#it's going to FUCKING kill me i know that already
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I was thinking about Bucky. A beefy Bucky. A beefy mob Bucky. Who is such a simp. I think now is the perfect time to talk about it cause I need some fluff and look at that, it's also my favorite @wifeofbarnes birthday!
Happy birthday sweet angel, I hope you have one filled with so much love ❤️️❤️️
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Imagine a brooding beefy mob Bucky pining after his rivals sweet, shy daughter. He has no business liking her, her father was always teetering on the edge of putting a bullet between Bucky's eyebrows but Bucky couldn't help it. She's too cute. Too sweet. Everyone knows there's something between you both between the fleeting glances and the number of times Bucky's left with a blush on his cheeks whenever your around.
For someone who hates meetings, he's more than fond of going to your estate to talk over business with a man he hates so much. He's going to go to every single one of those meeting if it means he gets to see you. He never gets more than a few moments, no more than a few words before he's dragged away by Steve who isn't trying to get stabbed by one of your bodyguards.
-
Bucky swirls his crystal glass, the ice in clinking against each other as he takes a sip of amber liquid, seated at a private booth at the back of the club. The alcohol that's already warming his body heats him up even more when he sees you laughing and giggling with your friends, a cute little birthday girl tiara on top of your head.
Fuck, you were so perfect.
"You're staring again, you creep" Steve snorts but Bucky pays him no mind. He's too busy looking at you in your pretty dress, your hips swaying to the music. Tipsy, maybe even a little drunk, love sick Bucky wants nothing more than to get a moment alone with you but he's smart enough to wait.
Well, sort of.
"Go distract her bodyguards"
"You're going to get us killed"
"Then you'll die knowing it was for a good cause"
Sam and Steve shake their head as they wander off to find your security team, quietly instigating a small scuffle to keep them occupied. You step outside waiting for your car to pull up, frowning when a large black truck stops in front of you instead. The door opens and-
"Bucky, what are you doing!" you squeak as he pulls you into the back of his SUV, setting you on his lap before telling his driver to park in a secluded area and to leave for a "smoke break".
"I wanted to say hi" Bucky shrugs innocently as if its the most obvious thing in the world.
"And this is how you decided to say hi?" You giggle, feeling butterflies bustle around your tummy being so close to him. You could smell his cologne and the warm scent of whiskey clinging onto his lips; you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself into him. The pink on his cheeks deepened at you caught him in his little act, pretending he wasn't admiring you from afar the whole time.
"I didn't know it was your birthday" He shrugs again while you try to wiggle off his lap, worried someone might see you but he huffs and holds you tighter. "The windows are tinted" he reads your mind without you saying anything, feeling your body relax slightly.
"Wish you'd said hi to me earlier" You say with a sigh and Bucky doesn't like the way you look sad now. You would've loved to spend more time with him instead of hiding away like this.
"I can drop you home" He offers with a boyish smile and you shake your head because it's far too risky and there's no way you'd be able to get away with it and sneak it past your father.
"Not unless you plan on posing as the cleaning lady-
"I can do that"
"Bucky-
"I can pull off a maids dress"
"James"
"Then how about a birthday kiss" He cocked his head to the side playfully and you swear your cheeks couldn't get any hotter.
"Bucky-
"Just one birthday kiss?" He pouts and you can't believe this mass of tattoos and muscle is giving you puppy eyes with his pink bottom lip jutting out.
"I-
"Please, sugar?" He whispers, his fingers tracing nimble little shapes on your hips while you chew your lip nervously, giving him a nod because you can no longer formulate words. He leans down to press his lips softly against yours and you sigh at the little whimper he lets out, his hands pawing at you to hold you closer. He feels all warm and fuzzy on the inside, letting his arms hug your body extra tight.
"Another?" He whispers, lips brushing against yours with a plea in his voice and you giggle, kissing him again.
"One more?"
"Bucky"
"Please?" He smiles when you kiss him until you're both breathless, only pulling away when you need air.
-
Imagine how cute he'd be trying to spend more time with you as discreetly as possible. You're usually at home so that's his best bet so he'll work with what he can.
"Why is this large fuck around my house so often" Your father rubbed his temples seeing another message for a meeting to go over shipments and territories. "Seriously, he's here almost every week"
Bucky is able to pull it off for a bit but honestly not for long. He's sitting across your father and it's gotten to the point his guards don't bother waiting by the door because Bucky isn't even a threat. He always comes and goes like it's his own house and they're not blind, silently betting over if this will end in a war or wedding.
"For fucks sake are you here to see me or my daughter" your father finally huffs, no longer able to take Bucky's blushing and shifting after you left his office to give him a coffee. "You're here to see her, aren't you"
Bucky nods like a school child who got caught cause knows he hasn't been discreet with his crush. Your father contemplates tossing Bucky into the lake with rocks tied to his ankles but he's also seen the way you look at him and there's no doubt the feelings are mutual.
"God damnit"
Imagine wedding and 2 babies later, Bucky is still just as in love with you. The cutest part is he's still trying to be sneaky.
"You're married now, why the hell are you still trying to hide" Your father berates the mob boss while bouncing his grandson in his lap seeing Bucky tug you into the kitchen so he could kiss you. "You're 6 feet tall and built like a line backer, you can't exactly hide, son"
Bucky pouts at you while you giggle hearing your father snort from the living room.
"He's right, y'know" you nuzzle into your husband while he engulphs you in his arms. You squeal when he hoists you up instead and makes a beeline towards the bedroom. You still stir something in him to this day and since your dad was there to babysit anyway...
"Bucky, where are we going"
"To go make baby #3"
#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x y/n#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky au#mob bucky#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x fanfic#bucky barnes x fluff#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky fan fic#bucky fan fiction#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes angst#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#soft bucky barnes
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˗ˏˋ NOT WHO I THOUGHT! ´ˎ˗
Lando Norris x bestfriend!reader smau
yourusername: ass so good it was the only thing the camera could focus on💗
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LandoNorris: YN, as your best friend, pls delete this all my friends will fancy you
yourusername: what’s the issue with that? i’m single pookie gotta try and find someone.
CharleLeclerc: can that someone be me?
LandoNorris: get out, Lecerc, you aren’t good enough for my yn
Username1: MY YN?? LANDO JUST ADMIT U FANCY HER
yourusername: yeah @/lando admit it baby
Username2: i love how they’re best friends but they’re ALWAYS flirting
Lilymhe: wifey 🤤
yourusername: babygirl fr ❤️🔥
AlexAlbon: um hello?? boyfriend over here?
yourusername: you could never treat her as well as i can
AlexAlbon: i’m an F1 driver wbu?
yourusername: i have England’s greatest ass
AlexAlbon: you are England’s greatest ass
yourusername: LILY HE’S ATTACKING ME
LandoNorris: i’ll save you princess, i’ll run him off the track next race🧡
yourusername: thanks baby
AlexAlbon: get a room
LandoNorris: I wish
username3: um mommy?
username4: adopt me pls
yourusername: gladly🩷
GeorgeRussell: Lando won’t stop staring at his phone send help??
LandoNorris: wtf are u on about????
GeorgeRussell: you know exactly what i’m talking about
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OscarPiastri posted on his story!
This story was deleted!
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yourusername: not quite how I imagined I would have my first pregnancy, but you are so loved already🤍
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Georgerussell: dibs on godfather
AlexAlbon: fuck right off, i already called dibs
OscarPiastri: I wanna be godfather too pls
GeorgeRussell: Oscar, you’re about as old as that unborn child. I love your enthusiasm, but there’s no way you’re getting tickets to that.
CharleLeclerc: I’ve already been told i’m godfather so screw you all.
AlexAlbon: LIES. Lily would have told me if YN had chosen a godfather
Lilymhe: DO NOT bring me into this debate - sort it out between you aka fist fight it out we would love to see that.
MaxVerstappen: Kelly told me I was going to be godfather???
KellyPiquet: all men do is lie
yourusername: true that
DanielRicciardo: we all know i’m the godfather, back off motherfuckers🔫
Username4: SHE’S PREGNANT??? BY WHO??
username5: one of the F1 drivers maybe?? she’s always flirting with them
username6: that doesn’t mean she’s pregnant by one of them, maybe she just has a private relationship with them?
username7: maybe it’s lando’s?
username6: bffr, ain’t no way they’d have a kid together lmao
username8: Lando is always the FIRST one to comment on YN’s post and he’s no where to be seen? they don’t even follow each other anymore?
username9: WHAT IS HAPPENING
francisca.cgomes: the prettiest baby mama, loved your baby shower!🩵
PierreGasly: loved being there YN, we’ll be with you every step of the way x
yourusername: even in the delivery room?
PierreGasly: we’re gonna be missing out that step, thanks.
CarlosSainz: beautiful lady (rebecca told me to comment this)
GeorgeRussell: glowing woman (Carmen told me to comment this)
MaxVerstappen: looking lovely YN (Kelly told me to comment this)
CharleLeclerc: you don’t need no shitty ass man queen 👑(Alexandra told me to comment something different but i thought this was better)
AlexAlbon: so am i still up for godfather? (Lily will kill me for not commenting what she told me to)
yourusername: you’re all simps, but i love you all, my big brothers❤️
AlexAlbon: i will take that as a yes
GeorgeRussell: if i push him off the track can I be godfather
username10: PUSH ‘HIM’ IS THE DAD A RACECAR DRIVER??
Carmenmmundt: GEORGE RUSSELL
KellyPiquet: so beautiful YN, thank you for letting us be part of your special day🩷
LandoNorris: congrats
yourusername: fuck off
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a few months later
yourusername: a few days I gave birth to my whole world, this journey has been difficult doing it by myself, but I was never truly alone with my friends with me every step of the way. Baby boy you have so many people who love you, and i’ll always be here to remind you of that no matter what🩵
view all comments
Lilymhe: i cannot believe you made so many of them godfathers, Alex was sat crying in the waiting room
AlexAlbon: I was having allergies??
Lilymhe: LIES
MaxVerstappen: the most beautiful boy, can’t wait for him to follow in his favourite godfathers footsteps and become world champion
GeorgeRussell: thank you for the compliment Max, i can’t wait for him to follow in my footsteps too😘
MaxVerstappen: I meant me wtf
KellyPiquet: you did so well Yn, a natural mama🤍
CharlesLeclerc: do i have permission to kill him yet YN❤️
Ferrari: pls don’t Charles, this would not be good for our image❤️
CharlesLeclerc: admin, you ruin all the fun
Lewishamilton: congrats yn, the most beautiful boy
yourusername: thank you sir🫡
username11: were all the drivers there at her birth wtf????
Heidiberger_: my favourite part was Daniel passing out when he accidentally saw a bit of you giving birth when the nurse came out the room
DanielRicciardo: please don’t remind me, I can never look at yn the same again
CarlosSainz: pussy
DanielRicciardo: no literally
yourusername: STOP - daniel your godfather duties have been taken away because of that comment✋🏼
DanielRicciardo: NO WHAT, PLEASE THATS ALL I HAVE TO LIVE FOR
F1: thanks Daniel, we see how it is
DanielRicciardo: NO IM SORRY, my whole life is flashing before my eyes as well as yn giving birth
F1: we will always be there for you yn, the boys, everyone, you and your son will never be alone❤️
#formula 1#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#max verstappen#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando norris#f1 smau#smau
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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]
Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍
Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.
Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.
Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.
Word count: 5.1k
💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜
Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰
“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.
Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”
“For what?”
“Maybe someone will save us.”
“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”
“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”
“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”
Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.
Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”
You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.
“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”
He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”
“You don’t want to die a virgin.”
“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”
“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”
“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”
“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”
“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”
“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”
Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”
You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”
“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”
“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.
“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”
“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”
“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”
“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”
“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”
“Two.”
“Good. Don’t use them.”
You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”
“Remember what you promised me.”
His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”
Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”
“I rarely do.”
“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”
It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.
Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”
The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.
The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.
“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs
You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed
You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave
There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”
The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.
Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”
Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”
All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.
Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”
The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.
“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”
The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”
Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”
“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.
Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”
Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”
“Get bit, you poodle.”
Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”
Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.
“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”
“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”
Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”
“Odessa, Oregon.”
He nods. “We’re going to California.”
“NorCal,�� Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”
“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.
“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.
“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”
“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.
“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”
“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.
“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”
You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.
Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.
“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”
Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”
“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”
“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.
“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”
“I’m seventeen!”
“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.
“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”
Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”
“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.
“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.
“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”
“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.
“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is truly desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”
Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”
“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.
“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”
“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”
Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”
“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.
“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.
“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.
“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”
Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”
“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”
“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”
“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”
“Who’s Criston?” you ask.
“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.
“Oh, your stepdad?”
“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”
“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.
Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”
“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.
“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”
“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”
“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”
Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”
Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”
“So racist,” you agree.
Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”
Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.
“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”
“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”
Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”
Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”
“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”
There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.
“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.
“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”
“Where is it?”
“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”
Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.
“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”
“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.
Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.
Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”
Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”
Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”
“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.
“And then I have to marry Michelle.”
“You gotta.”
“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”
“It’s the only logical answer.”
“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.
“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.
~~~~~~~~~~
Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.
You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.
What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.
Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”
“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”
“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”
“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”
“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”
“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”
“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”
It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”
“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.
“Kentucky,” you confess.
“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”
“Why would I want to go back there?”
Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.
After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”
Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.
“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”
“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.
“Aemond?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to your face?”
He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”
“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”
“I did.”
You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”
He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”
You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”
“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”
“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”
He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”
“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.
Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.
There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”
Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”
#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen
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I Can Do It With A Broken Heart
pairing: grid x reader, ex x reader
a/n: i changed the lyrics up a bit bc we don’t simp after guys, they simp after us like the queens we are
masterlist ttpd masterlist
—————————
The cameras flash as you step out of your uber, sparkly party dress and a fake smile plastered on your face. You just won at Imola so you can’t skip out on the after party.
“Lights, camera, bitch smile,” you repeat in your head as you walk into the club and make your way to the bar.
“Shots for the winner!” Lando yells, you kinda miss when he was awkward and didn’t know how to be social.
“Great idea, Norris!” you yell back, throwing the shot back. You know there will be cameras on you all night as you party, so you take up your motto. Fake it until you make it.
“Another one!” Yuki cheers. Another shot to drown out your pain.
“Kid, how are you doing?” Lewis pulls you aside, as you hear someone say that you are having the time of your life.
“I can show them lies,” you say through your smile. Your former teammate knows better, he was there when you found out anyway.
“The fucking bastard!” you throw your stuffed animal at the wall from the spot on the floor where you cry. You got a text from an unknown number, well a picture. Your boyfriend clearly in bed with another girl. You delete the text and let yourself cry.
Lewis walks into your room, immediately sitting beside you and holding you as you cry. He’s the only person besides you and the person who sent the picture that knows about that photo.
“He said he’d love me all his life,” you sobbed and Lewis rubs your back.
“He’s dead to us now,” Lewis’ words are a strange comfort, not mourning the short relationship.
“All my fans keep asking when I’m going to win again, as if I didn’t just win today,” you hide your grimace with a smile.
“They are never satisfied, they always want more,” Lewis emphasizes.
“That’s okay, it just means I get to party like it’s my birthday,” you grin, walking back to the bar.
You didn’t handle the breakup like you should’ve, instead of confronting him, you chose to ghost him, change the locks on your doors, and change your number. You were never public, so it wasn’t able to ruin your reputation.
“Ma’am, there is a guy here for you, claiming to be your boyfriend. Should I let him up?” the doorman asks, he’s new so you stop your crying session and answer.
“Boyfriend? I don’t have one, tell him I’m not home and don’t let him in again,” you say, wiping away the tears so you can get ready to go out to a party. Alcohol is your vice of choice to cope with your broken heart.
As you sift through your drawers for a top, you find one of his shirts, crucial evidence that you didn’t imagine the short relationship. After all, you could pass a test on all the sleep deprived and alcohol induced delusions you’ve had since the breakup.
You hold your breath for a second, debating what to do with it. It is a comfy shirt after all, but the fireplace looks so inviting. Lighting a match, you toss it with the shirt into the fireplace, setting the wood and shirt on fire.
The next day you step out at fancy sponsorship event, cameras flashing as you pose on the red carpet. George slides into the spot beside you, taking on his duty as teammate and older brother figure.
“Fake it till you make it,” George reminds you softly, noticing your faltering PR smile.
“I’m a tough kid, I can handle my shit,” you tell him with a smile, mostly reassuring yourself. Your stilettos are killing you already, but you have to walk in them all night so you can’t take them off.
You find yourself in conversation with the sponsor, without Toto or George.
“We hope you keep winning, win more, get more money,” the older man says with a tight smile, trying to be lighthearted but failing.
“I have been hitting that mark lately,” you reply with the same tight lipped smile. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your ex with a new girl on his arm. The same man that said he’d love you for all time. “Excuse me,” you quickly set a hand on his shoulder as a goodbye, escaping to the empty outdoor balcony.
You can feel the walls closing in as you slide to the ground, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. You barely notice when George sits beside you, rubbing your back.
“He doesn’t have a right to make you cry, or show up here,” George says quietly after a minute. He and Toto know how miserable you are, and this isn’t helping.
“He’s so obsessed with me, and I can’t keep avoiding him, it’s draining,” you wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“You just need to show him how well you are doing without him, even if to you it’s fake. But in my opinion, you are. You have been driving better, and winning on the track. You’ve helped us land three new sponsors, and the only people who know how miserable you are is Toto and I,” George starts to tangent before stopping himself.
“You know you are good when you can do it with a broken heart,” you chuckle, feeling a little better. George pats your knee before standing up.
“I’ll be inside, come in when you are ready,” he says, stepping inside. You pull out your phone and make sure you look like you haven’t been crying. With a newfound boost of confidence, thanks to George, you step in looking better than you have in a while.
“Try and come for my job,” you say to yourself with a bit of a smile.
“Ah, there she is! This is my driver, Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is a sponsorship representative from Monster,” Toto says, pulling you into the conversation. From his body language, you know he is concerned about you, but you make sure he knows you are okay. And you do, because you take home yet another grand prix that weekend, feeling better than you have all season.
#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 grid#f1 grid x reader#george russell#lewis hamilton#george russell x reader#lewis hamilton x reader
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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14
Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.
First | Masterlist
Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason)
Fandom: DP x DC Summary:
Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.
Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them.
He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them.
Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this.
Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves.
They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.
They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air.
But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence.
Jason had been terrified.
And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working.
It had nearly cost him his life.
He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together.
Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug.
Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.
Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.”
Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything.
“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.
Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.
“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him.
Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right.
Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back.
He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly.
“You have to leave Ghost to me.”
“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess.
“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.”
He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce.
“Dad, please…”
He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”
“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days.
Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight.
He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings.
Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks.
In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.
-
I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.
I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts.
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Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”
Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”
Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”
Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”
Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”
Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”
Emily: “A… dumpster?”
Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”
Emily: “V- very.”
Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”
Emily: “I’m sure it did!”
Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”
Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”
Emily: “…”
Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”
Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”
IN HELL
Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”
Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”
Vaggie: “Thanks.”
Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”
Vaggie: “Thanks.”
Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”
Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”
Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”
Vaggie: “Why.”
Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”
Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”
Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”
Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”
Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"
Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."
Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."
Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."
Angel Dust: “That's a point….”
Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”
Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”
Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”
Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”
Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”
Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”
Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”
Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”
Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”
Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”
Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)
Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)
IN HEAVEN
Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”
Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”
Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”
Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”
Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”
Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”
Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)
Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”
#hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#chaggie#emily hazbin hotel#vaggie#angel dust hazbin hotel#husk hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#niffty hazbin hotel#cherri bomb hazbin hotel#incorrect quotes#silly nonsense#charlie comes home without her suit jacket and vaggie literally faints thinking she's given to some other angel#charlie does not get why everyone is happy to hear she burnt her own jacket off on accident#while trying and failing to find her special demon-sneeze proof handkerchief#which vaggie (once conscious again) pulls out of her own blouse#bc remember babe- we figured out you kept mistaking it for part of your pocket lining? no matter which pocket we put it in???#so vaggie just started carrying one for her instead#it immediately comes in useful again#emily watches cherri's livestream of this via pentious's phone and CHEERS#while sTILL covered in the ashes and soot of charlie's former jacket#negotiations with heaven are going great#chaggie has a fanpage up there now and everything
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OOF so this is one I very roughly blocked out after reading 1081 and always meant to finish, then when I went into the file to finish it it corrupted. So it'll stay like this, transcript's under the cut and I assume it's particularly needed for this one.
[pg1]
panel 1:
Law: This life is a cruel joke! Why can't something just fucking kill me already?!
panel 2:
Luffy: Torao --
Law: Don't fucking touch me Straw Hat!!
panel 3:
Law: What would you know about loss?!
panel 4:
Zoro: Hey, watch it!
panel 5:
Law: Torao --
panel 6:
Law: I was there when your brother died!
[pg2]
panel 7:
Luffy: Torao, please.
Law: That's your body count, Strawhat!
Luffy: Just come back --
Law: People flock to you, your family returns from the dead!
Luffy: Listen to me --
panel 8:
Law: While my family sinks to the bottom of the ocean!
panel 9:
Law: Why aren't I with them?!
Luffy: Because you're meant to live, Torao!
panel 10:
Law: But I don't want to!!! I never asked to survive!!!
[pg3]
panel 11:
Law: It's cruel, Lu-ya. Cruel, and cold, and empty!
panel 12:
Law: Please don't make me keep living. I'm past this life. I'm tired. I'm tired.
Luffy: Torao
Law: I'm so tired.
panel 13:
Law: I know you want me to be alive. But can't I be selfish, Lu-ya? Can't I just rest?
Luffy: Not like this.
panel 14:
Luffy: I'm even more selfish than you. I won't grant you that peace.
Law: sob
[pg4]
panel 15:
Luffy: We're gonna get your crew back. Franky will build you a new ship.
Law: I don't want to. hic.
Luffy: I don't care.
Law: Lu-ya, let me go.
Luffy: No.
panel 16:
Luffy: Just go to sleep for now. That's rest you can have.
panel 17:
Law: You can't tell me what to do.
panel 18:
Luffy: There you go. That's the spirit.
#my art#one piece#lawlu#lulaw#law x luffy#luffy x law#trafalgar law#monkey d luffy#cw suicidal thoughts#cw sui mention#nsfo
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hi girlie! idk if yr taking requests so feel free to discard it but i was listening to agora hills by doja cat and the idea of reader being famous artist and joost being the fan just didn’t leave me alone😭🌀🩵
thank you for the request 🫶🏻 i hope you guys enjoy it <3
Stargirl Interlude ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein
Summary: you’re a famous singer meeting one of your fans
Warnings: none, just fluff and two fangirls meeting each other (maybe smut in pt. 2 bc this ends in a cliffhanger kinda), not proofread, afab!reader, no use of Y/N
WC: 1.1k
A/N: guys pls lmk if i should do a part two (i will) 💫
What you loved most about your job was seeing the happy faces of your fans whenever you came on stage. Well, it wasn’t really a job to you, it was your destiny to stand on stage and make people happy.
You loved when the crowd chanted your name, absolutely making every stage performance of yours better when they sang the lyrics. It made you proud. And it was everything you dreamed of when you were a child. Seeing people happy and being able to help them with your music somehow.
Nonetheless, every time you went on stage you were nervous. It was a feeling that accompanied you ever since you started your career.
Today you performed in a club in Amsterdam. You’ve never actually travelled to the Netherlands before so you were really excited. Not only to perform but also to explore the city, since it was your last tour stop you were doing at the moment.
Right now you were getting all set up to go on stage. You could already hear the people outside waiting for you to come out and start the show. “You’re going to kill it babes.” Your best friend, Tommy, said as he came to a stand beside you with a drink for you which you accepted with a thanks and sipped on it. “I really hope so.” Smiling you gave him the empty cup.
Tommy always travelled with you. He has been there for you since the very beginning of your career and never left your side, always calming your nerves before the shows started and you were so fucking thankful for him. “Jeez stop being so nervous! You’re a bomb you know that and now go out there and fucking show them what you got!” He cheered you on and you laughed. Giving him one last hug and taking a deep breath you ran out
“AMSTERDAM ARE YOU READY?! LETS GET THIS PARTY GOING!” You yelled and instantly felt happiness and relief flowed your body as the crowd screamed and just went completely crazy.
And so you started your show, loving the way all the people singing with you. It really filled your heart with joy. After an hour or so you were out of breath and just needed some water. Your hair was sticking to your sweaty forehead but honestly? You couldn’t be happier. Looking throughout the crowd you smiled. “Gosh we’re having some really good looking guys here tonight done we?” You grinned and the crowd screamed.
And with ‘good looking guys’ you meant one particular one that caught your eye since the beginning of the show. Of course you knew who he was. You saw him on your TikTok the whole time, liking way too many edits that popped up on your For-You-Page.
Eyes roaming the crowd again they stopped at him for a short moment but you were sure he noticed. “Never thought an Eurovision candidate would be a fan of mine.” You now grinned at the blonde, walking towards the front of the stage and kneeling down. “Joost mother fucking Klein is listening to my music guys!” You screamed and the crowd cheered again. Eyes darting to him, you saw him laugh. It would be a lie to say you didn’t listen to his music, even though you didn’t understand a word.
Walking to the back of the stage to your DJ you said something to him and soon the melody of Europapa was blasting through the speakers and you and almost the whole audience did that silly little dance and you saw Joost laughing and cheering, definitely liking it.
After the song finished you kept on going with your show, watching Joost sing along to all of your songs. Something you never thought would happen. You played your last few songs, totally forgetting the time and soon everything was over. “THANK YOU AMSTERDAM!! I LOVE YOU!” You screamed into the mic, your eyes finding the blondes again, before walking off stage.
“Jesus babes that was amazing!” Tommy practically yelled and hugged you, making you giggle. “Thanks Tommy, hey, could you get Joost backstage?” You asked in your sweetest voice possible, bashing your lashes at him and he grinned. “Uhhh.” Scoffing you hit his arm earning a huff from him. “I see what I can do.” And with that he was off.
Walking back to your dressing room you flipped down on the couch, taking a cup with whatever liquor was inside, and opened your instagram. Your DM’s and notifications were flooded with messages, pictures and videos of what just happened. People already shipped you and even had a name for the both of you. You giggled and went on TikTok, notifications blowing up on there as well. Being so concentrated on your phone you didn’t hear the knock that was coming from the door.
As you finally did notice tho you quickly yelled a “yeah?” and the door opened. Joost standing in the doorway.
Sitting up straight now you smiled widely. “Hey.” He breathed out like he couldn’t believe he’s finally meeting you. “Hi.” You smiled back and got up to hug him. “Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you.” Joost chuckled and you smiled, pulling away. “Really?” He nodded. “Been listening to your music for a while now actually.” He confessed and it made you really proud somehow. “Well thank you.” You giggled.
Both of you sat down and started to chatter away and you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing how he was smiling the whole time as he was excitedly talking to you about everything. And you got along so well. The time flew by so fast and soon it was 4 in the morning.
“I should get going.” Joost said as he looked at his phone. You just nodded. “Yeah I’m so done. Need a lot of sleep now. Long day tomorrow. I want to do some sightseeing.” You smiled, pulling your knees to your chest. “Hey uh.” Joost started and scratched the back of his head nervously. “How about I give you my number and you hit me up? I can show you around if you want.”
Your eyes lit up as you nodded. “I’d really like that you smiled as he dropped his shoulder. You didn’t even noticed how nervous he actually was to ask you that question. Handing over his phone you quickly typed your number down along with his name. He smiled as you gave it back to him. “Then good night I guess. I see you around then.”
And with that he walked out of the club, not being able to stop the smile that was forming on his face. Taking his phone out he looked at your contact and chuckled.
You saved yourself on his phone as ‘Stargirl Interlude 💫’, your stage name.
#joost klein#12 points to the netherlands#joost klein x reader#joostice#joost klein imagine#joost klein smut#justice for joost#eurovision 2024
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Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 99... You have been warned...! 👌
[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]
*Ahem...*
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! THIS CHAPTER!!!! 😱 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
S-Sorry about that folks, but uh... There is A WHOLE LOT to talk about with this chapter, so uh, let's into it shall we...?! 😵 [Aggressive Thumb SHAKING] ((👍))
So, to start things off... What happened at the end of chapter 98 was apparently just a false alarm, but it still managed to end the the graduation party after everyone ran to the bunkers... So, Henry asked Martha about what she was going to tell him, and well...:
...She decided not to tell him the truth... 🥲
After this, Martha is seen crying her eyes out at her home...!! 😭 But after receiving a letter in the mail, she has a wonderful idea to write letters to Henry while she's away...!! 🥹
The first thing she writes to him is to see her off before she departs, but because the letter contained her exact location, these assholes "lovely gentleman" had to black out almost EVERYTHING MARTHA WROTE!! 😫 Which meant...:
...Henry didn't show up... 🥲🥲
(Why Endo...? Just, WHY....?! 💔)
But even after that mishap, Martha would continue to write to Henry, and he even wrote back to her...! 🥹 But eventually...:
Aw man... This image is just... It breaks my heart, man... 😔
Soon after that, Henry started to yearn to hear from Martha once again... But then, Martha and the rest of her group got some unexpected news...:
AND THE WORST PART IS THAT THEY CAN'T ACTUALLY DECLINE TO JOIN THE FRONT LINES BECAUSE THEY WOULD BE LABELED AS DESERTERS AND KILLED!!! 😡 (SUCH FUCKING BULLSHIT!!! FUCK WAR!!! 😠😠😠)
While the girls are panicking, Martha steps up and says that she'll fight...:
...And now Herny knows about it... 😞
Y'know... This chapter already had some crazy stuff in it... But nothing, AND I MEAN NOTHING, could've prepared me for THE VERY NEXT PAGE...!!!:
MOTHERFUCKING YOUNG DONOVAN DESMOND!!! 😵😵😵
AND BOY, LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHIN'...! When I read what he said at bottom, that "Human beings are simply liars"... The first thing that came to my mind was...:
...HE HAS TO BE A FREAKING TELEPATH JUST LIKE ANYA!!! 😱
I MEAN, it's the only thing that makes sense, why else WOULD HE SAY THAT...!?!? 😵 He also could've been raised that way by his parents, BUT I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THAT ONE CHIEF!!!!
My goodness... THIS PAGE HAS GOT ME LOOKIN' AND ACTIN' LIKE THIS:
Anyway, Young Donovan continues to speak about how as long as everyone hides their true intentions from each other, war can never truly end... And I just... I can't accept that...!!
Call me a dreamer, but I believe that we as people can make a difference if we speak up & fight back against ideals like Donovan's...!! I know that there is awfulness all around us and not everyone is in it for the betterment of others... BUT THAT'S WHY WE HAVE TO FIGHT BACK; THAT'S WHY TWILIGHT, YOR, ANYA, AND OTHERS IN THIS SERIES ARE FIGHTING FOR PEACE!!! So that we all can have a better tomorrow...!!! ✊
Anyway, back to chapter... And boy, it does not get better for Henry and Martha... 😔
After Martha writes a letter a telling Henry that she wishes that she could see him, it brings him tears and the only thing that he could muster to think of saying to her is "I wish I could see you too"... 💔 Then when going to mail another letter to Martha, Henry over hears on the radio...:
THIS PAGE IS JUST SO HEARTBREAKING!!! 💔
Later at an assembly, Martha's group was brought up as valiant for giving their lives for the cause, but Henry was having none of it:
...and then, they beat him up an locked him away...!! 😠 Then Henry's dad shows up and tells him that if he keeps this up, he'll never teach in another classroom again... And of course, Henry folds... 💔 AND I THINK THAT HENRY'S DAD NEEDS TO GET PUNCHED IN THE FACE!!! 😡
Time passes, Henry has a his famous monoclonal now (most likely due to be badly injured in his eye when those bastards beat him up) and is forced to marry someone for his family... Then, it cuts to place near the East-West border and...:
Martha's still alive, obviously, but WHO TOOK HER IN AND SAVED HER!?!? 🤔
Could it be someone from the Blackbell's, someone related to Twilight, Shopkeeper or McMahon...? I DON'T KNOW...!! But, we'll have wait and find out in CHAPTER 100 BABY!!! 😆
And that was Mission 99, and it was FANTASTIC AND HEARTBREAKING ALL AT THE SAME TIME!!! 💔🥲💔 This why we LET 👏 ENDO 👏 COOK!!! 👏👏👏
But anyway, before I go....
SEASON 3 OF SPY × FAMILY WAS ANNOUNCED BABY!!! 😆
I am SOOOOOO EXCITED for this!! 😄 But when it releases, I'm not sure if I'll continue to do reviews of the episodes as they come out... Near the end of season 2, I got quite a bit burnt out from writing my anime reviews, so I never talked about the last 3 episodes of season 2... 😩 But, we'll see how I feel by the time when the anime returns...!! 😁
Okay, that's it now...!! 😄 So until the next Mission; take care, be safe out there and be kind to one another...!! BYE!!! 👋😁
#spy x family#sxf#spyxfamily#spy x family spoilers#sxf spoilers#spyxfamily spoilers#spy x family manga#sxf manga#spyxfamily manga#Mission 99#henry henderson#martha marriott#donovan desmond#A YOUNG DONOVAN DESMOND!!! 😵#WE ARE ALMOST AT CHAPTER 100 BABY!! 😆#manga spoilers#Also...#SPY X FAMILY SEASON 3!!! 👏😆👏😆👏😆
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Melodic Memories | JTK | Prologue
In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.
Masterlist
Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify
Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: breakups, feelings of sadness, crying, high school relationships, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!
welcome to the show, everyone 😁 glad to be back with another Jake fic. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long)
August, 2014
“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”
“Jake,” you whispered, your lips pressed together tightly as the corners of your mouth dipped down into a frown. Your eyes were shining under the warm yellow hue of the ceiling light, the threat of unshed tears growing more imminent with each second that passed. The walls of your childhood bedroom were familiar, but completely different all at the same time. Years worth of cherished memories flashed before your eyes as the boy stood before you amongst half-filled boxes and your torn-apart closet.
“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head so you could not speak any further.
His hair was long, moving against his skin with each turn of his head. It reached the middle of his neck now, and it would only get longer as he continued to grow it out. You couldn’t help but feel that the long hair suited him best, that it brought out the beauty of his face even more than it already did on its own. He’d been talking about it for so long that you could already picture what it would look like on him. You were sad that you would not be able to see it when his mission was complete and the ends of his hair tickled the underside of his shoulder blades.
No, you were sad that you would miss any stage of Jake’s life, devastated that there would be any version of him you were unfamiliar with.
The sweatshirt he was wearing was heartbreaking all on its own; you bought it for him months prior on your three day trip to tour the university you were now preparing to attend. There were bags under his eyes, showing his exhaustion and discomfort with the current arrangement the two of you found yourselves in. His eyes themselves were bloodshot, and worse than that, they were sad. You hated seeing anything less than joy written in his features, because he was a boy deserving of things that were only ever good.
Right now, you knew that what you were doing to him was anything but good, and it was fucking killing you.
You only ever wanted to be the reason for the smile on his face, and now you were the source of his misery; you loved him so utterly and deeply that you turned into the very thing that hurt him.
“You said you didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be, but it’s going to fucking suck no matter how we do things. I can’t let you leave without telling you—“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat as his gaze flickered to the floor. There were tears glistening in his eyes, too, but he was much more afraid to show them than you were. “I can’t let you go unless I know that you know how much you mean to me.”
“It is hard, Jake. This is the hardest thing I have ever done.” You confessed, sniffling away your sadness as you tried to cement the memory of his face in your brain forever. He was beautiful, and he always had been. His warm eyes spoke love without him ever opening his mouth, and his smile was the only thing that could brighten the darkest of days.
“The whole distance thing is stupid, and I don’t like it. We’ve been together for three years, and I can’t sit at home and act like you don’t mean anything to me.” His words were equal to a stab in the stomach.
You did not intend to hurt him when you suggested taking some time away from each other. You thought it would be easier, that it would make your departure less painful as you both came to terms with the fact you would be leaving him behind, but so far it had been nothing but horrendous. You stayed up every night, staring at the ceiling as you remembered what it felt like to lay next to him. You listened to new music, hoping it would make you feel something other than sadness, but the emotion that plagued you grew tenfold when you realized you had no one to share it with. You checked your phone constantly, hoping to see his name grace your screen, only to find that he was too good at respecting your wishes.
Jake was your boyfriend, and it had been that way for a long time, but he was so much more than just that. He was your best friend, your confidant and the very thing you knew you could lean on in times that were tougher than usual. He was your light in darkness, and he was everything you ever needed all at once. Jake was the whole world, and in that moment, he was yours. As of late, you felt more stupid than ever before, unable to forgive yourself for letting him go. He loved you through the awkwardness of growing into a teenager, and he loved you through the usual triumphs and disasters of high school. He loved you when you thought no one else could, and he did it so well that you had no idea what to expect now that he was not going to be yours anymore.
He stood before you, freshly eighteen with a new found freedom in life. You were just shy of the same age, but the freedom you found did not feel very special at all. You expected your high school graduation to be sweet, exciting and fun, but so far it brought you nothing but turmoil. You scored top of your class and had people throwing scholarships in your face. As much as you wanted to enjoy it, you couldn’t seem to find any joy in the experience. You tried to blame it on your nerves as you spent the summer preparing to drive states away to attend a university that you had only visited once, but you knew it had nothing to do with that. You were thrilled to continue your studies, to pursue something that you had spent your life dreaming about. You were excited to meet people, to grow into the person you were always meant to be.
It was not the school that made your stomach twist with nerves, but the knowledge Jake would not be coming with you. It was the knowledge that after three years, you would have to learn to live without him by your side, and worst of all, you had to digest the fact that he would move on. In due time, his heart and the love he once gave to you would be someone else’s, and he would be happy again, without ever having a second thought about you.
No matter where Jake went, you knew he would flourish, that he would find someone that would love him just as much, if not more, than you loved him.
That thought was comforting as much as it was gut wrenching. Jake deserved to be loved, but you wished you were the person who could love him the way he deserved.
What hurt just a little worse than that was the passing thought that you would never find someone who would love you the way Jake loved you.
You had done everything with him up until two weeks prior, when you pleaded with him to give you some space so you could grieve the fact your relationship would be coming to an end. You did not cut off contact completely, and in that time, you had called him almost daily and payed short visits to his house every now and again. You wanted it to make you feel better, but all it did was make the ache of missing him grow even larger despite him still being there when you needed him. You knew that when you got in your car the next morning, it would be the definite end of the two of you, but it did not mean you were happy, and you were certainly not okay with it.
If missing him while he was still beside you hurt achingly bad, you could not imagine the pain that would come as you drove away from the only thing you ever wanted to have.
The two of you discussed the topic heavily over the last few months, finding yourselves in a great debate of whether long distance would work for the two of you. Eventually, after many tears and lots of sad, sleepless nights, the two of you decided that it would be best to let the loving relationship you had created remain a memory. He didn’t want you worrying about him while you were focusing on your studies, and you didn’t want to tie him down while he tried to make his own life at home.
Although the two of you agreed on the terms, it hurt like a bitch.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to express your remorse. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”
“Just listen to what I have to say, and then you can deal with it however you want.” He tried again, still staying strong despite the pain growing larger in his heart.
“Okay.” You whispered, giving a slight nod as you stepped back and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He followed suit, stopping by your dresser to place the sparse bushel of wildflowers down as he approached you.
He took a seat beside you, extending his arm for you to take the CD. Slowly, you grabbed it from his hands, a slight shake to your fingers as they clasped around the cool, hard plastic. You looked down at the white surface through the clear cover, feeling the first tear fall from your eye. In the familiar, scribbled handwriting, a love note more romantic than any other littered the surface of the CD.
‘I can’t tell you how I feel, so I’ll let the songs say it instead. All my love, Jake ᥫ᭡’
“Wild Horses, Rolling Stones.” He started, watching your face as he spoke. “You told me when we started dating that your dad used to sing it to your mom, and you thought it was the most romantic song in the world until they got divorced. You said that you hated it, and you would never be able to listen to it again, and I could tell that you were so sad about it. So, I sang it to you. I wanted to turn it back into a good memory. I learned the chords and I used my dads old acoustic guitar, and I was fucking terrified, Y/N. It was the first song I ever played for you, and you told me that nobody had ever done anything so nice for you before.”
“‘Cause nobody ever had.” You said, the sentiment still remaining true to this day.
“Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.” He continued, knowing his time was running short. The evening was darkening into night, and he wasn’t keen on spending your last bit of time together solely talking. “We slow danced in the kitchen to that song, ‘cause I told you I didn’t know how to dance and I didn’t want to embarrass myself at prom. You let me pick the song and then you taught me how, and I think of you every time I hear it.”
The memory was as beautiful as the song was, and you felt another tear fall at the explanation. You had no idea how you were going to let him go, and no desire to do it, anyway, even if you knew it was for the best.
“I need you, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Pretty self explanatory.” He let out a small chuckle, which you joined in on. “The Air That I Breathe, The Hollies.” He jumped straight to the next track. “Listen to the words, and you’ll get it.”
“Jake, this is too much.” You took in a shaky breath, swiping tears away from your cheeks.
“No, Y/N. It’s not enough.” He corrected. “You deserve the whole world, and I wish I could give it to you.”
“You’re not making this any easier.” You forced a smile on your face, your cheeks damp with your own misery. He reached out, swiping away the tears as they fell, hoping that by some stroke of luck, he would still be yours even long after you had gone.
“It was never going to be easy, beautiful.” He finally said the words he’d been holding back the whole time. He had tried his hardest to convince you that it would be okay, hoping that in turn, he would convince himself, too. Now that he was sitting beside you, still just as sad, he knew easy was subject, and only time would heal the wounds that were created that night. “If You Gotta Go, Go Now, by Dylan.”
“Or Else You Gotta Stay All Night.” Your lips turned upwards into a small smile. It wouldn’t be from Jake had there not been at least one Dylan song on the track.
“Exactly.” He nodded. “Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers, cause I know it’s gonna be pretty dark for a while after you leave, Sunshine.”
“Don’t say that.” You said, feeling your stomach twist with remorse.
“It’s true.” He argued. “Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, ‘cause maybe it’s just the time that’s not right for us.” His voice was quiet, cracking as he forced the words out, like he was fearful to get an unwanted answer to his rhetoric. “Maybe in the future, the time will be right, and we can try again.”
“God, I hope so.” You confessed, the tears making a rapid return. The more he spoke, the more real the entire thing felt. For years, you had brushed the topic off, forcing yourself to believe that senior year and university was so far away, but now that it was staring you in the face, making it impossible to see past it, you realized the time had flew by like nothing at all. You didn’t want to leave him, because he was the only thing you ever wanted. The idea of having him again in the future made the ache ease ever so slightly, but knowing that the whole middle part would suck made the relief insignificant.
“And the last one is We’ve Got Tonight by Bob Segar, ‘cause we do, sunshine. We have one more night to love each other, and I’ll be damned if I waste it. So here I am, with eight songs and some flowers that I found in my backyard, asking you if you’ll let me love you until you leave tomorrow. It doesn’t have to hurt right now, and we don’t have to let it hurt worse than it has to.”
“Okay,” you breathed, little argument left in you. If he wanted to love you, you weren’t stupid enough to turn him away. Tomorrow, when the sun rose in the sky, illuminating the mistakes you made and highlighting your successes, you would deal with the inevitable disappointment that came along with losing him, but you didn’t have to start yet. At that moment, you still had him, and you wanted to savour the feeling of Jake Kiszka being yours for as long as you could.
“Okay?” He asked, almost shocked at your lack of rebuttal.
“Okay, Jake. We’ve got tonight, so let’s make it last.”
#gvf#jake kiszka#greta van fleet#sam kiszka#jake gvf#danny wagner#sam gvf#danny gvf#josh gvf#gvf fic#jake kiszka fic#jake kiszka series#jake kiszka blurb#jake kiszka gvf#jake kiszka angst#jake kiszka fluff#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiszka smut#gvf smut#gvf angst#gvf fluff#greta van fleet angst#greta van fleet fluff#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet fanfic#greta van fleet smut#builtbybrokenbells#melodic memories#josh kiszka
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here’s a little teaser of the au @batty4steddie and I are cooking up. let us know if you’re interested in reading more! it features omegaverse, the guys as rockstars and a lot of pining. oh yeah, and smut.
read steve’s pov first!
𓆩🖤𓆪
Another shock to Eddie’s system. Steve’s… kindness towards him. Generosity. Those words didn't go together with sex. He wanted to make Eddie come more than once? Even though he was in rut that had to be demanding he just flip Eddie over and mount him already.
It didn't make sense why he was putting Eddie’s needs before his own. It didn’t make any sense at all.
All the Alphas Eddie had ever been with had treated him the opposite. It was never good omega. It was always bad omega. Needy slut. Desperate whore. You’re just pathetic for it, aren’t you?
And sure, Eddie looked like the type who would be into that sort of thing, he’d admit. His whole persona kinda screamed I’m a brat! Put me in my place. He didn’t look like an omega who wanted to be treated nicely, and he’d never corrected anybody who’d assumed so.
But he was that kind of omega. It actually stung sometimes—okay, every time—he was called names like that. Made him feel as worthless as a broken guitar string. Not that his partners had cared. They’d never had any problem crossing the finish line, even if Eddie had gone limp.
So this, being called good? Being hot? Making Steve feel good? Being his baby…
Shit, it was like nothing Eddie had ever experienced, and it was hitting him so hard he probably could have come from the affirmations alone.
Eddie was making animal noises instead of actual words. There was a direct line from his ear to his heart to his dick. The prostate stimulation was now just a bonus. The cherry on top.
He’d never come so hard in his life, and as the pleasure center in his brain lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July, it became Eddie’s sworn duty—his eternal vow—to make sure he was Steve’s good omega forever.
Eddie could barely kiss back, uncoordinated and panting. “No more waiting,” he swore.
His last brain cell took a swan dive to its death as Steve ate Eddie’s slick from his fingers like it was a delectable treat. Steve liked Eddie’s taste. Eddie was good.
He flopped back bonelessly against the mattress as Steve maneuvered him, hair that was now mostly dry splaying out on the pillow beneath it. He watched Steve with hearts in his eyes, his post-orgasm scent overpowering the room and almost consuming Steve’s. He felt like he was floating, but also—
“Holy fuck, Stevie, you’re gonna kill me,” he said, completely breathless. Steve was eating his come. The look on his face was predatory and ravenous. Eddie’s abs clenched, and his cock gave a valiant twitch, aftershocks wracking his body before settling again as Steve finished his meal. He grinned. “And what a sweet death it’ll be.”
No way he’d rather go.
Now that the edge was off, Eddie felt relaxed and happy, though no less needy. He could make sure his Alpha was taken care of. He wanted to make Steve feel more than good. He wanted to make him feel great and fucking amazing.
Eddie spread his legs a little more in Steve’s hold and lifted his hips, presenting his dripping hole as much as the position would allow. He clenched his muscles purposefully so Steve could see it gape open and closed, smirking playfully at the reaction. “Shove that pretty cock in me. Go as hard as you want. I can really take it.”
Steve didn’t have to hold back any longer. He could let his Alpha out and let it take him over, take what it wanted. Eddie was still soft—his refractory period was a lot slower out of his heat cycle—but he had no doubt he’d get hard again before Steve popped his knot.
Honestly, probably as soon as Steve slid home.
#fic#good omega#batty4steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie#steddie fic#wip#omegaverse#tw sa implied#not by steve#omega eddie munson#alpha steve harrington#praise k!nk#sub eddie munson#spicy content#slutty saturday
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girls your age
PAIRINGS: 2024 Tom x Female reader
CONTENT: Smut, angst, Fluff
SYNOPSIS: You meet Tom and you can't help but be enchanted by him, even though he's almost twice your age.
WARNINGS: age gap (don't read if you don't like it), unprotected sex, p in v, kissing, fingering and oral (f receiving)
Tom knew you were trouble as soon as he met you, he could feel it in his gut. He must have seen trouble coming just from the way you two met.
He had just arrived at a roadside bar and decided to smoke a cigarette before going in. After a few drags he heard a small argument.
''Hey beautiful.'' The guy said approaching you. ''I'm Mike.''
''I don't want to know.'' You replied, moving away and hugging your body because of the strong wind.
The man laughed and turned his body towards yours, resting one arm against the wall. ''Wow, you're a confident girl, aren't you?''
''Can you please leave me alone?'' You looked at him as seriously as possible. ''I'm with someone, okay?''
''Well darling, you know it's not about how you arrived, it's about who you go home with'' He said licking his lips and looking at your body. ''Come on girl, let me take you home.''
You realized he wouldn't take no for an answer, which is not only absolutely horrible, but completely disgusting as well. Guys like him are the scum of the earth.
''No, thank you.'' You said, walking away with the intention of going back into the bar, but the man grabbed your arm stopping you from walking away.
''Come on beautiful, don't be afraid.'' He said smiling.
''Let go of me.'' You said trying to push him away, but his hand only tightened his grip. ''I said let go.'' You shouted hitting him who just laughed at the situation.
Tom was never the type to get into fights, especially fights that didn't involve him, but he couldn't just let it go and pretend he didn't see it.
''Hey.'' Tom threw the cigarette he was smoking on the floor, stepped on it and ran towards the two of you. He grabbed you and pulled you back, stopping right in front of the man. ''I think you'd better stay away.”
''Or what?'' The man threatened, pushing Tom and making him almost fall on you. ''Are we going to fight? And the winner will stay and fuck your whore?''
Tom bit his lip and then punched the man in the face, hitting his jaw squarely. Everything happened so fast that when you realized he was already on top of the man, knocking him to the ground and punching his face repeatedly.
''Hey stop! You're going to kill him!'' You screamed, grabbing his shoulders, Tom pushed your hand away and continued punching the man in the face. He just wouldn't stop.
You started to panic not knowing what to do. You were grateful to be saved by the stranger, but he seemed to have gone into some automatic mode, he was hitting the other man as if he didn't care what was going to happen.
This time you grabbed Tom's shoulders with all the strength you had and pulled him off the man. ''Stop it, please.'' You shook nervously.
Tom turned around and for the first time looked at you. He really looked. And despite the bold clothes and dark makeup you looked very young. Younger than would be legal to be in a bar.
“You crazy son of a bitch.” The man who was on the ground got up, grumbling, and staggered away.
"Are you okay?" You asked softly as you approached him.
Tom looked at you with slitted eyes, curious and confused by you. Nothing made sense in this situation. He doesn't even know why he got so angry and lost control.
He waved at you before asking. "Are you?"
“Thanks to you, yes.” You said happily with a huge smile as you looked at him through your eyelashes. It didn't even seem like just a few minutes ago you were panicking.
Somehow Tom let himself be convinced to go into the bar with you. You wanted to thank him for helping you, you said, and even though he wanted to refuse, you were very insistent and he was already going to the bar anyway.
That was the first mistake he made.
The place was crowded, he intended to go straight to the counter bar to have the excuse to drink something simple and make a quick exit. But all the chairs were occupied, so he had to grab one of the tables.
The chairs were so close together that he could feel your legs brushing against his as you sat in front of him.
He waved at the waiter for beer and some fries. Tom continued watching you as you talked nonstop. Having just met you, he didn't know if you naturally talks a lot or were just acting like that because you were nervous about what happened.
After a few minutes the waiter brought two bottles of beer and placed them on the table. You reached out to grab one, but he pulled it away from you.
“You don’t look old enough for that, girl.” He says simply as he opens the bottle. You watch him take a generous sip calmly, probably used to drinking stronger drinks.
“I’m actually forty-five.” You say in an attempt at a joke that fails because he just looks at you with one of his eyebrows raised as if asking 'what the fuck are you talking about?' "Okay they let me drink here because I pay more."
As he imagined, you are under twenty-one. Well, it wasn't hard to tell since you looked like you had just finished school. “Is this supposed to make things better?”
“I’ll be twenty in a few months.” You rolled your eyes and tried to get the other bottle, but he held it, stopping you.
He finished pulling the bottle out of your hand and said. “And then there will be another year before you can drink.”
“Why are you acting like my dad?” You laughed when you realized he really wouldn't let you drink because of your age. You were already used to not being told no about this. Especially here.
“If your dad acted like your dad, you wouldn’t be here.” Tom didn't want to sound rude and he shouldn't care about you, but he better than anyone knows very well what it's like to be young and want to try a lot of things at a very young age.
He can tell by the way you look at him that the comment irritated you. Maybe it's the fact that your father doesn't have much time to spend with you, as you told him. Or maybe it's the fact that you believe you are a very smart adult.
“I’m not as helpless as I seem.” Even though you were still angry, your voice is calm and your eyes watch him with curiosity. As if you want to know what he's going to answer next.
Tom felt like laughing because you look really cute saying that, with all the certainty that only someone just got out of adolescence would have.
“You’re also not as smart and cool as you think you are.” He says before picking up the bottle of beer and taking a generous swig. “We’ve only known each other for less than an hour and I already know that you always come here, that you live nearby and that your father is almost never home.”
You listen to him attentively without interrupting him. The feeling of being scolded makes you angry and you feel even more angry knowing he's right. You always talk too much when you get nervous. And he makes you nervous.
“That’s not the kind of shit you tell strangers, girl.”
You clear your throat in embarrassment when the waiter finally brings you the portion of fries. All the employees already know you and seem to keep an eye on you.
“Okay, I talked a lot about myself, tell me something about yourself.” You stretch your hands across the table and hold his hand in yours. “What does your tattoo mean?”
He was surprised by you suddenly holding his hand. It took him a few seconds to reason and understand what you had just asked.
“It’s the time I was born.” He explained as he watched your hands still holding his, his knuckles were starting to turn purple from the fight earlier. The difference in size of his hand versus yours was visible. “I have a twin brother, we both have the time we were born tattooed on our hands.”
“A twin brother? This is so cool.” You exclaimed excitedly. And Tom realizes that he won't be able to get away from you as quickly as he thought he could.
Then he told some loose things about his life. You were very interested in the fact that he had a twin brother, and it was always easy for him to talk about Bill, since sometimes he felt like he was talking about a part of him in a certain way.
Tom was prepared to say some excuse and leave. He himself didn't even understand why he wanted to get out of there so quickly, he just felt like he needed to leave. He was already getting up from his chair when you asked.
"Do you know how to play?" He looked at you, but you weren't looking at him. His eyes followed the direction you were looking and he noticed the large pool table in the middle of the room.
"Yes." Tom responded, going against every instinct that told him he should get out of there and stop paying attention to you.
You turned your attention to him again with a huge smile and big eyes watching him through your lashes. “Would you teach me, please?”
And before Tom could even respond you were grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to the pool table. “I always want to play when I come here, but I never learned.”
“Okay, but let’s just do this once.” He responded quickly as he released his hand from yours.
You watched as he gathered the colored balls together making them form a triangle in the center of the table.
“You know the rules, right?” You waved at him, paying attention to everything he was doing. “I’ll start, pay attention.”
You watched as he picked up one of the pool cue, chalked the end of it, and leaned over the table.
Tom had a look of concentration on his face and you couldn't help but smile as you looked at him. He hit the white ball, which collided with the others, undoing the triangle and scattering them across the table.
"Your turn." He said as he handed you the pool cue.
You looked at the table studying what would be the best angle to try to get it right. You always watched people playing and always saw that depending on the angle it was much easier to hit.
You leaned forward and prepared to hit the white ball but somehow, instead of it rolling on the table, it lifted and almost bounced towards the floor.
Tom laughed as he watched the scene. You looked completely confused and disappointed.
“You hit too low, you have to aim for the middle.” He explained but you looked even more confused. "Like this."
He walked over and stood behind you, positioning your arms just right and holding your hand. You held your breath for a moment, completely unprepared to deal with how good his skin felt against yours.
Tom pushed his body against yours making you lean over the table. “Now you position the tip of the pool cue in the middle of the ball and push.” He whispered against your ear before pulling away.
He recognizes the expression in your eyes. He's seen it before, in dozens of women. Interest. And intention. He's always okay with this look before. It's just been a while since he got that look from someone with less than two decades of experience. Seeing you look at him like that, he suddenly feels the weight of all his years.
After a few miserable attempts you were finally getting the hang of it, of course Tom won the game even though he tried the least.
You had no idea you would want to talk to him so much. You would always strike up a conversation with strangers at the bar and most of the time you would be ignored or they just didn't have much in common. It wasn't exactly a place where people close to your age frequented.
But Tom was different, even though he seemed suspicious he didn't ignore or mock your questions.
And the way he looked at you and gave you his cheeky smile, something that somehow made him look ten years younger… you felt your heart flutter at the sight. And it was obvious, you knew it. You were scared to admit it, surely a man his age would never pursue you, even if you were technically an adult. He certainly had no interest, especially with the way he called you 'girl'. You were a hassle, but you wanted more time with him. You knew he could probably see you were pining for him, obviously, but consciously you were sure it was a secret.
When you said goodbye, for some reason he didn't even know, Tom gave you his cell phone number, telling you to call him if you got into trouble and needed help. He knew he shouldn't have done it, but you somehow made him reckless.
Three days after that you called. It was early in the morning and he couldn't understand half of what you were saying.
“Why are you calling me, girl?” He asked, a little annoyed at having his sleep interrupted.
“I can’t get home.” You mumbled on the other end of the line, your voice slurred.
“Are you drunk? It doesn’t matter, text me the address, I’m coming.”
In less than twenty minutes Tom was parking in front of the bar. You were sitting on the floor and when you saw him you got up staggering. He tried to get to you in time, but you fell to your knees before he could catch you.
“Shit, are you okay?” He asked worriedly as he helped you up. “Why did you drink so much?”
"Cause I wanted to." You grumbled irritably, running your hand over your scraped knees. “Haven’t you ever gotten drunk?”
Tom decided not to answer, there was no point trying to reason with you drunk and angry mood. He just helped you into the car and took you home. As expected, the house was empty.
“Do you have any first aid kit?” He asked after sitting you down on the couch. You pointed to the bathroom and he left, leaving you alone.
You took off your shoes and socks and kicked them into the middle of the room. Every movement you made made you feel sick, the room was spinning your head hurt like hell. You had forgotten how bad it felt to get really drunk.
Tom returned with the small suitcase in his hands and knelt in front of you. “I know you don't want to hear this, but you shouldn't drink that much. It's not safe."
“If you know I don’t want to listen, why are you saying?” You said automatically. You weren't in the mood to listen to a lecture. He, who was checking what was inside the suitcase, stopped and looked at you with one of his eyebrows raised. "Sorry."
He put some antiseptic on a cotton ball and held your leg ready to clean the scratches on your knees. “What happened to make you drink like that?”
“My mom wants me to move in with her.” You explained as you watched him tend to your injuries. It burned from time to time but you didn't complain. “She says living with my dad made me irresponsible and immature.”
Tom chuckled and said. “Smart way to show she’s right.”
He knew very well how mothers can be a pain in the ass even when they are right.
"Sorry." He said looking away from what he was doing to look at you. “But you have to think before you act or you’ll end up in trouble.”
“I know, I was just angry.” You wanted to argue with him, but you knew he was right.
“It's normal to be angry, you just have to learn to deal with it.” He said softly. You liked him precisely because he didn't judge you. He could be a little harsh and direct at times, but he didn't mean anything wrong.
"I finished." He smiles at you, looking you with those kind eyes. He's so beautiful, you think as you lean forward and gently cup his face in your hands, forgetting everything and planting your lips on his.
Tom automatically pushes you away from him as if your touch had burned him. "Don't do that." He said seriously, standing up and moving further away from you. "This will not happen."
"Why not?" You had acted on impulse, of course, but you didn't imagine he would react like this. He pulled away from you so quickly it felt like you had some kind of contagious disease. “Do you think I’m that ugly?”
“No, I think you’re beautiful. I want to hug you and kiss you and... and I can't do that. I don't want to do that." Tom didn't know if you would understand, you certainly saw this whole situation very differently. “That wouldn’t be nice to you because I don’t love you.”
Of course you knew that, you weren't stupid. But you didn't really care about that, or at least you didn't want to care.
You didn't mean to be interested in him like that. Of course, you might have always liked the idea of a hot man who was maybe a little older and at least a head taller than you. You can't deny how appealing the idea of someone having enough experience to know how to take care of you is. Someone who would treat you the way you always wanted and deep down wanted, without being condescending or dismissive.
And maybe Tom, with his looks and muscles twice your size, cocky attitude, and sense of adventure, fits what you've been looking for in a man long before you two met.
You didn't realize he had moved closer to you again until you felt his hand gently cup your chin and make you look at him. “And don’t do that to anyone while you’re drunk, understand?”
You just nodded embarrassedly. You felt so stupid and yet he made sure not to make you feel worse. Tom continued taking care of you as if nothing had happened. He gave you water and took you to your room saying you would feel better tomorrow.
“Can you stay with me until I sleep?” You whispered, looking at him through your eyelashes. Tom nods at you and lies down next to you. You can’t help but move closer to him, snuggling into his chest as his hand strokes your hair.
✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮
Even after what happened, Tom didn't ignore you or push you away. The two of you continued texting and meeting up every now and then. He seemed genuinely concerned about you and always gave you advices. Sometimes you would go to the bar together to play pool together, he still wouldn't let you drink. Saying you could wait for that.
The fact that he was so nice and attentive to you only made you more and more interested in him. And deep down you knew he also felt something for you. That was precisely why one day while you were talking in the living room of your house you decided that you would change your relationship.
A better man would have said no, would have stopped, would have reasoned with you and told you to wait, to save it for the better man. But Tom wasn't a better man, he was selfish and human and he heard your pleas. He listened when you said. "I want you to be my first." And he listened even more to your insistence and reasoning. "You've always tried to take care of me since we met, Tom. You don't need to be here anymore, but you are, just take care of me now."
For a fleeting second, he tried to think of something that would make him stop, but every time he tried to argue you argued back. "I want to learn. It'll be like when you taught me how to play." Fuck, it wasn't the same.
He kept telling himself that he shouldn't let that happen even after he laid you down on the couch and took off your panties. And his mind went blank when you moaned his name, all soft and trembling as his fingers slid inside you. You were so tight he wasn’t sure if it would fit.
Looking up was a mistake, but so was all of this. You were looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth open in a silent moan. Suddenly, you weren't the only one groaning. Your eyes closed as he continued working, your clit throbbing and swelling on his tongue as he dragged it nice and slow. It was painfully obvious that you had never been through anything like this before, your reactions were so intense and raw.
Your soft fingers reached down and grabbed his hair. You pulled him closer, your thighs trembling and coming together around his head. His fingers moved faster, rubbing your slick walls and wanting so much to feel them wrapped around his cock. Each stroke of his tongue and fingers produced a small gasping sound as you moaned his name. There was no way he could resist, not with you moaning his name so sweetly. Without warning, you squeezed his fingers and he thought he might die right there, because if you did that to his dick, he would be ruined.
Tom was pretty sure the neighbors could hear it from the way you held your breath until you let it out in a long moan.
Going up your body was really where he should have stopped, should have backed away and walked away. But instead he nibbled and kissed your belly, sucked your nipples and rubbed sweet circles on your hips with his thumbs.
His mouth was on your left nipple, sucking and pulling with his teeth when you asked. "Can I ride you?"
Fuck yes, that was all Tom could think, any reasons why he shouldn't be there with you long forgotten. He sat down and watched you undo the button on his pants with shaking hands and he lifted his hips for you to pull them down.
“Are you sure you still want to do it?” Tom asked when he saw you looking at his cock with wide eyes.
You waved as you climbed into his lap. Your soft little hands on his shoulders. It was just sex, at least that's what he told himself when he kissed you. You jaw was cradled perfectly in his palm, your soft skin contrasting with his. He leaned back against the couch, his legs dangling over the edge. Then the only thing in his field of vision was your eyes shining with lust. This time you kissed him, one hand reaching down to rub his cock. There was no intention or experience behind it, just curious fingers rubbing and palming the head, tracing the veins and squeezing until he moaned.
Your kiss ended, lips still touching as he smiled at you. "Teaser."
You laughed and he refused to admit that it was anything more than a laugh for his own ears, for his heart. You were nervous, he could tell. He took your face in his hands and kissed you slowly, little bits of tension disappearing from you as you lined him up and slid in slowly. One of his arms slid to wrap around your waist as his lips moved to your ear, sucking the earlobe and kissing around the shell. A soft moan left your mouth as he bottomed out. It was a struggle not to move and talk. "Are you okay, girl?"
You took a deep breath, resting an arm on his shoulders and grabbing the bicep of the arm wrapped around you. After a moment, you leaned in and kissed him again and he knew you wouldn't get tired of it either. The hand on your jaw slid down and tangled in your hair, rubbing your scalp tenderly. When you started to move, he broke the kiss, cursing and gripping your hair a little tighter between his fingers. Your eyelids fluttered, your kiss-swollen lips remained slightly open as you panted and moaned. Every in and out of your tight little body made him want to go against his words at once, because you were ruining him, just like he knew you would. And somewhere between the fourth and seventh roll of your hips, he must have said it out loud, because you whimpered and nodded. "It's okay Tom, me too."
Your languid, oppressive assaults on him tore away every bit of restraint he had, every part of him that could have turned away from it. You dug your nails into his skin like claws and sped up, your eyes locked in a look that was too intimate for the first time. His hands went to your hips and yours went to his chest, both of you holding on as your bodies took control as your minds were slipping away. Something buried deep within him ignited as you clenched, so close to orgasm that your body was begging for it. The movement of your hips gyrating and circling was hypnotic and he could watch you do this forever.
You were giving it your all, just like everything you do. He knew that if he said something, if he let it be known that he wanted more, you would give him everything. Could he be so selfish?
“Fuck, Tom, I’m going to…” You pushed yourself against him, opening your mouth and digging your nails hard into his muscles. Your body tightened around him, squeezing so hard it almost hurt before giving way to the rhythmic vibration and your breathless moans. Your beautiful face was relaxed with pleasure, the rest of your body falling into him.
As he pushed you to get on top, he realized that, yes, he could be that selfish. You smiled so wide as he began to thrust, your legs positioned just above his hips. The sounds you made were more sated, small noises.
Even after cumming twice, you still moved with him, rubbing his skin and feeling his muscles. The power he had over you was so evident here, when you were stripped of all pretense and clothing. He kissed you, another slow kiss that got hotter when you sucked his tongue. The heat that had begun to build up at the base of his spine was spreading quickly. He broke the kiss to breathe, not expecting to hear your voice slipping through the air. "Tom, come for me."
Fuck if that didn't make him lose his mind, slamming into you and doing exactly what you asked, spilling inside of you. Tom wrapped his arm around your waist and turned you around, making you rest on his chest. He could feel you smiling against his chest as he stroked your hair.
Tom knew this wouldn't last, at some point the age difference between you two would be a problem, but he was willing to try for as long as it took.
#tom kaulitz#tokio hotel#tokio hotel smut#tom kaulitz x reader#bill kaulitz#georg listing#gustav schäfer#bill kaulitz smut#bill kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz smut
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what are your thoughts on a sub sending their dom their panties?
im long distance with my bf rn and i asked if hed enjoy it and he said "idk" and now im overthinking everything
[My thoughts? Idk.]
"Do you have them there?"
"Yeah, they're right... here. Cute polka dots, babe."
"STOP IT. I didn't tell you to show me them, you asshole."
"Aww, but they're just so cute. I couldn't resist them. And... fuck, they smell amazing. Fuck..."
"Fuck, that's so pervy. You can't do that. Especially not in front of me or I'll die of embarrassment."
"Really? You're fine with me jerking my cock off for you with your panties but you don't like it when I give them a little whiff?"
"I'm going to fucking kill you."
"No you won't. You'll sit there and watch me jerk my cock off to your pretty little panties like a good girl."
"Wh-what? Already...?"
"Sit down and spread your legs, princess. You're such a fucking perv for sending me your panties."
"I thought you'd like it!"
"Aww, you did? You thought it would make my cock hard? Stroking my cock up and down with your dirty panties? Did it make your cunt twitch packing it up for me?"
"A little bit... I just... Fuck, you're so hot. Show me how you jerk your cock. Do you like knowing I wore those panties? That you smelled my pussy? You're stroking yourself on my pussy right now."
"God, I really fucking am. I love it so much. Shit, it feels so fucking good. I bet your cunt feels so much better. I'm going to fucking cum. Watch me cum baby. Watch me cum in your panties."
"Fuckkk, god, it's so hot. I love it. I want to lick your jizz off those panties. Milk out more cum for me, Sir. I'll lick up every fucking drop."
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Call me Daddy (Valentino x doll!reader)
Word count: 2926
CW: Mind control, Valentino being Valentino, dub/noncon, creampie, cockwarming, Au Typical Events, objectification, humiliation, degradation, let me know if I missed anything!
"Daddy has to go to work, understand?” Valentino asked me, snapping his fingers in my face.
“Y-yes, sir!” I stammered, snapping out of… whatever I was thinking about. I couldn’t quite remember.
“I told you once, I’ve told you a million times: don’t call me sir,” he sighed and shook his head, exasperated. “Be a doll and call me Daddy instead, okay?”
A sort of fog seemed to creep into my mind and I froze for a moment before gathering myself. “Okay,” I said softly, a little dazed.
“Good. I’m going to leave now, be sure you’re a good little toy while I’m gone,” he said, walking past me.
“Wait, Daddy!” I said, grabbing his wrist. I froze. What was I doing? Fuck, the word had just slipped out- I was just going to call him sir again, out of habit and then… what was happening to me?
“Yes? What is it?” He asked impatiently- at least, he was acting impatient. I could see the flicker of delight that had crossed his face, and the curiosity he regarded me with. It’d taken a while to be able to read his emotions properly, but it paid off at times like this.
“I…” I hesitated, fidgeting with my free hand a little. I looked at the floor and gently tugged on his sleeve. “I don’t want you to go. Vox is gone and Velvette busy and… and I don’t wanna be left alone.”
“Oh? What exactly are you suggesting?”
“Can I…” god, I had never asked this before. I hated everything to do with him, I hated talking to him, I hated helping him with work, I hated listening to his stories, I hated him! I hated him. And yet… “can I please come to work with you?”
“Hm? What’s that? I didn’t quite catch what you were saying, doll face,” he said, bending down and looking smug. “Could you repeat that for me?”
“I… want to go to work with you, Daddy,” I said. Fuck. I bit my lip, internally cursing myself. There it was again! I kept calling him daddy and I had no idea why.
“Why of course! All you had to do was ask,” he said with a smile. He pulled me close and linked his arm in mine, forcing me to come with him. I struggled to keep up. “I’m glad you’re finally getting comfortable around here, Doll. I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone!”
“Oh! Um… can we… can we not do that?” I asked tentatively. “Please?” I seemed to shrink into him.
“Aw, is our little dolly shy?” He cooed, glancing down at me. He took a drag of his cigarette and led me into the limo. For once, it was just the two of us. “Look, doll, if you’re going to be hanging out with me theres a few things you gotta know.”
“I-”
“Shhh! Daddy’s speaking,” he said, pressing a finger to my lips. I suppressed the urge to bite it off. “First off! No speaking without my permission. I’m going to busy directing, I don’t need you interrupting me or causing problems. Secondly, you’ll need to stay by side at all times. Vox would kill me if I let his favorite toy get lost or hurt. Third? You’ll have to pay me for my time.”
“I have to pay you… for letting me come to work with you?” I asked, giving him a look.
“Of course. My time is valuable, sweetheart. What, did you not hear me the first time? Is that dumb little doll brain of yours struggling to comprehend it?”
“No, Daddy, I understand,” I said quickly. “How should I…? I mean, I don’t get paid by Vox or anything…”
“Oh, don’t worry about that! I had something a little different in mind,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Now, you’ll have two options-”
“Wait wait wait,” I said, cutting him off. “You’re going to make me have sex with you as payment for going with you to your job? That’s not fair! I don’t- I don’t want that!”
“Well that’s too fucking bad, doll. We’re already on our way over, you should’ve thought about that before you asked to come along,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “You know, doll, I’m not appreciating all the disrespect I’m getting from you here. Be a doll and drop the attitude.”
“I…” I said quietly, slumping a little in my seat. My eyes glazed over and I seemed to space out for a moment before slowly speaking again. “Okay, daddy…”
“Fuck,” Valentino muttered, sitting up a little straighter. “Shit, I forgot how… oh god, you really do look like a doll when you’re like this.” He placed his hand under my chin and tilted my head from side to side. I didn’t react in any way.
“Fuck, just seeing you like this is making me hard.” He chuckled to himself and brought me into his lap, blowing his smoke directly in my face. He unbuttoned my pants and pressed his thumb against my clit, then spoke in my ear, his breath hit on my neck. “Be a doll for papí, would you? Be a good girl for me for the next few hours.”
He snapped his fingers and I sort of jerked awake. “Hm?” I asked, a little disoriented. Before I could do anything else, I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me. "Mmmn..." I moaned a little, before I could stop myself. I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“There we go,” he said with a grin, sounding pleased with himself. “That trigger phrase works like a charm, I swear! I might just prefer you as a doll… How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
"Daddy..." | groaned, leaning against him. I was still sitting in his lap, and I was starting to grind against him without realizing. My pussy was already wet with precum. “Doll… Mmmn… Daddy, what’s a trigger phrase?" I couldn't quite process it, especially not when he had me all dumbed down.
"Don’t worry about it, doll," He blew another cloud of smoke at me and I breathed it in without question or hesitation. He smiled, enjoying the way my body reacted. He couldn't help but reach down and slide his hand between my legs again, feeling just how wet I was already. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
"Daddy..." I moaned and pressed myself against him, desperate for friction. "Daddy, daddy please..."
"Good girl. Always so needy and eager for daddy." He chuckled and started to rock his hips back and forth, grinding my clit against his cock through his pants.
"Ahhh... mmngh..." I groaned at the praise- and the pressure on my clit? fuck, it was nearly enough to make me cum. "Mmmn..."
"You like that, don't you my little slut?" He pulled me closer, grinding harder against my clit as he spoke. "I can tell just how much you want it." He reached up with his free hand and brushed my hair aside, leaning over and biting my neck gently.
"Daddy!" I whined, squirming a little then- "Mmgh..." my eyes rolled back as I moaned and cummed for him.
"That's it, cum for daddy. You always cum so easy for me." He growled and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as my orgasm rocked through me. "You're such a good girl, letting daddy use you like this."
“Mmmnngh…” I groaned as the limo came to a short halt at a stoplight, heat filling my cheeks.
“Now, I still have to go to work, and you still have to pay me for letting you come along. Since you like to be used so much… you have two options,” he paused for a moment to make sure I was paying attention. “Would you like me to use some toys, or do you wanna sit in Daddy's lap with his dick in you the whole time, warming it up like a good doll?"
I looked up at him with dazed, pleading expression, panting heavily as I caught my breath. "D-daddy's dick," I managed to say, my voice a little hoarse. I almost couldn’t believe what was happening- fuck, what was happening? It was hard to think, god… I wanted to feel his dick inside of me, filling me up completely. I didn’t even know why.
"Good choice!" he said with a grin, seemingly pleased with my answer. "Okay baby, here’s a little reminder for you. This is the last time I’m saying it, so make sure you remember. Daddy doesn’t like to repeat himself. You're gonna sit in my lap with my cock inside you the whole time, warming it up for me, okay? Think you can do that?"
"Yes, daddy," I said, nodding my head eagerly. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he drew me in closer, nuzzling against his shoulder and chest fluff. "I'll be a good girl and warm up daddy's cock for him," I said, not fully processing what that meant at all.
"Aww, such a good slut for daddy," He cooed, playing with my hair. "Now, we're gonna be sitting like that for hours, okay? My dick is gonna be in your ass the whole time, no breaks. Are you gonna cum for daddy? Are you gonna be a good doll and cum in front of everyone at work for me?"
My face turned red at his words, but I couldn't help the small moan that escaped my lips. I wanted to resist, but every time he called me a slut, i couldn't help but get wetter. I looked up at him and nodded, 90% sure that if I tried to speak it’d come out as an incoherent squeak.
"Perfect. See, this is why you're daddy's favorite whore," he said with a grin, pinching his cheeks playfully. "Are you okay with having your cunt out to everyone at work for me? Or do you wanna have something like a skirt to help cover you up while you cum for daddy like a good slut?"
I tensed and made a small whimpering sound at his words, my pussy throbbing at the thought of being exposed to everyone at work. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. "I-I'll do whatever you want, daddy... I just want to make you happy..." I fidgeted with my hands a little, knowing full well that Vox likely wouldn’t approve. Not that I had a choice either way.
"Aw, how sweet. Such a good doll," he said sweetly. He thought about it for a moment- Voxteks CEO’s little toy, Vox’s little doll, sitting there in his lap at work. Fuck, the mere thought was getting him hard. He groaned and shook his head-Vox would kill him later, for fucking with his reputation, especially if it came to me.
"Okay baby, you can wear a skirt for daddy." Val sighed and pulled an extra out from a compartment in the limo- this was the one he drove his workers (and whatever poor souls that caught his eye at a club) around in, so there were plenty of clean spare clothes. He gave me the skirt, which was hot pink, one of Angel Dusts. "Put that on for me- and hurry up, we'll be there soon."
I took the skirt gratefully, blushing at the color. I quickly stripped out of my cum soaked pants, giving Val a peek of my ass before sliding on the skirt. I adjusted it awkwardly before sitting back down in his lap, looking up at him with wide eyes, then looking away, fidgeting nervously. "Is...”
"Is what, baby? come on, how many times do I have to tell you to use your words for papi?" He asked, hitching up my skirt and teasing my clit. "Spit it out, what did you want to say?"
"Is this... acceptable, daddy?" I gasped, leaning back against him as he teased me, my cunt already throbbing again. I bit my lip and squirmed on his lap, trying not to moan too loud. I was always so needy, especially when he touched me.
"Of course, l'm the one who chose it! Come on now," he said, taking my hand. He led me into his porn studio with a grin. "Daddy has to get to work."
I followed him sheepishly into the porn studio, looking around nervously at the cameras and equipment. I was always so shy in public, but when it came to him, I was insatiable. "Daddy..."
"Yes, baby?" He asked, finally taking his seat in the directors chair. He tilted my chin up so I'd look at him properly. "Is there a problem?"
"No, daddy." I said meekly, shaking my head. "I just... I don't really know what to do, and there are so many people watching..." I leaned into his touch, looking up at him, uncertain and a little… well, scared.
"Don't worry about that, just sit in daddy's lap and look pretty," Valentino said, motioning me over.
"Okay, daddy." I said obediently, sitting down in his lap- thankfully facing away from the camera. I looked a little nervous, but I relaxed against his chest, letting out a sigh. "Like this, daddy?" I asked, turning my head to look up at him.
"Not quite..." he said with a grin. He hitched up my skirt and slid his dick into me easily. "Like this. Isn't this better? How do you feel, doll?"
"A-ah... y-yes, daddy." I said, gasping as he entered me. I shifted my hips a little, trying to get comfortable. "I-it feels... good, daddy..." I moaned softly, leaning my head back against his shoulder. And getting caught in his chest fluff again. It was so soft, I hardly minded.
"Good girl," he purred. He let me get comfortable and gestured for the actors to get to work. He shouted directions at them for a little bit, then turned his attention back to me. "How are you doing? Is daddy's favorite slut feeling good?"
I was squirming slightly in his lap, clearly turned on by the scene he was filming. "I-I'm doing good, daddy." I said breathlessly. "I-l love how it feels when you fill me up like this."
"Think you can hold up for eight hours like this?" He asked, rocking his hips against mine slightly. a small movement, a small rhythm, but one he’d maintain for the entirety of the rest of his shift.
I moaned again as he continued to move against me. "I-I'll do my best, daddy." I said, a little shiver going through me. I was starting to get tired already, though, and wasn't sure if I could last eight hours like this.
"Mhm... I'm sure you will." another few minutes was all it took. He looked over at me, the expression on my face, and leaned down a little to whisper in my ear. "It's okay baby, you can cum for daddy."
I moaned even louder as he whispered in my ear, and a few moments later I cried out his name as I came, unable to hold back any longer. I slumped against him as the waves of pleasure passed through me, breathing heavily. "Thank you, daddy." I whispered softly.
"Don't mind her," Val said to his actors, with a small laugh. They hadn’t even been paying attention to us at all before he said that. "My little fuck toy here just gets a bit excited sometimes." Without warning, he pulled up my skirt for a moment to reveal my cum everywhere. It was only for a second, then he let it drop, but that was all it took for everyone to start laughing and murmuring among themselves. He kept rocking his hips against me, but only slightly now. It'd still be more than enough.
I blushed deeply as he made fun of me with the other actors, acting like it was only lighthearted banter. I wished I could go curl up in a corner and cry, but somehow I also couldn't help but moan softly as he kept rocking his hips against me, my hands gripping his waist as I tried to hold back from cumming again. "I... I'm sorry, daddy." I gasped out, my hips bucking slightly against his.
"It's okay baby, you can cum again," he purred, petting my head gently. "Cum as much as you need for daddy, okay? We'll be here like this all day long."
My eyes widened slightly at his words, and I couldn't hold back anymore. With a loud moan, I came again, my body shaking as I emptied myself for him. I panted heavily, hanging onto him as I tried to catch my breath. "I... Mmn… daddy… please…”
"Come on baby, I know you've got some more in you," he said. Hours and hours passed like this, me cumming almost nonstop. I was a whimpering drooling mess halfway through his shift.
"Who's daddy's favorite whore?" He asked softly, knowing I was too fucked out and blissed out to even comprehend anything- much less think for myself.
“I-I…” I whimpered softly at his words, my body still twitching with aftershocks of pleasure. I was completely spent, my mind a haze of bliss and exhaustion. I couldn't even think straight, let alone form a coherent thought or response. “Daddy…” I whined lightly.
“Be a doll and cum for me again,” he said with a grin.
Tears pricked my eyes as another orgasm rocked through me. I moaned softly and slumped against him again, utterly helpless.
(R.I.P. Angel Dusts skirt lmao)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin valentino#valentino hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel valentino#valentino x reader#valentino x y/n#valentino x you#overlord of lust#moth pimp bitch#moth pimp#i hate valentino#I can’t write him omfg 😭😭😭#I’m trying I swear#be a doll#Valentino x doll!reader#doll!reader
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Just thinking thoughts about Orin and Drow lore, and idk if this has been asked already, but
If Orin had just disappeared for like a year, not even Sceleritas could find her, with how obsessive pre-tadpole Drow was how would he handle that?
Aside from being prideful and murdery, I don’t remember in the pre-tadpole Drow lore about any instance (after he made it to the temple) of him expressing anything else.
Did the two ever have a wholesome moment?
Hmmmm not wholesome, no. I'm sorry to disappoint people who might wanted to see a more explicitly vulnerable side to both of them at that stage in their lives, but that's just not... How I envision things. I don't think anyone born into the temple would have had much room to express themselves in the way average people do.
What they did have was an undeniable connection and mutual understanding. This lasted for about 7 years, so between ages 18-25 for DU drow. (Canonically he's currently 28, give or take). I think that, sometimes, they also silently understood among themselves that things weren't always fair or good.
This might sound like a whole load of nothing to some people, but based on the culture within the cult, Orin's story, and the behavior of everyone involved in it, it seems huge to me that two people who were essentially groomed to be the embodiment of murder would harbor any kind of care for one another, even if it was subtle. The fact that they could share a bed, talk shit about Sarevok, and seamlessly work together and share in the glory of their deeds as equals is what intimacy looked like for them - before DU drow's ego (and the very need of a more explicitly intimate connection with someone, to be fair) got to his head.
They killed together, they rolled around in blood together, they bickered and fought and one time Orin stabbed him in the gut and DU drow punched her jaw out of it's socket. Then they flopped down on the ground and cackled about it while Sceleritas rushed in to stop the bleeding. Is that wholesome? I think for deified bhaalspawn who know nothing but that life it's the closest it gets.
There had to have been quiet moments I'm sure. Like Orin waiting around while DU drow got ready to go somewhere, him adjusting her headpiece, Orin slicing her brother's long hair off when he first arrived and looked like some sort of sinewy wood's creature. At night, they probably laid in bed in silence and sometimes stared at each other until either fell asleep.
I am very interested in not inventing an obscured, soft side to Orin that we didn't get to see, you know? While she wasn't always the level of manic we see in-game, she was completely unfit to function normally due to her upbringing, and this reflects in her relationships. DU drow is also undeniably emotionally stunted, just in a slightly different way.
I got off rambling to no one's surprise LOL but to answer the first part of your question - I don't think he would have been quite as dramatic about Orin just up and vanishing, as there's no explicit suggestion of death in that. He would have been insufferable to be around for a while, but in that scenario I could see his duties keeping him busy.
Not to mention that, while through death, she would be leaving him unwillingly - disappearing with no trace implies the uncomfortable possibility that she truly, honestly, just didn't want to be around him. That allows room for contempt and bitterness to fester until you wrongly convince yourself there was never any love there at all, even if just to soothe your own conscience.
He would have just become a much, much worse person that way in the sense that he would have nothing to focus on besides for his lord's will - as horrific as his attitude towards Orin was, it is very much a human feature to desperately cling to connection. With Orin around, he had a little bit of fucked up tenderness and love in him - it was a personal desire completely separate from his "job", a vestige of free-will. Without her, he just has Bhaal and whatever Bhaal wants.
Orin has always unwittingly anchored him, and then, later freed him. And he never ever deserved any of it.
🤷
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I’ve Been Waiting
w/: ethan landry
request: hi!!!! could you write a ethan landry x reader smut but like they’re enemies and having a very heated argument about something when he just wants to shut reader up and kisses her roughly after saying something like “god, just shut the fuck up already” or idk and they end up hate-fucking😭 really want the dom!ethan x sub!reader trope like with degrading and maybe some praising too🙏🏻😭 also tbh i really really like your writing you’re amazing
summary: sam sent ethan to your place to get her jacket she left. you hate ethan, but he doesn’t wanna hear it.
a/n: hey my love, ofc i will write this for you!! you’re so sweet.
warnings: smut, cussing, degrading, arguing & let me know if i missed something!!
“listen you fucker!!” you yell at ethan.
“who the hell you think you’re talking to y/n? you’re the one who started this whole thing in the first place.” if looks could kill, ethan would’ve been dead.
“ethan shut the fuck up. i said something to you first because you kept looking at me weird ever since you got here.” which was true, he did keep giving you looks ever since he came over. you had no idea why sam sent ethan over here to get her jacket. but there’s nothing you can do about it now.
you saw ethan roll his eyes like he always does before he spoke again. ��oh my god you’re so damn dramatic. like jesus do you ever just sit and think about anything before you go off?” you would be damned if you sat here and let ethan talk to you like that.
even tho you were seated as soon, as he said that you stood back up. “what the fuck is wrong with you, huh?! you’ve never liked me in the first place so i have a right to question the way you act towards me. you’re the damn prob-“ before you could finish your sentence you were cut off my ethan smashing his lips into yours.
you were in shock, so you barley kissed back at first. ethan then pulled back.
“just shut the fuck up already.”
you didn’t have time for a reaction before ethan said something again. “i know what you want.” he said to you. even tho his kiss was nice, your anger still showed. so you put your hand on each of his shoulders to push him back away from you.
“don’t act like you didn’t want me to do that.” you only started at him in response. maybe he was right, but you’d never tell him that.
he then pulled you to your bedroom.
“you’re so pretty y/n.” he whispered to you as his fingers glazed over your delicate skin. you had no idea why you waited this late for him, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything right now.
“stop fucking taking.” you mumbled back. you softly moaned as he kissed up your neck. “you’ve been waiting for me to fuck you, huh?”
your no response gave it all away. as much as you’ll deny your love for him, it was clear as day that you had some type of feelings for ethan. his voice and nerdy personality eyes drew you in the first time y’all spoke to each other. but your hate for him still showed.
his hands then went to the him of your pants. he started to tease and play with you.
“ethan, stop playing around and fuck me already.”
he smirked at you.
“be patient slut.” he spoke. you would be lying if you said his voice wasn’t making you more wet then you were already were.
you wanted to beg him please but stopped yourself before the words slipped out.
he looked at you with lust filled eyes as his hands pulled your panties to the side. god, he was beautiful. gorgeous eyes and lips. you wanted to reach up and kiss him, but didn’t.
his index finger started rubbing your clit in slow circles, gathering your wetness. you were slowly getting fed up and he noticed. smiling at you, ethan started going faster and adding another finger.
“is this what you wanted baby?” he asked you. you almost whined at his words, but before you could say anything you felt two of his fingers slide inside of you. your eyes closed as your head went back into the pillows below you.
“mm.” you moan slightly as his thick fingers slide in and out of you. it felt so good you couldn’t help but ask him to go faster, which he did.
“ethan, i’m gonna cum don’t stop.” you tell him. just as your about to orgasm he pulls out.
“ethan why did you stop?” you were angry, but not so much.
“i couldn’t waste a beautiful orgasm on my fingers. i need to feel you cum around me princess.” him saying that made your face feel hot, as you felt your pussy clench around nothing.
“whatever.”
not even 5 minutes later ethan is sliding inside of you. his hands on your hips as he stretches you out. you take a deep breath as he looks at you before looking between y’all’s bodies.
“fuck look at that pretty pussy taking me in.” you slightly smirk at his comment before his hand trails up to your throat, lightly squeezing. before you could say anything, his starts speeding up inside of you, causing you to moan loudly.
“fuck ethan! mm.” his face moves next to your ear as he whispers to you.
“how long have you been waiting for be to do this? you’re so wet.” he grunts in your ear before going deeper inside you. he felt so fucking good inside of you, skin on skin could be heard all around the room. you couldn’t help but moan his name once more as another orgasm started approaching.
you and ethan were both moaning and close to cumming. “can i…cum inside you baby? please.” he almost whines out at you.
“yes, please ethan.” not even a second later you feel him groan one last time as his hot cum fills you up. you clench around him one last time before you cum over him. his fingers rub your clit, helping you with a better orgasm.
your legs are shaking, and your struggling to catch your breath. ethan looks at you again, but you didn’t notice since your eyes were closed. his weren’t filled with lust, but with something else, love.
heyy!! i hoped you enjoyed!
masterlist!
#slashers#slashers x reader#ethan landry#slashers x y/n#ghostface x reader#ethan landry x reader#ghostface#ghostface x y/n#ghostface x you
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