Tumgik
#fair fucking play i’m cackling
edandstede · 2 years
Text
shadows fx: watch guillermo’s journey of a lifetime!
the livestream being watched by hundreds of fans: a seemingly endless loop of the inside of a dark box with a ship horn blaring and guillermo singing, snoring, crunching oreos, humming, fending off a bumblebee and some rowdy seagulls, trying to call for help to no avail, and pauses of him figuring out how to pee because of all the pedialyte
2K notes · View notes
gigglyapples · 1 month
Text
Mr Tough Guy - HuskerDust
(I made some edits, I knew I could do better and it needed some more fluff so I did, so if ya read the old one, surprise you get to read it again! 💕)
Tumblr media
Summery: After the ordeal with Alastor, Angel can’t control his curiosity about a certain kitty.
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Warnings: Tickles, Swearing.
Characters: Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty.
————————————————————————
“He’s escaping!!! Split up!” Angel exclaimed as Husker sped down the hall. Niffty gave Angel a thumbs up before darting down a separate hall. Husk was fast and sneaky, but his two attackers had an advantage. They both knew the halls of the hotel better than him and Husk knew this. He frantically looked around trying to find a place to hide.
Maybe if he could just get to his room, maybe he could lock them out! He spun around a corner barely keeping his footing. Something about this strange game of chase excited him though…
Maybe it was just the overall playful nature of it all? Was he happy to be playing around with Angel? Or maybe he just had a bit too much to drink today and it got him acting giddy… Yeah definitely that one. He could see the door to his room at the end of the hall. He picked up the pace and swung into his room, luckily the door was slightly ajar.
He quickly went to close the door but he suddenly felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders.
“Agh! Shit!” Husk exclaimed. “Haha! Gotcha!” Angel cheered happily using his second set of arms to wrap around the cat’s torso.
“Holy- how the fuck did ya?!“ Husk questioned in a panicked tone but Angel could see the playful smile on his face.
Hehe… what was that about sneakin’ up on ya?” Angel snickered as the cat managed to get the upper hand and pin Angel to the wall. While Angel had the height advantage, Husk was stronger.
“Damn daddy~” Angel snickered, making Husk roll his eyes. God why was Angel so cute… wait…
“Come on Husky gimme those ears!” Angel teased with a seductive tone. Husk stayed silent for a moment, looking Angel up and down…
“Maybe later legs…” He smirked suddenly grabbing around Angel’s waist. “For now… is’ your turn.” Husk chuckled with a hint of a growl in his voice before he suddenly began skittering his claws up Angel’s sides.
Angel, not expecting this had no chance of hiding his reaction and let out a shriek before collapsing into giggles.
“Aahahaha!! H-Huhusky!!??” Angel snickered squirming and pushing at Husk’s hands. Husk simply hummed in acknowledgement clearly very focused on his current task.
Thihihihis ihisn’t fahahair!! Gyeeeeeaahahaaa!!!” Angel shrieked when Husk’s claws found his hips.
“Funny, I’m strugglin’ to see how this ain’t fair legs…” Husk chuckled honing in on the Spider’s hips.
“Ya can’t stand there and tell me ya weren’t plannin’ on doin’ the exact same thing to me.” Husk growled pinching up and down Angel’s sides.
“I-IhI wahahas juhust gohohonna go fohohor yeheher ehehehears ahahsshohohole! NO! WAHAHAHAIIIT!!” Angel squealed when Husk’s fingers got comfortable under his lower set of arms.
“Which I’ll have ya know, are mighty sensitive, much like this spot right now…” Husk chuckled digging deeper into Angel’s underarms. Angel threw his head back in frantic happy laughter pushing on Husk’s arms.
“AAAHAA!! HUHUSKY YOHOHOHOU FUHUHUCKIN’ DIHIHICK!!” Angel cackled as his legs gave out from under him taking them both down to the floor. Angel quickly took this briefe break from the tickles and quickly wrapped a leg around Husk flipping them over reversing their positions on the floor.
Husk gasped in surprise at the swift movement but didn’t really make a huge get away as Angel used his upper arms to pin Husk’s above his head. Angel loomed over him for a moment to catch his breath and simply enjoying the view.
“Heh, not bad legs…” Husk complimented, honestly impressed by Angel’s ability to get the upper hand. Angel chuckled leaning in close.
“You’re turn kitty cat.” He said with an evil smirk before ruffling and scratching at Husk’s ears.
The cat demon gasped when he felt Angel’s fingers make contact, his shoulders rolled up as he felt his fingers explore his sensitive ears. Husk bit his lip trying to keep himself composed as Angel’s fingers scratched along the fur.
“Come on Husky, don’t be shy~” Angel smiled not holding back on the teasing tone.
Husk’s ears twitched and squirmed trying to escape the sensation, but admittedly, the feeling wasn’t all bad, it honestly felt nice, but it also tickled like hell! No wonder Al was so giggly! His body was so confused, it wanted to squirm away, but it also never wanted this to end?
“A-Ah! Shit!…” Husk groaned, a few giggles slipping out before he melted into the touch beginning to pur once again.
“Ha! There it is!” Angel laughed as his fingers scratched at the outer sides.
“Sh-Shuhuhut it legs…” Husk mumbled his tail beginning to thwap about.
Husk could feel his cheeks burning under his fur as his ears leaned further into Angel’s touch eventually giving into the feeling. He just couldn’t help it… Angel began to see his eyes grow heavy almost as if he was gonna fall asleep. Well he couldn’t have that before some revenge now could he? Angel continued exploring, trying to find a spot that made him tic. Angel smirked when Husk suddenly jolted out of his sleepy daze, his lips quirking into a somewhat goofy smile as he began to squirm slightly.
“F-Fuhuck!…” The cat choked out, a few snickers slipping through as he squirmed and began kicking his leg making Angel laugh.
Husk jumped slowly beginning to come out of his sleepy daze as Angel’s fingers found a particularly sensitive spot making the cat demon let out a giggly screech.
“Nnnnoohohoho….” Husk denied as his ears twitching increased.
“Hm? Whats got ya so giggly Husky?” Angel asked. As his fingers fluttered on the inside his ears right where the little heart print was.
“GHehehheehrrr! F-Fuhuck yohohou!” Husk chuckled twisting and turning his head.
“Hmmm, I wouldn’t talk ta me like that if I was you mister…” Angel chuckled beginning to nuzzle his nose against the base of Husk’s ears. Husk’s fur stood on end shivering before he fell into a consistant uncontrollable stream of giggled and squeaks.
EEEHEAHahha!! A-Ahahangel!! Shit! Wh-Wahahait! AAHA!!!” Husk whined shaking his head but that only made it easier for Angel.
“Gaaahaaa!! AHAHANGEHEHEL- N-Noho nuhuhuzZLIHIHING!!!” He screeched digging his heels into the carpet.
“Ahaw… why not Husky? Does it tickle more when I do that?” Angel teased into his ears, the vibrations from his voice only making it tickle more for Husk.
“ShhhuhuHUHUT UHUHUP Dihihick Hehehead!!”
Husk’s kicking and squirming became more frantic as Angel’s fingers began to trail further down to his neck.
“Aaahaa! SHIHIHIHIT!!!! Ohohok!! Ya got me! Yahha gohot meehEHEHEEE!” The cat squealed as Angel’s fingers began to gently scratch the sides of his neck. Angel was honestly surprised by Husk’s reaction. His laugh was far more high pitched and squeaky than usual, probably because of how flustered he has become. But still, Angel would be lying if he said he didn’t love it.
“Aawahaww!! But Husky~ You’re laugh is just the cutest thing!!” Angel teased nuzzling deeper into the fluff.
“AHAHAA! ! ANGEL! DOHOHON’T- Don’t you dahahAHARE!!” Husk snorted as he felt his cheeks burn darker.
“Hm? Don’t I dare what Husky?~ Does teasing you make it worse for ya? Hmmmm?” Angel snickered now blowing on his ears just to see them twitch.
“Shuhuhut uhuhup!! Yohohou dihIHIHICK!! GAAHAA! HOLY FUHUHUCK!!” Husk screeched out small tears beginning to well up in his eyes from all the laughter as Angel’s fingers gently explored his sides.
“Heheh, alright alright Whiskers.” Angel giggled lifting his head up leaving the poor bartender’s wars alone.
“Heheheh, calm down, I’m done baby~.” Angel smiled looking down at the flustered mess that was Husk while his breathing calmed. What Angel didn’t expect however was Husk gently pulling him down to lay on his chest.
“Y-You’re… an asshohohole… ya know that?” Husk sighed, his smile never leaving his face.
“Heheheh, I know… but ya love me.” Angel giggled burying his cheek into Husk’s fluffy chest.
“Yeah… sure Legs…”
It didn’t take long for Niffty to find them asleep together on the floor.
End.
344 notes · View notes
njdevilsdarling · 5 months
Text
the ‘costume thing’ | jack hughes x reader
Tumblr media
*pairing: jack hughes x gn!reader
*summary: a simple misunderstanding between you and jack turns into a full-blown argument
*word count: 896
*tags: angst, miscommunication, happy ending
*a/n: goodness gracious, this was supposed to be fluff but it grew into this angsty monster. i hope you enjoy !
happy halloween !!
you’ve been trying to convince jack since september to wear matching costumes this year. jack didn’t agree to do it last halloween so maybe this time, it’d be different, but nope. he still shot down every suggestion. it’s starting to get on your nerves. you’d never force him to do it but it’s hard not to feel jealous seeing all of your friends dressing up with their partners.
and you thought you’d had some pretty good ideas, too. your best friend straight up cackled over facetime when you told them your favorite (the angel and devil thing is so overdone but jack has always looked good in white).
now, it’s two weeks before the 31st and he still hasn’t said anything. he doesn’t even pay attention anymore and you suspect that he isn’t listening whenever you bring it up. it fucking sucks.
at first, it was just annoying- something that was just aggravating enough to get under your skin- but now, it’s starting to hurt.
it’s beyond just a costume. it’s about him ignoring you and not even taking your opinion into consideration.
fine. if he wants to play that way, so can you.
“c’mon, just talk to me.”
you cross your arms and stare at him, shaking your head. oh, now he wants to talk, got it.
“did i like, forget to do something or make you upset?” jack says, sounding genuinely concerned. it’s nice to know he cares but you’ve been paying attention to how long it would take for him to approach you. three days is shitty.
you stand there in silence while he fidgets awkwardly, clearly frustrated by your lack of a response.
“can you please say something?”
you sigh, rolling your eyes. the low simmer of irritation and hurt that’s been under your skin finally boils over and you can’t stop yourself from lashing out at him. “it doesn’t feel very good to be ignored, does it?”
immediate regret sets in as you watch the look in his eyes shift rapidly from sadness to sharply annoyed. “is this still about that costume thing?”
“are you serious?” you scoff, full on glaring at him, “you think that’s why i’m upset?”
“yeah, i guess. i don’t know.”
“i’m upset because you’re not listening to me. every time i try to talk to you, you just brush me off, and that’s if you even care enough to respond,” you snap at him. you feel your eyes begin to burn and it only serves to make you more upset. you’d never considered yourself someone who tries to hide your emotions but fuck, crying over this in front of him is embarrassing. “it’s like you don’t even want to hear what i have to say. and i feel ignored.”
it’s quiet but the silence between the two of you is thunderous. jack opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find what to say. you sniffle, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes. it isn’t fair for you to spill everything you’ve been feeling lately out to him and to him to stay still and speechless. it feels like hours before he finally says anything.
“i’m sorry,” jack mumbles, and it’s so genuine that it’s almost like you have to look up at him. “i should have listened to you.”
you laugh wetly, wrapping your arms around your body. “yeah, you should have. you never even told me why you didn’t want to like, dress up with me.”
“i don’t know why.” he shrugs. at least he looks bashful. “that’s a shitty answer, isn’t it?”
he’s right. it’s a horrible answer but he says it in such a way that makes you giggle, hiding it behind your hand. hearing you laugh causes him to smile.
“i didn’t know you felt like that. i wish i would’ve, though.” jack bites his lip, his hands in his pockets. it sucks, seeing him so dejected, but part of you is glad that he’s taking this so seriously. it’s such a contrast from before; he’s actually, really, listening to you now and it’s damn satisfying. “i don’t like seeing you upset.”
you take a deep breath, nodding slowly. he’s trying. one conversation isn’t going to make everything okay but it’s a start.
“just… i need you to talk to me. fighting like this is stupid. i don’t wanna spend most of our time together arguing,” you say quietly, the last of your tears drying on your face.
jack pulls you into a crushing hug and for a moment, you stand still, before hugging him back just as tightly.
“me too.”
he’s got such a way with words.
jack flicks his headband with a frown and you watch the little halo attached to it wobble.
“quit messing with it,” you hiss, elbowing his arm when he goes to hit it again, “you’re going to break it.”
he pouts, rolling his shoulders back. maybe the wings were a little too much, but he just looks so cute in them. “and why am i the angel again?”
“because,” you say simply, flashing him a grin, “you’re always a devil. it’s my turn now.”
you quickly pull your phone out, using the camera to check if your horns are still on straight. in the top left corner, jack readjusts the wings you ‘forced’ him to wear.
you can’t fucking wait for tonight.
400 notes · View notes
illiterateaffairs · 10 months
Text
DISTRACTIONS V | A SLIGHT MALFUNCTION
pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)
rating: T
word count: 5,901
summary: afc richmond is off to amsterdam for an exhibition match, but the problem with going on a trip with the team is that jamie is on the team. poor guy just wants to know what he did wrong.
A/N: if someone is out of character in this chapter, no they aren’t. pretend i’m a perfect writer!
distractions masterlist | previous chapter
Tumblr media
So you’re definitely screwed - and not in a fun way.
The evening when Jamie came over to share pizza and watch Grey’s Anatomy with you ended with him spending the night. It was the first time he did so without sex being involved. The worst part was that you initiated it. You both let time get away from you - and Jamie became very invested in Meredith and Derek’s tumultuous relationship - so you told him he could crash since it was so late. You’d offered timidly, fearing he’d think it was weird since this wasn’t your usual routine. But he didn’t even hesitate in agreeing, and you didn’t turn him away when he followed you to your bedroom. 
Something shifted between the two of you after that. You actually felt like the friends part of your friends with benefits situation carried more weight. Now when he came over, instead of immediately jumping each other’s bones, you shared a meal, watched a show, or even played a game after Jamie noticed the few board games you had stowed away in your closet. 
And you talked more, too. He started telling you stories about his family; how close he and his mom were, and the strained relationship between him and his father. He never went into much detail, but you could gather that his dad was definitely not a great person. You liked that he trusted you enough, though, to let you in on even a tiny bit of his struggles. It made you understand him better. Naturally, you also started sharing more with him, such as how lost you felt before coming to the U.K. You’d confided in him about the lack of friends you had back in Chicago, since Mason practically isolated you from the world outside of his own, and how insecure that made you. “Well, now you’ve got a whole football club who’d do just about anything for you,” he’d whispered, gently running a finger across your cheek as the two of you laid in bed. 
At one point you almost told him a funny story about your childhood that involved Ted, but you bit your tongue and gave your uncle a fake name. Jamie cackled, though, as you described your Uncle Steve’s attempt at helping you with a science fair project that ended with baking soda shooting out of your fake volcano and into his eye. When you caught yourself musing that Jamie’s laugh must be the greatest sound in the whole world, you knew you were in trouble. 
You were fucking screwed. You and Jamie agreed: no feelings. The second one of you felt weird or that you didn’t want casual sex anymore, you’d stop. You never discussed what would happen if one of you felt more, because it seemed implausible. Yet, here you were.
The obvious solution was to call it off. Jamie probably wouldn’t care. On to the next. But the selfish part of you couldn’t do it. He was just so cute and sweet and he made you feel good. And not just in bed - in general. When you were around him, you felt confident and happy and safe. Mason, at least towards the end, made you feel anxious and inept and small. 
Maybe that was why you were feeling so over attached. You were used to the bare minimum from a guy, that now that a decent one was showing you attention and kindness, you were obsessing over him. 
But Jamie wasn’t just decent, he was…Jamie. And despite every bone in your body telling you not to, you really liked him. 
So, over the course of the last few days, you did what any reasonable person would do: ignore the problem until it just goes away. Unfortunately, the problem was Jamie and he was a little hard to ignore, since you worked with him. But you did your best to put some distance between the two of you. When he wanted to come over, you told him you had plans with Sam or Keeley. When he wanted to sneak away to your office, you told him Rebecca needed you. When he showed up at your flat with takeout from the Chinese restaurant you’d offhandedly mentioned loving once, to which he remembered, you fucked him on the couch and ate cold lo mein afterwards. But that was your only moment of weakness. 
You told yourself you couldn’t avoid him forever; just long enough for your feelings to dissipate. You were just in some sort of honeymoon phase, and once the novelty of him wears off, you can be normal about everything, until you both inevitably get bored of each other and move on. It was never meant to last forever. 
You have to ignore the way your heart aches at that thought. 
It’s because of your fool proof plan to get over Jamie that you decide not to attend Richmond’s exhibition match in Amsterdam this weekend. Something you hadn’t told Jamie, or anyone for that matter. Which is why you’re starting to feel particularly awkward as Ted sits across from you at your desk and goes on and on about the trip. 
“I was thinking when we get there, we could grab breakfast and sight-see for a bit before the game. Maybe Beard will tag along. What do you think?”
You’re pushing a piece of chicken around your plate absentmindedly when Ted looks up at you, and furrows his brows.
“What’s wrong, Kiddo?” he asks, setting his own plate onto your desk. 
You look up, with wide eyes, “Who, me? Nothings wrong. I’m great! Fucking fantastic.”
He tilts his head, fixing you a look.
Your shoulders drop as you sigh, “I just…don’t think I’m going to go to Amsterdam this weekend.”
Ted’s eyes widen in shock, “What? Why not? I thought you’d be excited! New country, new adventures. You know, Amsterdam is one step closer to Iceland.”
You huff out a laugh as you rub your temple. “I know, and I do want to. I’ve just been feeling kind of run down lately. I feel like life's been kind of go, go, go since I got here. Which has been great! But it’s catching up with me and I think I just need to unwind for a weekend by myself.”
While this isn’t exactly the truth, life has been a bit hectic, so you hope he buys it. Ted nods thoughtfully, as though he wants to ask more, but accepts your answer. 
This time you tilt your head and give him a pointed look, “What?”
“Nothing,” Ted’s quick to respond, “What you said makes sense. I guess I just haven’t checked in on how you’ve been coping with everything. You’ve seemed so happy since you’ve been here. You and Sam seem to get along real well, and Rebecca always sings your praises. But you are thousands of miles away from the only home you’ve ever known. Heck, I’ve been here for almost three years, and I still sometimes wake in a cold sweat craving barbeque sauce.” Ted smiles when you giggle. “All I’m saying is it's okay to miss home; to miss your parents, even to miss he-who-shall-no be named.” 
You're surprised when, despite Ted avoiding his name, the allusion to Mason doesn’t make your head spin. You snort, “Well, while I do miss my dads and deep dish pizza, I can assure you I do not miss Voldemort.”
Ted hums, “That’s good.”
“You’re right, though. I honestly have really loved my life here these past few months, but I think I made myself skip the part where I processed all the changes. So, I think some time to just be will be good for me.”
“I think so, too,” he nods, “But the team and I sure will miss you this weekend.”
You don’t have time to bask in the sentiment when a knock comes through your office door. Before you can respond, the door opens to reveal Jamie. 
You swear time stops for a second, as Jamie looks from you to Ted, and Ted looks from Jamie to you. You just blink, practically staring into the abyss. You know Jamie is scrambling for an excuse as to why he’s here, as you try to rationalize why either one of them is in your office. Thankfully, Ted has more than one brain cell and is able to play it cool.
“Hey, Jamie, what brings you here?” Ted greets cheerfully.
“I’m, uh, here to ask if I can see the videos we got today at practice.” Jamie makes up and you’re almost proud, “I have to make sure my public image is maintained.”
“Yes, he’s very stringent about that.” You add on, giving Ted a playful eye roll about Jamie’s ‘antics’, and he’s none the wiser. Ted gives you an amused smile. 
The older man gets up and starts gathering trash into the takeout bag to dispose of. “Well, I should get going. Thanks for dinner, Kiddo. Don’t tell Roy, but this is why you’re my favorite coworker.” Ted turns to you in the doorway and winks from behind Jamie. He pats the younger man on the shoulder, and as he leaves, shouts back, “Good night, you two.” 
Jamie shuts the door behind him, “Do you have dinner with Ted often?”
You shrug, “Sometimes.” 
Jamie nods, and you’re relieved neither of them were suspicious of anything. You’re still overwhelmed by the two of them crossing paths like that, that you’re late to processing that you and Jamie are alone in your dimly lit office which is exactly the type of situation you’re trying to avoid. However, Jamie doesn’t initiate anything like you’d expected. Instead, he flops down into the chair across from you, almost dejectedly. He beats you to the punch before you can ask.
“Why aren’t you coming to Amsterdam?”
That takes you aback, “You heard that?” You glance briefly in the direction Ted disappeared in, “Did you hear anything else?”
“No,” Jamie frowns, “I got here right when Ted said the team would miss you.”
You hold back a relieved sigh. 
“We will miss you, by the way,” Jamie adds, “Me especially.”
Your stomach flutters. What the hell did that mean?
“Really?” you ask quietly.
“Yeah,” Jamie nods, “Hotels are the best places to have sneaky sex.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, honestly grateful he’d snapped you out of your stupor. 
“Sure they are. Especially when you’re sharing a room with one of your teammates.” 
“Well, I could get us our own room. A private suite. Maybe with a jacuzzi tub.” Jamie reaches across the table, taking your hand and rubbing it gently with his thumb. “That is, if you come with us this weekend.
You stare longingly at your intertwined fingers and he almost has you. Luckily, you have a miniscule shred of willpower left. 
“I’m sorry, Jamie,” you reluctantly pull your hand from his, “I really need to stay in Richmond this weekend. I need some time to relax.”
“Well, I could help you do that,” Jamie scoffs.
“Jamie, please.”
You must give away how desperate you are in your tone, because Jamie’s playful expression changes to concern.
“Are you alright?” he asks, “Did something happen?”
“No,” you shake your head aggressively, “I promise. I just want some alone time. I feel like my social battery just needs to recharge, you know?”
After a moment, Jamie still looks unsure, but nods. You think he’s going to say something else, before he’s standing up. 
“I guess I’ll see you next week, then?” 
You nod, and then throw him an encouraging smile, “Break a leg this weekend.”
Jamie’s face scrunches in confusion as he juts back, “What?”
You squint, “You’ve never heard that saying?” he shakes his head, “It means good luck.”
“Why the fuck would breaking a leg be good luck?”
You stare at him for a few seconds before frowning, “I don’t actually know.” 
He shakes his head and continues to the doorway, giving you one last look as he wishes you a goodnight and disappears from view. 
Sourly, you realize this was the first time he hasn’t offered to drive you home since you’ve met.  Maybe that was for the best. 
Tumblr media
Jamie Tartt doesn’t yearn. 
He’s liked plenty of women. He’s even loved a couple of them. But he doesn’t obsess over them. 
You’re different, though. Apparently. 
As soon as he left your office after finding out you weren’t coming to Amsterdam, he couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. It really wasn’t a big deal. It was two days. You weren’t even a couple. And yet, the idea of being apart for that long made his chest hurt. What the fuck was that about?
He’d been having confusing feelings a lot recently when it came to you. The two of you are closer than ever, bonding over little things between really, really great sex. At the same time, he felt like you were pulling away, and he couldn’t understand why. He thought you were having fun together. It really seemed like you enjoyed yourself, whether the two of you were just hanging out, or participating in your more extracurricular activities. But maybe you were getting tired of it. Maybe you were getting tired of him. 
Shit. What did he do wrong?
And why does it bother him so much?
It was all your fault, really.
You with your kind heart and sweet compliments, which didn’t feel earned but he appreciated. You with your safe and comfortable embraces. You with your absolutely addictive laugh, that he’d jump through hoops to hear over and over again. You with your fucking eyes and the way you touch him during nights together, making him feel so wanted. You’ve gotten him accustomed to a certain lifestyle, one that he’s never experienced before, so now he wasn’t sure how to go back to before you started hooking up. Maybe that was what unnerved him. He was afraid if you stopped the benefits, the friendship would also stop, too. A little bit was about missing the sex, but mostly he’d miss you. 
God, how you’ve ruined him. 
Now here he was, surrounded by his teammates, in one of the greatest cities in the world, as they all mourned yet another loss. Despite how soul crushing these consecutive losses have been, Jamie finds himself more upset by the fact that he can’t see you tonight. With that thought propelling him, he jogs out of the locker room and finds an empty hallway to call you in. He doesn’t care if this makes him seem weird or desperate. He just wants to hear your voice. 
“Hey, Jamie,” your soft voice answers after two rings. He clocks that you still sound a bit off, but it soothes him nonetheless, “I saw the game. I’m sorry.”
He manages to laugh, “Why are you watching football when you’re supposed to be relaxing?”
He smiles when he hears your own laugh through the phone, “I can multitask.” 
There’s a beat of silence before you continue, “How’re you feeling? How’s the rest of the team?”
“Everyone’s miserable,” Jamie says point blankly. 
“Wow, no hesitation there.”
“Yeah,” Jamie chuckles dryly, “Wish you were here, though.”
He listens intently as you sharply inhale. When you don’t respond after a few seconds, he calls out your name. 
“Hey, Jamie, I’m in the middle of cooking dinner and if I don’t hurry, half of it is going to boil over. I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Tell the team hi for me.” 
Before Jamie can even say goodbye, you’ve hung up. That doesn’t sit well with him. Not just because you ended the call so abruptly, but because he knew you really only cooked when you were anxious. Something was definitely up. Even if it had nothing to do with him, he finds himself wishing you’d at least want to confide in him.
Later that day, when the team has boarded the bus, the morale is criminally low. It’s so bad that it has Ted Lasso declaring that he’s revoking curfew and encouraging everyone to pull an all-nighter in Amsterdam. Suddenly, Jamie’s mood is boosted for the first time all week. A night of debauchery with his teammates was the perfect thing to get his mind off of their losing streak and you. Unfortunately, Roy has his own shit going on and decides that he needs to take it out on Jamie, by forcing him into an all night training session. Despite the disappointment, Jamie will take a distraction in any form at this point. 
So, he plasters on a smile and forces Roy on a running tour of Amsterdam. By nightfall, he’s annoyed the grumpy coach into admitting, one, that he’s never seen a windmill and doesn’t believe they exist, and two, that he doesn’t know how to ride a bike. 
Naturally this leads to Jamie teaching Roy how to do exactly that. After a series of attempts that are simultaneously humorous, frustrating, and endearing, Roy successfully manages to stay upright, and the two of them bike off in search of a windmill. 
For some reason, Jamie finds it in himself to apologize to Roy for making fun of him earlier. He’s also surprising himself when he tells Roy about his childhood visits to Amsterdam. The first involves a suppressed memory of his father taking him to lose his virginity, and the second with his mother, that he actually looks back on fondly. He’s never told anyone about either of these trips - even you. 
He supposes Roy could sense this, when he makes an admission of his own; that he’d been taking his anger out on Jamie because he’d found out Keeley has a new girlfriend. That’s all Roy says on the matter and Jamie doesn’t push him for more. 
Not long after that, they finally make it to a windmill. Jamie genuinely smiles, taking it as a win when Roy appears mildly happy. If Jamie could tell his childhood self he’s staring at a windmill in Amsterdam with his hero, that kid would probably shit himself. Now Jamie’s just happy they get along at all. 
Maybe it's because of the bond they seemed to forge that night, or maybe it's the sleep deprivation, but as they start biking back, Jamie finds himself confiding in Roy about something else. 
“Hey, can I get your opinion on something?” Roy doesn’t say yes, but he also doesn’t say no, so Jamie continues, “I’ve been sleeping with this girl-”
Roy groans.
“I know, just hear me out. We’ve been hooking up for a while now, and it's just casual, which is great, but recently she’s been acting weird. I think she’s making up excuses not to see me and it bothers me that she’s not telling me what’s bothering her. But we’re not in a relationship, so why should I care? I mean, I do care. Like, if she’s upset I want to know so I can help fix it. But I care as a friend, ya know? I guess what I’m trying to figure out is how to ask her what’s been going on, without fucking up our situation and making her think I like her more than I do,” Jamie explains in a rush. 
Roy discreetly rolls his eyes, “Well, it does sound like you fucking like her.” 
“What?” Jamie almost veers off the road, “I do not!”
“Yeah, you definitely do.”
“No, we’re just friends who occasionally have sex,” Jamie states firmly. 
“Alright, so if she told you she wanted to stop?”
Jamie hesitates, but eventually responds assuredly, “I’d respect her wishes.”
“And if she wanted to start seeing someone else?”
Jamie’s expression becomes pained. 
Roy chuckles as he shakes his head, “I fucking told you.” 
Jamie sighs, “Shit.”
“What?”
“I’m not supposed to…like her.” I promised myself. This was not the time for Jamie to spiral, but now his heart was racing. He knew he was too attached to you, but liking you? Romantically? And all it took was Roy fucking Kent to point out the obvious for it to sink in. 
“Well, tough shit,” his coach scoffs, “You like her, so what? You think she doesn’t like you? She must if she’s been putting up with you for however long.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jamie rolls his eyes, “And I have no idea how she feels, but that’s not what freaks me out. Its if she does feel the same way, it’ll be real, and when I inevitably fuck it up, I…I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve never met someone like her, and the last thing I want to do is mess things up like I always do.” 
“So instead of the risk of potentially getting hurt down the line, you’d rather knowingly hurt yourself now by pretending like you don’t have feelings at all and hope they’ll go away?”
Jamie glances at Roy briefly before letting out a humorless laugh, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Roy nods ruefully, “Yeah. I know a thing or two about that.” 
Jamie sits with Roy’s admission. He assumes it's in reference to his breakup with Keeley, and he’s seen how he’s handled that. Maybe he should tell you, and maybe you’d live happily ever after. But there was still a chance you didn’t have the same feelings, especially with how you were seemingly avoiding him. That didn’t really give him a vote of confidence. After a few moments, Jamie’s brought out of his thoughts when Roy surprises him by saying your name.
“It's her isn’t it,” Roy asks, “She’s the girl you’ve been seeing?”
Jamie narrows his eyes, wanting to deny it, but not seeing the point, “How’d you know?”
Roy shrugs, “You’ve just seemed…,” it nearly pains him to say, “Happier, since she’s been around.” 
Jamie’s eyes soften, but then turns mischevious. He practically smirks despite the weight of this conversation, “You obsessed with me or something, coach?”
Roy grunts, “Shut the fuck up.”
“I have been, though,” Jamie admits, “Happier. Like I said, I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s so smart and funny, and so goddamn nice, despite some of the shit she’s been through. No matter how hard I try, I don’t think I’ll ever deserve her.”
Roy takes in Jamie’s words thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” 
Jamie chances a glance at Roy, surprised by his words.
“You’re a good guy, Jamie. And she’d be lucky to have you.”
Jamie tries not to be touched by Roy’s compliment, but a small smile finds its way on his face. Not many people have said this about him - he’s not even sure he believes it himself. He doesn’t know how to respond to convey his appreciation, so he just softly says, “Thanks.”
Roy looks over to Jamie and gives him a meaningful nod. “But if you tell anyone I said any of this I’ll fucking deny it.”
Jamie manages a laugh. “Aye aye, coach.” 
Despite his insecurities, Roy’s belief in him is almost enough encouragement to want to tell you everything and see where it goes. You had been putting up with him - to borrow Roy’s words. More than that, up until recently, he felt the two of you growing even closer, so there could be a chance it was because you were starting to develop feelings for him, too. He was inclined to believe it was all in his head, but maybe he should start looking at the glass half full instead of completely empty. 
While he definitely wouldn’t be professing his feelings to you right away, he was allowing himself to feel something akin to hope. 
Wow. Losing an exhibition match, bonding with Roy Kent, and denying but eventually accepting his feelings for you all in one night. When in Amsterdam. 
The pair continue to bike down the street in comfortable silence. That is until Roy accidentally veers off the road into the woods.
“Fuck!”
Tumblr media
Back in Richmond, you’re doing a horrible job of getting your mind off of Jamie.
You started your evening by watching their match, which definitely defeated half the purpose of not going with them to Amsterdam, but you used wanting to support the team as an excuse. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Jamie, though, so by the time the game was ending, you were knee deep in making a whole-ass lasagna you definitely couldn’t eat by yourself. After their unfortunate loss, you sent Sam an apologetic text with a lot of emojis. What you weren’t expecting was Jamie to call you, and you felt like not answering would be rude. You thought you could handle a friendly conversation, but then he was saying something about missing you and you were panicking and hanging up before you could process what you were doing. 
You knew your tactics of avoiding him wasn’t exactly a nice thing to do. You just were not a confrontational person, and even though Jamie would most likely be cool with, well, cooling things off, you didn’t know how to express that to him. Jamie didn’t seem like the type to be angry at you for just asking for what you wanted, or try to convince you to change your mind, like someone else you once knew, but past circumstances clouded your brain, making it more difficult to try. 
So for now, you’d try to find the space to let any feelings go away on their own. Because that will definitely work. 
After over-indulging in homemade Italian food, you try to get invested in some good old TV. You try watching something new, not having had time to binge watch as of late, but you couldn’t focus on the plot enough to get invested. So, you tried watching Grey’s Anatomy, per usual, but even the iconic Cristina Yang wasn’t enough to keep your mind off of Jamie. As a last ditch effort, you threw on a trashy reality show but of course that reminded you of Jamie. 
Giving up on television altogether, you decide to Facetime your dads and catch up with them. Admittedly, you hadn’t had the chance to have a long conversation with them in a few weeks, only speaking to them briefly over text or quick calls between work and football matches. You were instantly comforted once their faces filled your phone screen, and you vowed never to go this long without speaking to them. 
Dad and Pops take turns filling you in on their life in Kansas, from work woes to neighborhood gossip. They also tell you about going to Henry’s soccer games and how well he’s been doing. It warms your heart that he’s most likely taken up this sport in honor of his dad. They also inquire about how work has been going for you (”it’s still really great!”) and whether there’s anything else of note to share (”nope!”). You wonder if they can sense the nervous energy radiating off of you through the phone. 
Then they ask you if you’ve been writing at all. For some reason this catches you off guard. It was as if you’ve never heard of the concept. When you first got to England, you’d try so hard to write during your off time. Rebecca has even encouraged you to do so when things were light at work. However, writer’s block was still plaguing you. And recently, all of your free time was taken up by team outings, dinners with Ted, and being with Jamie. But here you are, free from all of those things for the first time in weeks. 
After talking to your dads for nearly an hour, ending with a promise to do this more often, you’re hanging up and running for your laptop. You plop down on the couch and pull up a blank word document. To no surprise, you stare at the blank page for five minutes when no ideas come to mind. Normally, this would segue into you opening Google News to see if any little piece of media struck inspiration. When you do this, the first article you see is about AFC Richmond facing another defeat. 
You groan, closing the browser immediately. When you’re face to face with the empty page again, you aggressively smash your computer keyboard.
Fuck Jamie Tartt. 
For some reason, typing the words out on the page made you feel a tiny bit better, so you keep going.
Fuck him and his stupidly attractive face and his dumb, endearing jokes. Fuck him and his ability to invade my every thought, and the way he somehow knows exactly what to say to make me feel better when I’m sad. Fuck him and his surprising thoughtfulness and his sense of humor that perfectly complements my own. Fuck him for being so good at fucking me, that he’s probably ruined me for anyone else. Fuck. Jamie. Tartt. 
You stare at your stream of consciousness thoughtfully. It was like you were making a pro-con list where every con was just a pro you didn’t want to be true. These were all things that drove you nuts about Jamie - the way he became such a light in your life without you giving him permission to. He was supposed to be a safe choice because he was so unsafe. His reputation was bullshit. He wasn’t just someone you fooled around with until you got bored, or he did. He was someone you could see yourself being with forever without growing tired of him. 
Okay, avoiding him definitely wasn’t enough while these intrusive thoughts were circling your brain.
You reread the words on your screen one last time, as your hand hovers over the backspace. Before you click it, you find yourself amused by your chaotic ramblings. You even find yourself thinking…this would be a very intriguing first line of a book. 
It would take some fine tuning and obviously a name-change, but if you’d picked up a book and this was the opening sentence, you’d absolutely need to know more. 
Running with this thought, you start tweaking your words, while you simultaneously try to envision a circumstance for this story outside of your own. 
A friends with benefits storyline would be a little too on the nose, but enemies to lovers is always a good trope. Maybe after this first line, you could jump back in time, making readers wait until the book was halfway through to learn the context for this angry thought. 
Suddenly, you’re taking all your ideas and running with them. You switch between writing paragraphs, to writing ideas, outlining scenes, and jotting down incoherent thoughts that you’re not sure fit, but could honestly be enough of a thought-starter for a whole other story. No matter how it all fits together, you’re pretty dead set on a romantic comedy angle. You wonder why you hadn’t had the idea for one before, considering it was one of your favorite genres as a consumer. It probably has nothing to do with the lack of romantic-comedy-energy from your last relationship. And certainly there’s no correlation to being able to write one now with the current situation you were in.
Before you know it, it's the middle of the night and you’ve been writing for hours. You’re not sure any of its good, but its something. The one thing you know, as your eyes begin to droop, is that you’re not going to write anything of substance while your energy is sufficiently drained. 
You force yourself off the couch, managing to plug your computer in, before you crash on your bed. The next time your eyes open, its 9AM, and with barely seven hours of rest, you feel too wired to go back to sleep, anxious to start writing again. So, you put on a pot of coffee and fire up your laptop. You’re relieved you’d had enough of a brain at 3AM to save your document. 
You spend the whole day writing, only stopping for snacks and bathroom breaks. You only become aware of what time it is when someone pounds on your door as the afternoon turns to evening. You hastily save your word doc before sliding over to the door. You should be surprised that Jamie occupies the other side, but you really weren’t. What surprised you was how much he looked like a zombie. 
“Jamie?” you arch your eyebrow, as you move out of the way so he can cross the threshold, shutting the door in his wake, “Everything okay?”
“Guess what,” he says with a dopey smile on his face, “Ted let us stay up all night, so I taught Roy how to ride a bike and we saw a windmill.”
Part of you wants to laugh, but the rest of you is just really confused. 
“Wait, you didn’t sleep last night?”
“Mhmm,” he nods once.
“God, you should be passed out at home right now. Why are you here?” Your eyes widen, “Don’t tell me you drove in this condition.” 
“I ordered an Uber,” he explains sleepily as he takes your hand and tugs you to your bedroom.
Despite your plan to disengage in sexual activities - and all activities - with him, you don’t bother arguing knowing this wasn’t going anywhere while he was this tired. Still, you curse yourself for finding a sleep deprived Jamie very adorable. 
You giggle as he plops down onto your bed face first. He manages to hold onto your hand as you stare down at him from beside the bed. 
“You didn’t answer my question.” Jamie just mumbles incoherently into your mattress. Giving up entirely, you go to fold the comforter over him, having not bothered to make your bed this morning. “While you are welcome to nap here, I’m sure your fancy bed at home would be much more comfortable.” 
As you begin to tuck him in, he turns over suddenly, and pulls you onto the bed beside him.
“Yeah, but you’re not there and I wanted to see you,” he mumbles tiredly, his eyes fluttering up and down slowly. 
You allow yourself to bask in this moment, with your face a few inches from his. Sitting up slightly, you gently trace your fingers over his eyelids, coaxing him to sleep.
“Well, now that you’ve seen me, you can close your eyes and get some rest,” you whisper. His face nuzzles against your hand a little before he settles into your pillow. 
He mumbles something else, but then you’re pretty sure he’s fully passed out.
Sighing, you push yourself up and out of the bed. Per usual, he doesn’t stir at the movement, nor when you shut the bedroom door as you head back to the living room. 
Once you’re alone and back on the couch, you let out a long sigh and rub your face. He does not make it easy, does he? 
Even as warmth spreads across your face, Jamie’s words about wanting to see you echoing in your head, an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. If you really wanted to get rid of the feelings you had for Jamie - feelings that were rapidly increasing by the second - you couldn’t avoid him forever.
You were going to have to end your “relationship”.
Suddenly, you’ve lost the motivation to continue writing a romantic comedy for the rest of the night. It was fun while it lasted. 
You’re not sure you mean your sudden ability to write again or something else. 
A/N: well that’s no good! lol, this was the hardest chapter to do, i rewrote some of it several times, so please let me know what you think of it!
Taglist:  @atabigail @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @escapismqueen @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind​ @lizziel1410​ @a-sweet-little-fangirl @scaramou @beardsplitter @gcidrvsh @ringpopdust @marveltg365 @optimisticsandwichgladiator it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3
739 notes · View notes
mochimooon · 5 months
Text
DTF Only (DTF) - zeke jaeger x reader 18+
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: Zeke Jaeger x afab! Reader summary: You can't expect every match to want to take you out, but Zeke's more than happy to give you some backdoor action. word count: 4k notes: Part 6 of DTF Only. Zeke is a wee bit scummy here, not too bad. warnings: smut, explicit content, explicit language, mild alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, anal sex, masturbation ☻ masterpost☻
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ !!
Tumblr media
“Hmm…he’s handsome. The beard’s kept neat, could be a sign that he manscapes.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.” You set your phone down and tap the speaker option. 
Ymir, on the contrary is less sure about him. “Are you sure you want this guy to sodomize you?”
Another date tonight, although, you’re not sure if you’d call this an actual date.  
You had gotten a message from Zeke earlier in the week. Unlike the others, he’s older by eight years, and more forward with his intentions. 
I’m a busy man, but on Thursday I can be all yours.  What do you say? You want to be all mine for a night?
You had just agreed to meet up with Reiner that Monday, and because it was further down the week, you confirmed your interest. 
Perfect. I want to be clear again, I’m a busy man.  Casual fun only. 
Of course, this wasn’t a problem. Little did he know that you were only on this Tinder venture to whore yourself out. Before you got a chance to let him know that another message slipped in, and compared to your previous matches, he’s the boldest.
I like to fuck in the ass btw
Well…now that changes everything.  
You’re not even bothered that Zeke didn’t offer to take you anywhere. Despite his age, he’s to the point with zero effort.
You weren’t going to hold that against him. Fine by you, because anal sex was something you’ve been curious to try for a long time. Therefore, it was enough incentive for you to agree to Zeke’s conditions.  
You had purchased a silicone plug a year ago for beginners, even practiced with it a few times. Although you and Colt never had the chance to try anal sex, the plug was mostly forgotten in the depths of your sock drawer.
To prep for tonight, you reacclimated to the toy all day, keeping it tucked in your asshole until you saw Zeke.
“Okay…Ymir…” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to bleach that phrase from your mind. “It sounds pervy when you say it like that.”
“Do you have cataracts? He’s the embodiment of pervy."
Pieck chimes in, always a saint to play devil’s advocate. “Just because he’s a little older, doesn’t make him perverse. Unless that’s what our friend wants.” She teases.
“He’s pushing forty, and yet he’s too much of a cheapass to take you on a real date? Sucks for you ladies; men get lazier with age.”
“I already knew what I signed up for,” you say. “Besides, I’ve been out all week. I’m fine skipping to the sheets tonight.”
“Alright, fair enough,” Ymir concedes. “You were already spoiled by Horseface the other night anyways. What time is he picking you up?”
You stand before the mirror, smoothing out your dress, checking the reflection for any creases. “He’s already sent an Uber, it’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
A sharp laugh rings out of your phone, startling you.
“So, what are you a pizza?” Ymir cackles. “He placed an order for you on Tinder?”
“Ymir…” Pieck sighs, but you’re not deaf to the telltale humor in her tone. “It was your idea that she got on Tinder.”
“I’m just saying.” Ymir manages to stifle her laughter. “This guy is literally zero effort.”
“Well, like you said before, I don’t need to find my next boyfriend there,” you drawl, rushing to get your heels on. “Doesn’t matter. I’m a busy person, and so is he.”
“Sure,” Ymir says. “Well, for your sake, hope that the anal sex is on some cosmic level. Because this man…it’s no wonder he’s still single at his age.”
“I doubt he cares honestly.” You check your phone to read a new message from the man himself. “I got to get going, he said the Uber should be arriving in a minute. You have his address, just in case.”
“Alright, this is it,” Ymir says. “Next time we hear from you, you won’t be a backdoor virgin anymore.”
“Have fun!” Pieck sings. 
The Uber drops you off at 8pm at an impressive home. The property is brand new, modern, in a fancier area in the city. 
Walking up the steps, you hear a light whistle from the doorbell, which you press. 
Zeke appears behind the door, glass of whiskey in hand, sweatpants and no shirt. 
This man really is low effort, you muse, biting back the urge to roll your eyes; somewhat regretting the lingerie you have on under your dress. 
Taking a sip, his lips curl into a smirk. “There she is, even prettier than her pictures.” Behind his glasses, he gives you elevator eyes before he steps aside to invite you in. 
The inside matches the modern architecture outside. The foyer floors are pristine white, that lead in several directions. To the left, a sitting room that looks more like a museum with abstract, contemporary artwork hanging on the wall and cool-toned puffs that serve as seats. 
Zeke leads you past that room and the staircase that faced the door, footsteps muted with fluffy slippers while your heels echo along the tile. 
“This way,” he says over his shoulder. “Let me get you a drink.”
Trailing behind, you admire the muscles in his back, equally as taut as the curve of his ass hidden away in his sweatpants. Moreso, you delight in watching him walk before you with a careless, confident swagger, a king in his castle. 
The open-concept kitchen space bleeds into a humble living room. Like the rest of the house, the finishes are polished and modern, yet more homey than the foyer and sitting room. 
He comes around the long kitchen island where the bottle of whiskey rests. He gestures his glass to point at you. “You look like a champagne gal.” 
You lean against the island’s marble countertop, giving him a flirty look. “You’re right, I am. But I’ll have water tonight.”
He arches a brow. “Water? I can pop some bubbly.” He breathes a laugh when you blink at him. “To celebrate. Two souls finding each other to consummate a special occasion.”
You lick your lips, unsure how to respond. He’s really eager to fuck you in the ass. “Water…thanks.”
Zeke shrugs. “Fine, fine, I only have the sparkling kind.”
He would…
You take the glass he’s offered, sipping the bubble water as you wander the space between the living room and kitchen. It’s big and a bit lonely. You recall the details of Zeke’s profile.
An entrepreneur who runs a few private businesses. It makes sense why he’s shacking up in such a nice home, and it also makes sense why he prefers a booty-call. 
You finish the glass of water and set it down on an end table by the plush couch. 
“Well, do you have a surprise for me?” Zeke’s tongue pushes into his cheek, sipping in the sight of you. 
You do the same, letting your stare dance along his muscled chest before they climb back to admire the strong, bearded jawline. He might lack any effort to woo you properly, but he’s got an allure that most older men tend to have. 
“Maybe…” you tease. 
Zeke grins, a man ready to take a bite out of you. He slides his glasses off, setting them aside. Within a few steps, the distance closes between you both. 
His hand finds the small of your back, tugging you closer to him so that he can bear his darkened gaze upon you. He looks just as good without the glasses, in a way you prefer him without. It gives you a chance to soak in the primal look in his eyes. 
He rubs your back, and had you been naïve, you would have thought it was affectionate. But you’re an adult who came here for a reason and that reason slides from your back to palm your ass. 
“Oooh…” Zeke murmurs. His touch ventures elsewhere, greedy hand sneaking up your dress to sample your bare flesh. “Very nice—” He lifts up the side of your dress, a finger hooking into the garter belt. “Very, very nice. A classy woman, getting dolled up for me.”
His hand continues to explore with purchase, sliding along the curve of your ass, stopping at the center. He’s found what he was searching for. 
Zeke’s eyes light up, and you feel his fingers pull the plug gently. 
Biting your lip, a whine escapes anyways when Zeke pushes the plug deeper. 
He leans forward, delight in his voice. “I’m going to ruin you.” He kisses you, finger pushing against the plug again to swallow your whimper. “Going to have to get used to this, baby. I’m much bigger than your toy.”
A sharp smack lands on your ass cheek, and another. 
You do up an act, wrapping your arms around his neck, to give him a hooded stare. “I think I’m ready to take you.”
A sharper smack lands on your backside from Zeke’s excitement, fingers pulling against the plug and ramming it back in. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
He downs the rest of his glass, hissing from the burn. “Are you sure, you don’t want anything to drink? First time may sting. I don’t want to scare you.”
Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, tickling your nerves that for a second you do consider the offer, but ultimately decide against it. “I’m sure.”
Zeke takes the hint, pulling you in with a tight squeeze on your ass and slotting his mouth over yours. It’s scratchy and heavy with whiskey, an exhilaration between your legs, overshadowing the nerves. 
Setting the glass aside, Zeke takes your hand, leading you up the stairs until you reach his bedroom. 
The size of his bed is comical. California-king, dark red velvet sheets with a plush headrest and mirrored closets. It’s like walking on set of a porn film.   
He turns around, whiskey kiss scratching your lips again. You two make out, a slow build as he walks you back until your legs hit the end of his bed. 
He releases you, backpedaling to admire you in the dress. “Show me what’s under there, sweetheart. Give me a show.”
The room heats up fast, charged by the sexual tension and also from the pressure of Zeke’s gaze. Both have you leveling him with bedroom eyes, lifting your hands to drag the straps of your dress off your shoulders. 
They fall away like petals plucked from the stem, revealing the thinner straps of your lace bra. 
Zeke doesn’t move, still like a statue. You’re quick to look away from his eyes and steal glimpse elsewhere. 
He’s hard, dick visible behind his sweatpants. The sight encourages you to keep going, peeling away the dress in a slow strip tease to unveil the rest of your lingerie. Light blue, Colt’s favorite color. 
The dress pools at your feet and you step out of it, running your hands along the intimate lace. You begin with the push-up bra, cupping your breasts, feeling your hardened nipples there. Fingers travel to your sides, slipping past the bra down to your ribcage to stroke along the matching garter belt at your waist. 
Zeke remains still, eyes fixated on your hands pouring onto the straps that connect to your stockings. It’s only when you bring a hand at the center of your thighs does a stuttered breath bring Zeke back to life. 
“That’s a beautiful set you have on,” he says like he’s talking to your body. “Light blue, very delicate. Can’t promise that’s how I’ll be.” He palms his cock over his sweatpants. 
You bristle at his intent, reaching a hand out to his chest. He finally looks up with a lidded gaze. “I don’t mind if it hurts a little.”
Zeke’s jaw unhinges, a dark moan rushing out. He heaves a laugh to collect himself, but you feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips. 
Taking your hand, he kisses your knuckles, a lecherous smile spreading along his beard. “Get comfortable, baby. On the bed.”
You turn, feeling the drag of his eyes as you crawl atop his bed. Throwing a coy look over your shoulder; he’s eye-fucking your backside. 
You crawl until you’ve reached the center, turning back again when he tuts.
The globes of your ass are in both his large hands, groping you with more pressure than earlier as he spreads you out. 
Zeke tuts again. “Although I knew it, I’m still disappointed that this isn’t as pretty as you are.” There’s a push at the plug. 
You wince, squirming forward, but Zeke catches you by the waist. 
The room whirls, the air pushed out of your chest as you land on your back. Zeke crawls on top of you. 
“I can tell you’re a rookie at this.” He settles between your spread legs, drinking you in. “Just because I want to take you by the ass doesn’t mean I don’t want to look at your face. Or…”
The hands that roamed your lower half explore your chest, groping and squeezing your breasts with calloused fingers. 
“These…This is why I love anal sex. I can see everything…” His gaze drifts, voice dripping with glee. “Including your pussy.”
Pushing your thighs further apart, Zeke openly stares at your pussy, bare, and dripping. A finger pulls at the strap on your thigh, letting it go with a loud snap before his hand paws at your center. 
You shiver.
“Lace, crotchless panties, plug in your ass…Good girl, dressed and ready for me…”
He’s on you suddenly, swallowing your mewl of surprise, no longer restraining his hunger to devour you. His tongue moves with passion and authority, hands running up and down your body, focusing on the lace of the garter belt and bra. 
“Fuck—you’re so—fucking gorgeous—” He frees your mouth to scatter rough kisses along your neck. “Every part of you— ” He’s breathless, though he doesn’t stop showering you with attention. There’s a squeeze on your breast, then a pinch through the fabric. 
Your back arches and Zeke pinches again, sharper. 
“You enjoy that don’t you sweetheart?” The words burn into your clavicle, hot and wet. “And this?” 
Teeth sink into your skin, a wonderful sting that travels down to your pussy, you’re unable to stop your hips from bucking up. 
He laughs. “I hear you.” Pushing back, Zeke leans on his haunches, hands settling on your hips in one long stroke. “Lace looks amazing on you.”
You’re pleased that he appreciates the lingerie. The last time you wore anything this risqué was for Valentine’s Day with Colt, much earlier in your relationship. It’s a shame, you didn’t have a chance to give this set the mileage it deserved. Until now.
Your mouth falls open, pussy sucking in Zeke’s finger, having not paid attention to his wandering hand. 
He fingers you in a trance-like state, mesmerized. You slide down, hoping to fuck yourself on his touch, but the man rests his hand on your stomach. 
“Easy, sweetheart. I couldn’t resist. This fucking lingerie, this fucking pussy—” He slaps your clit, burying two fingers this time deep inside of you. “I’m being greedy.”
You can’t even think of a response, relishing in the stretch of his fingers, dragging against your walls, you forget why you’re there in the first place. 
But Zeke reminds you, retracting his fingers and sliding off the bed. 
On your back, you watch him move around the room, hopping out of his sweatpants in a hurry. 
You lift up on your elbows to watch him rummage through his dresser drawers, swallowing down a groan at the sight of his bare ass, toned just as you suspected. 
He whirls around, holding something in his grasp, but you’re not paying attention to that. 
His dick, thick and hard with a few more inches than average, snares your focus. It’s sizeable, though not as big as Jean’s dick was. Still, you’re dosed with nerves again, imagining how that’s going to fit inside your ass. 
Approaching the end of the bed, Zeke yanks you forward by the ankles unceremoniously. Your ass hangs just shy over the edge. 
Zeke slots himself between your legs, the tip of his dick leaking onto your thigh. “You’re plenty wet already, but…got to be a gentleman.”
You realize it’s a small bottle of lube Zeke has.
He’s quick to remove your plug, not giving you a moment to acclimate to the hollow feeling. You whine as it’s pulled out. 
The same fingers that pumped inside your pussy now enter your asshole, slick and much warmer than before. 
“Ah—” Your ass twitches from the sensation as Zeke stretches you out. 
“You like this?” he purrs. “For her pleasure. Told you, I’m a gentleman.”
While gradually you ease into the feeling of your ass getting stretched out, inwardly you roll your eyes at his self-affirmations. A gentleman that had a driver drop you off like some hooker. 
You digress, adjusting to his fingers in your ass, making your pussy gush. 
Zeke flits a look up. “Still a tight little asshole, but you’re ready for me. I’m fucking ready for you.” The tip of his dick ghosts your ass cheek, and you prop yourself on your elbows again. 
“Wait.”
Zeke looks to you with grit teeth. “What is it?”
“Condom?”
Zeke blinks, eyes glazing away elsewhere like he’s running through what to say. He’s avoiding it, and you rein in your annoyance. Where did the self-proclaimed gentleman go?
“Zeke,” you say. “Put on a condom.”
He huffs a strained laugh, peering up at you with wide eyes that are impossible to look innocent when they’re sullied with lust. “You won’t get pregnant.”
You don’t know whether to laugh or scoff. This will be fodder for your friends later. “That’s not the point.”
“I’m clean, baby,” Zeke insists. 
“Great, so slip on a condom. I should have one in my clutch.”
“Don’t you want your first time getting fucked in the ass to be memorable? It’s best enjoyed raw.”
This time you do laugh at that. If not for the beard, the stature, and the impressive home, you would have thought Zeke was in his early twenties not inching towards forty. 
“It’s my protocol, or I’m getting dressed.”
Zeke’s eyes widen a bit, and the distress of you leaving him with blue balls has him blowing out a long-winded sigh. “Fine, fine.” He sighs again, looking away for a beat, then back up, mustering as much charm into his pearly whites as possible. “You sure?”
You shift to sit up, but Zeke urges you on your back. 
“Okay, okay, wanted to make sure.” When he returns with the condom, his spirit to argue is gone. 
He drags you forward, nudging your ass with the tip of his dick. He spasms at the contact and you brace yourself. 
Zeke hooks your knees over his arms, and he leans over to kiss you. “Deep, deep breaths, sweetheart.”
A second after the preamble, Zeke pushes in. 
You bite your lip, brows pinching together, but you don’t want him to stop. Your eyes connect for a moment, and you nod to encourage him to keep going. 
The stretch stings, but it’s nowhere near painful. Doing as instructed, you take deep breaths, watching Zeke. 
His mouth is open, lidded eyes watching his dick slip in. He pulls back slightly and pushes back in, stretching you out a little more. 
You spread your legs wider, and he keeps you like that, using the hold on your legs as leverage to go deeper. 
The sensation is foreign, much like when you had tried your plug for the first time. The more you take of Zeke’s cock, the more comfortable it’s becoming. The fullness in a different part of your body is intoxicating, your head swims in fervor, reaching your core. 
“Someone’s pussy is getting jealous,” Zeke breathes a laugh. 
He’s not wrong. You’re dripping even more than before despite that area being neglected. 
He bottoms out with a long groan. “Shit…” His head is thrown back. “Give me a minute. If I move now, it’ll be over too soon. I’ve never felt such a tight asshole before.”
That minute flies by and Zeke bucks his hips in a thrust. You mewl, clenching around him. 
“Fuck—okay…” His restraint is withering.
“Zeke…” you hum. 
“Yeah, baby?” he grunts, pulling back again. 
“Move.”
He rams back into you with a snap of his hips, setting a pace that leaves you breathless.
Gasps spring forth after every thrust, reveling in the new feeling, finally stroking that fantasy you’ve never gotten to entertain. 
Zeke folds your legs closer to you, perching a foot on the edge for more control. “I’m fucking delirious baby—you should see yourself. Laying pretty on your back with your cute—lingerie while daddy fucks you dumb—”
You don’t have time to register what he’s called himself. The thrusts get sharper, pointed and desperate. Your pussy flutters, an ache to be touched there too. 
Zeke takes notice. “Play with yourself.”
You grunt, but your hand drips down your stomach, fingers playing with your clit. 
“Finger yourself,” Zeke adds. “I want to see both of your holes filled.”
Two fingers slip inside your entrance while your thumb toys with your clit. 
A tidal wave of heat engulfs you, stimulated in the best ways. The fullness of Zeke’s cock in your ass, your fingers pressing into your walls, and the pad of your thumb swiping at your clit, you’re so close to falling apart. 
“Just like that, fuck you’re gorgeous like this,” Zeke grunts, syncing with the twitch of his dick. 
You play with yourself, the taste of nirvana dangles so close, your fingers cramp up, but you push through the stiffened muscles. 
“Want to see you cum,” Zeke says from above, hips turn sloppy. “Please—let me see you cum.”
Your hooded gaze soaks in the needy expression that tells you he’s about to come undone. Rubbing your clit with more vigor, you keep your eyes locked to the heavens, imprisoned by the gaze of a devil, and you cum. 
You don’t stop touching yourself, back arching to ride out your climax, desperate to bask in every second of it. 
Zeke moves faster, hips smacking against your ass cheeks as he groans out his release.
Your back settles on the mattress, your fingers orbit your center lazily, twitching from the overstimulation. Zeke ruts inside of you, pace dialed down significantly until he’s milked every last drop. When his dick softens, he pulls out. 
The mattress dips at your side and you bend an elbow to lean on as Zeke does the same. 
It’s another good look on him; sweaty, panting, eyes glossy, head planted in his hand like a porn actor at the end of a shoot. 
“Not bad for your first rodeo, huh?” He grins. “You’re lucky, baby, you matched with an all-star.”
You roll your eyes, though it’s lighthearted. Whether Zeke really lauds himself as some God at anal sex, your verdict for now is that it’s something you’d do again in the future.  
Now that you’ve gotten a moment to readjust to the emptiness, your ass does feel a little sore, however. That’s something you’d have to get used to. 
You use the last of your reserves to hop off the bed on wobbly feet. 
Zeke does the same. “Why don’t you stay the night? We could have round two in the shower. Though, I stress that it’s more comfortable without a rubber.” He purrs, reeling you in for a sloppy kiss, playing with your stretched out hole. 
You whine, wincing from the tenderness.
“Shit—you’re going to make me hard again. One more round, c’mon.”
You don’t stay the night, firm in your choice, but thank him for the fun. 
He relents, calling you an Uber and sending you off, with a promise that he’ll be in touch. 
It isn’t until you’re back in your apartment, undressing for a shower that it dawns on you. 
You forgot your plug at Zeke’s house.
Tumblr media
☻ masterpost☻ taglist: @moonmalice @daisynik7 @theragethatisdesire @squidalapobre @arlerts-angel @shepnicolo @porples-blog @jeanboyjean @fictional-d-supremacy
194 notes · View notes
ezrasbirdie · 2 years
Text
cool girl
Tumblr media
summary: We all found our own ways to entertain ourselves during quarantine. Yours happened to be sending Dieter Bravo a picture of a raccoon on Instagram every Wednesday. He’s never once answered. But what happens when he does?
rating: E [warnings: SMUT but nothing outrageous unless you hate praise kink, discussion/mentions of the pandemic and Covid-19 as a background due to the setting/time period, alcohol use, me pretending I know fuck all about interior design or how IG works nowadays]
pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader
word count: ~8.5k (I really considered making this two parts lmao)
note: Okay so I finished something, and I wanted to give it to @coastielaceispunk​ because she deserves everything nice. And even if I don’t know if this is my very best work, it’s pretty fun and soft and funny, so! Thanks to @starlightmornings​ for the beta, I’ll run the taglist tomorrow at some point probably. Oh, and in case you’re wondering--yes, I made those, and I am so proud of them.
masterlist | series masterlist
~
You couldn’t remember the last time you left the apartment. Two weeks turned into months, with no end in sight, and you’d resigned yourself to Zoom hangouts and chats with your dog for the foreseeable future. 
“Truth or dare?” 
For fuck’s sake.
“Again?” You asked. Your friends had gotten way too into the most annoying game on the planet, but it was something to do. You could only play so much rounds of Jackbox.
“Dare,” you sighed, not ready for the trauma-bonding that inevitably followed “truth”. 
Taylor, your best friend of ten years and chief bullshit instigator, broke into a grin that made you want to backpedal. She was pretty and blonde and wore red lipstick even under a mask. You missed getting into harmless trouble with her.
“I dare you to send Dieter Bravo a message on Instagram.” 
A great chorus of cackling came from the rest of the group as you rolled your eyes. “Very funny,” you said. 
“I’m not kidding! I dare you!” Taylor insisted. “He might respond!” 
“He won’t,” you said. Not only was Taylor the chief bullshit instigator, but the chief investigator, too. She was too nosy for her own good, and after finding out about the soft spot you nursed for the eccentric actor, she never let it go.  
“You don’t know! Come on, it’ll be funny. Send him a raccoon meme,” she goaded. 
“A raccoon?”
“He kinda has a raccoon vibe,” she pointed out. Her boyfriend leaned into the frame and nodded agreement.
“Total raccoon vibes,” he confirmed.
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Taylor asked, knocking the remains of her glass of rosé.
“He can think I’m fucking crazy and block me.”
“He probably won’t even see it!”
You sigh. “Fine! Fuck, fine. I’m not playing this game ever again.”
“That’s fair,” Taylor said, shrugging.
You weren’t getting out of this without looking like a total brat. You pulled your phone out, chose the first image after Googling “raccoon meme”, took a deep breath as you open your Instagram messages, and hit send.
Tumblr media
[Image description:
Instagram Direct Message between reader and dieterbravo420
Reader sent an image of a raccoon that says "I am up to no good, I will be actively disturbing the peace]
Okay, that was pretty fucking funny.
“There,” you said, holding your phone up as proof. “You happy?”
Taylor’s cackling laughter sent you into hysterics. She was right. What was the harm? Maybe he’d see it, maybe he’d find it funny. Maybe he’d answer you back, and you’d start chatting and then he’d realize you were the love of his life and then you could live the life of a famous movie star and, sure, he seemed to have a drug problem, but—
Girl stop are you out of your fuckin’ minddddd? The logical part of your brain, though a little tipsy, kicked in, and you shook those ridiculous thoughts right out of your brain. 
It was your turn, and you forgot all about the picture as the game went on. Later that night, lying in bed giggling to yourself, you checked your messages. Just in case. He hadn’t replied. You ignored the pinprick of disappointment in your stomach. 
But a week later, you sent another one. And then another one the next week. And then, suddenly, it was a scheduled Wednesday activity. He never opened them, but you sent them anyway. It was your own private joke, something stupid to get you through everything happening around you. And besides, how hilarious would it be for him to open it, only to be met with an avalanche of raccoon pictures? 
He was never really supposed to see them.
**
A year into this fucking pandemic and, finally, he has some work. Dieter Bravo spent most of the last year laying on his carpet, blitzed out of his mind on anything he could get his hands on. He needed something to do, dammit. 
Dieter was fully aware his life had been easier than ninety-five percent of the people on the planet over the last year, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t close to another nervous breakdown. 
It wasn’t so bad in this weird compound he wasn’t allowed to leave, though. Unlimited KitKats and that pretty front desk girl and all the drugs he could ask for. If he’d had to spend another moment alone in his big, empty house, he was going to walk into the ocean.
Things started getting weird fast, though. The security firm responsible for putting those trackers on all of them blew Lauren’s hand off, and the producers acted like that was a perfectly normal, if unfortunate, occurrence. 
The fuckin’ director was no better, running half the cast off set before the day can even start, and Dieter wasn’t known to keep his thoughts to himself.
“Got any good notes for that, Mr. Sundance?” Dieter asked after the most recent disastrous take, rolling his eyes. Maybe he was being a brat—he was definitely being a brat—but damn, he was just ready to go now. Even if it meant going back to the big empty house and all his thoughts. 
Dieter had been shitty to Darren since the beginning, keeping his distance because he knew directors like this—one hit and they think they’re fucking Steven Spielberg with the ego to match. 
Darren’s reaction was…unexpected.
“You’re a poser,” Darren snapped, rant finally over, and walked away.
“I’m posing with my Oscar!” Dieter yelled, but it didn’t sound as cool as it did in his head. He stomped off the set to lick his wounds in peace.
Usually it was just a matter of smoking a joint, maybe jerking off for a while, but his mind refused to clear. If anything, his loneliness worsened—even if he had someone around to help to take his mind off things, it’s not like they’d stay for conversation afterward. No one ever wanted him around for that long.
Dieter picked up his phone, tapped the Instagram icon, and scrolled idly. He didn’t really understand what he was looking at. It was all ads for shit he didn’t want. Technically, he wasn’t allowed access to his account—not since Instagram threatened to delete it for too many Community Guidelines violations—but his assistant took pity on him during quarantine and had, apparently, forgotten to revoke the privileges. 
He sighed as he scrolled through his own tag. Not even kind words from adoring fans were enough to pull him out of his funk. 
What if Hunger Strike really was a fluke? 
Dieter hadn’t wanted to entertain the thought, but Darren’s words echoed in his head. No one seemed to think he was taking this role seriously, which pissed him off. They’d given him a half-written script to play a villain they couldn’t even bother to assign an actual nationality to. 
“What accent am I supposed to be doing?” He’d asked, and they’d shrugged. 
So no, he wasn’t taking this seriously. It wasn’t a bad gig, but if they weren’t putting their best into it, why should he? And they’d had the audacity to complain about his “attitude” at the welcome dinner. 
Fuck them.
And, still, he practiced the stupid accent alone in his hotel room.
Surely there’d be something in his DMs to distract him. He didn’t make a habit of answering or even answering messages from people he didn’t know, but, well, desperate times. 
Lots of ‘I love yous’, lots of ‘I’d suck your dick for free’, lots of messages that start out with DADDY!!! (which, to be fair, made him giggle), but nothing really interesting. Script pitches from desperate up-and-coming filmmakers. One, though, sent a day or two ago, just says “Sent an image.”
It piqued his curiosity. The tiny icon was a pretty face with a sweet smile, and they looked normal. So he opened it up and found…raccoons? Dozens of pictures of raccoons with weird shit written on the images, sent every Wednesday like clockwork for a year. He spent twenty whole minutes browsing through them and laughing. How fucking weird. 
He loved them, but they weren’t the only things she’d sent.
She started sending sporadic messages in September.
I hope you’re not too lonely. 
He had been. 
Happy Halloween!
He didn’t remember Halloween. 
Merry Christmas!
He didn’t remember Christmas, either.  
She might have checked in on him more last year than his entire family and circle of friends combined.
Dieter finally clicked her picture. He had to know what kind of person sends a stranger pictures and messages so regularly, never once asking for a response.
He found a regular girl with a dog named Delilah. Pictures of friends and coffee and home improvement projects and the bread she learned to bake and her favorite Star Wars Funko Pop and romantic interests that just didn’t pan out. He lost himself in her normal person life, scrolling and scrolling until he got to the bottom, to her very first picture from years and years ago. Another dog—not Delilah—in her lap, as she held up a college diploma. Finally, the caption said.
He moved back to the DMs and typed a message. He shouldn’t respond, really, but he was high enough that it seems like a good idea. What was the worst that could happen?
these r hilarious
And for good measure, he found a picture of a screaming possum and hit send. He turned off the lights and let sleep take him, finally, not thinking of Darren’s words even once. 
He hoped she liked the possum. 
**
Seen 1hr ago
Well, that could not possibly be right. You’d never seen that notification before. Ever. Not once. Dieter Bravo was a movie star—he was supposed to have a public account that fans follow for news, and a private one that all his real friends and family follow. That’s how it worked. Everyone knew that.
This was just a bug. A glitch. 
Definitely. 
Typing…
“Oh, what the fuck?” You yelled, earning a scowl from Delilah.
You hurled the phone across the room like it was timed to explode. It landed with a thud next to a pile of laundry, and you peered at it over the edge of your bed. This was a trap. 
The sinister ding! of a DM sounded, and you got up from your bed, approaching it carefully. There was a new picture, one you hadn’t sent. A simple possum hissing in alarm at the camera, followed by a message:
 these r hilarious
“What the fuck?” You shouted.
Delilah jumped off the bed and stood next to you, looking up in interest. “Look at this, Delilah,” you said, shoving the phone under her nose as though she could understand. She said nothing because she was a dog.
It’d been a long year.
Delilah was more concerned with the fact that it was dinner time than that a famous actor replied to your absolutely ridiculous series of messages.
Should you respond? It was probably just a one-off thing. Like a publicity stunt. But still, it was rude to leave someone on read, right? 
Thanks! I picked them all just for you 😂
You hovered over send. Was it weird? Were you being weird? 
Fuck it, you thought, and hit send.
**
She was funny. 
That was why he kept talking to her. 
She still sent him raccoons on Wednesdays. 
He followed her back to see more pictures of Delilah. Definitely not to see the posts of her walking in the park, or her stories about the plant she had just bought and was not going to kill. He didn’t care about her early morning selfies. Not a bit. 
She was just really cool. A cool girl. That was all. 
That was why, eventually, he’d get her phone number and send her texts, and she’d feel more like a real friend. Because she was—she was his real friend. When was the last time he’d made a real friend?
She thought he was good in Hunger Strike, and that mattered to him, for some reason.
**
Was it a silly PR stunt? Did you really care? It kept you entertained, at least. You weren’t foolish enough to think that Dieter Bravo himself was actually sending you messages. But then he followed you, and that’s…weird. 
No one noticed until he liked a picture of Delilah. 
You didn’t have that many followers on Instagram, but from the way your phone blew up with notifications, every single one of them noticed that like. Taylor even called you. She never called.
“Is that Dieter fucking Bravo?” She screamed, foregoing a hello. You chewed your lip. Taylor didn’t know about the messages.
“Okay, don’t be mad?”
“Depends,” she said. 
“So…remember like a year ago when you dared me to send a raccoon meme to him?” 
“No?”
Of course.
“Well, you did. I kind of…kept doing it,” you explained, trading your lip for your fingernail between your teeth.
“You kept doing what, exactly?” She asked after a brief pause. 
You took a deep breath. “Look, you know how shitty everything’s been. I just, you know, sent him pictures and memes of raccoons every Wednesday that reminded me of him.”
“Oh my God,” she said, cackling. “You’re fucking crazy! I love that!”
“He wasn’t supposed to see them!” 
“But he did?” 
“Yeah. And he answered me one day and sent a picture of a possum and now we talk. A lot, actually. I thought it was some assistant at first playing a prank, but now I don’t think so.”
“You know I need to see the proof, right?”
“Taylor—”
“Oh, come on! I won’t show anyone!”
“I’ll just show you in person. You’re all vaccinated, right?”
“Duh,” she said, a hint of defensiveness at your questioning. 
“Just making sure,” you placated. 
Two days later, your schedules lined up, and Taylor was just throwing her bag on the entryway table when you got a new possum. You sent a raccoon in reply.
Tumblr media
[Image description: Instagram Direct Message between reader and dieterbravo420 dieterbravo420: (picture of a possum that says "My drip is immaculate and my depression is constant") this u? lol reader: nah, this is u tho :P (picture of a raccoon that says "I am a luxury few can tolerate")]
“All right,” you said as she made herself comfortable. “See?”
You thrusted the phone at her. Her eyes went wide as she scrolled up, and you snatched it back before she could find anything that made you look desperate. Anything sent when you were drunk, for instance. 
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” she declared, giggling. 
“I’m sure it’s just someone fucking around. Making him seem more approachable, you know?”
She looked at you. “No offense, but what the fuck do they care about you? You have like sixty followers. I think, in this case, it makes more sense for it to actually be him. Right, Delilah?” Delilah barked. “See? Delilah knows.”
After splitting a bottle of wine and catching up, Taylor headed home, still giggling over your new friend. You settled into bed, scrolling before you fell asleep as always, despite every sleep hygiene study in the world warning against it. 
Dieter Bravo sent a message
Weird. It must be close to three in the morning where he is. 
u up?
Uhhhhhh. 
yeah i’m bored go to sleep it’s late can’t sleep they put us in quarantine again put who? the cast and crew ur really part of the movie? i’m a fuckin actor wait do you not know who i am i mean….i thought u were like a PR person why would u talk to me if i was a PR person? my life is a lot more boring than yours i guess i can show u. wanna ft?
Your heart leapt into your throat. It felt like a prank. But what if it wasn’t? Imagine passing up the opportunity to talk to your favorite actor, face to face?
So you agreed.
He was real. It was really him—fluffy haired and patchy-bearded with a big, genuine smile. 
“This is so weird,” you remarked as he showed you around his fancy hotel prison. Everything was ornate and gold, and it didn’t match him.
“Maybe,” he said, shrugging. “Everyone here sucks. Everyone in Hollywood sucks.”
“How do you know I’m not in Hollywood?”
“You’re too sweet. Like a peach.” 
There was a pause as you swallowed and tried to think of something to say, but he moved on. “Is Delilah around?” 
Delilah perked up at the mention of her name. She was curled up at the foot of your bed. “Yeah, she’s around. Delilah, your biggest fan is on the phone.”
His eyes brightened as she came into the frame. “Hey, beautiful,” he said. Delilah was a smart dog, but you didn’t think she really understood the whole person-in-screen thing. 
The conversation lulled for just a second after you ran out of things to say about Delilah, but he picked it back up, talking enough for the both of you. EMFs mess with your brain, birds weren’t real, he couldn’t get the accent for this movie down because the character didn’t even have a set nationality. His director was an asshole. There was a girl named Anika he liked, but he was worried she was too young.
He didn’t ask you a thing about yourself. 
It shouldn’t really surprise you, but it did. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been talking over text for the last few weeks. Maybe he just got nervous. 
“How do you have so much energy?” You asked, faking a yawn. “It’s so late over there. Or early, I guess.”
“Adderall,” he said matter-of-factly. 
So that’s why he’d wanted to talk. You should have known.
“Well,” you murmured, checking the clock. “Some of us have work in the morning.”
“Can I call you again?” He asked. You giggled at the thought, as though the whole conversation wasn’t some kind of upper-fueled, manic decision he made out of boredom. 
“Oh, yeah. Totally,” you said. “I’ll count on it.”
He frowned, though. “I will.”
“Uh huh. I believe you, Bravo.” It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.
“I will! I mean, if you want me to,” he said, scratching the back of neck, suddenly not so self-assured. 
“I do,” you said. “If you want to.” 
His grin came back. You liked it better than the frown.
**
She wanted him to call again, even though he’d been totally keyed up and being a terrible conversationalist, and she still wanted to hear from him. And that thought was enough to get him, though exhausted, through the rest of the day. 
**
He really called.
He wasn’t so wired up now. This time he sounded sleepy and soft, like he’d fallen asleep and woken up just to call you. 
“Can I see you?” He asked. “I wanna tell you something that happened a few weeks ago. It was crazy, and I wanna see your reaction.”
“Fine,” you said. “But I have a face mask on, so you’re going through my night routine with me.”
“You say it like I don’t have one of those,” he said. 
Which, okay, fair point. 
He asked you what products you use. Everything was from CVS, but he acted interested. You doubted Dieter Bravo was using Burt’s Bees witch hazel, but he nodded along regardless. 
“You have really nice skin. Sweet and soft as a peach,” he said, and instead of swatting the compliment away, you smiled and thanked him. 
“Okay. Tell me about your co-star’s hand getting blown off?” 
** 
Dieter called a lot, actually. 
He really must be lonely. 
You talked to him more in those two weeks than you’d talked to anyone else all year, except maybe for Taylor. 
He listened, too. 
“Look, do what you want,” you said, “But the twenty-seven-year-old hotel employee just screams creepy power imbalance. You’re, what, forty-three?” You asked like you don’t know everything the internet has to offer on the man.
“So?”
“You’re just in different places in life. That’s all.”
“And how old are you?” He asked, indignant as you giggled at him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 
**
For the first time in almost a year and a half, you had plans. 
You debated telling him you’ll be out late. It had been a week, and he’d FaceTimed you every night at nine since that first day. But it wasn’t like he was your boyfriend or anything, despite a few flirty remarks here and there. It’d be weird to tell him your plans, right? Or maybe it’d be rude. And maybe he wouldn’t even call. 
You settled on not telling him. 
Taylor asked about him, of course, and you just shrug. Taylor had been your best friend for years and years and years, and your stomach clenched lying to her, but you weren’t sure what this thing was. If you told her, she’d point out all the red flags, and you’d have no choice but to listen to her and shut this whole thing down.
You didn’t want to shut it down. Not yet.
At nine, your phone buzzed. The gallery opening is pretty good, but you were mostly in it for the open bar and canapés. You didn’t answer. 
🍑? out w a friend ): i’ll be home in like an hour. you don’t have any other friends you can talk to? jeez i don’t like any of them and you like me? more than them
You set the phone down and rolled your eyes.
“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice casual. “I think I’m gonna head home.”
“What? It’s so early!”
“I know. I’m just tired. Wine makes me sleepy now, I guess,” you lied.
“Well, all right. I’m gonna stay, if you have a way home.”
“Just called a ride.”
She gave you a suspicious once-over, but didn’t push it. You weren’t totally lying; your eyelids were heavier than usual. You just happened to have someone to talk to when you get in bed. 
He’d never seen you all done up before, though. Maybe you’d keep it on a little longer.
**
“You look pretty,” he rasped, taking another hit off the joint. Thirty minutes later and he’d been babbling about something someone did on set. You could never keep the names straight of all the B-list actors he talked about. “You always look pretty, but you…you know. Always pretty.”
“Thanks,” you giggled. “I think.”
“You have a date or something?”
You caught the waver in his voice as he looked away from the camera. 
“No. Nothing like that,” you said. “Just an art opening.”
“You like art?”
“Sure. I like the free food a lot, too. It was one of Taylor’s friends.”
“I like art,” he murmured. “I like to paint.”
He admitted it like a secret, whispered and furtive.
“What do you paint?”
“Nothing really…good, I guess. I did this last time they quarantined us.” 
He panned the camera to the wall opposite—
“Is that—”
“It’s just a copy—”
“Yeah, like, an exact copy of Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Son?”
He pulled the camera back to him and shrugged, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I have original stuff, too. It’s back home.”
“Well, maybe you’ll show me one day,” you said, offhand. You weren’t serious, it’s just something people say, but your stomach roiled as soon as the words left your mouth. He was never going to show his original paintings, because this was just a temporary situation. He was only talking to you because there was no one else to talk to. “Uh, anyway.”
“So you don’t have a boyfriend or anything?” He asked abruptly, and you almost spit out your wine. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, because you don’t need to drink any more. 
“No, Bravo, I do not,” you chuckled. 
“How’s that possible, man? You’re the whole package.” 
“Shut up. How come you don’t have anyone special?”
“That’s easy. I’m a fuck up,” he said, coughing out a laugh. “I can’t even get laid. It’s been months.”
You snort.
“I haven’t had sex in over a year, Dieter. Remember? The whole pandemic?”
“Negative tests required,” he said, shrugging. “I’m responsible, peach.”
He’d never called you that before. The word washed over you, warming you more than the merlot sloshing around in your mug. 
“It’s really been a year?” He asked after a minute. 
“Over! January 2020,” you lamented, alcohol loosening your tongue. “And it wasn’t even good.”
“How do you function?” Dieter asked. He was genuinely curious. 
“I mean…for the most part, I’ve been too stressed to care. And they make these things called vibrators that do the job better than most guys I’ve been with, so. You know?”
He shook his head. “What a waste.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you deserve someone to fuck you like you need. Look at you.”
This was not the first time Dieter said nonchalant, wildly sexy things to you like he was talking about the weather. It was, however, the first time they’d been directed at you. He was a whole ocean away, but your body reacted like he was right there.
“If you were my girl, I’d never leave you unsatisfied,” he said quietly. “I’m a fuck up, but I can do that.”
“Dieter—” You said, but he cut you off. Which was good, because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. Stop? You didn’t want this? Because that was a lie.
“You wanna know what I’d do if I were there right now?”
You did.
“Yeah,” you breathed. 
“Let me see what you’re wearing.”
Oh my God, what is happening?
“It’s just, you know. Pajamas.”
“Please?” 
It wasn’t special. Sleep shorts and an old baggy t-shirt—you weren’t anticipating showing off. But you balanced the phone on your nightstand and spread yourself out, chewing your lip. You weren’t a supermodel.
“Damn,” he said. Thanks to the earbuds, his voice was still snug in your ear, even if his face was a little farther away. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”
“Thank you,” you whispered. “You are, too.”
He gave you a soft, fond smile. 
“I’d make you feel so good, you know. I’d never let you go so long without cumming on my tongue—”
You let out an involuntary whimper, and his voice got huskier. 
“You want me to keep talking, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded like music, scratchy and soothing like an old record. 
“You look a little shy, baby. No need to be shy. You wanna know what I did before you called me back?”
“Mm,” you murmured, squeezing your thighs together. 
“I woke up so hard. Dreamed about you—I’m always dreaming about you, you know?”
No, you didn’t know. 
“You always look so pretty and sweet. Always listening to me even though… I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he babbled. Is he just high? He’s probably just high. “I had to get myself off before. Wanted to keep cool. Didn’t work.”
He gazed down, moving around on the little screen. “Shit, you make me so hard.” He paused and looked at you, face shiny and red. “You tell me to fuck off if you want, but…” He bit his lip, and it hit you—he was touching himself again. He was jerking off and talking to you and looking at you. “Do you wanna see how hard you make me?”
“Dieter,” you whispered, trying to get his attention. Because as much as you wanted this to happen, as much as you wanted to indulge in this fantasy, he wasn’t in his right mind. He was a handsome, famous actor and you were just a girl who happened to be around. He caught your wrinkled brow and stopped. Even through the phone’s pixelated representation of what must be the most beautiful face in the world, you saw the blush of his cheeks. 
“Everything okay?” He asked, going still. 
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you said. Regretfully, bitterly. 
Dieter was so quiet. His lips were parted slightly, eyes narrowed in comprehension. So you waited and waited and waited for what was most likely all of five seconds until he uttered sheepishly, “I made you uncomfortable, sweetheart?”
“No,” you said quickly. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I’d just rather you be…fully present.”
He cocked his head to the side like this is the first time he’s ever heard anyone say anything of the sort. “Oh.”
You’d never met a man who handled rejection well, even when you gave a perfectly good explanation, and you braced yourself for an insult that never came. There was a rustling of clothes as he, you assume, put his dick back in his pants. Dieter cleared his throat. 
“So,” he said. “You liked my painting, though?”
Your limbs relaxed, fists unclenched, the tension in your jaw releasing as he moved past it. 
“I really do,” you said.
** 
She wanted him to enjoy it. She wanted him to remember it. 
He wanted to remember it, too. 
Filming finally—finally—came to an end. One thing was for sure—he was never working with Darren fucking Eigen ever again. That whole studio can go to hell, as far as he was concerned.
Dieter wanted to tell her everything that had happened.
He wanted to see her reactions, he wanted to hear her laugh, and he wanted to be present. He wanted her.
“Guess what?” He asked, grinning, fully sober for the first time in weeks. 
“What?” She asked. She was getting ready for bed as usual, Delilah barking in the background. He wants to meet Delilah, too. 
“We’re done! The movie’s over!” 
She squinted, looking over his shoulder. “Is that a different hotel?”
Where did he even begin?
“Yeah, we—yeah. I’m in London. It’s been crazy, but it’s okay because I’m done!”
She said nothing for a minute, and he wondered if they’d lost connection. “That’s great,” she said weakly, forcing a smile. “I’m so happy for you! I know it’s been rough.”
She was rote, mechanical—forced. She was lying. 
“What’s wrong?” He asked, brute forcing his way through to her. 
“Nothing, really. Nothing,” she said. “I’m just tired.”
He didn’t believe her, not really, but she wouldn’t give him anything else. It was like the light had gone out of her eyes. 
“Hey,” he said, getting to the real point. “Listen, I want…I wondered if you wanted to visit me. After I get home.”
Delilah barked again. 
“I—really?” She asked, her mouth open. Shocked. 
“Of course really,” he said. 
“When?”
“When can you fly to LA?”
“I really don’t have money to fly—”
“I’m obviously going to pay for your trip,” he said, impatience creeping into his tone. “Just tell me when. My assistant handles all my air travel shit so I’ll tell her and she’ll send you an email with the details.”
She was quiet again, eyes shinier than when the call started.
**
The day you arrived, Dieter had back-to-back emergency meetings with his agent and publicist and manager to talk about the disaster that was the Cliff Beasts 6 production. He apologizes profusely, promising he’d be home as soon as he possibly can. 
“Just make yourself at home,” he said, voice crackling over the phone. “I have plans for you.”
“For me?” You asked. 
“Mmhmm.”
Make yourself at home. Easier said than done.
After you got off the phone with Taylor to confirm you were, in fact, alive and to remind her Delilah needed to be walked three times a day or she’d tear up whatever area she happened to be in, you took a leisurely tour of this biggest house you’d ever been in. It was less of a bachelor pad than you’d imagined. The exterior screamed Mid-Century modern with just a touch of industrial. He had far too many bedrooms and even more bathrooms, and as you wandered the halls waiting for him, you found a gym and spa, complete with a massage table and salon chair. You also found a sauna connected to the spa, and a very tiny room with what looked like pink Himalayan sea salt on the walls. It was huge and beautiful and open, and all the furniture and decor were perfectly placed. 
It didn’t feel like a house anyone had ever lived in.
Upstairs was a little different. Surrealist paintings dotted the walls, all similar enough for you to piece together that they were by the same artist, and in the right-hand corner on every one you saw “D.B.” scribbled in tiny letters. There were at least a dozen of them, each one stranger than the next, and they all felt like him.
He told you to pick a guest room, any of them was fine. You were still opening doors to find them all when you stumbled into what had to be the owner’s suite. The California king bed faced an oversized floor to ceiling glass door that opened to a patio overlooking downtown Los Angeles. The en suite bathroom was as large as the bedroom. 
It was completely overwhelming. 
But his bedroom was full of knick knacks and paint tubes and brushes. Against the wall lay a large, unfinished canvas. A bong sat neatly on a little table near a small couch. 
His sanctum. 
“Hey, peach.”
A warm, scratchy voice that you’d only ever heard through a speaker came from behind and you froze in place. He was going to think you were snooping and kick you out for snooping and that would be well within his rights because you were definitely snooping.
You turned slowly, and not just because of the anticipation of being in trouble, but because now he’d know you were real, and he was real, and then where do you go from there? 
But you faced him regardless, and he looked like sunshine. He was grinning, bobbing up and down on his feet, arms spreading open like he was going to hug you. 
He was going to hug you. 
He was next to you in a flash, arms thrown around you with enthusiasm you hadn’t expected. Dieter didn’t strike you as a hugger. 
You stood dumbly for a moment until you remembered your arms work and you should probably hug him back. He was solid and warm and smelled like coconut oil. 
“You’re real,” he whispered, and tears pricked the corner of your eyes because yes, you were both real and he was still happy to see you.
Dieter pulled back and look you up and down. For a moment you swore his eyes dropped to your lips, but he moved away. It occurs to you that you’ve spent the last few months conversing with a talking head. The most you’d seen of him over FaceTime was his torso and that had been—well, it had only been once. 
And sure, you’d seen plenty of him in movies and photoshoots, but you’d never seen him. Your eyes scanned him, taking in the full breadth of his shoulders covered in a faded blue t-shirt, soft and worn under your fingertips. You itched to touch the curve of his soft stomach. 
“Yep, I’m real,” you said, shaking your head clear of absolutely ridiculous thoughts. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop—”
“I don’t care,” he said, interrupting you. “Open book. And you’re the guest of honor.”
He took your hand and pulled you out to the hall. “Oh, I haven’t picked a room,” you explained, feeling very silly when you realized you’d been hauling your suitcase around the house with you. 
“Leave it here for now,” he shrugged, pointing to a spot next to his bed. “We have plans.”
**
She was in his bedroom. 
Well, near it, anyway. She was on the balcony, forearms resting on the safety railing as she leaned over to take in the view of the Los Angeles skyline. He bought the place just for that view, but she’d made it better. He’d seen hundreds of pictures of her, but when she turned around with her mouth all slack, sheepish at getting caught in his room, it was clear cameras did her no justice at all. 
She was soft in his arms, warm and inviting, and he wanted to kiss her. The only thing that stops him is the hazy memory of rejection. 
“What plans?”
He grinned.
**
He’d had grander plans, plans that involved five-star restaurants and parties and clubs, but the pandemic, despite everyone’s best efforts, raged on. Dieter was forced to scale down, but he could still give her the star treatment. 
The first night was dinner prepared by a private sushi chef followed by movies in the mini theater. She fell asleep on his shoulder, and he stayed like that until she woke up and jumped away from him, stammering some apology. He didn’t mind it, though. While she slept he memorized the contours of her cheekbones and the curve of her bottom lip. 
She always complained about her neck. It was stiff, it was sore, she typed too much, she’s hunched over a desk. Regular desk work sounded fucking horrible, and he had no intention of ever finding out just how horrible or what it involved, but he wanted to give her some relief from it.
Anders came once a week to loosen knots in his lower back and shoulders. The guy didn’t look like an Anders, and Dieter suspected his name was really something like Jason or Tim, but he understood the appeal of a stage name. As long as Anders kept him loose, Dieter didn’t give much of a shit what he called himself. 
“I have a guest this week,” Dieter said, voice low over the phone. Anders agreed to bring what Anders called “his apprentice”—Dieter was unaware that there were apprentices in massage therapy, but again, he didn’t care as long as they got the work done. The apprentice’s name was Johanna, and her fingers dug harder into Dieter’s flesh than Anders’. 
Anders was perfectly professional, skilled fingers and palms remaining completely appropriate as he worked his way up her legs. If she noted discomfort, Anders pulled back. There was nothing flirtatious about it. 
However.
Anders reached the base of her neck, spreading his fingers to knead at her shoulders. “You’re very tight,” he said, and she let out a nervous giggle. 
“It’s my work, you know?” 
“I see this a lot. We’ll get you fixed up,” he assured her. She sighed, and he hits something in her that pulled the smallest, sweetest moan from her lips. Dieter  balled his fists, his body seizing up, heat flushing up his neck and ears. Johanna stopped.
“Is it too much?” She asked. 
“Nope,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not at all. Harder, if you want.”
He needed a damn distraction. 
Afterward, Dieter’s hands were shaking. He was going to be sore for days, but at the very least the blood rushing through his ears prevented any of those little noises from invading. 
She stretched her arms over her head, no doubt basking in her loose muscles. “Could we go swimming?” She asked, not paying a bit of attention to Anders as he gathered his belongings. 
His heart lightened a little.
**
You started to relax, and you didn’t even mind the lecherous gaze he gave you in your swimsuit.
Dieter did a cannonball from the balcony into the infinity pool below. When he came up, his face was contorted in pain.  
“Are you okay?” You asked, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.
“I need to be higher to do that,” he said, wincing as he swam over to you. He moved like he was made for the water. You raised your eyebrows. “What?” 
“I just didn’t expect you to swim so well,” you said. He made a face. 
“And why not?”
“I dunno. Just didn’t.”
“Are you calling me clumsy?”
“I said nothing,” you teased. 
“Because I’ll have you know,” he said, leaning back on the pool’s edge, spreading his arms wide. “I am a classically trained stage actor, and I’m very graceful.”
You giggled. “My mistake.” After a beat you asked, “Are you really?”
“Really what?”
“Classically trained?”
“No,” he said, laughing.
His broad chest glistened in the dying sun, water droplets clinging to his curly hair. All you wanted to do is swim over to him, wrap your legs around his waist, and bury your face in that chest. It occurred to you that he might let you; that he’d let you fall asleep on him last night, and hadn’t even tried to move you. 
It occurred to you that it’s been too long since you let yourself get lost in someone. 
“Would you ever have sex with me?” 
The question came out of nowhere, piercing your thoughts like a bullet. He was grinning, still, but there was a gleam of vulnerability in his eye. “Huh?” You asked, dumbstruck. 
“Would you ever have sex with me?” He asked again, smile falling a fraction of an inch. Heat crept up the back of your neck and between your thighs. It was like he’d read your mind. 
You swam to him slowly, coming to a halt directly in front of him. Twilight suited him well. 
“Do you want me to have sex with you?” You asked. 
“You gotta know the answer to that by now, peach,” he murmured. He leaned toward you and slid his big hands under your thighs, bringing your legs around him. “You gotta know I want you.”
You leaned in and kiss his collarbone, licking the salty skin. He let out a shaky breath. 
“We should get cleaned up, yeah?” You murmured. 
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you want,” he breathed. 
You led him upstairs to his bedroom, dripping saltwater all over the smoothed cement floors. He didn’t seem to mind, intent on following you. 
The bedroom door clicked closed, and he darkened the smartglass. You press your lips against his, and he let out a soft, needy moan, plush lips so pliant and willing under your own. 
“Let’s take a bath,” you said. He chased your lips as you pulled away, and his whine of protest made you cup his jaw and kiss him again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here.”
He sighed and nuzzled against you. “Okay,” he murmured, and the relief in his tone broke your heart. He turned on the tap and faced you. “Can I undress you?”
“I love how you ask,” you said. You’d expected him to take what he wanted, and you delighted in your mistake. “Yes, you may.”
He stared at you, swallowing hard as he took in your naked body. You could see the outline of his cock through his wet shorts. He wiggled them off, and you bit your lip. Because of course he had a huge dick. Of course.
You got in first, and pulled him between your legs. He leaned his head back onto your shoulder and sighed. “You feel nice,” he said.
“So do you.”
“What can I do?” He asked. 
“Shh,” you murmured. “I get the feeling you do a lot of the doing, yeah?” He nodded, and you slipped your hands down his torso. His cock jumped as you got further down, cupping his balls and reveling in the whimper you pulled from him. You brought your other hand around to wrap around his cock, tugging up and down lightly, just enough to tease. 
“Fuck,” he said through his teeth. “Peach, baby, I can—I can take care of you. You can use me however you want.”
“This is how I want,” you whispered in his ear. “I want you to feel good.”
You moved your fist faster, and he squirmed under you. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay.” Head back, neck fully exposed, mouth rounded in sweet surprise. He looked like a painting, lost in pleasure. 
“I don’t wanna use you,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his sinewy neck and sharp jaw. His warm, hard length, slick with water and pre-cum, pulsed in your grip. He opened his eyes and whimpered. 
“I—I’ve been thinking of you for so long,” he said. You said nothing, steadily pumping him as he confessed. “Since—fuck, that feels good—since forever. It feels like forever. All I think about is eating your pussy. I haven’t—haven’t wanted anyone else.”
That could not possibly be true.
“I want my tongue buried in your cunt,” he said, bucking himself in your hand. “And in your little asshole. I b-bet you taste like peach all over.” He turned into your neck with his tongue licking over your skin like he’s practicing. “You—you don’t understand—I fuck my hand thinking about you all the time. Oh, fuck. I fuck my hand, I fuck the stupid toys, I fuck my pillow, I fuck everything and all I—want—is—you.”
You let yourself entertain the belief that he’d been lusting over you this whole time as he grinds into your hand. “Shh, slow down, baby. Slow down,” you murmured. “Plenty of time for all of it.”
“No,” he whined. “Need to cum. Need to cum now. Your hand’s so fuckin’ soft and pretty.”
“Okay,” you cooed. “Okay, okay, then cum. Cum in my hand.”
“Thank you,” he groaned. “Oh, thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you—”
He bucked his hips again, straining as his cock throbbed, his spend landing in the water. You kissed him, absorbing his whimpers and grinding yourself slightly on his lower back he’d pushed against your mound. “Good boy,” you murmured as he slumped down. 
Dieter looked at you with glassy eyes and gave a lop-sided smile. There was a brief, awful moment where your brain told you he’d kick you out now, but it was wrong. Dieter just kissed you, nuzzling your nose with his own. 
“It’s my turn, peach,” he said, and before you could protest he pulled you into the bedroom, rubbing your damp skin down with a towel and positioning you on the end of the bed, ass and hips hanging off the edge as he got on his knees and spread your legs. 
“Fuck,” he murmured. “Fuck, I think I’m already hard again.”
**
She was finally spread out in front of him, pussy glistening in the dim light, enticing him—it was so worth the wait. It was so, so worth it. He meant what he said—there was no one else. It was just her. There was a drawback, though.
“You’ll have to forgive me, peach. I’m a little out of practice here.”
“What do you mean?” She asked, leaning up on her elbows. 
“I haven’t been with anyone in months,” he said, and she looks at him with a raised eyebrow. 
“You—really? You’ve been back in L.A. for ages, right?” 
“I wanted you,” he said simply. And then he pressed his lips against her pussy, sliding his tongue up and down her lips. “I fucking knew it,” he said. “I fuckin’ knew you tasted divine. I fuckin’ knew I’d choose you for my last meal if they asked. I was fuckin’ right.” He groaned into her, spurred on by her breathy whimpers. She looped her fingers into his curls and tugged, pushing him forward. “That’s right, peach, you fuckin’ take what you need from me.” He pulled back and inhaled her musk, pushing one thick finger into her. She was warm and soaked, and he quickly found a spot he knew would make her breathless.
She was babbling above him, but he barely heard her, blocked by her soft thighs against his ears. Dieter couldn’t believe he’d gotten so lucky—he’d planned to wait, to play off the question as a joke. But she’d responded and he knew it was a sign.
“Oh, come on. Come on, peach, I can feel it. I can feel that little cunt ready to cum around my finger. Squeezing the fuck out of me. You want another one, baby?” He asked, and she nodded her head vigorously. 
“Please,” she said. He slid a second finger inside and her thighs shook. She was still a little tight, so rubbed circles inside of her as his tongue pressed against her clit. Her fingers tugged his hair harder, and she cries out as she clenched and throbbed around him. She looked like an angel.
“Dieter,” she sobbed. 
He worked her through it, rubbing until she batted him away, and he crawled up to kiss her forehead. Dieter had never said a word to anyone about how vulnerable he was in these precious seconds after he’s pleasured someone, how anxious he is to know he’s done a good job—he suspected he’s not subtle about it, either, but he’s never voiced it. 
“Good boy. That was so fucking good,” she said, like she could read his mind, and any insecurity he had melted away as he kissed her still-damp forehead, her eyes sparkling. 
“What now?” She asked. 
“I want you to ride me,” he said. 
“Dieter,” she said, and he knew what she meant. 
They acted on it, and now it’s not the same. Things are different. 
“We see where this goes? I still…still need to meet Delilah, you know?”
“To see if she approves?” She giggled, but looked away. “What if this doesn’t work?”
“What if it does, though? I haven’t…felt like this in a long time. You like me.”
“Of course I like you.”
“No, I mean—you’ve seen me just be me. And you like me.”
“Yeah, Dieter, I like you.”
“People don’t.”
“I’m not people. If anyone’s in danger of being found out it’s me,” she joked.
Dieter frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I just mean…I’m not, like, cool. I need attention. I need my needs met.”
“Do you…do you think I won’t do that?” He asked.
“It’s not that. Just that my needs are too much, you know?”
Dieter slid his hand up her naked torso, kneading her breast in his big hand. “Never. Never too much, peach.” She smiled. “Look, we’ll try it. I’ll fly out to see you. I’ll fly you in. We’ll do whatever. Maybe you become my little kept woman.” She shot him a glare. “Or not! I—there are ways. You were five thousand miles away and I didn’t care about anyone else.”
“Why? Why me?” She asked. 
He pulled his phone out and went to their DMs. 
“Remember when I answered you?”
“Yeah, it freaked me out,” she laughed.
“That was a bad day. Awful day. You made me laugh, and I don’t think anyone cared about me like that. Not once.”
He felt pathetic again, but she cupped his face in her hands. “You deserve that.”
“I don’t. I made a lot of shitty choices.” 
“But that’s the past, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes watering. “Could you ever love me?” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and hoping he hadn’t asked a stupid question. She cocked her head at him, and he was ready to take it back. 
“Of course,” she whispered, pulling his face to look directly into her eyes. “Of course I could.” 
He grinned, heart a million pounds lighter, and kissed her. Her lips opened at the soft prodding of his tongue, and she welcomed him into her mouth, sighing at the intrusion. 
“God, I wanna fuck you,” he murmured. She grinned against his lips.
“What’s the rush?” She asked. 
“I’m just impatient.”
She rolled him onto his back, kissing down up his neck. “Lucky for you,” she said, nipping his jaw, “So am I.”
2K notes · View notes
ricc3rodeo · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
1. a year’s difference
those who play with fire tend to be consumed by it
word count: 15.6k
reminder that this story is a sequel! and thanks for being so patient while I got my life together <3
Tumblr media
“I’m not gonna keep going if you keep laughing,” Sam said in a pouting tone. 
“Sorry, sorry,” Daniel wheezed between laughs, “I'll stop…” he proved himself wrong by breaking into another cackle at the pout on Sam’s face, “eventually.”
Sam however, didn’t believe him. But the longer she watched him clutch his stomach and roll around uncontrollably on her hotel bed, the harder it was to contain her own laughter. 
She tried to talk to stave off her laughter, but she wasn’t successful, “You were adamant about wanting to sit through these sessions with me, and you've been gone for two weeks. We’ve got ground to cover, so focus!” 
Wall Work. 
Sam had rolled her eyes when her psychologist had told her about this type of therapy, and she rolled them again when she was “assigned” to do it over the summer break. She was put into contact with the creator of this specific type of work, and in a long, detailed email explaining the process to Sam, he let her know what she was to hopefully accomplish the three month break. 
The premise of this type of therapy was that you wrote down the entire timeline of your life on pieces of paper. Large, defining moments. Small, memorable ones. Anything that Sam considered to be pivotal in shaping her as a person. Then she was supposed to tape them up on the walls, surrounding herself with what was practically her entire life in words. 
What scared Sam the most is what was considered the “work” in Wall Work— she was supposed to present it to somebody. Getting lost in explaining the significance of each sheet of paper and remembering the prices in between was hopefully supposed to help pinpoint what was holding her back mentally. To make matters worse, she had to do the grueling task multiple times… and she didn’t have anybody in mind to present it to.
Molly knew everything about her already, so it wouldn’t be nearly as helpful— it made it feel like a useless endeavor: like telling someone a story over and over again that they’d already heard before. 
She didn’t want to force Mick to sit through it. She knew he would, but Sam didn’t want to take him— and therefore Molly, now that they were an official couple— away from their winter break together. It didn’t seem fair. 
And then there was Daniel… she felt that was too much to ask of somebody who she’d only been officially an item with for a little less than a month. 
It seemed excessive, laying out your entire life, from start to finish on pieces of paper and taping them up onto walls so you can face it all. By the end of the “treatment” her whole life would be a timeline laid out for her to see, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to look at it, laid out in its fucked up glory, let alone force somebody to sit through it multiple times. 
She didn’t want to do it, but Daniel told her that if she was willing to allow him to sit through it, he would hold her accountable for putting in the work and let her present it to him. She argued to this new psychologist that she was capable enough to do it alone, and it would probably benefit her even more. But the man had assured her that it was much more beneficial to work through the tougher bits if there was someone there she could work it through with. 
Sam was tentative at first— trying to find any way out of it— but Daniel assured her that it would allow her to open up to him even more so he could get to know her better, all the good and all the ugly parts. 
And he was right. 
She complained at first, like, literally the entire time, about literally every aspect of it: the stack of papers was weighing down her backpack as she lugged it with her on their global-galavanting vacations, the amount of paper was killing trees— and she shouldn’t prioritize her mental health over the sake of the planet (and how could she possibly look Seb in the eye the next time she saw him!), she was embarrassed to talk about the stupid things she’d done as a kid, it took away from time they could be out exploring together, it probably freaked out any cleaning staff that hotel sent up to their rooms, blah blah blah. If it crossed her mind, she found a way to turn it into a complaint hoping that Daniel would concede and let her just tell her therapist she’d completed it. 
Yet Daniel wasn’t budging. In the moment she was annoyed by his persistence, but she knew he was doing this for her. Somewhere in the middle of the Maldives she decided she wasn’t going to punish him for that anymore. 
So something about having Daniel there and spending that new kind of quality time with him turned it into something she actually started to look forward to, dare she say enjoy. It worked out perfectly, seeing as they had been in the honeymoon phase of their newly established relationship and had wanted to spend the free time of their winter break together. 
“Daniel,” she sighed, “it isn't even this funny!”
He kept laughing. She gave up trying to contain her own laughter. 
“You didn’t laugh like this the first two times you heard this…”
He sat up, “because the last two times you didn’t mention that there was a photo of you hanging in the indycar headquarters like a mugshot.”
“Hey,” she scoffed, “I had no idea that they would get that worked up over a mindless prank!”
“You let a gerbil loose and it got stuck in the tail-pipe of a priceless indy 500 winning car”
“And Mr. Cooter lived a full life and served his country well,” Sam replied with her nose up. 
“He died?’ Daniel gasped, and then started laughing.
“Well, eventually!” Sam interjected, offended. “We got him out of the tailpipe, he just— he got out a year later and I never saw him again.” she crossed her arms over her chest. “It's a sensitive subject!” she joked. 
“Oh, well pardon me for not knowing about your attachment to your late hamster Mr. Cooter… Odd name by the way.” Daniel cracked a grin.
“Thanks, It’s a family name,” she quipped sarcastically in response. The two laughed 
“Look, can we stop for tonight? I know we’re still,” she stepped back to see the entire room from where she stood, “like two years behind schedule because of your unplanned vacation,” she cracked a smile and Daniel rolled his eyes.
“I was quarantined, I didn’t have a choice!”
“Yeah yeah yeah, vacation… quarantine… whatever same thing.” She waved her hand dismissively and Daniel tried to smack it out the air, missing it completely, his smile never faltering. 
“I’ve got somewhere to be in an hour and I want to look somewhat decent before I go. Plus, you already know what happens next. You knew what happened the last two times you’ve heard this…” Sam gestured to the paper-covered walls behind her. She felt guilty; it always felt like too much to dump on Daniel regardless of what he said. 
“You know that’s not how this works…” This time, he reached out to grab her hands and was successful, intertwining their fingers between her standing body and his place on the edge of the bed. “Besides, you already look decent. Better than decent matter of fact.”
She looked down at her ensemble. She wasn't sure baggy jeans and an old t-shirt that swallowed her whole, accompanied by her sweaty hair thrown into two braids qualified as “decent”, let alone better than decent... But something about the way Daniel said it made her cheeks heat nonetheless. 
“I love the flattery, I really do, but you need to raise your standards.” She laughed and launched herself at him and onto her hotel room bed 
“I haven’t seen you in weeks, why are you trying to run off so quickly? Can’t I catch up with my girlfriend,” Daniel hugged her into him even tighter, reveling in the feeling of holding her close after two weeks of being unable to do just that. He’d learned it was one of his favorite things, holding her. Whether it was waking up in bed together on a cool summer morning in Colorado, attempting to hold each other steady while stumbling back from a Tuscan night out where they had indulged in a bit too much red wine, or interlocking hands together under their dinner table in the dim light of the michelin star restaurant in France, or even just their sides brushing while they leaned their heads on top of one another’s while they sat on a bench and took a break during their long hike up the Scottish Highlands. Every moment they’d spent together this summer made one thing clear: Sam was like a drug and he was downright addicted. 
Which is what made the idea of the season ahead of them so much more daunting. 
She laughed again, “Uh, you’re acting like you were off in the middle of the desert with no cell phone service for two weeks.. I called you like, multiple times a day! But don’t worry, we can do your version of catching up when I get home tonight.”
Daniel wiggled his eyebrows, “I like the sound of that.”
He watched as Sam’s cheeks grew even darker and followed the curve of her lip she tried to deflect so he wouldn’t notice. Next came what she always resorted back to in order to get Daniel to concede; his one weakness she had discovered that even he hadn’t been aware of:
Sam put one of her hands on either of Daniel’s cheeks and cupped his face tenderly, giving him what he could only describe as sadistic puppy dog eyes. “You need to let go of me so I can get dressed.”
Those eyes. His favorite pair of hazel eyes. The ones he daydreamed about getting lost in. The eyes that he had been lucky enough to have their sights set on him. This look was his kryptonite. Something about the way she looked as if she was pleading with him, but also in some way maybe threatening him? He had no idea, but something about it hypnotized him and could bring him to his knees within seconds. Daniel felt like he was a pirate being drawn in by a siren since Sam learned this little trick. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t care to. 
But in a way, a part of him knew his weak-will was simply because he loved her, and wouldn’t hesitate to do anything for her at the drop of a hat— it was just a bonus that he got to send a few extra seconds with her, where it was completely valid to just be consumed by his admiration for her. 
Head still in her hands he raised an eyebrow, “Are you meeting with another boyfriend I don’t know about? Why are you getting all dressed up? Who’s my competition? Actually you don’t need to tell me, I’m willing to fight anybody to the death for your honor—“
She cut him off with a laugh to reassure him, despite knowing he was teasing her, “No men, just Jack.”
Her joke hadn’t registered with him, so she added his last name after a brief pause. 
“… Doohan. Jack Doohan?” His features relaxed with recognition. “We’re just grabbing a quick bite downstairs for dinner. He wants a bit of advice before his first full F2 season.”
Daniel sat up abruptly, “bu— he didn’t ask me for advice…” Sam shrugged, “why’d he ask you and not me”. Sam shrugged again. He looked genuinely distraught for a moment, but then he pointed his finger accusatorily at her after. 
“You’re stealing my son from me!” Daniel protested. 
She threw her hands up in defense, “I am not! And he’s not your son…”  her hand flew from beside her head and her finger extended out as she flung it toward her sternum, “He’s mine!” She corrented mischievously. 
“Can I come please,” Daniel begged by dragging out the vowel, hissing out the s, before ending his plea with a soft ‘uh’, now giving Sam his best puppy dog eyes. 
“I wish. He didn’t invite you and it’ll be suspicious if I just show up with you out of the blue. You’ll survive one night without me, I promise.” She kissed him on the forehead before getting up to change, “You never know, maybe he’s just waiting to get advice from you after he gets advice from me. He looks up to you Daniel. Don’t doubt that.”
He smiled. And then he used his momentum and the spring of the luxury mattress to propel himself forward to a standing position. In one motion he wrapped both his arms around Sam and pulled her back down onto the bed. 
She yelped in surprise. But allowed herself to melt into him, falling back onto the bed and against his warm embrace. 
“I missed you,” he whispered against the crown of her head. 
“I missed you too,” she replied into his chest. 
They sat there for a moment. In each other's arms. No obligations. No expectations. No words. Nothing. Just their hearts breathing against one another. Just Sam. Just Daniel. Just Sam and Daniel together. Finally. Every moment they’d spent together since Abu Dhabi had felt like a breath of relief; all the bullshit was done, no more miscommunications, no more hiding feelings, no more NDA’s, no more running. 
After a minute more of comfortable silence, Sam spoke up. “So, any nerves now that you’re here in the flesh?” 
Daniel hesitated in responding. He inhaled, Then exhaled. “The car…” he trailed off 
She heard and felt his heart rate increase with the way her head rested on his chest. The shallow thumping against his ribcage sent small vibrations reverberating against her ear, one’s which Sam had grown accustomed to hearing over the break. But the worry in his tone made her enjoy it less this time. 
He’d been voicing his concern of the car all winter. The way it didn’t suit his driving style last season, his declining results, and the highly unlikely chance that the team would make the major adjustments he was hoping for. 
And to make matters worse, he missed the entirety of testing… you know, the one place they allow the drivers to really give their opinion on the car— or at least one place where the grievances were actually taken into account. 
“I’m sorry,” she rubbed up and down on his arm, listening to his heart rate slow back down. Sam smiled at the action Daniel had no control over. 
“Tell me something good,” he said changing the subject, “How’s your car? Think of a name yet?”
She didn’t respond initially. He was down in the dumps about his drive situation this season, the last thing she wanted to do was drag him down even lower by talking about her own situation, which she knew to be better. 
“Lilith” she responded quietly, acting as if he hadn’t asked a two part question. 
He ignored the name she’d given him. Not because he wasn’t excited at what it was calling back to, but because she hadn’t answered one of his questions— the important question. “C'mon Sammy…we talked about this.”
“I know…” she groaned, rolling onto her back and hiding her face in her hands. 
Daniel sat up and spread her fingers apart so her eyes were visible. She opened them, her hazel irises hypnotizing him momentarily. 
He whispered, “say it with me…”
“Your win is not my loss” they said in unison. Sam’s words were muffled by her hands still over her face. 
The two had decided that this one mantra was a great way to reassure each other that despite what happens out on the track, they would be by each other's sides regardless. There was something taboo about dating an opponent, but Sam had never let taboo get in her way, and Daniel had ever rarely cared about what the status quo had to say. This small reminder was their way to remind each other that regardless of anything, they could be a shoulder to lean on without needing to walk on eggshells around each other. 
Daniel smiled warmly. It melted Sam from the inside out. He ducked his head down closer to her, “I’m your boyfriend before I’m your opponent. Now c'mon. How’s the car?”
Sam felt like somebody lit off an entire box of fireworks behind her ribcage. She asked herself the question she’d asked herself more times than she could keep track of over their dreamy winter break together. 
What had someone like me, possibly done to deserve somebody as amazing as Daniel?
Her pout slowly morphed into a smile, one Daniel could see even though her hands covered her lips. 
Her eyes crinkled… she was grinning. 
“Ishhh rwwreee ghhhd,” she mumbled from behind her hands, unable to contain her excitement as she laughed. 
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Daniel laughed along with her, placing his grip on her wrists and removing her hands from her face so he could see her entire face. Her words had been incomprehensible, but her giddiness and grin gave him a clue as to what she’d said. 
“It’s really good. It’s so fucking good! It’s a goddamn machine! Me and her, we’re gonna wreak some havoc on track this season, I can already tell.” 
The room filled with their laughter. 
“I think I have a shot at this, Danny. It’s not a pipe dream anymore.” She sat up, “after driving the HAAS all last season, this Mercedes car… she just… she moves with so much grace. I’m already so much more confident behind the wheel.”
Daniel looked at her, his smile no doubt genuine. She was positive he was the only one out of the remaining 18 drivers on the grid who could sit here like this and actually smile as his opponent gawked about their incredible car. He was one in a million and again, she wasn’t sure how she’d been so lucky to be able to call him hers.
She gave him a look, “I think we have a championship contending car.”
He was grinning, but then the corners of his lips dropped and he took a deep breath, “I want to ask you a realistic question, not because I don’t think you’re capable— because I do, I absolutely do— I just have no idea what happens in your garage….”
She nodded, nervous.
“How have Toto and Lewis decided who gets priority?”
It was odd hearing Lewis be referred to as her new team principal. Everyone had expected that once he retired, his role within the F1 community was far from over. Shortly after the end of the 2021 season, it was announced Toto would be promoted to CEO, and Lewis would take his place as team principal. They’d both be active in making decisions within the team, but now Lewis had a more permanent position. 
What Sam was most excited about was Toto’s wife Susie being promoted to head of strategy. She’s always idolized Susie, the woman’s role in Formula 1 was the most ground breaking there’d been since Sam took her seat. So to say she was ecstatic to work with her was an understatement. George had said that she was fangirling, and despite the glare she sent his way during the team meeting, she knew he wasn’t wrong. Sam was totally fangirling.
Their team this season was stacked for victory. 9-time Constructor’s Champions with a record-breaking 8-time world champion leading their team from the garage, with two rookies who know how to fucking drive. A good cop, George Russell, and a bad cop, Samantha Thompson. There was balance. 
She blew out an exasperated breath, “They came to the decision to just let us race. No first driver-second driver dynamic. They won’t call team orders unless the driver that would be getting passed suggests it… or they agree when the team asks under extenuating circumstances I guess”
She shrugged, “it’s two team rookies taking seats in the championship winning car. Forecast predicts madness. Especially with the looks of RedBull and Ferrari. If you ask me, they’re going to sacrifice this ‘just race’ tactic the second the titles get tight.”
“That’s… a lot.” Daniel sat up and took a deep breath, trying to process the madness within the Mercedes garage. 
Sam nodded, eyes wide, “Yeah, I just hope it doesn't ruin me and George’s friendship. He's a by the book kinda guy and I’m… well the complete opposite of that. His temper is short and leads to frustration, mine is short and leads to anger. Honestly it’s kinda a horror story waiting to happen, but I'm hoping we can at least wait until after the summer break before any big arguments”
“There aren’t going to be any arguments. You guys are too good of friends,” he reassured her. 
This time, Sam shook her head at his words. “I don’t believe that… Love the guy but we butt heads too often. It’s inevitable.”
Daniel’s expression had turned slightly sour, a pout now resting on his lips.
It took Sam a second to comprehend the look on his face.
“You know what I meant,” she clarified, realizing the reason for his big lower lip and furrowed brow. 
He shook his head. 
She huffed, “I do not love George Russell.”
Still pouting. 
“The only man I love is Daniel Ricciardo,” she said the line as if it was rehearsed, as if she’d had this same conversation time and time again. Because she had. A small part of her knew that Daniel just liked to hear her say that she loved him. Yet Sam obliged without protest; yes she said it often and with ease, but if Daniel wanted to make a big deal out of her saying it, then so be it. It’s the least she could do for everything she’d put him through. 
His resolve weakened. He cracked a smile. 
She straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands instinctively finding a place on her lower back as she gave the tip of his prominent nose a kiss.
“I love you, Daniel…” Sam said in a sing-song tone, waiting for his smile to break wide open into the grin she adored so much.
“Good,” he smiled. Sam rolled her eyes playfully and fell forward into him so they were laying on the bed again. They both turned their gazes to the ceiling, just enjoying each other's company before all hell broke loose this weekend. Any shrivel of normalcy they had as a couple was about to shrivel up into damn near nothing. They knew it was coming, but they’d been dreading it all winter. 
“Our first race weekend as a couple… it feels so…” he trailed off. 
“Strange?” she asked. 
“Well I was going to say surreal but yeah, definitely strange,” he fiddled with his hands and picked at his fingernails before stopping, aware that Sam knew all too well that it was his anxious tic. “It’s weird that we hated each other this time last year… and seeing us now…”
“What do you mean now? I still hate you…” she joked. 
He reached over and grabbed a pillow from above them and smacked it against her face. 
She laughed and turned on her side to look at him, “Jokes aside, I didn’t hate you this time last year. Not until Sunday night after the press conference. Plus, you had no idea I was even here until Sunday night,” she looked at her watch, “and last I checked it’s only Wednesday night.”
Daniel did the same so that they were laying down, facing each other. “Since when do you care about the specifics?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know. Talking about last season during this stupid wall exercise has kinda brought it into perspective…” 
Sam shifted her weight so her face was in front of his, “Do you ever think about how stupid we were. Literally all we had to do was have an adult conversation and we could have avoided so much drama. We honestly might have even gotten together sooner.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “We were idiots… but I dropped out of school during the ninth grade so I never claimed to be smart. What matters is it all worked out”
He kissed her forehead. 
“Get all this out of your system now, because this weekend starts a long season of deception, deceit, and everything in between. Because as of tomorrow, according to the entire world, we are simply just friends. And that means no PDA, Daniel. I know that’s going to be hard for you,” she reached over and patted his shoulder comfortingly, but not without the added spark of teasing him about his love of affection.
He rolled his eyes and shrugged, “What can I say? I’m a hands-on learner.”
She laughed and he went on, “I think we’ve mentally prepared enough. I’m not going to enjoy acting like you aren’t mine…” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, “but if it means this gets to be ours for as long as possible, I’m willing to do whatever.”
The way his insides lit up whenever Sam blushed would never get old. He wanted to look at her forever, and he probably could. He liked the idea of it.  
Then Daniel smirked as a thought crossed his mind: 
“The real question is, have you managed to practice looking at me like you don't want to fuck me, or is that still a work in progress?”
She scoffed and slapped his chest, prying herself from his arms. 
Sam flipped him off and made her way over the bathroom, disappearing through the doorway as Daniel laughed. 
“Well,” she shouted from out of sight, the shower turning on in the background, “I’m just a visual learner okay! I’m admiring what is mine!”
He laughed again, but this time much harder. Eyes closed, clutching his chest, and rolling backward. 
That was until he heard a quiet thump and sat up to see a gray lump of fabric sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom doorway. It was the same color as the shirt Sam had been wearing. Before he could say anything another piece of clothing flew from the bathroom and landed nearby. 
A pair of jeans. 
Sam shouted from behind the door again. 
“What was that you said earlier about being a hands-on learner?” she shouted as he heard the unmistakable sound of the shower door being opened. 
Daniel didn’t hesitate, didn’t say a word, he just shot up from the bed and ran toward the bathroom, discarding his shirt and haphazardly trying to step out of his jeans in the process. 
Tumblr media
Jack Doohan sat patiently waiting at a table for two in the hotel restaurant downstairs. His phone was illuminating his face with bright light in the dim dining room. The sound of Sam pulling out the chair and scraping its legs against the linoleum floor is what spooked him out of his scrolling induced trance. 
He jumped back in his chair, startled, at the noise and was relieved to see it was just Sam. 
“Geez, well hello to you too.”
Shaking his head, he cleared himself from the daze and smiled at Sam, “Sorry, sorry, I’m just a bit distracted.” 
Jack stood from his seat and greeted Sam with a hug. She wrapped one of her arms around his neck, the other holding her jacket by her waist. 
“It’s alright,” Sam encouraged, “I’m just glad to get to see you. How was the break?”
The two sat and caught up with one another for a bit before a waiter came over to take their drink order. Jack’s winter break— summer in Australia he reminded her—  consisted of catching up with family, hosting Mick and Molly, reminiscing about how much more fun they would’ve had if she’d been able to tag along. 
She apologized, reminding him of her full schedule that stopped her from flying out to Australia with them, and catching him up on the fun things she did while away. Apartment hunting in London, wine tasting in Italy, hiking the green mountains in Switzerland, and then ending the break back at her family home in Colorado. 
All while leaving out the fact she’d been accompanied by Daniel during all of it. 
It stung, being unable to tell Jack all the funny, incredible memories she’d made with Daniel. It hurt even more knowing that he was friends with Daniel too— he probably wouldn’t even care; odds are he’d be excited. But it was too soon. 
“I saw you and Lindsay were in the same media group tomorrow…” He said tentatively, changing the topic onto the weekend ahead of them. 
“Yep.” 
Her casual response threw Jack off; the simpleness to it, he would’ve almost thought she was oblivious to the past if he didn’t know any better. He leaned forward and his eyebrow lifted in confusion. 
“So do you two still absolutely hate each other, or are we just going to act like none of that stuff ever happened?”
“I haven’t spoken to her at all, and I know it sounds insane, but I’m ready to just put it all behind me and try to offer her my friendship. I'm trying to remind myself that I would’ve killed for there to be a woman on the grid when I started last year… so I’m hoping I can be someone she can depend on when it comes to the insane reality that is not only becoming a Formula 1 driver, but being a woman on the grid.”
Not an ounce of joking lingered in her tone. All the while her words were overflowing with assurance. He hated to think the worst of people, especially somebody he loved as much as Sam, but she wasn’t one to just let things go with this sort of ease… There were no reservations in her plan, no methodical planning ahead, just good old fashion flying by the seat of her pants… Was this a cry for help he was overlooking? His head swirlied with contradicting thoughts… What exactly had she done on her months-long eat-pray-love solo trip around the world? Voodoo? Hypnotism? He couldn’t be sure. 
Jack picked up the butter knife sitting to his left and held it defensively in front of him, “Who are you and what have you done with Sam.”
“I’m a changed woman, Jackie Boy. This year is gonna be different.” She smiled, taking the knife from his hand by the handle and using it to butter her dinner roll. “Things are going to be different. They have to be.” 
“So,” she started up again before taking a bite of the freshly buttered bread, “what’s the real reason you wanted to grab a bite tonight? Because I haven’t driven in F2 for four-ish years, and that didn’t really end well. Plus, Mick won the championship in 2020. If you wanted detailed racing advice, you would’ve gone to him.”
Jack just sat there and looked at her, eyes wide in shock. She’d figure it out before he’d even gotten the change to ask her.
“You’re good.” He admitted defeat. The all-knowing glint in her eye told him it would be useless trying to deny it, especially since it was why he needed her advice.
“Spill,” Sam grinned, scooting her chair as close as possible to the table and resting her elbows on the tabletop. She was intrigued and ready to listen to whatever Jack had to say. She thought of him like a baby brother, and she was ready to take advantage of this rare occurrence and offer any older sister advice that she could.  
He huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. Sam noticed his demeanor change to the shy, quiet Jack that she grew up with. 
“It’s about this girl…” he whispered quietly. 
It took Sam every ounce of self-control in her body to not shout for joy at the top of her lungs in the middle of this restaurant. Her jaw dropped in disbelief— no, not disbelief; she knew how charming Jack was and she had honestly been shocked he had little interest in dating— it was elation. She was so unbelievably excited Jack was finally interested in a girl— interested enough to need advice about it. And even more to Sam’s delight, he had come to her for this advice. 
He continued, seeing as Sam was practically stunned speechless. “She’s the new team admin—”
She held up her hand to stop him, “Please do not tell me you finally have your sights set on somebody and it’s a grown-ass woman, Jack.”
“What?” He scoffed, her expression shifted to one of incredulity from across the table. “No, she’s 19. The team took her on as an apprentice or something like that. Something about reaching younger audiences and demographics I guess.”
Sam’s face relaxed. “Oh…well, that’s good.” She felt a tad embarrassed at her assumption. “So what’s she like?”
“I dunno”
The way Jack shrugged and said it so casually had Sam thinking she may have imagined the entire interaction. 
She leaned closer to him across the table. She spoke softly, as if whatever they were speaking about was classified. 
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I— I uh, I haven’t actually spoken to her yet…”
Jack scratched the back of his neck and his face contorted in embarrassment. Sam had no idea how this man had survived this long in the real world. Had he not figured out he was likable enough to literally have an entire fanbase? Lots of those being age-appropriate women who would spontaneously combust if he even smiled at them? Or maybe she’s unsure as to how he hasn’t realized he’s technically motorsport royalty, which means that there's statistically a much lower chance of him ever getting rejected by a girl, let alone one who worked in the industry. A sliver of her finds it endearing that he;s so worked up over a girl he literally hasn’t even spoken to yet, but that doesn;t negate how dumbfounded she is at what she’s hearing.
Her mind was running wild trying to come up with a reasonable explanation as to how oblivious he was, all while her jaw hung open and her brows creased.
Jack broke the silence, trying to plead his case, “She was introduced to the team at the first debrief of the season yesterday”
“Okay…” Sam trailed off. Her eyes were focused on everything and nothing at the same time as she leaned back in her chair. “We can work with this.”
A few more head nods in silence and she finally looked at Jack, “Yeah, we can work with this.”
He leaned forward, “Okay, so what do I do?”
“Talk to her,” Sam said plainly. 
At that moment a waiter came by with their drinks. Sam smiled at him as he placed the two glasses down on the table, a lemonade for Jack and a glass of red wine for Sam, she said a small thanks before turning back to the young driver infront of her. 
He was staring at her like she’d grown another head and she assumed he had been looking at her like that since she gave him her first bit of advice. She tried to stifle her laugh and just smiled at Jack as she took a sip of her wine. 
“Okay yeah, and then what?” He gestured wildly with his hands, eager to hear the rest of her advice. 
“Don’t worry about that yet. Just talk to her first. Start simple and go from there. Ask her how her time with the team has been so far, or maybe start a conversation about something she’s working on. For fuck’s sake, just introduce yourself Jack.”
He went to interject, but Sam cut him off and kept going, “And don’t you tell me you’re worried about messing it up. You’re a young, good looking guy her age, not to mention you’re super charming and have a great sense of humor. Who cares if you’re a little bit awkward. You’d have to curse her entire bloodline or fall on your face to ruin it.”
His cheeks warmed bashfully. 
“I would add a ‘what could go wrong’, but i'm not trying to jinx you… I don’t have the best luck with that sentiment.”
Jack grit his teeth and sucked in a breath through the toothy expression, “yeah, I’d rather you not doom this before it starts. I say that with nothing but love.”
Sam laughed and tore off a chunk of her roll and lightly tossed it across the table hitting him square in his snaggle-toothed smile. 
“So what about you? Any special guy in your life yet?”      
Sam’s heart dropped to her ass in panic. She scoffed, hiding her fear with laughter in shock of the question. She shook her head, taking another sip of her wine, “I am not talking with you about my dating life.”
“So that means the answer is no.” 
She gasped, “Hey!” Jack laughed and braced himself for another piece of bread to be launched at him. “Why is that the default answer!?”
This time, Sam threw the entire roll at his head.   
Tumblr media
“Are you sure you’re gonna be alright?”
Mick was trailing behind Sam and Molly as they headed towards the building which was holding the driver press conferences this weekend. He was assigned TV Pen duties, so he was literally walking in the opposite direction of where he was supposed to be heading, but his concerns from Sam’s first interaction with Lindsay outweighed his need to be on time. 
Without stopping, Sam looked at Mick, getting a bit perturbed .”Look, I appreciate your concern. But I also appreciated it the first time you asked me… and the second.. and the third. I’m fine, Mick. If you ask me again, I’m going to have to lead you to the medical tent and admit you under the pretense of short term memory loss.”
Molly laughed at the offended look on her boyfriend’s face. When Mick saw Sam’s dramatically cheesing grin, he relaxed. 
She was carefully about teasing them lately, ever since the end of last season when she had decided she needed to push her friends away for their own protection, and that the best way to do it was to purposefully be a horrible friend and belittle them, treat them like garbage, point out their insecurities… all of the worst things she could possibly think of. She never wanted them to worry that she was trying to repeat those actions again. So her new way of reminding her friends she was just joking, was to flash them a grin like she was a kid being asked to say cheese in a photo, when either of their expressions would show that hint of worry. 
At the sight of her smile, Mick laughed along with the two girls. 
“Sugar,” Molly said addressing her boyfriend by his nickname in her sickly sweet Southern Georgia accent, “She’ll be alright. You said it yourself, Lindsay hasn’t even mentioned Sam in the month or so you’ve been teammates. Besides, I’ll be there to make sure she doesn’t say anything she’ll regret. Right?” 
Molly turned to her best friend and gave her a threatening glare that could’ve brought dictators to their knees. She may look the role of the sweet Georgia peach, but the blonde knew how to pack a punch when she wanted to. 
“Of course, Moo. You can count on me,” Sam said rather unconvincingly with the use of Molly’s childhood nickname. 
“What are you going to do, jump up onto the set and stop her?”
Molly turned to Mick rather unimpressed and stuck her tongue in her cheek. “And what if I did?” she said rather menacingly. 
The building that had been listed on Sam’s weekend schedule was directly in front of them now. She turned to the couple that had fallen in stride of one another a few steps behind her. 
In her best childlike tone she murmured, “Mom, Dad, please stop fighting. My friends are watching.”
The two looked up from their playful bickering to see Sam gesture over her shoulder with her thumb at the front door, where Daniel was standing in his bright orange team kit. As if on cue, he gave the group an enthusiastic wave with the straw of his drinks bottle between his lips. Esteban was beside him and once he saw who Daniel was waving at, he also offered the group the friendly gesture.
Sam could still tell Mick was worried about her. She didn’t blame him… especially after everything she’d put him through last season. They were practically siblings, it was in their nature to worry about each other, especially in such a dangerous line of work. Jokes aside, Sam knew he was just looking out for her; Molly had said he felt even more protective over her seeing as Guenther was still somehow in the paddock as HAAS’s team principal despite everything he put her through last season. 
Arms outstretched, Sam rested her hands on Mick’s shoulders. 
“I promise, I’m going to be fine. I mean it when I say I want to try and be friendly with her. I’m not plotting a revenge plan. I’m not going to call her names on live television or dig up the past. Despite everything in my screaming to do the opposite, I’m trying my best to be the bigger person. Things are going to be different this season. They have to be.”
Something about the nod he gave her told her he believed her, despite how unbelievable those words sounded coming from her mouth. He closed the space between them and engulfed her into a hug, whispering something in her ear. 
“Ich bin einfach froh, dass du hier bist” I’m just glad you’re here
“Ich auch, Mick” me too, Mick
The HAAS driver went his separate ways from the girls, but not before leaving Molly with a quick peck on the cheek. 
Sam loved to see that despite the two having been a couple since the middle of last season, her best friend was still giddy when it came to Mick. Molly’s cheeks heated up to a bright crimson, and Sam giggled. 
“Oh you are so whipped!” “And what about it!”
Sam threw her head back in laughter and finally made it to where the Alpine and McLaren drivers were standing. 
“What’s got you in stitches?” Daniel asked. 
“Oh nothing, just Mick and Molly proving the fact that if my racing career does fail, I can fall back on my talent at matchmaking.”
The two men didn't know whether they should laugh at the self-deprecating comment, you know, seeing that her career did in fact nearly four months ago. She picked up on their slight level of uncomfortability. 
“Too soon?” She asked. 
“Maybe a little,” Esteban replied an octave above his normal voice, all while Daniel held up his thumb and index finger indicating the same sentiment, both drivers having a sour look on their faces. 
They all erupted in laughter. For the next few minutes while they waited for the first interview group to finish, they stood outside having casual conversation. 
It was a peculiar feeling, having to ask Daniel questions and answer the ones he gave her as if they didn't already know the answer. It was the first time they’d interacted with one another in the paddock, and in the presence of another driver. 
Sam hated it. 
And so did Daniel. 
But they knew it would get more comfortable with time. So for now, they just needed to convince everyone that they were nothing more than friends. 
How hard could it be? They were friends before they were a couple. Sure, maybe the friendship had been clouded with moments of faux resentment and unacknowledged sexual tension— filled with moments of constant pushing and pulling away from each other, pretending that there wasn’t always this incessant need to be near one another. Because the two had feigned hatred for each other so well, that they had even themselves fooled for a couple of months. 
They had this in the bag. 
Before Sam could answer Esteban’s question about her and Daniel’s trip to France the group was interrupted.
“Hey guys! Daniel, Esteban, Sam,” Lindsay smiled as she adressed each of the drivers in the group, “First official race weekend of the season, who’s excited!”
The newest HAAS driver raised her hand enthusiastically, answering her own question. 
Esteban grinned and raised his hand alongside her. 
Daniel’s eyes darted between his girlfriend and the woman she had been so anxious to see again after years, waiting to see if the stories of them fighting would jump off the papers taped to Sam’s hotel room wall and play out in front of him, or if Sam would stay true to her word and attempt to keep the peace, and even better, he was using his first interaction with his girlfriend’s former nemesis to form his own opinion of the woman…
Sam’s eyes were locked on Lindsay, eyebrows raised in disbelief that they were standing this close and neither of them had tried to strangle one another. What made it even weirded was how she had acted as if Sam wasn't even there. Not by ignoring her, but by acting as if it wasn’t Sam who was standing there. Nothing about her happy-go-lucky attitude showed Sam that Lindsay had even the slightest recollection of how much they had hated each other all those years ago; they’re paths had diverged while hating one another as well, so to her knowledge, they should've still disliked each other just as much. 
Despite her own unspoken plan to act like her past transgressions with Lindsay had never happened, it struck Sam as odd that her former F3 teammate was also acting as if they were fast friends. 
To put it honestly, Lindsay was kinda freaking her out. 
The wide eyes and big smile, the seemingly forced laughter, the calling her by her name instead of the horrendous nickname the girl had given Sam ages ago.  
A singular explanation came into mind: 
This was a trap. She was trying to kill Sam with kindness. She needed to put her guard up and not trust—
She stopped her train of thought. 
No. She didn’t think like this anymore. Not everyone was out to get her. She needed to keep reminding herself of that this season. 
Things were going to be different. They had to be. 
Lindsay is doing exactly what Sam herself is doing: starting fresh, just two women who know they need to stick together. Letting bygones be bygones. 
Starting fresh. 
Sam cleared her mind and started over. The odd interaction they’d exchanged had been occupying her mind from outside, all the way into the building, into the red chairs, and through the first three or four minutes of the press conference. 
She wiped the glaze from over her eyes by blinking once or twice under the hot lights of the press conference room. 
To anyone watching the stream of this conference, it just looked like Sam was zoned out into the ground in front of her, and she knew that’s exactly what she was doing. 
So she put a smile on her face and sat up straighter in her chair, making sure the microphone was clutched tightly in her hand so she was prepared, instead of where it previously laid limply across her lap. 
Sam glanced to her left. Directly beside her Lindsay was answering a question enthusiastically, something about having to put her modeling career on hold only being possible because of her sponsors, which she then name-dropped. Sam couldn’t help but be the slightest bit self-conscious hearing the list of partners Lindsay had that enhanced her feminine presence on the grid:
Playboy— a bunny emblem on her uniform so iconic it needs no explanation. 
The Clubhouse— a popular group agency out of Toronto known for signing models of the same blonde, skinny variety. 
Chanel— a company that radiates class, and elegant femininity. 
Louboutin— the company responsible for the iconic red-bottom shoe, one that every girl dreams of dawning in their adult life. 
There were many other sponsors gracing Lindsay’s attire across the weekend. So many it seemed a tad crowded. But Sam wasn’t surprised; she knew Guenther was all about the dollar signs and how many zeros came after them. Lots of sponsors meant lots of money, and lots of money meant lots of attention and a better car. 
Sure, Sam had her sponsors and she was proud of them, especially her retention and the influx of those newly interested after 2021, but seeing the overwhelming amount Lindsay had as the only other woman on the grid, made her wonder what she was doing wrong. 
Still looking to her left, Sam’s focus moved past Lindsay and landed on Daniel. His side profile was as captivating as always, prominent nose and large lips adorned by the brim of his orange McLaren cap. As if he felt Sam looking at him, he turned his head a bit and leaned forward just slightly. He offered her a friendly smile. He showed no teeth, but his grin was so genuine his eyes got lost in the skin wrinkling around them and nose scrunched as his dimples made an appearance.
Everything within Sam settled. It’s as if the rough waves of her anxiety had been pulled out by the tide and he was the moon guiding her there. 
She smiled back. A wordless thank you.
“Speaking of sponsors, I’d love to bring it over to Sam.”
At the sound of her name echoing over the speakers, she turned forward again and met eyes with the interviewer. Her smile told him that she was ready for the question. 
“First of all, it’s lovely to have you back after the uncertainty of whether or not that’d be the case. Lots of new sponsors for you this season as well. But a new title sponsor for you, a rather big one might I add. Victoria’s Secret. Tell me about how that came to be and what it means to you.”
Sam grinned. It was a big deal. The iconic company had reached out to her and wanted to be her title sponsor for the season; they’d never once branched into the motorsport community— they’d never had the means to, she imagined— and had enough trust in her to bridge the gap between a women-centric company and a male dominated sport. 
And now, she had earned the title of a Victoria Secret Angel. She was to shoot modeling campaigns with them throughout the year, something definitely out of her comfort zone as an adult, yet something she’d had fever-dreamed about as a young girl. 
Plus, it made it even better seeing Daniel’s reaction to the news when she’d told him. Sam thought she had reset the poor man to factory settings the way his jaw dropped and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. It was an incredible opportunity and she wasn’t about to let her fear of judgment or self-consciousness get in the way. 
“Yeah, it’s an insane opportunity. One I’m really fortunate to have. Their enthusiasm to work with me and their trust in me to be a representative of their brand in such a male-dominated space had given me a lot of confidence; not only as a driver but as a woman. I guess you could say they wrangled the Hell-Raiser and turned her into an angel.”
She laughed and the crowd within the room joined in. 
“I'm elated to have them backing me this season and I can’t wait to proudly wear the Angel wings on my suit and fireproofs this season, as well as continue our work we have planned throughout the season. They welcomed me into their family with open arms and I couldn’t be more honored.”
She ended her comment with a smile, and then felt a hand on her shoulder. Sam turned to see Lindsay with a smile on her face, her freshly whitened teeth making it hard for Sam to look at her too long. The blonde’s hand shook lightly— reveling in the excitement with Sam. 
It felt odd… having who she considered at one point— in Molly’s words— to be her arch nemesis, stare her directly in the eyes and smile at her like everything was great… This friendship was definitely going to take some getting used to. 
Tumblr media
The minutes on the grid between the national anthem and the five red lights turning on were some of the most chaotic moments of any race weekend. Engineers were making their final adjustments on the cars. Celebrities were walking between the parked cars like they owned the place, team personnel were trying to sweet-talk those celebrities, cameras were filming literally everything, while presenters ran from person to person interrupting conversations and sticking their microphones where they didn’t necessarily belong. All while the drivers were trying to get in their racing headspace. 
Sam hated this idle time spent on the grid. All she wanted to do was start to prepare for the race. The process of channeling her adrenaline into focus was not something that had come easy, especially for somebody as hot-tempered and impulsive as her. The fear of getting behind the wheel only to fuck up so irreversibly that she could cost herself or another driver their life, followed her from series to series, season to season,  continent to continent, country to country,  race to race. 
It required extreme discipline and focus. 
Which is hard to do when Martin Brundle is practically shoving a microphone down your throat.
“Sam! Samantha!”
She pretended she didn’t hear him, adjusting her earpiece as if she hadn’t made sure it was securely in place over five minutes ago, hoping he’d just give up and go away. 
But of course, this was the SkySports grid walk, which meant Martin was going to do anything but that. 
“Samantha!” He huffs out in relief after he managed to squeeze between a wall of her mechanics that were meant to keep people like him out. 
She finally looked up in time to see the short, sweaty man yank his cameraman through the crowd so he could capture the interview he was about to hold. 
As if she was delighted to see him, Sam smiled and stepped toward his outstretched microphone. 
He didn’t even take a moment to catch his breath before he yelled a question over the noise of the whirring machines and large crowd. 
“How are you feeling before your debut race with Mercedes? Are you feeling the pressure of the shoes you’re filling, or do you think you can handle the heat?”
She didn’t know if she liked the question, her facial muscles were fighting the reflex to make an unpleasant expression. She wasn’t sure if he was questioning her abilities, or if this was a question he was asking all the rookies— both team and series. 
But instead of making a scene by standing up against his potential doubt, she took a deep breath and answered the question. At this point she was just hopeful that if she answered his question, he’d leave. 
“Uhm, I think I’ll manage. The team has been super supportive, they’ve given us an incredibly fast car, and now I’ve got to play my part and bring home the points.”
Martin didn’t even acknowledge her answer before he moved on to his next question, much to Sam’s dismay. 
“You struggled a bit in qualifying yesterday, and now you’re here,” he quickly gestured to the asphalt they were standing on right infront of her number 66 car, “starting from fifth on the grid after showing much quicker times in the free practice session, and even testing. What’s your strategy to climb the order?”
This time, her smile was real. She had been counting down to the first race of the season since the last race of last season. There were few things that Sam loved more than sitting in her chassis and feeling the vibrations of the engine, or the pull of the g-forces through the corners, and not much made her feel more accomplished than the exhaustion she felt after finishing a challenging race. 
“Just drive it like I stole it.” Her grin was genuine.
“Good luck to you then!”
And with that, he was running to the next car on the grid. Literally, he sprinted off so fast his cameraman took a few moments to notice he was gone. 
Sam turned and watched Martin elbow his way through the thick crowd while his bottom jaw moved faster than his eyes were searching for a notable face to interview. She laughed as shook her head; this was her life, and it was crazy times like this— looking around at the crowded grid and the fans adorning to stands around every inch of the track— that made it so surreal. 
She closed her eyes. 
This was it. The start of the season she’d been dreaming of since she was a child.
She inhaled. 
She exhaled. 
Her eyes opened. Nope, not a dream. This was definitely happening. 
She grabbed her helmet from where it rested at her feet and removed her balaclava from it. Her fingers ran across the smooth exterior colored in her signature scarlet red. Atop of the red, glittery material protruded two horns that only made an appearance when it was a special occasion. 
Devil horns. The crown of the Hell-Raiser. 
Sure, she hadn;t found the most comfort in the nickname towards the end of last season, seeing as the connotation of it all led people to jump to conclusions about her personality off the track. 
But now, she proudly stared down at the helmet as it glittered under the lights of Bahrain International Circuit. She’d made a name for herself: that was something to be proud of, not ashamed of. 
She closed her eyes again, collecting her thoughts while she began her pre race rituals. 
Deep breath in. 
Deep breath out. 
The noise faded into a humm. Her headphones had coe off a while ago, but she had been interrupted by Martin, which put a halt to her usual routine. Usually, she could still feel the bass rattling in her skull, but it had since subsided. 
Another deep breath. 
Inhale. 
Exh—
A light tap on her shoulder yanked her from her zen. The percussive noises from the surrounding track returned instantly. She was trying her best to keep her cool. 
Sam swore if this was Will Buxton and his dumb F1TV grid walk she was going to—
Her eyes opened to see Daniel. 
The anger evaporated. 
Muscle memory took over and her lips curled into a smile. 
Her eyes landed on Max to his left. She smiled at him as well. 
“Came to wish Max a good race and thought I’d stop by and grace you with my presence,” Daniel dramatically fawned and flipped some imaginary hair behind him. 
Sam bit her tongue when it came to what she really wanted to say. She wasn;t about to start flirting with Daniel in the middle of a crowded grid with cameras literally plaguing the small space, but especially not in front of Max. Sure everyone knew they were friends, but she wanted to make sure that's all anyone thought they were. 
“How thoughtful of you,” Sam deadpanned. 
Max thought that was hilarious. 
It took Daniel a moment to adjust his brain back to the friendzone. 
The Aussie swung his helmet out between them and tapped it against hers. 
Her eyes dropped to their helmets and she looked back up at him, fighting off a smile. 
Max interjected, sticking his hand between him and Sam. A fistbump: a friendly offering before they became fierce competitors. 
“Good luck out there, tonight.”
She knew her fight would be with Max this season. He wanted his own bit of revenge after barely losing out to the title last season… the title that was won by the man who had been in her seat. He was out for blood. 
She connected their fists, sealing the gesture and it some way, she felt like she had just accepted a challenge; his challenge:
Race you to the top. 
“Yeah, you too.”
She turned back to Daniel. 
His mouth uttered the words, don't choke. But his eyes said, drive safe. 
She responded with the words, you wish. But her tone tone said, you too.
The two men went their respective directions. Daniel headed to the back of the grid, which was a sight Sam hated to see. And Max walked up to the front row. 
Sam closed her eyes one last time, clutching onto her helmet and grounding her feet onto the asphalt. 
She took a deep breath. 
Then she blew it out from between her pursed lips. 
She opened her eyes. 
Yep, still not a dream. 
Tumblr media
And as the sun has set here in the desert, it's time for a new dawn in Formula 1. New regulations, radically different cars, the most races in a season ever, and one of the freshest lineups to date. 
Straight into it. Back row is Nicolas Latifi, starting plum last, followed by our second woman on the grid and Formula 1 rookie, Lindsay Reynolds in 19th. Daniel Ricciardo, only 18th for McLaren, alongside Nico Hulkenberg filling in for Sebastian Vettel. Yuki Tsunoda 16th, Zhou Guanya in 15th becomes the first ever Chinese racing driver in Formula 1. Alex Albon, now at Williams, lines up 14th alongside his old pal Lando Norris who is 13th for McLaren. Mick Shumacher, a career best 12th on the grid alongside Esteban Ocon for Alpine. And then to the top 10 we go. Pierre Gasly, 18 times into the top 10 last season and he’s there again tonight alongside George Russell who is now at Mercedes. In eighth is Fernando Alonso, his highest start here since 2013, alongside Lance Stroll in 7th. Valterri Bottas, now at Alfa Romero alongside the one and only Samantha Thompson, now taking her place to race at his former team. Sergio Perez starting 4th, where he started 7 times last year, next to Carlos Sainz, who matches his best ever start here by sliding into the 3rd slot on the grid. Max Verstappen on the front row, right where he won this race from last year, next to Charles Leclerc who starts on pole for the second time here in Bahrain. 
Brand new season. Brand new dawn for Formula 1. It’s the Bahrain Grand Prix. 
And it’s lights out, and away we go!
Brilliant start there for Charles Leclerc! Sam Thompson already trying to get past Carlos Sainz. But it’s Leclerc on the inside ahead of Verstappen! Carlos Sainz stays in third, Perez on the inside now with Thompson! There’s a little bit of a kerfuffle going on through turn 2, but Leclerc makes it into the lead. And Thompson has half a car length, now a full car length, ahead of Sergio Perez! And now Perez is being challenged by Lance Stroll! 
Leclerc into turn 4 from Verstappen! Sainz— Thompson on the inside of Stroll, followed closely by Perez and Russell!
Yes, Perez got out of shape coming out of turn 2 and had to get out of the throttle, which cost him 2 places in the end. And he tried to get back up alongside Sam Thompson, but a keen start there for the number 66 driver. And it looks as though her teammate George Russell has had a clean start as well. 
Look at that gaggle of cars! Oh! Sort that one out, ladies and gentlemen! The two Alpines as well as Lando Norris and Nico Hulkenberg were getting close together as well. The Williams of Alex Albon is now going wheel to wheel with the AlphaTauri of Yuki Tsunoda. Mick Schumacher was also involved in all of that! And then there's the McLaren of Lando Norris on the outside. 
But now, looking back, we can see Mick Schumacher trying to make a move. Gasly cuts him off right at the back. Looks like Daniel Ricciardo in the McLaren, Ricciardo has had a very poor start as well as Zhou Guanyu as well. Latifi’s right down there. Reynolds 18th, Ricciardo 17th, and Norris now 16th. 
Yeah, it's almost as if they were tucked up behind somebody back there, wasn’t it? And really, it was all bunched up at the back of the field, but pretty neat and tidy up front I must say, as Leclerc leads Vertsappen, Sainz, Thompson and Russell, who are having magnificent starts as newcomers to Mercedes, but a bit further back than I bet their new team principal 8 time world champion Lewis Hamilton would have hoped. 
It’s a lock-up there for Lindsay Reynolds at the far back of the pack going into turn 1. From the looks of it, the rookie is taking much longer to settle into the car than her veteran teammate Mick Schumacher. The car is wildly better than it was last year, the team choosing to allocate more of their funds to the car itself, unlike last year where they allocated 50% of their expected budget. 
Yeah, but Crofty, imagine if they’d had this car while Samantha Thompson was still racing for them… I think she’d have at least doubled her number of podiums. 
Look at this! Lance Stroll is keeping the RedBull of Sergio Perez at bay! The Mexican driver couldn’t do it out of turn 3, but he might be on the run now down to turn 4. Stroll moves to the inside to try and cut him off. Perez is going to have to go the long way around, and Stroll has that one covered unless Perez can get him on the exit of turn 4. 
And he does it! Perez is a front tire ahead going down the hill— he’s now a whole car ahead! Stroll gave him a chance and Perez said ‘thank you very much’. 
Let’s look back at the race start, shall we? 
It was a perfect launch for Carlos Sainz, wasn’t it? He moved over to the inside to cover off Max Verstappen, making it nearly 3 abreast out into turn 1. And this is where Perez gets the— you can see the back end of the car just snaking there, and that out Sam Thompson through. 
Near the back you can see an Alfa— Oh, but remember McLarens are on the medium compound tire, so they will have struggled for grip. Explains a lot. 
Looking at Max’s launch now, Oh, really low revs! He just got away with that one, just got away! Picks up a nice slipstream at the start  and was already committed then to having to go down the outside. Charles Leclerc had that one covered off and somehow managed to get a decent release on turn 2 despite looking to be struggling with grip. But he got away with it. 
All that tire-burnout for Carlos didn’t really give him a particularly good launch, but he was very brave on the brakes down into turn 1; Sam having been quite cautious with Perez on her inside and giving him loads of space. And then Sam gained a nice, clear view ahead of her.  
Oh and here’s the contact from earlier between Ocon and Schumacher that sent the HAAS driver tumbling down the order. A full 360, but a great recovery from Mick. 
Back to the current driving being done; lap 5 of 57. Here goes George Russell trying to make a move on Lance Stroll. Stroll has gone deep again. That’s going to allow George Russell through, and that’s twice now Lance Stroll has gone too deep into the first corner and has allowed somebody to pass him. 
That officially makes our top 6 just made up of three teams. The Ferrari of Charles Leclerc leads, followed by the RedBull of Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz in the second Ferrari, leaving Sam Thompson and George Russell in the Mercedes tagging along the back. 
There’s only a 2.4 second difference between Charles Leclerc and George Russell… and if this is how the tone of the season is set, I can't wait to see what else lies in store. We may very well have a three way battle for the constructors championship this season, Crofty. 
Yes, well that begs the question:
Which driver are each of these teams going to choose to best represent their team?
***
Lap 10 and we’ve got some intense racing going on in the battle for 4th position. Thompson and Perez are at each other's neck, only 0.03 separating them. Perez has DRS and is gonna have a go into turn 4, and he’s done it. That is an awful lot easier than it might have been this time last year if a RedBull and Mercedes were going wheel to wheel. Perez stays within the white lines where Max Vestappen couldn’t manage 6 months ago, and claims 4th place. 
That Mercedes looks like it’s working its tires quite hard, doesn’t it… Thompson might have serious skills when it comes to tire management, but the temperature and the fierceness of her defending is really working against her. The race pace is there, but it seems to still be significantly less than the ReBull. 
“I really have zero traction”
I take it back, it seems the RedBull of Max Verstappen in 2nd place is also struggling with his tires. 
This is anybody’s race, because despite the pit window, for a two-stop strategy, with the soft tire being predicted anywhere between lap 14-24, Mercedes’ pit crew is coming out on lap 12 with a new set of hard tires. 
They’re shooting for the undercut, Ted. It’s risky, but with Susie Wolff on the pitwall as their new director of strategy, I think they're in great hands. 
Well, it will either pay off immensely, or ruin the start of their season. 
And who’s headed in? It’s Samantha Thompson!
We were just praising her tire management, and she heads into the pits two laps prior to the predicted start of the pit window! I did not expect this!
Speak for yourself. We are seeing high levels of degradation, and this is a sure way to get the jump on the cars in front of her. 
Car number 66 comes into the pits right past me. This is so cumbersome! They’re heavier, these tires, but that is a pretty sweet stop. Nice work from the Mercedes crew! You’d have no idea these were bigger tires from the ease at which that stop was executed. 
A 3.9 stop. Pretty good, but not the 1.9 stop we see from the sometimes, but alright nonetheless. She’s opted for the hard tires to go long in this middle stint, and reenters the track from 4th down to 11th. 
Oh, but already some struggling for grip as she goes deep into turn 1 and nearly squirms her way off the track! Zhou Guanyu is going to breeze by and say ‘thank you very much!’
It’s not looking great, but let’s home this gamble pays off for Thompson in the end. 
***
Lap 15 and Max Verstappen is into the pits. Let’s just watch how the RedBull guys go about their work. That was not so bad— is he going to be held up by the Ferrari coming in behind him? No he is not! He is away after a 2.9 second stop and that Ferrari of Carlos Sainz has come in for a swift stop as well.
Here’s Thompson over the radio:
“That was a really early stop. Are we sure that was the right idea?”
“Copy that Sam. Boss lady says to hang tight.”
Mercedes’ new director of strategy Susie Wolff, wife to CEO Toto Wolff, is a weapon when it comes to strategy. Sam is a bit hesitant, but it's the first race of the season with her new team so anybody is bound to be a bit skeptical.
Perez, Leclerc, and George are now headed into the pits, only 3 laps after Sam pitted. It’s a tight margin but it could be the difference between a victory and just a few consolation points. It’s anybody’s game. 
Verstappen carries on his way now, behind Leclerc who will come out of the pit entrance just seconds before the RedBull is set to round turn 1. And, well, Max Verstappen right on the gearbox of Charles Leclerc. By stopping a lap earlier, Max that is, they’ve managed to give Ferrari something to think about here, That gap was three seconds and is now down to a couple of car lengths.
Yeah, Max has been on it with his brand new tires. Now, Leclerc has to get his used tires up to speed. He used them at some time during qualifying and— wow, Max has really closed that gap here, hasn’t he. The undercut almost worked there for him entirely in terms of track position. But it’s max now with the better time. 
Now is the time where we’re going to get a good feel for where and how easily these cars can follow each other in 2022. 
Samantha Thompson has made her way back up to the top 5 on the hards, with Perez interestingly on mediums chasing the Ferrari of Sainz on softs, while Verstappen hunts down Leclerc for first both on the soft compound. 
Stroll holds onto 7th, followed by Gasly, Alonso, and Hulkenberg to round out the top 10. Norris finds himself in 11th, with Esteban Ocon is running in 12th, followed by Daniel Ricciardo, Yuki Tsunoda, Valtteri Bottas, Mick Schumacher, Zhou Guanyu, Alexander Albon, Nicholas Latifi, and Lindsay Reynolds bringing up the rear. 
But it's Max Verstappen who steals the fastest lap of this race, and sends sparks flying as he soars past Charles Leclerc and into 1st position!
Leclerc now has DRS, can he get the position back as we head to turn 4? This has been a bit of a problem for the two in the past— 
But it’s no problem this time! He does it! Charles Leclerc retakes the lead! 
Another drag race down the pit straight from these two, and Leclerc immediately tried to move around to break the slipstream. You can do that gently, once or twice, but you can't do it at the last moment. And as—
He’s doing it again! He’s going for it again! Max Verstappen has lunged and has gone a quarter of a car length in front! Now they come out, through turn 2 and he's got a couple of car lengths between them! That was so far back!
But once again Leclerc’s got DRS, this time he’s got the inside line! He forces Max a little bit wide into turn 4 and Leclerc, for the 2nd lap running, has retaken the lead!
This is absolutely epic!
***
“They’re almost dead again, the tires”
Lap 28 out of 57 and Max Verstappen is complaining about the soft tires he only put on 13 laps ago. 
Some might say they're not surprised with the way he hasn’t been looking after them. Racing wheel to wheel with Leclerc, who has now extended the gap to 3.7 seconds ahead, and trying to keep the 11 second gap from Sainz behind from growing… Now he seems to be paying the price for some of those aggressive moves. But, uh, it's not worked out. 
Here’s Samantha Thompson then, coming in for another stop. Hard tires go off and medium tires go on, a quick stop at 2.5 seconds, and she’s going to come back out into this race behind Lance Stroll in 6th… But could that become behind Pierre Gasly who is currently in 7th?
And yes it will. 
Gasly heads down the straight and the key for Mercedes now is to get her out ahead of Esteban Ocon, which I think they can. And we’re still not half distance, either—
Sorry Ted, here’s a radio from Sam’s team:
“Sam, it’s important that we don’t push this tire too hard on the outlap.”
It’s a long way, but I think that means they’re trying to get to the end of the race on that set. So that’ll be over half the race on that set of tires… if anybody can do it, we know it’s Sam.
Max is in the pits as well. And Max is on the medium compound as well, which his teammate Sergio Perez has been using since his pitstop, so they have a lot of data on it and how it’s performing. 
No, no, I think he’s asked his team what Sam put on her car. She’s the first driver in the top 8 to make a second stop; it's the perfect strategy. If Max thinks she’s got a chance at taking those tires all the way, he wants to match it and make sure he stays one step ahead. 
You’re ridiculous, David. 
All I’m saying is Max has always been one to try and prove ‘anything they can do, I can do better’.
Max is back around the track, headed down the pit straight. Charles Leclerc is headed out of the pits at the same time. Verstappen didn’t have the DRS from Leclerc, but he did have clean air. Let’s see who will come out on top…
Charles exits the 80kph pit restriction and is back onto the track with Max Verstappen multiple car lengths behind him. The Ferrari fans here tonight absolutely loved that!
Let’s hear a radio from Max:
“Okay this is now 2 times that I’ve taken it easy on the outlap, when I could have easily been in front. I’m never, ever doing it again.”
Alright, he's getting a bit worked up. 
Yes, well, never is a very long time…
But he’s angry in that car, isn’t he? I even saw his hand wildly flaring around on the big screen. And he feels that he’s been told to protect the tires and wasted the chance to get in the lead. 
Jumping to the back of the top ten, this is Samantha Thompson overtaking Pierre Gasly into turn 1, securing her back up into 7th. If Verstappen’s angry now, Martin, he’s not going to be very happy to hear about her increasing pace… or the fastest lap she just put onto the board. 
You’re doing the post-race interviews today right Martin?
I am…
Be a doll and don’t mention to Max that his pit stops were half a second slower than both Sam and Charles….
Stop jabbering and look at this! Thompson goes right for Stroll and picks him off like she’d been driving this car for ages. She looks mighty comfortable in that rocket ship and it’s only the first race. 
She’s up to 6th, and slowly but surely on her way to closing the 11.5 second gap between her and her teammate. I'm interested to see that if she does catch him, what the team will have to say about their order. 
No, it’s too early in the season for that. Odds are they pull Russell for his second pitstop if it gets to that point, and avoid the whole situation completely. 
***
So at the start of this season, with a near 5-second gap between himself and Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc might just be thinking to himself, ‘could have done this before, the engine didn’t really treat me very nicely on that particular occasion, just trying to keep everything together for these remaining 14 laps, here’s to hoping nothing mechanical goes wrong, I want a nice smooth ending to this race, godspeed'
Here’s a radio from the team, let’s see how close I got:
“We have less deg than Verstappen”
And that is exactly the sort of thing he wants to hear. 
Look at this, Verstappen coming into the pits for a late pit stop.
Puts him behind Sainz then, doesn’t it?
It certainly does, because Sainz has just gone through, but Sergio Perez is coming into the pits as well… It’s a double late pitstop here for RedBull. Which basically means Verstappen can now go and chase after Carlos Sainz, and Perez will have a bit of ground to make up in the ranks as well. 
But now he’s got Samantha Thompson in his rearview mirrors to worry about. She’s 8 seconds behind Verstappen, but if there’s one thing about the Hell-Raiser, it’s that she knows how to make an entrance. 
RedBull has been struggling much more than we’d expected them to. Their levels of tire degradation are so high, they’ve gone and switched to a 3-stop strategy. It’s as if they feel they have nothing to lose, especially by bringing both drivers in at the end. 
They took the risk that if they were to drop behind Carlos Sainz, they’d have the straight line speed advantage over the Ferraris. They’ve got the new tires; it should be easy. 
But that’s where they were wrong. Remember what I said about Samantha Thompson’s ability to make an entrance? Yes, the Mercedes struggled in qualifying and were lacking some pace at the start of the race, but it’s got to be because of their two new drivers, who before this race today had been racing in two of the worst cars on the grid last year. We’ve seen that Mercedes in testing, it’s quick. It’s got the straight line speed and it's got the maneuverability. 
And it’s also got one of the most incredible drivers I've seen in years piloting it. During the duration of the 44 laps we’ve raced, Sam has grown immensely more comfortable in that chassis, and I don’t think RedBull expected her to recover as quickly as she did. 
I think they may have made the big mistake of underestimating her… but I’m not sure why, seeing as she dragged a HAAS onto a podium three times last season. Incredible, really. 
A radio from Max, Crofty:
“Mate, oh my god, my steering wheel is just heavy. The steering is locked. I almost can’t steer.”
Sam gains 2 seconds on Max as Carlos Sainz enters the pits for Ferrari. Do you think that was a decoy by the RedBull pitwall in hopes of bringing Leclerc in?
If it was, it was unsuccessful. But I’m not sure it was. It looks like Max’s team is asking him if he wants to bring it into the pits. 
“Let us know if you need to box, Max”
“No, just ******* tell me what’s wrong and I’ll try to handle it”
Oh he’s definitely got an issue. 
“Max, is the wheel heavy in both directions? Both left hand and right hand?”
“Everywhere. Everywhere. It’s not even smooth. Like I have to ******* even on the straights.”
Well he’s going to have to slow down anyway because we’re going to have a safety car due to Pierre Gasly’s AlphaTauri having overheated and caught fire. The marshals straight on there with the extinguisher. But that is a very, very hot AlphaTauri. A true testament to the conditions out here tonight. 
Virtual safety car has been thrown— no, scratch that. Straight to a full safety car. 
Leclerc is being told to box while he’s about halfway around the lap. They need to box him because those behind have just pitted already.
Yeah, it’ll be a cheap stop for Leclerc, won’t it? It’ll cost him a lot less while the others are going slowly out on the track. But of course, then he needs the tires for the restart behind the safety car. 
Russell pits, and we’re getting word that the power steering on Max’s is giving a lot of variability in terms of the load that he’s feeling. Which is a software issue, though they’ll try and fix it—
No, it was a hydraulic issue, and there’s not much chance of doing that. 
Pierre Gasly’s night is coming to an early end. His special helmet to stand in solidarity of Ukraine will not see the checkered flag, but it’s an incredible message nonetheless. 
***
We’ve got 7 laps to go in this race. Leclerc pitted under the safety car, but remains out in front of the pack. Verstappen, who is having major issues with his power-steering, follows behind. Then the Ferrari of Sainz weaves in front of the RedBull of Perez, who gained a place when Thompson pitted for softs just like the rest of the grid. Her teammate Russell is behind her, hoping to hold off the Aston Martin of Lance Stroll who has been putting in a hell of a drive under the lights tonight. 
No drag reduction system for two laps after a safety car, of course. And this right here is Max’s favorite trick, isn’t it? Trying to hustle the guy who’s about to give us our restart. And Max has left himself very tight on that corner actually. 
Wow, at the green flag, the Ferrari of Leclerc absolutely disappears off in front of Verstappen. 
That trick didn’t help him in Abu Dhabi last season against Lewis Hamilton, and it didn’t help him tonight against Charles Leclerc. Look, Sainz is right on the tail of Max Verstappen as they head down the straight. 
Leclerc is away and off into the distance! Sainz is alongside Max Verstappen! Thompson is wheel-to-wheel with Sergio Perez! Verstappen is on the inside of Sainz, keeping his lead, but the same cannot be said for the other RedBull as Samantha Thompson passes Sergio Perez down the inside of Turn 1!
Leclerc towards turn 4 from Verstappen. Then comes Carlos Sainz and Samantha Thompson. Perez, Russell, and then Lance Stroll, behind is Bottas, Ocon, and Mick Schumacher on the verge of points for the first time in his F1 career. 
Leclerc’s got the restart done nicely, but Tsunoda gets past Mick Schumacher and he drops out of the points! So, still with work to do for Mick Schumacher. Still with 5 more laps of work to do for Charles Leclerc. 
But his first job is well done; he’s still in the lead. 
Leclerc deserves the race win here, not just for what happened in 2019, when an engine problem caused him to lose the lead, but for the way he’s coped tonight as well. When Verstappen’s attacked, Leclerc’s come right back and now he’s giving it even more. 
Now, DRS is enabled. That will be on the run to turn 4. That’ll help Samantha Thompson massively in this battle with Carlos Sainz and to distance herself from Perez behind. She could find herself in a spot of bother in a few moments time, let’s hope she can keep her composure. 
That also goes for Verstappen and Carlos Sainz as well. 
Sainz is barely 3 seconds behind Verstappen, and Thompson is walking the line between 2.0 and 2.1 behind the Spaniard. 
Thompson’s rear flap opens, and so does Perez’s. This three-way battle for third is incredible!
Mick Schumacher slips further down the lineup as he is passed by rookie Zhou Guanyu in the Alfa Romero. It’s sad for Mick, truly. But I’m sure his chance will come to score points eventually, because the HAAS looks like a car that could be doing well so much more often this season, even without the sheer talent of Thompson to put it up there. 
I’m not so sure about Mick’s teammate Lindsay Reynolds though, Crofty. A rookie, but one who is sitting 1 minute and 27 seconds behind our leader Charles Leclerc. A massive deficit. That’s nearly 45 seconds behind Nicholas Latifi in the Williams who is only one place ahead of her. 
Sainz is closing up on Verstappen right into turn 1. 
Yeah, Sainz is easily within a second there as they turn onto the pit straight. He had that gap in the detection zone and it certainly is showing as his rear flap opens and the Ferrari of Carlos Sainz gets DRS on the RedBull of Max Verstappen. He’s got a red car looming large in his wing mirrors, and don’t forget, last time Ferrari won in Formula 1, it was also a 1-2 finish: Singapore 2019 with Sebastian taking the top step of the podium and Charles right behind him. Could this Leclerc-Sainz duo be on for not only ending their winless streak, but putting out a 1-2 too!
“Okay, what’s going on with the battery?”
“Battery is fine, Max”
“No it’s not! I can’t— What the **** is this?!”
Verstappen is losing his cool and he thinks he’s losing energy charging and battery as well. And he might be about to lose out a place here as well! 
Leclerc leads as Carlos Sainz pulls out to the inside and overtakes Max Verstappen! 
And for the moment, it’s a Ferrari 1-2 here in Bahrain as Carlos Sainz moves up into second place!
Now Max has got the Hell-Raiser in his mirrors, and I’m not sure that’s any better for him. Samantha is driving on another level tonight, and it makes me extremely excited to see what this season has in store for her.
“We can see the issue Max, it’s not battery related.”
“Well what do you expect me to do?”
“There isn’t a lot we can do.”
And will a struggling Verstappen now be passed by the Mercedes of Thompson? Yes he has been! Thompson promotes herself to the final podium spot! And now he’s been passed by his teammate Perez! And there goes the other Mercedes of George Russell past him as well!
And this, from the runner up of the 2021 championship, is certainly not the start he was anticipating. From all the highs of last season, to these lows in Bahrain—
“Try to make the car into the pitlane”
Max Verstappen is out of this race!
Charles Leclerc leads, Carlos Sainz second, Samantha Thompson third, then comes Russell and Stroll. 
And I’ll tell you what, Samantha Thompson is not going to be satisfied finishing third when her gap to Sainz is just a tenth over a second. She’s gonna go for it. 
For Max Verstappen, what was already frustration here in Bahrain has just turned into ultimate disappointment.
Crofty, we’ve got a radio from Perez now:
“I’m losing power”
My goodness! Not even two laps after his teammate retires, Sergio Perez reports that what’s affected one RedBull, might be about to affect the other RedBull. 
Carlos Sainz better hope this doesn't cause a safety car. Because he’s struggling to keep Sam Thompson behind when she’s got a 1.2 second gap; I’m not sure he’ll be able to keep her behind. 
Yeah, but look at her car, all those bumps, all that porpoising, I’m not sure she should push that car any further if I’m honest.
We’re on the final lap of this race, David. I don’t think Sam is going to get that chance regardless. Who might be getting a chance though, is George Russell, as Sergio Perez tries his best to hold him off and finish this race as his RedBull slowly loses power. 
Despite the loss of power, Perez is doing an alright job at keeping a small gap between him and Thompson. 
Tight into the corner as they bunch up in the braking zone—
And Perez tries a risky lunge to pass Thompson— Sergio Perez has spun round!
And RedBull, who were looking at a decent points finish here, in the last couple of laps have not only retired from the race, but seen their other driver tumble out of points!
That bold move cost him his race only a few corners before the finish line!
He’s lucky he didn’t finish Thompson’s race either. His front wing clipped her rear tire and it sent him round. It was a desperate move and I’ll be surprised if the stewards don't have a penalty waiting for him.
Thompson took that outside line, hoping to do some damage limitation, and I think that was the right choice. Now she’s gonna pick up another podium surely! 
“I locked the ******* engine”
Perez locks his engine, Max loses his battery. Not the start RedBull would’ve wanted for their season. 
But there’s nothing they can do about it whatsoever. Because this man, Charles Leclerc, has won twice in Formula 1 from pole and he’s about to add one more. 
Charles Leclerc starts the season off with celebrations for Ferrari! Charles Leclerc wins the Bahrain Grand Prix!
And it is a 1-2 finish for the Scuderia as Carlos Sainz comes home in second!
Samantha Thompson finishes her first race with Mercedes by landing herself a spot on the podium. It’s podium number 4 for her in just 23 races— 22 of which she was a rookie. 
What a start to this 2022 season!
-
“P1 mate!”
“LET’S GOOOOOOO! C’mon! That’s exactly how we should start the season! Andiamo! 1-2, baby!”
-
“Sam, that’s P3! Way to put it up there!”
“WOOOOOO LET’S ******* GO! Thank you Bono, and to the rest of the team, what a great way to start our time together!”
“Sam, what a drive. A podium on your silver arrow debut. Congratulations. You deserve this. Really, really stoked to see what else we can do this season!”
“OH MY GOD! WOO! Thank you Lewis! For everything! God, this is crazy! I’m gonna make 2022 my *****!”
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
well, its here!
lots a filler, lots of set up, lots of words!
I hope you didn’t forget about me while i got my life together for two months😁
buckle up because we’re just getting started!
reminder that the tag list can be joined by checking out the concessions on my blog!
157 notes · View notes
littleredwing89 · 1 year
Text
PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 2
Tumblr media
PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 2
CEO!Jason Todd x Reader
Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Brief Derogatory & Misogynistic language about women.
A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter! :) xoxo
The smoke curled thick around the four men situated around the poker table in Roy’s rich mahogany furnished games room. Jason rolled the crystal glass against the green felt, the rattle of the ice cubes echoing in his mind. He hadn’t been able to think straight all night. You’d plagued his thoughts since the gala, the scent of your perfume still invading his senses.
Oswald flicked his cigarette into the ashtray at the side of him, eyebrow curved upwards as he frowned at Jason, “That's the worst hand you've played tonight”.
Harvey laughed before taking a sip of his whiskey, savouring the woody flavour, “Hey Todd, try betting the ownership of The Iceberg. See if your luck'll change”.
The pair of them waited for a sarcastic or biting remark but Jason stared at his cards, still rolling his glass, paying no real attention to either of them.
“I think we lost 'im”, Oswald cackled.
Roy leaned back in his chair, putting out his cigar, “I think we have”. He grinned knowingly towards Jason.
“Do you think if I take his wallet he'll notice?”, Harvey flipped over his cards, smirking with glee at Oswald’s crestfallen face.
Shuffling the cards again, Roy dealt out the cards swiftly, “Hmmm, likely not but considering he's cleaned out, I doubt you'll actually be able to get anything”.
Jason was aware of the conversation around him but he couldn’t bring himself to join in. Not when his mind was conjuring images of you, spread out on his bed sheets with your hands bound above your head with his tie. He cursed under his breath, feeling the front of his trousers becoming uncomfortable.
Harvey watched as Jason’s cigarette burnt at the side of him, resting in the ashtray forgotten about, smoke billowing wildly, “I bet you anything it's that tight pussy from last week that's got him so worked up”.
“Oh, I remember, that hussy in the red dress?”, Oswald threw his used cards towards Roy waiting for the next hand.
“Yeah! That’s the one. Can't blame him, she's got a sweet ass. Ain't that right, Harper?”, Harvey downed the rest of his whiskey, pouring himself another large helping.
Jason glared towards Roy, silently murdering him with his gaze. He didn’t want to think of any other man touching you, let alone one of his closest friends.
Roy ignored Jason and shrugged casually, “I have no clue what you're talking about. She simply works in my department”, with a devilish glint, he turned towards Jason, “I bet you’d know about it though, wouldn't you Todd?”.
Scoffing loudly, Jason rolled his eyes, “I told you, nothing happened that night”. The lie slipped off his tongue easily although he wasn’t sure Roy believed him. He’d known him long enough to spot the tell-tale signs.
“So that sweet piece of ass is fair game?”, Oswald perked up, his interest piqued.
Jason gripped the edge of the poker table, controlling the twitch trying to spread across his face. His lips wanted to snarl at Oswald and tell him to stay the fuck away. But he had no right. It was just a quick fuck. That was what you both agreed. He swallowed the bubbling jealousy about to answer but Roy barked out laugh.
“You’d have more chance fucking a penguin”.
Harvey spat out his drink, almost choking. Oswald growled something under his breath, flipping Roy the finger.
“I don’t have time to get attached to a tight little pussy only worth a few fucks”. 
As the words left his mouth, the distaste left behind was rotten. It didn’t feel right talking about you that way. The conflict churned his stomach and it was something Jason wasn’t entirely used to.
Roy attempted to slide two cards across to Jason but he shook his head grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the centre of the table, “And on that note boys, I’m going before you take my last $100”.
“Do you have to take the bottle?”, Harvey grumbled.
Jason ignored him, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, digging out his phone from his front trouser pocket. No new messages. He’d been hoping you’d have made the first contact. Possibly trying to coax him into another encounter. Not that he needed much convincing with you.
When he looked up from his mobile, he saw Roy smirking at him with a knowing look. It made Jason uneasy. How did Roy know what he was planning? Or was it just that obvious he was still hooked on you?
“Need me to sort a lift to your apartment, Todd?”.
It was only after years of knowing the asshole, he heard the teasing tone in his voice. Oh he fucking knew alright. He saw right through him.
“Nah, I’ll be fine, I fancy a bit of fresh air”.
Roy chuckled under his breath, “Sure”.
———
You huffed, staring down at your dress. Wade, the foul mouthed head of security, otherwise known as your date, had cancelled on you at the last minute, telling you he had a family emergency. You weren’t entirely sure if you believed it or not. Something didn’t feel right. You stepped out of your heels and dropped them next to the full length mirror, throwing the emerald dress back into the closet. Your eyes lingered over your appearance. You’d made a real effort for him tonight. A tiny lace thong with a matching bra, paired with a pair of black stockings.
Just typical. Now you remembered why you didn’t like dating. You grabbed your silk robe from the end of the bed, wrapping it around you as you wandered into the living room. Take-out and a terrible movie it was. You ordered your favourite pizza via the app on your phone. That way you didn’t have to talk to anyone and mask the sadness from your voice. Perfect.
Lounging back on the sofa you wrapped your fingers around the TV remote, flicking through to find a trashy film or maybe you’d finally finish watching that guilty pleasure TV show you’d fallen in love with. The loud knock on the door startled you. The pizza couldn’t be here already, surely? You pushed up off the sofa and headed through to the front door, opening it without second thought to your attire.
Fuck. Your eyes widened at the sight in front of you. Jason. His charcoal shirt untucked and a little dishevelled, matte black tie hanging loose around his neck and his dark suit jacket slung over his shoulder. Fuck. The smell of whiskey and spice spiralled around you.
You slammed the door shut, pressing your back against it. Your heart hammered wildly against your chest. What the fuck was Jason Todd doing outside your door? You’d been under the impression last week was just a one off. Nothing more than sex. Extremely hot, mind blowing sex. But just sex, none the less.
There was another rap against the door, rattling it gently and you opened it slowly. His forearm was resting against the door frame, his tall stature towering you as he looked down. You stared up into his blue eyes. They were hooded and a little smirk curved his lips upwards, “Who did you think I was?”.
“The pizza guy”.
He laughed and inched his head down lower, eyes scanning over the delicate silk wrapping your body, “Do you always greet delivery people in your just murdered my husband robe?”.
His gaze made your body heat up, shivers travelling down your spine. You shrugged casually, giving him a flirty smile, “Only when I want my food free”. His scowl made you chuckle internally.
You opened the door a little wider and stepped back slightly, “Come in, before someone else sees me like this”. 
Jason made his way into your apartment quickly, brushing past you. You noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and rolled your eyes, wondering what or where he’d been before coming to you. He looked around your home with interest, gaze running over your photos by the bookshelf. The whiskey was discarded on the coffee table, his suit jacket tossed over your armchair messily.
“Make yourself at home”, you grumbled under your breath, picking up his jacket and hanging it neatly over the back of one of your dining chairs. You dropped down onto the sofa, sighing happily as the cushions welcomed you.
He laughed before joining you, his arm stretching along the back, fingers brushing along the back of your neck, “Why are you wearing this on a lonely Friday night?”, his eyes raked your figure, noticing the sheer black stockings covering your long legs.
“Maybe I was waiting for you”, your eyes sparkled mischievously as you folded one leg over the other, allowing him a glance at the lace topping of your stocking before letting the silk robe fall down, covering it up.
Jason choked, caught off guard by your forward statement. He swallowed, looking over your face, “Seriously?”.
You laughed, not quite believing you’d managed to reel Jason in that easily. You guessed the whiskey wasn’t helping his brain function. Shaking your head, you grinned, “No, my date cancelled on me unfortunately”.
He frowned, feeling a wave of jealousy twinge in the pit of stomach. You were going to wear that for a date? What were you going to put on, over it? Or was your date just going to come round to your apartment and…he stopped himself, not wanting to picture that.
Jason’s fingers gripped the back of the sofa slightly wondering if you’d wear that for a date with him. He pictured ripping it off piece by piece as you begged him to give you more. He licked over his bottom lip before muttering, “A date?”.
“Yes, a date, I don't suppose that's against company policy?”, you raised an eyebrow looking directly at him. His face was stern, sharp jaw locked tight.
He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his cheek, scratching over his dark stubble, “So, what were you planning to do instead?”.
Running a hand through your hair, you leaned back against the sofa, “Eat take out and watch a film”, you waited for a reaction but he just stared silently, “You’re welcome to watch it with me if you want? But I can’t promise the film will be Oscar worthy though”.
You had to admit this was uncharted territory. You didn’t know what the protocol was. The CEO of the company you worked for, had turned up at your door uninvited and slightly tipsy. The same CEO who you’d slept with last week and hadn’t been able to take your mind off. The same CEO who’d given you the impression it was just a ‘one off’.
“Please tell me this isn’t Titanic…”, he muttered whilst kicking his shoes off under your coffee table.
You smiled, “Nope…it’s a mafia film”.
“Oh, they’re my favourite”, he grinned happily.
It wasn’t that far from the truth. It was about a mafia boss. But, the point of the story was far from mafia dealings. You smirked to yourself and folded your legs under you, settling as you pressed play on the movie; 365 Days.
———
You flicked your gaze across to Jason, hiding the little smile on your face. You watched his features set into a tense frown, eyes not moving from the screen. His entire body was rigid. You had fully intended to turn it off after the first 30 minutes but you’d enjoyed teasing him far too much.
“I thought you said this was a mafia film?”, he ground out.
“It is”, you replied innocently pointing to the dark haired Italian man on the screen, “He’s the mafia boss”.
Jason finally turned to you, his eyes blown black. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and edged closer to you on the sofa, “This is practically pornography”, his voice was thick with lust. Every scene playing on the screen, he pictured in his own mind with you.
“You’re exaggerating! Just sit back and enjoy this cinematic masterpiece”, you waved your hand to him, brushing him off before turning back to the screen, ignoring him.
“I think”, he growled low, “You put this on to tease me”.
When you looked at him again, he was practically on top of you, caging you down onto the sofa. The scent of his cologne engulfed you making you feel dizzy. His arms were resting either side of your head, making sure you couldn’t escape. You gasped and pressed your palm on his chest, feeling his heart pounding.
“You’ve been sat there, all the way through this film, in your sexy-come fuck me-stockings…tormenting me”, he wedged himself between your thighs, spreading them wide before leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear lobe, “Well princess, I think it’s your turn now”.
You swallowed thickly, feeling your entire body reacting to him, craving to be closer. He smirked, letting his hands run up your thighs, the lace topping of your stockings felt perfect against his skin.
“Jason…”, you felt the sparks shooting across you, lighting every nerve on fire.
He tugged at the tie on the front of your dressing gown, pulling it open revealing the expanse of your naked flesh. The high rise thong framed your hips perfectly making Jason wet his lips. He couldn’t drink you in quick enough.
“This all needs to go”, he growled and helped you out of the robe, throwing it to the side carelessly. His fingers snapped the waistband of your thong making you whine his name again. When his fingers dipped under the lace, you expected him to slip the material off you but he didn’t. A loud tearing sound made your eyes flash open, Jason had ripped your panties off you, dropping the ruined fabric onto the floor.
Your face knitted with anger. You went to scold him - those were expensive.
“What the-”.
“I’ll buy you some more princess”, he ground his hips into yours, rubbing his bulge into your core. A frustrated sigh left his throat before he crashed his lips against yours with a fiery passion quelling any of your earlier complaints.
You threaded your fingers through his dark hair, tugging on it and earnt a deep groan from him, which you swallowed readily. The sound shot down to your core, desire slick between your folds. Jason’s hand wound around your back, unclipping your bra before throwing it over your sofa. You purred softly, letting your tongue dance with his as you continued to kiss, desperation peaking between you both.
You arched your back pressing your body into his. The expensive cotton felt perfect against your heated skin. There was something incredibly erotic having him fully clothed, covering your bare petite frame beneath him. The tip of his tie tickled over your sensitive flesh.
He smirked, his ego inflating at the way you reacted to his touches. His rough fingertips grazed down the valley between your breasts and over your toned stomach. You whined when they dipped into the indent of your navel.
“Jason…please”, you begged, circling your hips to entice him. 
He continued lower until he stroked a finger through your silken core. Your wetness coated it. He hummed appreciatively, adding a second finger. You threw your head back against the arm rest, moaning unabashedly. The euphoria buzzed through your veins but you needed more.
Jason flicked over your clit, “You’re so wet for me sweetheart and I’ve barely touched you”. He grinned before continuing with his sweet torture. Your hand gripped his forearm trying to guide him where you wanted him but he resisted with a devilish smile.
The knocking at the door made you both jump. You looked up at Jason through your thick, dark lashes. Your lips were swollen from his bruising kisses.
“Who the fuck is that?”, he grunted.
“Pizza”, you sighed, disappointed at the interruption.
Jason dipped back down, his lips marking your neck eagerly, enjoying the way you mewled and shivered. The knocking sounded through the apartment again making him nip your collar bone roughly. Fingers dipping into your tight core.
“They-”, you panted and dragged your nails through his hair as he continued to thrust into you, “They won’t go away”.
“Fuck!”, Jason tore himself away from your body, growling deeply as he stormed towards the door. The front of his trousers were painfully constricted due to the throbbing of his cock. He threw the door open, glaring at the young teenage boy with the pizza box in his hand. The boy squeaked when he saw Jason, withering under his irritated stare.
“P-pizza f-for Y/N?”, he stuttered and went bright red seeing the pile of tattered lace on the living room floor. Your silk gown strewn over the glass coffee table lazily, bra hanging off the lamp behind your couch. He caught a glimpse of your bare legs before squeaking when Jason huffed loudly. The delivery boy struggled to meet Jason’s gaze, instead choosing to stare at the button at the top of his own shirt. The heat flamed his cheeks at realising exactly what he had interrupted.
“Take this and fuck off”, Jason snapped, throwing a wad of folded notes at him before slamming the door. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, heading back towards you on the sofa.
You had to bite back a smile at Jason’s attitude. He dropped back onto the couch, looking down at your naked body. He groaned, hands palming your tits greedily. His thumbs brushed over your nipples as he leaned down, kissing your throat. You writhed under his touches, burning for more.
“Y-You do know that you just gave him an $80 tip right?”.
“Pocket money”.
Losing his patience, Jason forced your legs apart and unzipped his pants, shoving them down quickly. His cock sprung free, slapping against the bottom of his shirt. Your eyes traced the length of it, mouth going dry at the delicious thoughts. You couldn’t wait to feel the sting of it as it stretched you, dragging against your walls as he fucked you.
He smirked watching the way you eyed him greedily. The look on your face was enough to boost his ego nicely. Using one of his hands to pin your wrists above your head, he guided the head of his cock between your damp folds, teasing your clit with it. You shivered under him and rocked your hips.
“Jason please!”, you whined, sucking your plump lower lip between your teeth.
His fingers dug into your wrist as he sunk his full cock into you, bottoming out. Your head flew back as the burning stretch of his cock sent pulses of pleasure up your spine. He groaned deeply and pressed his face into your neck, continuing his quest to mark you up as his own. His hips started to drive into you wildly.
“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”, you cried out repeatedly, trying to tug your hands free. You wanted his shirt off. You wanted to trace every muscle on his back and scratch your nails down it. You wanted to hold onto his hair and yank it as he fucked you just the way you needed it.
“No one’s gonna fuck you like this princess”, he rasped in your ear, “Never”.
His words careened in your mind as the euphoria coiled deep in the pit of your stomach. The drag of his cock against your tight wet walls was pushing you higher. He was right. No one had ever fucked you like Jason. Which scared and electrified you at the same time. You moaned his name loudly, forgetting the neighbours, as he changed his angle, hitting you even deeper than before. Your vision became blurry with desire.
“Look at the way your body responds to me”, he gloated, looking down at your breasts, the way they bounced with every thrust of his cock. A damp sheen covered your body as you felt the familiar flush running over your skin.
“You can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”.
You so badly wanted to snap at him but your body betrayed you, desperate to climax. You hooked your legs around his strong waist, pulling him closer to your body. The fabric of his shirt was rough against your overly sensitive skin.
“Oh god!”, your eyes rolled back into your skull as you felt the orgasmic tidal wave start to crash. Your blood ran cold when he stopped. His thrusts became languid, keeping your climax at bay.
“You going to let me fuck your tight little pussy whenever I want?”, his lips curled upwards, smugness radiating off him.
“W-what? Jason- please - I’m so close”, you begged, rolling your hips against his, eager for more friction than he was giving, “Don’t fucking stop”.
“I asked you a question”, he grunted and thrust into you sharply once, before returning to his slow, maddening pace, “Are you going to keep letting me fuck you, princess?”.
You whined when he thrust into you then huffed in frustration when he wouldn’t continue, “Yes!”.
“Yes what?”.
You glowered up at him, cheeks hot with desire, “Yes I’ll keep fucking you”.
“Only me?”.
He was starting to piss you off. You could feel your orgasm ebbing away with each lazy thrust into your sopping pussy. You growled, ripping your wrists free from his grip, locking your hands around his neck.
Yanking him down to your mouth, your lips ran over his, your hot breath mingling with his, “Yes! I’ll only fuck you! Now if you don’t make me fucking cum I’ll kick you out and do it myself!”.
Your words made his eyes darken and he resumed his brutal pace, driving deep into your core. One hand gripped onto your hips and the other held onto the arm of the sofa, helping him thrust into you harder.
Your moans were depraved as he fucked you into the soft plush of the cushions, ripping your orgasm from you possessively. Your nails scratched down his back, under his shirt, enjoying the way his face winced between pain and pleasure. 
The white hot burst of flames exploded behind your eyes as you came, sobbing his name into his shoulder. His thrusts became sloppy and uneven as he neared his own end. Cock pulsing inside you.
Jason groaned huskily as your pussy strangled his cock, tipping him into his own powerful orgasm. He shot rope after rope of hot cum into your core, fingers bitterly biting into the flesh on your hip. You’d definitely have bruises tomorrow. You weren’t even sure if you’d be walking straight tomorrow after the way he’d pounded into you.
His body rested into yours slightly as he caught his breath, his arm propped on the back of the arm rest taking the brunt of his weight.
You stroked your hand up and down his back, regaining your own breath and sanity. Your legs were still locked around his waist, heart beating erratically. 
His lips brushed your cheek delicately and he pushed himself up to look down at you. Your hair was dishevelled, lips swollen from his bruising kisses. You looked delicious. He could easily delve back in for another round but he’d at least allow you to rest first. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Moving off you eventually, he reached out to the coffee table to grab your robe, allowing you to wrap it around yourself as he zipped his pants back up.
“I just want to clarify-”, he started but you cut him off immediately. 
“Please don’t kill the afterglow Todd”, you chuckled and ran your fingers through your messy hair, “I know what you meant. It’s fine. Just sex is all that I want too”.
He went to speak again but you placed your finger over his plump lips, “Yes, only with you”.
Jason licked the pad of your finger, grinning at you, “Perfect”.
You shivered and stood up, not bothering to tie your robe. It fluttered open allowing him to glance over your naked body, “You’re welcome to stay, the night is still young after all”. You winked and sashayed through to your bedroom. You heard him shuffling before catching you up, arms immediately coiling around you from behind.
———
Wrapped up in the sheets of your bed after the second round, you turned to face Jason, stroking your fingertips along the grooves of his muscles, “Where did you put the pizza?”, you pressed a kiss to his chest and murmured, “I’m starving”.
Jason blinked before looking a little sheepish, “Well- I- errr…”.
You watched him before realising exactly what had happened. You groaned and pressed your face into his solid mass, “You paid him and didn’t even get the pizza?!”.
“In my defence I was a little preoccupied”, he winked smugly and tightened his arm around your waist, tugging you on top of him. He enjoyed the way your tiny frame instantly sank into him, not that he’d admit it.
“You owe me new pants AND a pizza”, you huffed and poked his chest playfully, “I honestly can’t believe you”.
He shrugged, “We could just order another one, it’s not like I can’t afford it”.
Whilst his answer sounded arrogant, you knew it wasn’t intended that way. You rolled your eyes and inched your face closer to his, your breath fanning over his lips, “But can you control yourself until it gets here?”.
“That's a tall order princess”, he closed the gap instantly, nipping your bottom lip before rolling you over, trapping you underneath his bulk. You laughed into the kiss snaking your arms around his neck.
--------
410 notes · View notes
liviadimitrescu · 1 month
Text
Doamna De Sânge, 5.
( Alcina DimitrescuxReader)
Tumblr media
Author's note: OOoooooooo Lady D is getting *sappy* and our reader is getting ANGRY (as she should tbh like jesus christ thats ALOT!) anywho sorry this is so late! Enjoy.
Summary: She'd been obsessed with you from the moment she met you. Knew the eyes the moment she'd seen them. And it changed the world for her. Now it was only fair that she changed the world for you.
You would be hers, no matter the cost.
Ao3 Link
18+ Minors DNI
TW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Talk of underage (nothing happens to ANYONE underage, but it's an obsession for sursies
Now  Alcina
 What had occurred within my bedroom was nothing short of a bloodbath. 
Three maids had been the collateral. The fourth,  who I found mildly attractive, was sobbing as she began cleaning up the mess I’d made. 
I could feel myself roll my eyes. 
Humans. 
Chattering from my girls swirled around me however, and I decided to leave said sobbing maid. 
Not without a warning however — 
“If this isn’t cleaned up by the time I return it will be your blood next.”  
The girl whimpered, and went back to scrubbing my floor. 
I stepped out quickly, and the giggling grew louder. Until It turned to all out cackling. My eyebrow raised as I pressed my ear to the door. The laughter of all three of my daughter’s and one other warmed my cold heart. 
I knocked twice. 
The room went silent. 
Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, and flooded my senses. 
Thank God I’d just fed. 
My girl's hearts had stopped long ago, much like mine, and the foreign sound was music to my ears. 
 “C-come in.” Was Y/N’s terrified call. 
I sighed deeply, before composing myself. I opened the door swiftly, and the sight before me nearly made me weep. 
My daughters lay strewn about Y/N’s bed, her sitting up, leaning against the plush headboard. 
“Lady Dimitrescu.” My sweet girl said. 
I frowned, stepping into the room, “It’s Alcina, draga mea.” 
The girls shifted uncomfortably, as though my presence was frightening them as well. Traitors. They always did choose their mother over me. 
I continued, “I would like a moment with Y/N, daughters.” 
My three troublemakers looked between one another, and Y/N sighed. “Go, it's fine.” 
That did the trick. They were gone in moments, and I was left alone with my dove. Her heart rate kicked up further as the door shut. 
“I want to… apologise, for earlier.” I barely hcoked the words out. I, the impassive Countess of Romania, apologising? It was unheard of. That is of course… unless it was to her. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to frighten you... I will never harm you, physically. That is a promise.” 
She stood, moving to stand in front of me. The small top she wore, and the shorts that went with it hung off her body in a way that was tantalising. The skin she was showing making my mouth water for her flesh. 
“You are not a prisoner here, Y/N.” I said, voice strained. 
And by the time I am through with you, I will be all you can think of. All you can dream of, as you scream my name to the Gods, making their jealousy unbearable because you are mine — 
“No offence, Alcina.” She sighs, my name posion from her beautiful lips,  “But… I’m being forced to marry you because you lended my dad money, and he’s a fuck up?That’s like… prison.” 
It stung, more than I thought it would. While it flared, I attempted to keep my temper in check this time. 
“Y/N, if I may say so, wine is what you want to end up in, yes?” 
She nodded, awkwardly rubbing her arm.  
Yet I got no verbal response. 
I pursed my lips, “I asked you a question and I will not be ignored.” 
Y/N’s face turned sour.
I had a sudden sadistic urge to wipe the expression off her lips until she was screaming, begging to be fully devoured by me. 
“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu.” She spat,  my name acid on her wicked little tongue 
The spite! The audacity! Faster than her eyes could comprehend I had her by the jaw, nails digging into her cheeks, “You will not defy me, Y/N. Insolent girls who play with fire will get their fingers burned.” 
The small girl trembled beneath my hand, “Now be a good girl and answer me properly.” 
The girl swallowed, “Yes, Alcina” My fingers traced her gentle features, before I released her sweet face. My dove shivered, the scent of her desire filling the room. 
Mmmm. I had her already. 
“Now, as I was saying, you want to end up in wine? Correct? I own one of the most successful vineyards in the world, certainly the most successful in Romania.” 
Y/N remained silent. 
“In marrying me, everything I own will also be yours. That includes the vineyard.” 
Her small mind seemed to be considering this, as the sour expression dropped. It was replaced by one of great sadness. 
I’d won that round, though my cold heart ached for my dove. 
“Alcina.” She spoke my name so sweetly, so softly, yet so sadly, I nearly wept, “Why me?” 
Such a simple question, yet so profound. Her eyes looked up at me as though I was some sort of deity then. 
You will be mine. I will strip you of everything you know. 
“The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you belonged to me.” I’d taken hold of her face again, softer this time. 
My breath, mere inches from hers. 
“I met you when I was like….. three Alcina. That’s… that’s not okay….” Long eyelashes were fluttering shut, casting shadows on pink tinged cheeks. Y/N’s sweet scent filled my every sense — 
You are already mine, and you don’t even know it.
I could smell wine on her breath, intoxicating. “I’ve spent fifteen years making sure you would be mine, and I will spend an eternity more making you happy, draga mea.” I pressed my lips to her jaw, and she recoiled immediately as though I’d burned her. 
A gasp left her, “Alcina, I-I can’t marry you.”
 I frowned, my hand trailed down her soft cheeks, and wrapped around her neck, tight enough to make her eyes bulge a bit. Loose enough to where she could still breathe. 
A trick I’d learned from my pet’s last life. 
“You have no choice.” A small mewl left her as I gave her soft flesh a small squeeze, “I will stop at nothing to make you mine, pet.” 
I withdrew swiftly, “Consider your options, but know that it will be far easier to submit to me.” 
Her jaw fell open as I left the room, door slamming shut behind me. 
My girls stood in the hallway, impassive looks on their faces, “Mother, what happened in your bedroom? The maid’s been sobbing for hours now and we can’t tune it out. ” 
I’d forgotten how well they could hear. 
“Would you prefer I kept our lifestyle in the dungeons?” I chastised.
My daughters pouted.
“We didn’t even get to play with one!” Daniela groaned. 
 “Fine. There’s one left, have your fun.” I sighed, deeply. As the three disappeared, the sound of soft crying filled my ears and I felt my undead heart fall heavy. I knocked softly on the door once more, and received a curt, “Go away!” 
I ignored it, and pushed the door open anyway. “Sweet girl, what is it?” I cooed. She scoffed, and stood with fury in her eyes, “YOU! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She spat. 
I pursed my lips with a frown, “Watch your mouth, dove.” 
The girl scoffed at me then, “Watch my fucking mouth? Fuck you!” 
My patience wore thin. I grasped her by both arms, sending her flying back onto the bed, “What did I tell you Y/N? Mmm? I came in to check on you not have you throw a silly temper tantrum!” Y/N let out a long, frustrated groan, and I merely sat at one of the chairs by the fire place within her room. 
“Dearest, let me know when you’re quite finished. My God. The temper on you has never changed.” She scoffed when I spoke, standing, and pointing an accusatory finger at me. In truth, given that she wore very little clothing it was rather had to stay angry. 
“My TEMPER? You just threw me across the room! This is hardly my TEMPER! This is YEARS and YEARS of my idiot fucking father ruining my life with his drinking! And you! You fucking psycho countess, you’re not any better! You LEFT ME!” She screamed. 
I rolled my eyes, “What on Earth are you on about?” 
“You!” She was mere inches in front of me now, “You were there, when I was young.  I remember you.” 
I frowned, “Yes, you came to visit the castle as a girl—” 
“NO!” She huffed, “When I was five. You were there. You used to sneak into my room at night and I thought you were my imaginary friend.” 
I gave nothing away in my expression, though I was livid she remembered that. 
“Y/N, darling, that’s.. Not possible. Are you feeling alright? Are you jet lagged, perhaps?” 
Y/N’s eyes turned furious then, and I watched as my favourite docile creature suddenly became murderous, “You! Yes, it is! You snuck into my room at night! You were there when my mother locked me in because she was having an episode and my father was drinking and—” I watched her eyes well with furious tears, “And you left!” She wailed.l
I gave a curt nod, swallowing hard,  “That is true.” 
Y/N collapsed into the other chair, tears streaming down her face, “Why?” Was all she asked me. “Why wouldn’t you just take me with you then? Do you know what I’ve been through?” 
“No dove I don’t I-” 
Y/N let out  a humourless laugh, as her eyes glazed over, “You know what. It Doesn’t even matter now. All that matters is that you have abducted me and have taken over my life, right when I finally had control of it.” 
“Dove-” 
“Please just leave. I’m exhausted and now thoroughly humiliated.” 
I did as she asked, heart heayv in my chest. As the door shut behind me I heard her sobs echo through the room, turning my sorrow into blind rage. 
God help the maiden I ran into next. 
131 notes · View notes
captain-mj · 1 year
Note
*slams table* I’m going to steal your spinal cord if you don’t write about the crew playing hot potato with a hand grenade
Y'all are so funny I got you man
Used a slightly different game called 100, hope that's okay!
Price sat across from Rodolfo, the two of them talking amicably. They were discussing how everyone had been, mainly just catching up.
Both of them felt it. A tingle in their spines.
Across base, Alejandro held the live grenade. "So the training exercise is we throw it in the air and it falls down and we have to try not to get hit."
"Can't we just run away?" Farah asked, raising her hand.
Ghost nodded. "You're supposed to stay inside this circle. Everyone understand?"
They all nodded the affirmative.
"Excellent. Let's go!" He pulled the pin and tossed it up.
Everyone scattered, running in circles. Gaz jumped onto Ghost after a moment, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Get The Fuck Off Me Garrick." Ghost tossed him like a sack of flour on to the ground and ran for his life.
Soap stood in the middle, looking directly up and at the grenade. He widened his stance like he was going to catch a football.
Alex stumbled around the edge of the circle, on the verge of tears. The man had been blown up already and these bastards kept doing this to him.
Farah laughed and jumped around, trying to find out exactly where the grenade could fall so she could be as close as possible without getting hurt. She had a grin on her face that scared Alex and Soap.
Alejandro stood at the edge. "100 points to anyone who doesn't get hit. Medical leave to anyone who does." He cackled as he watched them all dance.
Roach went to run out of the circle before thinking better at the prospect of points. Soap and him somehow collided despite Soap not moving. They crashed into the ground.
Rodolfo and Price appeared. "What the fuck are you all doing?"
All their heads swiveled to where they were standing.
"Alejandro!" Rodolfo hissed. "Explain."
"It was Ghost's idea." Ghost glared at him.
The grenade fell. It landed directly in Roach's hands.
Roach immediately threw to Soap who threw it at Farah who threw it at Alex. They all started to toss it at each other, frantically trying to get it away from them.
Alejandro laughed. "It's a dead grenade. I had Ghost get a dead one."
Ghost slowly looked at Alejandro. "Dead one?"
Price grabbed it and tossed it as far away as possible. "Jesus Christ, I expect better of you, Garrick and Sanderson."
"You don't expect better from me?" Alejandro asked.
"That's Rudy's job."
"What about me?" Soap asked, having not done anything.
"This is just... on par for you."
Soap shrugged. "Okay, fair."
"The grenade still hasn't gone off." Gaz pointed out.
"Oh, right. I was the one that grabbed the grenade..." Alejandro looked at Rodolfo. "So it wasn't that bad right?"
Rodolfo took a deep breath and turned around.
"May God have mercy on your soul later, because Rudy isn't." Ghost patted his back.
Price glared at him. "You're on recruit duty for a month."
"God has not had mercy on me either today I see."
302 notes · View notes
suspiciouslackofclowns · 11 months
Text
Billy tries to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible when he enters the living room, easing down into a seat on the sofa with a plate packed full of finger food in his hands.
He's been steadily picking at the spread in the kitchen all afternoon — he isn't even really hungry anymore, but it's at least something to keep him occupied. He tries not to think about how he's eating out of boredom as he pops a mini quiche in his mouth.
As if having a sixth sense, Eddie turns around in his seat on the floor. Spreads a smile and crawls toward the sofa, leaning his elbows in Billy’s lap as he gazes up at him like he’s some ethereal being.
“Hey, blondie,” he lilts. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Billy snorts.
“Aren’t you supposed to be playing your game?”
“We’re having an intermission,” Eddie huffs. Leans further into Billy’s lap and wraps his arms around his waist. “Besides, I miss you.”
“Miss me? Munson, we sleep in the same bed every night.”
“And?”
“And you’re a fuckin’ dork,” Billy chuckles.
Eddie pouts. Hides his face in the front of Billy’s hoodie, and the blond has to fight every urge he has to suck his stomach in, lest Eddie pout even harder.
It’s taken some getting used to, the changes in his body. Especially after he quit smoking.
Had he known he would develop a permanent case of the munchies, he might’ve just stayed his course. Maybe he’d still have abs.
Maybe he’d still feel sexy.
Regardless, here Eddie is, smushing his face into his stomach like he’s a pillow. Billy takes a bite out of a chocolate-covered strawberry and sets his plate on the brunet’s back. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, well, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says like it’s an insult. “And smart, and sweet, and funny, and—“
“Jesus, I get it, you like me. You can stop now.”
Eddie shakes his head. Presses a kiss to Billy’s stomach, which has the blond’s face blossoming red, and rubs up and down at his sides.
“I adore you. Wanna snuggle with you all day everyday and never do anything else.”
“Not even play D&D?”
“Nope.”
From behind him, Grant and Jeff both scoff, and Billy spreads a smile. Cards his hand through Eddie’s hair.
“I don’t think the guys like that idea.”
“Tough shit. How am I expected to function when you come in here looking all pretty ‘n stuff?”
Billy chuckles. Eddie grins at the sound.
“I’m wearing pajamas,” Billy points out. “And my hair’s not even done.”
“I know,” Eddie sighs dreamily.
“Mm, well, if you’re cuddling me all the time, when does my other boyfriend get a chance? Doesn’t sound very fair to me.”
“I don’t see this other boyfriend that you speak of. Plus, I’m calling dibs for the rest of time, so he’s outta luck.”
“You’re telling me you’re never gonna cuddle with Stevie again? Just me, forever?”
Eddie ponders the question for a long moment, and Billy chuckles again.
“Damn,” he muses. “You really do like me that much, huh?”
“I do,” Eddie admits. ���I would miss being Stevie’s little spoon, though.”
Gareth snorts, clapping his hand on the coffee table.
“Wait, you’re the little spoon? Big bad Munson is Steve Harrington’s little spoon,” he cackles. “That’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
Billy grabs his plate again just in time for Eddie to sit up and swivel around enough to cast a glare at his friend. It makes Gareth laugh even harder.
“Dude, you’ve literally heard me call him my princess and shit before, but you’re choosing to make fun of me over this?”
“I always thought that was you poking fun at his masculinity or something.”
Eddie shakes his head and clicks his tongue.
“Stevie is my pretty princess,” he lilts. Glances up at Billy and chews his lip. “And Billy bear is my little babycakes. He’s the baby, actually.”
Billy’s face flushes red all the way down his neck.
“I am not,” he huffs.
“Yes huh, you’re baby girl, baby doll— you love that shit. We wouldn’t say any of it if you didn’t.”
There’s a polite chuckle from around the room and Billy scoffs.
Eddie notably softens. He rubs at Billy’s thighs, leaning forward to press another kiss to his stomach and humming pleasantly when his lips make contact.
“The nicknames just mean that we love you,” he coos.
“Guess I just think you both have weird taste,” Billy murmurs, then huffs a laugh to himself. “If I nicknamed myself, it’d probably be something like lardass.”
Eddie makes a shocked noise of offense and furrows his brows.
“Hey, no one talks about my boyfriend like that.”
“No? What’re you gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna tell on you.” Billy’s smirk falters and Eddie hums triumphantly. “I’m gonna tell Steve. He’ll baby you about it and pull out some old family recipe he’s got locked away just to make you eat your words.”
Billy presses his lips together. Thinks about the last time he made a self-deprecating comment in front of Steve. Thinks about how it was definitely a handful of pounds ago.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He pushes his fingers into Eddie’s hair. The brunet leans into his touch, but spreads this sickening little grin. All teeth and no remorse.
“Then I guess you better take it back,” he lilts. Billy locks his jaw shut. Eddie clicks his tongue and pokes teasingly at his side. “There’s no downside for me, I like a little extra fluff. Nobody likes thin pancakes.”
“Pancakes?”
“Mhmm,” Eddie hums. “You’re like a stack of ‘em.”
Billy quirks a brow.
“How so?”
“I fuckin’ love pancakes.” Eddie flattens his palm against Billy’s side and rubs gently back and forth. “Plus, y’know, they’re soft and warm. Pillow-like.”
A little smile quirks at the corners of Billy’s mouth. Some part of him wants to take offense, but he can’t. Not when big brown eyes are gazing up at him so fondly. He scratches softly at Eddie’s scalp and has him all but purring, eyes slipping shut as he melts under the touch.
“You’ve never had crêpes?” Billy asks.
Eddie’s eyes crack open.
“What?”
“Crêpes,” Billy repeats. Chuckles when Eddie looks at him like he’s growing a second head. “Thin pancakes? They’re Stevie’s favorite, I’m surprised you didn’t notice. He always orders them when we go to the diner downtown.”
Eddie sits up straighter. Thinks hard for a moment, like his whole world is crashing down.
“Is that what those things are?”
“What did you think they were?”
“I dunno— not pancakes.” Eddie pouts when he’s laughed at, but still fixes Billy with a serious look. “Brushing past the fact that you just ruined my whole analogy, I maintain that you’re perfect just the way you are.” That little grin comes back full-fledged in a matter of seconds. “Besides, crêpes always have filling, don’t they?”
It’s Billy’s turn to pout while Eddie snickers at him.
“Whatever. Just don’t tell Steve.”
“Why, you scared he’s gonna put pounds on you?” Eddie pinches his side and earns a huff. “You still haven’t taken back what you said.”
“‘Cause I don’t want to. Don’t see why you’re so hung up on it.”
This time, Eddie looks… disappointed. It hurts Billy deep in his chest, like he swallowed a shard of tortilla chip that refuses to go down smoothly.
“If someone was talking shit about Steve right in front of you, what would you do?” Eddie asks.
“I’d rock their shit.”
“Why?”
Billy shrugs.
“I dunno, it’d piss me off.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because it’s Steve,” Billy huffs. “I don’t— I don’t like the idea of anyone talking shit about him. That’s my boyfriend.”
Eddie nods. Tilts his head to the side and slowly begins to rub up and down at Billy’s waist, similar to how he had been earlier.
“Then why is this any different? I still get to be upset when I hear someone talking shit about you, even if it’s you who’s doing the shit-talking.”
Billy’s mouth opens, but then promptly closes again. Is this the same guy who was comparing him to pancakes a minute ago?
A moment passes. Then another. Eddie just stares up at him expectantly, and Billy says nothing. It’s a stand-off. A battle of will. Billy’s fixing to cave when the front door opens and the tension is suddenly broken, yet somehow doubles at the same time.
“Intermission?” Steve asks.
He hangs his keys up and shrugs out of his coat once the door is shut behind him, already wearing an easy smile.
“Unofficially,” Gareth grumbles.
Eddie shoots him a glare, but is quick to soften when Steve leans over the back of the sofa and drapes his arms around Billy’s shoulders.
“Hey, baby,” Steve greets. Ignores the knowing giggle from around the room in favor of pressing a kiss into Billy’s curls. “Thought you’d still be asleep when I got back.”
More kisses land in his hair as Billy purses his lips.
“It’s almost six.”
“Mhmm,” Steve hums.
In an instant, Eddie gets this look on his face, and Billy’s stomach drops. He opens his mouth, but Steve is too quick.
“Have you just been eating junk?” He asks, gesturing to Billy’s plate.
The blond glances at his little collection of nibbled-at finger food. Tries not to think about how many plates of it he’s had already.
“Yeah, just… snacking,” he says timidly.
Steve tsks. Billy almost flinches at the sound.
“Well, that won’t do.” Steve nabs the plate from Billy’s hand and pops a cube of cheddar in his mouth. “Tell me what you want, bubs, and I’ll make it.”
Billy feels like he’s on fire.
“Lasagna?”
A sheepish smile finds its way onto his face when his chin is tilted up, and Steve plants a kiss directly on his lips.
“Coming right up.”
Then the brunet vanishes from behind the couch, padding into the kitchen to root around for a casserole dish before he’s even taken his shoes off.
On the floor, Eddie bites back on a giggle.
“I didn’t even have to tell him,” he whispers amusedly. Leans completely into Billy’s lap and hugs his torso again, half smothering himself in Billy’s stomach. “Hope you’re hungry, Bill, ‘cause it’s pancake time.”
For emphasis, he gives Billy’s side a squeeze, which has him huffing irritatedly.
“No, we’re having lasagna,” Steve calls. There’s a clatter as he moves about the kitchen. “We can have pancakes tomorrow night.”
Eddie gives in to the giggles, shoulders shaking as he hides his face in the front of Billy’s hoodie.
Finally accepting defeat, Billy sighs. Cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he laughs, trying to find it in himself to be upset about what’s to come.
But his mouth is already watering before the oven is even done preheating.
194 notes · View notes
eris-snow · 14 days
Note
Okay but hear me out- Indian American Reader x Bakugou??? With maybe an rock control quirk (+ metals bc we love a strong bb) but like I can imagine his shock when he realizes that someone can not only withstand his explosions with the metal she creates but someone with even more fucked up tastebuds with the amount of spicy food she eats on a daily basis??
“That all you got?” You call out, commanding rocks to rise from the earth as you shield yourself from his explosions.
“Shut your piehole, extra!” Bakugou roars, skidding to a stop at the end of the room, before launching himself back at you so fast you almost didn’t have time to react.
An explosion meets your shields, and in a second, he’s got you pinned down on the pavement, sweat dripping, knee against your leg and hand on your palm.
“Told you I could handle you, didn’t I?” He smirks devilishly, palms throbbing. He appreciates a good fight.
You don a matching grin, muscles tightening. “Not quite.”
His smile vanishes.
You wield the cement with practised motions, causing Bakugou to slam into the ground next to you.
Flipping him over, you exchange positions, you on top, and a very angry Bakugou beneath you.
“I win,” you whisper, a cocky smile curling on your face.
Bakugou attempts to use his explosions, only for you to reinforce the cement with metal.
He groans. “Dumb fuckin’ luck.”
“Look, it was funny the first time, but I’m calling a time-out on your insults.” You huff. “I won fair and square.”
“I pinned you first, smartass!”
“I neutralised you first, dumbfuck—”
Shoto takes a sip out of his protein shake. “Hey Bakugou. If you’re flirting, you’re doing a really bad job at it—”
“I’M GONNA FUCKING ASSASSINATE YOU ICYHOT.”
--
“This scares me,” Denki coughs. “Like, full-body ghost summoning kind of scary.”
Half of the class lies on the couch, utterly defeated by the hot sauce Denki had unknowingly made as a dipping sauce because he misread the bottle. You know, Bakugou’s exclusive Hot One’s Last Dab Sauce.
It had knocked the absolute wind out of strong contenders Kirishima and Ashido, and completely ruined Midoriya, who was still hiccuping and hacking away at the sink. Todoroki was passed out on the couch and Denki was half convince he was on his dying breath.
No, what scared him was you two freaks.
“Ha! What a bunch of wimps!” Bakugou cackles, lathering his fried chicken with the sauce and taking a good bite out of it. Bro didn’t look bothered in the slightest. In fact, Denki would wager the trigger-happy human landmine was enjoying the murderous sauce.
“This is really good,” You sigh, reaching for another fried chicken and dipping it entirely into the saucer. “Where’d you get it?”
Denki begs your fucking pardon?
“Should come over to my house, Ma makes the best spice,” Bakugou grins, eyes glinting as you chew on your drumstick innocently.
Your eyes light up. “Invitation accepted. Now move the damn dip over. We need more.”
“You both,” Denki wheezes. “Are demons. Menaces.”
“You’re just a pussy, Spark Plug.”
Denki would argue, but he doesn’t think his throat would cooperate.
Truly, a match made in heaven.
Or hell.
--
Author's note: Seriously this was so cute! Frankly, as someone who loves spicy food, loved to see the representation of this and a strong reader that can hold her own against Blasty! it's nice to cuddle up and play damsel with the heroes, but sometimes I just wanna take no bull and stand on my own two feet! (Kick them in the balls or smth, therapeutic as heck)
Thanks for requesting, it means a lot! 🧡
32 notes · View notes
Text
Sunlight
Summary: A moment in time where you could've sworn that nothing ever could go any different between the two of you…
Pairing: Elijah Kamski x afab!Reader
Word Count: - 2.1k
Content Warnings: Fluffy PWP 18+!, Softdom!Elijah, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Oral (F Receiving), Edging, Slight Praise Kink, Begging, Implied Further Smut
A/N: I'm gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure 🥴 The Kamski brain rot has befallen me again! Massive thanks to @blueberrypancakesworld for motivating me in this endeavour 🫶🏻🖤
Follow-Up to Golden Cage but can be read as a standalone just as well.
Tagging: @spookyorchid @blueberrypancakesworld @herprivateisland
Tumblr media
Each day, you'd rise with me
Know that I would gladly be
The Icarus to your certainty
Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
Strap the wing to me
Death trap clad happily
With wax melted, I'd meet the sea
Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight
- Sunlight By Hozier
Around 5 years prior, on an early autumn Saturday morning, the time gradually moved closer to noon…
A quiet groan rolled over your tongue as you lazily opened your eyes just as much as necessary for your gaze to shoot a quick glance towards the alarm clock on the nightstand.
"Huh…" You noted, somewhat amused by the fact that it was nearly noon already.
"Hm?" A still halfway asleep Elijah behind you protested in a low hum as you turned around, tightly wrapped in his embrace.
"Good morning, sleepyhead.", You peppered the crown of his head with a wash of quick pecks, his cheek resting nuzzled against your collarbone, "I might as well start preparing lunch since we successfully slept through breakfast hours."
"Isn't that what the weekend is for?" Eli smiled against your skin, the stubble of his beard tickling gingerly.
For a brief moment, you tried to pull yourself out of his hug but quickly noted that Elijah had no intention of letting you go just yet.
"Nuh-Uh. Absolutely not.", He quipped, holding you down underneath the cozy cotton duvet covers right next to him, "Way too comfortable."
"Fair enough." A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gave in and led your fingertips to trace along his back, following the slight curve of his spine until they reached the nape of his neck.
"Hmhm…", Eli sighed contentedly, "Wanna stay in bed with you all day. No lab, no coding and no report writing today. Ordering in some food, maybe?"
"Please go on, Mr. Kamski, you have my attention.” The smile on your mouth turned into a smirk at his words whilst your fingers played with strands of his silken-straight hair.
“Well…”, It trickled from his lips in a sleepy chuckle, “May I propose a day of mindless leisure to Mrs. Kamski?”
“Hmhm, mindless leisure, you say?”, You clicked your tongue in a moment of play-pretend pondering, “I’m certainly not opposed to the idea.”
"Marvelous!" The halfway snorted-out cackle spilled from your lips faster than you could recognize.
"Marvelous?", You repeated Eli's exclamation, still snickering over it, "Alright, peepaw."
"Excuse me?" Elijah laughed out as well before leaning his head down a little further until his lips touched the curve of your breast to nip at the sensitive skin close to your nipple.
"Hey, don't you distract from that verbal atrocity!" It rolled right over your tongue as something in between a yelp and a choked-back sigh.
"Distraction? Nay, nay! I'm ready and willing to top that!", The words rumbled through Elijah’s chest in a chuckle, "My, my, how absolutely splendid for my lovely lady, my sun and my everything, to leisurely waste this day away with me."
"Oh, Jesus, fuck..", You groaned a little theatrically over the top, covering your face with both of your palms, "Time to switch to decaf because you gotta watch out for your blood pressure, gramps, maybe consider some Viagra, too."
"Ouch!", Eli mocked in return, his soft lips nibbling their path along the areola up to close down around your perked-up nipple.
His teeth, carefully scratching over the sensitive skin, sent urging jolts of rapidly rising arousal to shoot down amidst your thighs, the demanding pulse causing your hips to snap from the mattress in search of stimulation.
“Oh, c'mon, that's not fair.” You let your head loll back into the thick and feathery pillow as the sensation of his tongue swirling soft circles around your nipple fogged your mind, gradually chasing every coherent thought right out of it.
“I know, I know.” Elijah cooed in return, the warmth of his breath breezing over the damp patch of skin he left behind after letting the perked-up nub slide from between his lips again.
“Can't help myself but to get off on watching you go dumb with just the softest of touches, love.” The almost sore rasp in his tone went right through you as his words led you to clench your thighs together.
“You're such a sharp-witted and well-spoken menace at the lab but it all goes down the drain the second I touch you, doesn't it, babe?” You didn't need to see the sly grin on his face to know that it was there as his warm lips wandered back up over your collarbone until halting at your neck, kissing, nibbling and suckling at your flushed skin.
Instead of words, the only thing leaving your slightly trembling lips was a needy whine, a desperate mewl as you arched your back from the mattress, thighs still firmly pressed together to evoke just the tiniest bit of friction.
“Issok, babe, I'm gonna take care of that, don't worry.” Elijah hummed against your throat whilst nimble, slender fingers brushed along your hip bone, ready and eager to dip down between your legs.
“C'mon, want you to spread those beautiful legs for me, yeah? Wanna feel just how wet you are for me already, hm.” The tip of his nose nudged right against your pulse point playfully as you sensed a surge of heat wash over your face, somewhere between embarrassment and plain horny neediness that rendered you pliable to all his gentle demands.
A rush of heavy goosebumps erupted all over your skin as you gave in to the slight pull administered by the palm of his hand resting right at the curve of your thigh.
“There you go.”, Eli murmured in a soft tone, eager fingertips stroking the insides of your leg and creeping ever closer to where you needed him to touch you so desperately, “Good girl.”
“Please… it's too much, Eli, please!” You whimpered with a cracking, trembling voice, fighting yourself to not succumb to the need to simply jolt your hips forward harshly enough for Elijah’s fingers to inevitably touch your aching cunt.
“Uh-oh, need me to take care of that so bad, huh?”, He planted yet another kiss on your neck whilst his hand eventually slipped between your legs, fingertips parting your thoroughly soaked folds and gathering your arousal between them before stroking over your throbbing clit in slow circles, “Bet that feels better now, no?”
“Fuck…please, don't stop.” It rolled over your tongue in a breathless plea whilst your eyes fluttered shut at the sudden wave of electrifying pleasure spreading all throughout your body.
The sheere sensation of his index finger gingerly caressing you in carefully-paced strokes sent your mind reeling immediately as your muscles rendered warmer with every touch.
“I didn't plan on doing so anytime soon. Good god, you're fucking soaked, aren't you?” Elijah’s voice turned to a deep groan as he pressed his own body closer to yours, allowing you to feel just how much he needed to have you right now, too.
Wandering up from your neck, that was now peppered with countless little, purple-ish coloured hickey's, his teeth latched onto your jaw, scratching over your skin in a certain animalistic way that rushed straight down to your lower abdomen again, causing you to moan out into the bedroom which got gradually enlightened with the warm, early-afternoon sun. Not only was the warmth outside the windows rising but the heat spreading between your thighs just as well. It didn't take much for it to feel like eating you straight up, to burn you whole from the inside out and to completely overstimulate your senses. You're almost already sore nerve endings begged for Elijah’s gentle caress to push you past the threshold, to let the tightening coil in your stomach eventually snap but with the ever so tenderly paced flicks of his finger he held you right at the breaking point, kept your body balancing right on the edge until it rendered you stupid.
“Please, I'm so close, pretty please!” The desperate and impatient whine slipped past your lips as the muscles of your thighs started trembling.
“Nuh-Uh… calm yourself.” He shushed, a growing grin playing around his mouth as he withdrew his slick-covered finger from your pulsing clit and instead curled his entire palm to cup your cunt that was clenching and throbbing mercilessly around nothing.
“No, no, please. You said you wouldn't stop, please!” As the feeling of immediate stimulation ebbed away, you sensed frustration rising within your chest and struggled to hold back a downright pathetic sob that wanted to break its way free.
“Oh, babe, I'm not stopping…just pausing a little because I need you to calm down a bit. Don't want you to just cum on my fingers already, no.”, Elijah’s nose stroke along your cheek whilst his lips brushed towards your earlobe, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver, “I'd much rather taste you, love, feel you gushing all over my face.”
Just the mere thought of it and the way those words practically oozed out of his mouth like they weren't pure filth had you nearly choking on your own, already shallow breaths. You were desperate to hold yourself together, at least for a moment, whilst opening your eyes to Elijah shifting downward on the mattress, his mouth leaving a trail of quick kisses until he buried his face in your lap, a deep groan rumbling through his chest as his tongue darted out past his lips to lap at you like a man parched.
You felt the tip of his tongue gliding through your folds at ease, parting them until it softly nudged at your clit. With half-lidded eyes you watched him devour you, your gaze glued to the sight of messy strands of his hair slipping out from his loose ponytail, framing his face in a shade of blonde that appeared to be golden in the warm light beaming in from past the curtains.
“Fuck…” It fell from your tongue as you managed to lean your upper body onto your elbows for a better view because in the very second you moved and shifted, Eli closed his lips around your pulsing clit and started gingerly suckling, nearly forcing you to halt right there and then again.
It took everything in you to not just slump back into the pillows again, instead, you bit down on your bottom lip whilst pulling your thighs closer to your body. Elijah took the hint right away and hoisted your legs onto his shoulders, palms and fingers grasping around your thighs to keep you in place nice and tight whilst his mouth never paused pleasuring you.
He didn't need to apply anything besides the gentle, careful suction paired with tender flicks of the tip of his tongue for you to come close again, for the tension in your lower abdomen to tighten up anew. This time, you just silently begged for him not to pause, not to stop.
There was no doubt that Eli was aware of the way your thighs started trembling again, how you moaned out in steadily raising arousal as you felt the wetness oozing out of you and to your relief, he kept going, his tongue toying with your clit, stroking and nudging it, knowing how to get you off properly.
“ ‘M gonna…” You tried to utter, the words haphazardly passing your lips before one more tender lick of his pushed you past the threshold and sent your nerve endings into overdrive.
It felt like fireworks going off inside of your body with the muscles of your lower abdomen spasming in wave after heavy wave. The orgasmic epitome went straight to your head, eradicating everything for a split second before the pleasantly brutal, nearly numbing rush of hormones took over; serotonin and oxytocin jolting through your body like an electric current which eventually led you to fall back into the pillows underneath.
“There, there…”, Elijah smirked whilst shoving himself up back to you for his glistening lips to hover closely above yours, “How about we order some pizza now and I sit you down on my lap while correcting you on that gnarly comment about Viagra, huh?”
39 notes · View notes
liverobinreaction · 1 year
Note
standing in line, unaware that i’m dead
"Hey," a voice calls out to him, overly-curious and prying. Jason determinedly ignores them, just on the small offchance that they aren't talking to him.
"You, with the jacket!"
No luck.
Heaving a forceful breath, Jason grips the handle of his grocery basket slightly tighter, and turns to glare at the asshole trying to talk to him while he's waiting in line at the supermarket.
"What?" he growls out, and the teenager lifts their hands in apology.
"Woah, sorry dude, I didn't mean to bother you, but did you know that you're a dead ringer for that Jason Wayne kid? It's uncanny!"
You can't kill a nosy teenager in the checkout 6 at the grocery store, Jason forcibly reminds himself. No matter how deserving or satisfying it would be.
"I had no idea," he grits out, making his lips quirk up into an unnatural smile. It works enough to make the kid step back. He stutters out some sort of apology, and pretends to look through this basket and realise he's missing something, darting out of line and towards the back of the store.
Jason huffs. He pays for his groceries without any fanfare, and the incident is forgotten soon after.
Except it happens again.
He's waiting in line at a kiosk, fingers aching for a cigarette, when an old lady peers at him over her glasses. She's got a pack of lottery tickets tucked between nicotine stained fingers, and a roll of mints stowed in her pocket. He's no snitch though.
"I can give you tips if you're looking for a new hairstyle," he quips, and her lips twitch into a smile.
"No thank you, sonny," she croaks out, the heavy breaths of a lifetime smoker. "You one of them impersonators? You look awfully familiar."
You have got to be fucking kidding me, Jason thinks.
"Nope, unless I'm impersonating myself," he says with forced cheer, and she cackles.
"Fair play," she murmurs. "Fair play."
It's not like Jason Todd-Wayne was a household name, back when he was alive and things were good. But he'd done enough interviews and had enough photos snagged of him on the way to school that his face would inevitably appear here and there in magazines and blog posts. He would have thought that three years would be enough to change his facial features enough that only the most observant might see a lingering familiarity.
Apparently not, because he gets clocked again, this time by a little girl as he waits in line at a cash point.
"Do you know that you're dead?" she pipes up suddenly, and her mother flushes red, hissing at her to be quiet. Jason blinks.
"Sorry?" Leaps out of his mouth before he can think, and she frowns.
"It's okay," she reassures. "I forget things all the time. I'd forget to be dead too!"
Her mother is trying to pull her away at this point, babbling out apologies, but Jason-
Jason laughs. Long and loud, because he can't help it.
"Yeah," he says with a grin. "You're right, kiddo. I did forget. But that just means I'm more alive than ever."
She furrows her brow, but nods seriously, as though he's revealed some great truth. Somewhere in his chest, something aches. He ignores it.
A dead man unaware that he's dead, he thinks with amusement. How fitting.
(Reblogs appreciated!)
175 notes · View notes
dark-elf-writes · 3 months
Note
Random KHR headcanon, aka the characters playing D&D!
Tsuna is a willing forever DM that is infamous in the Naminori D&D circles for being fucking ruthless, yet fair, when it comes to it. He will take an eye or limb from your character, but only if it makes sense for that to happen. Makes very detailed maps.
Hayato: Enjoys cycling through the various classes, but likes the Ranger class the best. Tends to go for more open ended backstories to let Tsuna mess around with them for plot reasons. His one Bard became the next campaign's BBEG and he regrets nothing.
Takeshi: Tends to stick with the Rogue and Fighter classes, and occasionally plays as a Sorcerer when he wants to spice things up. Keeps him backstories simple to avoid Tsuna milking them for emotional damage. Sometimes fails but he sure does try.
Ryohei: Mains Monk, Barbarian and Fighter, and occasionally multi classes into other classes if it makes sense. Tends to give his characters amnesia or a mysterious origin that they don't know of because otherwise he has no clue how to do backstories. Fully aware of the fact that said tendency has caused some of the most harrowing story moments and does not care.
Hibari: Ranger and Druid main, and does not give a shit about the other classes. Very thorough with his backstory because the one time he made it exploitable for plot everyone came out of that particular arc a little traumatized and Tsuna wouldn't stop grinning about it for weeks afterwards.
Mukuro: Sorcerer and Wizard main, and fully embraces making Tsuna's job as a DM both easier and harder via elaborate backstories he can work into the campaign. Tsuna gets his revenge via always ensuring his character suffers because of that fact.
Chrome: Cleric and Warlock main, sometimes multi classes into both because of the chaotic potential. Her backstories tend to be ones that are all like "Yeah it happened, but it can't follow my character" and honestly she is valid for it.
Reborn: Paladin and Artificer main, his backstories are wildly different in terms of content for the challenge of it. Of course, apparently as a trade off the more convoluted his backstory is, the worst his luck is. No one knows how that's a thing. The current theory is the universe is balancing him out.
Everyone else: Guess or one shot players. They tend to cycle through classes due to not playing as much. Kyoko one time accidentally made a very overpowered Cleric that proceeded to kill everything and convert a Red Dragon Adult to their religion through fear and respect so there's that.
Tauna would be the “I’m gonna kill that dog 🤪” kind of DM and I am cackling about it tbh. He would also take the time to not only make incredibly detailed maps but specific relevant props for each player. Is infamous for tpk’ing a party in session zero when they all fucked around too hard and didnt think they would find out. Spends half his time ripping his players hearts out of their chests with incredibly small details that become massive later on and literally begging for them to stop trying to break his dungeon and just go inside already.
(So the unholy alliance of Brennan Lee Mulligan and Anthony Burch tbh)
It balances out because any of his usual party would be a nightmare at any other table but his. Their feral levels always seem to just resonate in all the right ways
33 notes · View notes
quodekash · 11 months
Text
ECLIPSE INCORRECT QUOTES
because that’s when you know im obsessed with it
(disclaimer: I meant to do this literally two weeks ago but I didn’t think I had enough but I stopped for a bit and my adhd brain promptly forgot about it for a week and then remembered and then forgot for another week, and honestly i meant to actually make this for like a month before that but i didnt actually start finding the quotes until two weeks ago, but it’s fine I’m here now)
—- —-
Akk: Ayan is a little bitch.  Wat: Why?  Akk: Number one, he’s little. Number two, he’s a bitch.
(episode 1-3 core)
—- —-
Namo: The floor is lava!  Kan: *helps Thua onto the counter*  Akk: *kicks Wat off the sofa*  Ayan: *lays on the floor*  Namo: ...Are you okay?  Ayan: No. 
(im 80% certain this is a deleted scene from the beach episodes)
—- —-
*Akk and Ayan are planning to break in somewhere*  Akk: We need to distract the guards.  Ayan: Right.  Akk: What are we gonna do?  Ayan: I'm gonna break their elbows while you poke their eyes.  Akk:  Ayan:  Akk: Deal. 
—- —-
Akk: Aye, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason.  Ayan, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than his size: Spooky. 
—- —-
Akk: I'm going to take a shower, I'll be right back.  Ayan: Why are you telling me this, I don't care.  Ayan, right after Akk leaves the room: I miss him already.
—- —-
Aye: Fuck capitalism. It's a rigged system that keeps us poor and it isn't fair. You shouldn't need to work three jobs to afford basic necessities.  Aye, playing Monopoly: Sorry, if you wanted to win you should have tried not being poor. 
—- —-
Akk: I fell—  Aye: From heaven?  Akk: No, I literally fell—  Aye: In love with me the moment you saw me?  Akk: MY ARM IS BROKEN!  Aye: Okay, but do you think I'm pretty? Be honest. 
—- —-
Aye: Are we fighting or flirting?  Akk: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck-  Aye: Your point? 
—- —-
Thua: Two bros!  Kan: Chillin' in a hot tub!  Thua and Kan, in unison: Zero feet apart 'cause we're GAY AS FUCK! 
—- —-
Akk: I owe you one.  Aye: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even. 
—- —-
Thua: I want to kiss you.  Kan, not paying attention: What?  Thua: I said if you die, I wont miss you. 
(its okay thua, he's not ignoring you, he has adhd. just kiss him, he'll be happy, trust me)
—- —-
Kan: And now for a gay update with Akk and Aye.  Akk: Getting gayer.  Kan: Thank you, Akk. 
—- —-
Wat: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Thua recently.  Kan: No, Wat, it's not what it looks like, I swear.  Wat: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?  Kan: No! You’re the only one for me.  Wat: Is that so?  Kan: I promise! Thua and I are just dating, okay? He’s my boyfriend.  Wat: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved?  Kan: You are still my one and only best friend! He’s just the love of my life, nothing more!  Wat: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right?  Kan: Of course bro!  Wat: Bro...  Thua: What the- 
—- —-
*at 3am*  Kan: *runs into Akk’s room and turns on the light* Wake up sleepyhead!  Akk: *wakes up* Dude!  Kan: *cackles*  Aye: *sits up from where he was sleeping behind akk* What the fuck, Kan? Kan: *jaw drops* Wait WHAT- 
(the original vine is now playing over and over in my head and its probably my favourite vine and its literally them and i love it so much gerjdhgbrh)
—- —-
Kan: This totally sucks, man.  Akk: This is horrible.  Kan: Yeah, I know, I mean look at everything the curse did to those rulebreakers today.  Akk: No, it’s not that, it’s Aye. Akk: It’s just like, I can’t get him out of my head and every time I look at him I have these pains in my chest, and I just know it’s his fault, that bitch! 
(AVPM QUOTE LETS GOOO and yes it is perfection and is exactly canon i take no criticism)
—- —-
Kan: Did Thua just tell me he loved me for the first time?  Akk: Yeah, he did.  Kan: And did I just do finger guns back?  Akk: Yeah, you did. 
(oh you sweet sweet maybe-bisexual man)
—- —-
Aye: *finds a note* Hmm, whats this?  Kan: Hey, that's mine! *tries to grab it*  Aye: Aww, it's a love note for Thua?  Kan: No-  Aye: *opens it*  Aye:  Kan:  Aye: I can't read this. 
(is it because the contents are too explicit to read or because kan's handwriting is awful? you decide)
—- —-
Kan: So are you gonna explain how the hell you crashed my car?  Akk: Well we were driving and there was a deer in the road, so I said "Aye, deer!"  Kan: ...And what did you say?  Aye: ..."Yes, Honey?" 
—- —-
Kan: I love you.  Thua: I love you too. I've waited so long to hear you say that.  *Kan and Thua kiss passionately*  Wat, to Akk: You owe me 20 dollars. 
(HES BEEN SAYING IT FOR YEARS AND THEY FINALLY DID IT. IMAGINE THE VICTORIOUS FEELING WAT FELT IN THAT MOMENT. NOT TO MENTION THE JOY AT HIS SHIP FINALLY GETTING TOGETHER. BRO IS AS PHENOMENAL AS TIW AND I LOVE HIM SO FREAKING MUCH (someone write a crossover fic where tiw and wat get together and plot their ships' getting together. if someone has already written this, please tell me)
—- —-
Kan: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.  Akk: Throw rocks at he.  Aye: Hot Dogs.  Wat: Kill him.  Kan: Thanks guys. 
—- —-
Kan, trying to sound happy: *about Aye and Thua* They’d make a cute couple, huh? Akk, holding back tears: They certainly are standing next to each other. 
(first few episodes core. specifically when aye is whispering in thua's ear and theyre both just standing to the side watching it happen and completely unaware that this means they are gay and in love with one of them)
—- —-
Thua: I'm so happy, I could kiss you!  Kan: Um...Neat.  *later*  Kan, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Akk. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid.  Akk, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Kan. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Aye confessed his love for me?  Kan: Didn't you thank him?  Akk: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked him. 
—- —-
Kan: How is the most beautiful person in the world?  Thua: *blushing* I—  Aye, butting into the conversation: Akk is perfect, thanks for asking. 
—- —-
Wat: Do you love Kan?  Thua: Yeah, I do.  Wat: Akk! I told you I knew it! You owe me 100 baht!  Akk: We all love Kan. You should've asked if he was IN love with him.  Thua: I thought that was implied.  Akk: ...  Wat: ...  Thua, looking straight at Akk: Congrats Wat, you just won 100 baht. 
—- —-
Akk: Are you trying to seduce me?  Aye: Why, are you seducible? 
—- —-
Aye: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much.  Wat: Oh, you’ve been?  Aye: Once. In Monopoly. 
—- —-
Wat: When I was a kid, Kan told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.  Teacher Sani: They are!  Wat: FOR REAL?  Sani: No! Why did you fall for it again? 
—- —-
Thua, on a random band name generator: Oooo! They Might Be Depressed Horses! That about sums up my friend group. 
—- —-
Akk: Being gay is a constant battle between "I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds" and "Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists" and I think that's very sexy of us.  Ayan: If the window's open and you time it right, you can do both. 
—- —-
Ayan: Hey, Akk, what do you think it would be like if we had kids?  Akk: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.  Ayan: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?  Akk: Can't really say I have.  Ayan: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.  Akk: Sorry, Aye. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody. 
—- —-
Ayan: Talk dirty to me, baby~  Akk: The dishes.  Ayan: Wh-  Akk: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times. 
—- —-
Ayan: My hands are cold.  Akk: Here, let me hold them.  Ayan: My lips are cold too. Akk: *covers Ayan's mouth with his hand* 
—- —-
Akk: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.  Ayan: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.  Akk: ...  Akk: You mean ring bearER, right?  Ayan: ...  Akk: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding. 
—- —-
Ayan: Since we're in a relationship now, your clothes are my clothes too. Don't ask me why I have your shirt on, this is our shirt.  Akk: Fine, but when I come strutting in with your fuzzy socks I don't want to hear shit. 
—- —-
Akk: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.  Ayan: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.  Akk: I said within reason, Ayan. How about I murder that guy?  Ayan: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?  Akk: Well, duh. What kind of question is that? 
—- —-
Ayan: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.  Akk: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.  Ayan: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??  Akk: Is it working? 
—- —-
Akk: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.  Ayan: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.  Akk: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??  Ayan: Is it working? 
—- —-
and now, for my personal favourite...
Ayan: Akk is playing hard to get.  Ayan: Little does he know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of. 
—- —-
that's all for now, but i promise, i will be back
145 notes · View notes