn't performing on stage, Sawyer didn't seem to socialize much with others. He preferred to stay in his apartment, sometimes leaving only to go grocery shopping or run some errands.
He was glad he didn't have many friends. It already enraged him enough that people would flock to Sawyer just to talk to him after his performances at Indigo. The idea of anyone else touching him made him see red.
Another thing Rowan noted was that Sawyer really was committed to the whole 1920's aesthetic. From the photos he'd managed to take from a distance, Sawyer's apartment was full of vintage antiques and other authentic decor pieces.
He particularly appreciated the floral wallpaper in his kitchen. His walls were thin enough that Rowan could hear a gramophone playing in the evenings when Sawyer would cook dinner.
Most importantly, Rowan noticed Sawyer's soft spot for romance movies. In the early evenings, he would see some old black-and-white film playing on Sawyer's TV screen through his window.
If Sawyer wanted an old-fashioned romantic, Rowan would happily be that for him.
He decorated both his house and the lakehouse he inherited to fit Sawyer's style. It wasn't the most difficult task in the world, seeing as Rowan's own style was already pretty antique in nature.
It was a struggle to find an affordable gramophone, but it was worth it to imagine slow-dancing with Sawyer in the living room to old jazz tunes.
Cleaning out the basement was exhausting, but if everything went smoothly, he wouldn't have to even use it. Or at least, he really hoped he wouldn't have to. Rowan didn't want to frighten Sawyer, or hurt him at all, but if it was necessary, he was prepared.
Rowan's preparations were ready to be put into action, the ideal day carefully planned.
...
Sawyer plopped down on the stool, taking a swig of bourbon. Tonight was not going well. He was already upset from getting into a heated argument with his landlord about rent, and then his mother had called to tell him that his grandmother had passed away. And now, he was here, drinking his sorrows away alone at the bar.
He didn't usually drink, but god was he upset right now. And of course, his anxiety had been going through the roof lately. He hated it, how his body reacted to even the slightest of stressors.
His mind began to wander as he sipped at the bitter liquid, trying to ignore how the alcohol burned his throat.
Sawyer loved singing on stage, he really did. It was the highlight of his week, in fact. But when he was done and out of the spotlight, everyone seemed to forget about him.
People would compliment him on his voice after a show, sure, but as soon as he stepped off the stage, their attention was pulled away from him. They didn't seem to care about him otherwise. He didn't want their praise. He just wanted to feel like he was worth something.
"Is this seat taken?"
The crisp voice broke Sawyer from his thoughts and he looked up to see a man sitting next to him. He recognized him as the redhead he had spoken to a few times, and happened to be at every performance at Indigo for the past several weeks. Sawyer forgot his name, but he recognized him regardless.
"No, go ahead," Sawyer said.
"Can I buy you another drink?" he asked.
Sawyer laughed humorlessly, "Sure, why not."
Rowan ordered the both of them a few drinks and they sat together in silence for a bit.
The awkward tension in the air was thick, but Sawyer didn't mind it. He didn't feel like talking.
He stared at the other patrons at the bar, watching the way they moved about, their lighthearted laughter and conversations. He felt a pang of jealousy in his chest, wishing he could experience that level of joy in his life.
"Thanks for the drinks," Sawyer spoke after a while.
"No problem," Rowan replied. "It looks like you've had a rough night."
Sawyer couldn't help but chuckle again at his words. Was it that obvious? "Yeah, I guess so." After his third glass, his thoughts felt a bit hazy.
Normally it took more than that to get him drunk, but today seemed like an exception. His senses felt dulled, like they weren't even there in the first place.
He stood up. "I'mma head home. Thanks for the drinks."
As Sawyer left the bar, he didn't notice Rowan follow after him.
He wobbled as he walked down the street, feeling the effects of the alcohol already. He heard footsteps behind him and turned around to see the man from earlier following him. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or his anxiety, but he felt uneasy by his presence.
"Hey," Sawyer said. "Listen, thanks for the drinks and everything, but I'm not looking to hook up with anyone tonight."
Rowan stopped walking and just smiled at him. "That's not what I had in mind."
Something about his words sent a chill down Sawyer's spine. Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was because the stranger's eyes seemed to darken. But Sawyer's gut told him that something wasn't right, so he just walked away without another word. His body felt heavy, sluggish. He began to regret having so much to drink tonight.
He continued walking down the street, keeping his pace brisk in case Rowan was following him. He thought he could hear the sounds of footsteps trailing behind him, but he wasn't sure if that was his paranoia getting to him or not.
A sudden wave of dizziness hit Sawyer and he stopped for a moment. He leaned against a lamp post to catch his breath.
No amount of alcohol ever made him feel this disoriented before. He looked down at the street beneath him, the pavement seemingly spinning. He groaned and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of where he was, how far he still had left to go.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw a shadowy figure in the corner of his vision. He whirled around, nearly losing his balance and falling over, if not for the lamp post he was still leaning against.
"You're not looking too good," the man said. He sounded anything but earnest.
"Fuck off," Sawyer retorted. "Seriously, just leave me alone."
He tried to walk away, but he stumbled and almost fell to the ground. The man grabbed him before he could and held him by the waist. Sawyer yelped and tried to push him away, but the world around him spun violently and his legs gave out beneath him. Sawyer could feel himself being dragged as the man supported him. He tried to speak, but no words came out of his mouth.
"Just relax," the man whispered in his ear. "I've got you."
Sawyer couldn't see where they were going, the world blurry in his vision and everything looking so distorted and nauseating. His body felt so heavy, like it was weighing him down into the earth's core.
The man continued to drag him along, until finally they stopped in front of a car. Sawyer's vision was blacking out at the edges. He heard the trunk pop open, and was gently tucked inside.
The last thing he remembered was lips pressing against his cheek before he blacked out.
Rowan was elated, absolutely ecstatic that tonight had gone so perfectly. He'd been careful not to drink too much at the bar, knowing that tonight would be an important one. He could hardly believe that he had Sawyer all to himself now.
The drive was nerve wracking. Every mile he drove, Rowan was worried that Sawyer would wake up and start screaming for help, or try to escape the trunk. But luckily, that never happened. Instead, the singer remained unconscious, still knocked out from the drugs Rowan had slipped into his drinks at the bar.
Just for this occasion, he decided to put the old lakehouse he inherited from his parents to use again.
It was a small, cozy little cottage, fully furnished and with its own bathroom. The property was a few hours outside of town and right next to a lake, so nobody would be able to hear Sawyer if he started screaming. It'd be nice to have a little getaway from the busy city.
Once he was sure Sawyer loved him and wouldn't run away, he'd move him back to his actual house. But for now, it'd be enough. He had been saving up vacation days, and most of the work he did was remote anyway.
Rowan unlocked the front door and carried Sawyer inside bridal style. He laid Sawyer down on the bed, then removed his clothes piece by piece and folded them neatly on the dresser.
He smoothed his fingers across Sawyer's bare skin, tracing the curve of his body. He was perfect in every way imaginable. He brushed a few strands of hair out of Sawyer's face.
He dressed him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. When Sawyer wasn't wearing his nice suit and tie, he was in extremely casual clothing. Rowan had gotten to know this part of him pretty well from the photos he'd managed to take from a distance over the months.
The shirt he put on him was a little oversized and hung loosely on Sawyer's body. It made him look adorable.
Rowan couldn't help himself and took a photo on his phone before returning to the living room, making sure to tie him up before doing so. He hated the thought of his beloved getting rope burn, but reminded himself this was only temporary.
No longer would he be lonely. And neither would Sawyer.
#rowan oc#sawyer oc#yandere whumper#intimate whumper#whump#creepy whumper#whump writing#male whumpee#whump fic#male whumper#whumper x whumpee#tw kidnapping#kidnapping whump#tw drugging#tw noncon drugging
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Terror🪦
Summary: Going on a Hunt with Dean and Sam, your older brothers, you come across a case that triggers an old memory of fear, things go wrong and they need John to help bring you back from a horrified state
Pairing: Dean x lil sister, Sam x lil sister, John x daughter
•Masterlist•
As a kid you were always interested in the supernatural, whenever you could you’d beg John to tell you his hunting stories or even informing you on creatures, the werewolves, vampires, spirits, they were all so intriguing until….he told you about pagan gods, for some reason they terrified you especially when one case he was working on the Pagan god took you as leverage sticking the fear of god into you, after John had been able to save you, you went into a kind of catatonic paranoid state, you freaked at every noise, didn’t speak for weeks and stayed locked in the motel rooms refusing to leave, after about a month John was able to help cokes you out of the shell you hide in and you were back to your normal self
Flash forward to Now
You woke up to your cell phone ringing, you shot up in bed answering an unknown number
“Hello?”
“Sweetheart is that you?” Your heart dropped
“Daddy? Are you okay are you hurt?” Your brothers woke from your panicked tone
“I’m fine but you need to listen, you’ve gotta stop following me, now take these names down I’ve got a job for you all”
“But……but I miss you”
“Is that dad give me the phone” Dean groaned from beside you but you waved him off
“I know I miss you kids but I can’t put you all in danger give the phone to Dean”
“Okay……..I love you dad”
“Love you too kid”
Dean got the names and you were off driving to Indiana for a new case, on the way there Sam and Dean got into it again about helping dad, parking in the side of the road
“We don’t have to follow his every rule we need to go to California” Sam groaned getting out of the car, you and Dean quick to follow
“Sammy please don’t do this just get back in the car” you said scared he was going to leave again
“I’ve gotta go help, this demon killed mom and killed Jess”
“Sam I swear I’ll leave your ass here” Dean said slamming the trunk
“Then go”
“No sam please stay, don’t leave again”
He didn’t say anything breaking your heart and Dean could tell, you were heart broken when Sam left the first time and when John went MIA it was even harder on you
“Come on kid, we got people to save” you were hesitant to go desperate for Sam to get back in the car but he was persistent on leaving so you got back in the Impala watching Sam disappear in the rear view mirror, feeling the tears brim wiping them away before they fell
“Don’t worry kid you always got me, I’m never going anywhere”
“Thanks Dean”
Getting into the town you and Dean started asking around about the case, two missing people a guy and a girl but the town folk were dismissive and closed off, definitely hiding something
You got directions to where they last left off too coming to an orchard, it was old and gave you the chills
“Dean I don’t like the look of this place”
“Yeah me either, come on let’s look around” you sighed getting out and following him through the orchard until you came across a scarecrow
“Scariest scarecrow I’ve ever seen”
“You got that right” he says climbing up to inspect the thing
“He’s got the missing guys tattoo, think I know what we’re dealing with” he said looking at you with weary eyes as he climbed back down
“What? What is it?”
“Think it’s a Pagan god, they’re sacrifices” your heart dropped feeling instant chills and a wave of anxiety course through you
“Dean no…..you know I can’t….”
“Woah woah calm down, I know I remember, let’s get you outta here” he leads you out of the orchard back to his car
“We’ve got research to do, so we can get the hell outta here soon” he drove to a near by school that had history on pagan gods
“You stay here I won’t be long” he assured as he left
Pagan? Out of all the cases John could send you on it was the one thing that scared you the most
All of a sudden the door on your side of the car opened and the sheriff was there holding the butt end of a rifle towards you then everything went black
You woke up in a dark place with a throbbing pain in your head, groaning you try to get up when you hear something near you
“Hello?”
“Y/n is that you?”
“Dean oh thank god” you sigh making your way over to him listening to his voice, feeling his arms wrap around you
“What’s gonna happen to us?”
“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you” the doors above opened revealing the people you questioned in the town, the sheriff pointing a gun
They dragged you both out tying you to trees in the orchard
“I’m sorry but it’s for the greater good” the older lady says before they all left
“Oh god it’s happening all over again Dean, why would dad send us on this case?” You panicked as the sun got lower
“I’ll get us outta this”
“How?”
“Let me think?” It was dark now and there was still no plan
There was footsteps behind you getting closer, you scream and cry trying to escape
“Dean? Y/n?” It was Sam he came back
“Oh thank god, Sammy get us out of here, watch out for the scarecrow too” sam starts to unchain you both
“What scarecrow?” You all turn to where the scarecrow is suppose to be hanging and it was gone, groans were right behind you quick to turn and it was the scarecrow coming your way, Dean took your hand as you all ran almost out of the orchard the the towns people surrounded you
“Just let us go” Sam pleaded
“We can’t he needs a sacrifice” he’s stopped when a scythe is driven through his heart given you and your brothers to run making it out of the orchard in time as screams were heard behind you
You collapsed by the side of the impala the adrenaline wearing off as the fear came crashing down consuming you triggering all the memories that you so desperately tried to forget, you woke in a new motel room obviously gone from that horrid town
“Hey sweetheart how’re you feeling?” Dean asked from your bedside you wanted to answer but that fear was still there, it felt like if you just curled up and locked yourself away they pagan gods couldn’t get to you so that’s exactly what you did
You turned away from Dean and didn’t speak, refusing any food, this went on for weeks, until eventually it was two months and you were wasting away, every day was filled with fear and Sam and Dean didn’t know what to do to help you, they tried everything, even while working on other cases they felt desperate like you were one case they couldn’t fix
“Love you gotta eat or get outside we can’t see you like this anymore it’s not healthy” Sammy said but still no response
“We need to call dad, he got her out of this last time, it’s our last choice here” you missed your dad dearly he was always sweet on you, you were his little girl and reminded him so much of Mary
You could hear them calling over and over again desperate for an answer when finally after the 6th time he must have answered Sam
“Dad I know you told us to not call but it’s bad”
“That case a few months back you sent us on it was a pagan god, they got y/n you know how she is with that stuff”
“Yeah she’s like before, but worse, she needs you dad”
He hung up the phone looking at you with a worried look, you felt embarrassed and like a burden, you tried really hard to get better but every time you closed your eyes you saw them
“He’s coming sweetheart, it’ll be okay” Dean said brushing your hair back soothing you a bit
You were sleeping hearing faint voices around you, you opened your eyes to see Sam Dean and John talking in the entry way of the motel room, they noticed your movement and ceased all talk
John made his way over kneeling down by your bed so he was eye level with you
“Hey sweetie, heard you weren’t doing good” you shake your head side to side
“They can’t hurt you, your brothers would never let that happen”
“But……but I’m scared” your voice raspy from lose of use
“I know but you can’t do this to yourself, you’ve gotta be strong”
“I’m sorry” you say your lip trembling
“Not your fault, now come on let’s get you some fresh air”
After that your brothers were there easing you back into everything, eating, hunting and eventually you were back in business but you swore to never work on a pagan case again
#supernatural imagine#supernatural#dean winchester x sister!reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x sister!reader#sam winchester x you#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester x reader#sam and dean#john winchester x daughter#john winchester fluff#john winchester x reader#john winchester#John Winchester imagine
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