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doormatty3 · 7 months

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Dirty Little Nun (Patrick Wilson x Reader)

Masterlist AO3

Summary:

[Patrick Wilson x Female Reader] [Patrick Wilson x You] Interviewing people is your job, you’ve done it for years now - and successfully so, if you may add. What’s not part of your job description, however, is dressing up to conduct said interviews. So when you find yourself wearing a nun costume and enough makeup on your face that no one will recognize you, you are beyond pissed. But the demonic facade may have been a blessing in disguise when you meet Patrick Wilson who keeps flirting shamelessly with you when you are supposed to be asking him questions. All your professionalism is cast aside as soon as he calls you a “dirty little nun” and when he’s leaning against the doorframe of your dressing room after you’ve wrapped up the interview you know that you'll not be leaving the studio anytime soon. OR: Patrick gets on his knees and makes you worship a different type of god.

Wordcount: 11,068

Warnings: 18+, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, masturbation, semi-public sex, breeding, desk sex, blasphemy, improper use of religious symbols, dirty thoughts

A/N: This is based on that Valak interview.

You know that this is probably a stupid idea, dressing up in a The Nun costume for the Conjuring 2 interview you were hosting.

When you said it jokingly in a meeting the production team was all for it, praising you for the good idea that would surely increase the views of the video when it was uploaded on YouTube and entertain your guests. Their support of your stupid idea had caught you completely off guard but you were stuck with it now. At least, they had the decency to buy you a proper costume and facepaint. You would have put up a fight if they had forced you to spend your own hard-earned money on that.

So now you are stuck in your dressing room, painting your face with the makeup you were given. You had put on the costume beforehand, to avoid any smudging of the makeup that would have happened when you would have eventually pulled it over your head.

Fuck , you actually wanted to conduct these interviews when you first heard of it. The guests, James Wan and Patrick Wilson are people you find interesting workwise. It would have been fun to chat with them and get some insights on the movie. Maybe secure a photo.

Guess that’s not happening now.

You sigh, blowing the air out of your lungs as you paint the depth of your eyesockets black.

“10 minutes!” The loud voice of your production manager outside of your dressing room and his knocking on the door pulls you out of your thoughts.

10 minutes until you had to be outside.

10 minutes until you had to face your coworkers and your interview guests.

10 minutes until you were going to make a fool of yourself.

You look into the mirror and staring back at you is the nun: The white face paint with the black accents around your eyes and mouth is spot on, while the yellow contact lenses make your eyes look demonic. You had actually done a good job.

I still look ridiculous… but at least they will not be able to recognize me outside, you think to yourself.

With a groan, you grab the upside-down cross necklace and the headpiece and put both on, making sure that it covers your up-done hair.

A last look in the mirror confirms that you are good to go and you make your way to the door, ready to face your first guest of today - James Wan, the movie’s director.

—---------------------------

“You’re terrifying! Dear lord”, James screams out upon first seeing you step into view in the interview booth.

The small man shies away from your hand that is stretched out in an attempt to greet him. You would be lying if you claimed that you weren't pleased with that reaction - you are absolutely delighted. He didn't laugh at you as you had feared at first but is rather genuinely caught off guard and finds it scary.

You smooth out your costume before taking a seat opposite of him. He is still eyeing you warily, taking in your form - you have made a lasting impression so far.

Well, that is a surprise. Let’s see how far we can take this.

You feel rather proud and decide then that you would definitely continue playing that role and try to scare him.

“Hello, nice to meet you”, you officially greet him while speaking with a lower voice than you normally would, the grin permanently etched on your face. You are trying to make it sound a bit demonic to play into the role you are currently portraying.

“Nice to meet you as well”, James sits back again looking skeptically at you, “I think…”

You nod, you are still making him uncomfortable and you like it. Against what you had originally believed this is fun.

“How are you doing?”

“I am okay… Madam, mister…mister madam”, he is flustered and shy, unsure of what to call you. You haven't given him a name and seeing his reaction you decide that this will stay this way. So you just laugh, making him gulp.

“I am having a hard time looking at you and giving a straight answer”, he confesses.

Well, the interview will certainly be fun if you are able to throw him off that badly. It is ironic, you think, that the guy who directs spine-chilling horror movies is such a scaredy cat.

You vow to use that to your advantage and prepare yourself to really kick off the interview now and ask proper questions. While further leaning into your role.

Your conversation is over in what feels like minutes, you are becoming more comfortable with your role as the nun and are enjoying it immensely. You were able to fluster him throughout the interview, utilizing his fear against him.

But apart from that he was a pleasant interview guest, happy to answer questions if you didn't throw him off his game while having genuine fun talking about his work. He made talking to him easy.

“Thank you very much, it was awesome”, you say to him beaming in your normal voice again as you get up. Your work here is done.

“No thank you! And take care”, James replies, more at ease now that the interview is over and you don't try to intimidate him anymore.

With a wave you leave the room, making your way down the corridor towards the bathroom.

That went unexpectedly well.

Against your initial fear and hesitation, this whole nun costume thing seems to pay off. At least it is different from what people normally encounter in interviews.

You have a good few minutes between talks and you want to check on your costume to see if everything is still in place. After stepping into the small room you go straight to the toilet and after finishing up you look yourself over in the mirror - yellow eyes and white face with black details.

Everything is still fine and nun-like looking. So you just wash your hands and leave the bathroom again in a hurry to return to the interview booth.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You hear laughter when you enter the room.

Patrick Wilson is already sitting in the chair with his back towards you, talking adamantly with the crew in the room.

That gives you the chance to look him over quickly: He has short, thick brown hair with the sides shorter than the top of his head. An olive green bomber jacket accentuates his broad physique with strong shoulders and big arms. He is nice to look at from behind you are sure that he looks even better from the front.

You nod at your coworker. It is the signal that you want to start the interview and get the camera officially rolling and the sound captured. After your talk with James, you want to have the first interaction filmed.

The change in atmosphere and sudden movement in the room sets off Patrick, who seems to not have noticed anyone entering. He leans forward a bit, in an attempt to get a better angle to look behind him to see who had just entered the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen please welcome to the room…”, he starts speaking with a teasing, announcer-like tone of voice. The only thing missing to complete the picture is a drumroll.

You are walking over to your chair to sit down but you stop in the middle room as he looks at you.

“Oh wow. This is an entrance. You stole my outfit.” He is joking and kidding in a light-hearted tone, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

You are full of confidence after your successful interview with James and you will not let him take that from you. Even if he had already caught you off guard and seized control of the interview and you weren't even talking 5 minutes. You know that you need to do something, this is your interview after all.

You are determined to scare him too, make him lose his composure. Set on your mission, you finally take the last few steps toward your chair that’s opposite him.

When you move past him, you catch a whiff of his scent. Crisp, invigorating notes of something fresh and woody surround you. It was fucking intoxicating.

As you sit down you see him clearly from the front for the first time.

His blue eyes, pierce into yours, holding eye contact as you take him in. You notice that he has a fairly straight nose, nice lips, and a subtle beard. He has sideburns which is something that you don’t like under normal circumstances. But dear god, even those are hot on him. Under his bomber jacket, he is wearing a white t-shirt that is just the right amount of tight on his broad frame.

He is the complete opposite of James, who is small, scrawny, and more scared than confident.

You swallow and clear your throat subtly, keen on regaining your confidence.

“Mister Warren. Edward Warren...”, you start, trying to somehow get your interview back under control. And as you set to continue speaking he interrupts you.

“Yes, lovely to see you. You've got a little something right there..”

Patrick touches his face, and brings his hand to his upper cheek, to show you where you have something in your face. Your eyes follow the movement of his long fingers and you notice the way his arms flex whenever he is moving.

You had checked your makeup in the bathroom not even 10 minutes prior, you know that you are fine yet you still instinctively touch your cheek where he motioned. It is like he knows that he makes you nervous. That he knows that he can throw you off your game. And so far, you are powerless to do anything against it, completely caught off guard.

As he sees that you are doing what he told you, he smiles cheekily, baring his teeth: “I'm kidding…”

He leans back in his chair. His eyes are still focused on yours as if nothing else in the room was of importance.

Is he.. Flirting with me?

His demeanor is still completely overwhelming you and you feel like a little schoolgirl talking to her crush unable to form any coherent sentence. So you clear your throat again before making another attempt to speak and steer the conversion to a different topic.

“You are a funny man, Edward… ”

You touch your headwear and tuck on it just like you would with your hair - a nervous tick you never could quite get rid of, “Or should I just call you Ed?”

You lean a bit forward and try to distance yourself from the feeling that you have when you look at the ridiculously attractive man sitting opposite you. Your form is tense as you are watching him, while Patrick is the equivalent of calm and composed.

“You can call me whatever you like”, he smiles at you and looks down at your feet, “in your pointy shoes. You’re like an elf…”,

That… is not an answer you were expecting and once again you just stare at him for a few seconds, unable to form any sentence on the fly. You are thinking of an answer but any funny retort that you may have thought of just vanishes from your mind when he lifts his head again and his eyes zero in on yours.

“Like a very beautiful elf”.

You can feel yourself blushing underneath your makeup and never had you been so grateful for the thick layer of face paint that you applied.

All the control that you may have thought you had is gone. He plays you like a piano and he is fucking Mozard. You cannot do anything against the magnetic pull you feel towards him. Goddammit you are a professional journalist, you should be able to just get a grip.

You wet your lips nervously, you know that you just have to follow whatever game he is playing even if you don’t like it. Something just tells you that he won't stop teasing and probing you.

When you open your mouth to ask the next question he leans forward a bit, tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrow. A subtle way of telling you to speak up and letting you know that he is impressed that you are trying so hard to regain control you obviously don’t have.

“I”, your voice breaks in the middle of the sentence, so you start again: “I’ve heard that you were a spirit hunter?”

“I'm not really a hunter more often an aficionado of spirits”, he looks directly into your eyes again “I welcome them…”.

Patrick pauses before you can ask any follow-up question but rather continues speaking: “I'm glad you're here”.

Oh God, he IS flirting with me.

A strangled “Thank you” falls from your lips. You aren’t able to say anything more articulate or smarter when the realization hits you. You know that your behavior, well more your reaction to him is unprofessional at best but he is definitely enabling it.

He doesn’t let you off the hook and goes even a tad further: “Yes, you look beautiful.”

That is a lie - you look strange at most in your costume, maybe scary if you count James’ reaction to you. But it still catches you off guard, your face is still hot, and feel your palms get sweaty.

He is the one who looks beautiful, not you.

Only when Patrick thanks you with a pleased smile and you realize that you said that out loud and not thought of it in your head, silently. It isn’t even a lie, he does look insanely good but you did definitely not want to let him know that way.

The next few questions go over smoothly. You are flustered to no end, you don’t know what to make of the man in front of you. Is he like that all the time? Or does he just enjoy flustering you?

Every interaction is pushing you towards your limit, like a drop of water that is continuously filling up a glass. But there is nothing you can do against that. You could call him out of course but… that would create a weird situation.

You hate yourself a bit for the strong reaction you are having to him. Even though you interviewed many good-looking guys a situation like that never occurred. And you never reacted so strongly to someone you were interviewing.

“Do you believe in spirits?”, you ask, “I am a woman from God after all.”

Just a normal interview question for a horror movie about demons and such.

Patrick looks at you smirking, the left corner of his lip curling into a smile: “That you are… and a very beautiful one at that.”

That has been the second time that he called you beautiful in the short span of your talk. You are flattered but you also wonder, why he cannot answer your question normally with a yes or a no.

“Thank you I only accept it professionally though… ”

He laughs at your response and you feel your stomach flip at the sound. It is not your best comeback but it may be enough to give him the hint that it was too much for you. That you would like to keep it professional. You are pretty sure that you feel the eyes of your coworkers on you, judging you. But you don’t know if you're only imagining that.

“Yeah no we're not crossing that…” he pauses for a short moment as if he is contemplating what to say next. And as his blue eyes meet yours again, he has a mischievous look about him.

That is not a good sign, you think to yourself.

“Could you imagine what our kids would look like though?”

That question hits you like a lightning strike, rendering you motionless for a second. You swallow dryly suddenly your mouth inhabits the bare lands of the Sahara - void of every bit of moisture.

Once again he manages to catch you off guard and in a moment of every logical or coherent thought being gone from your brain you mumble: “Well, maybe I can”.

As soon as those words leave your mouth you know that you made a mistake.

First of all, you did not mean to blurt that out, it was a sudden thought that crossed your mind when he asked you the question.

Secondly, you are fighting your obvious attraction, and up until now, you thought you made a good effort to not give in and not to show him what he is doing to you.

You freeze as the weight of the words really hits you and you cannot do anything else than stare at Patrick.

He is looking at you smiling, the crowfeet around his eyes are prominent from how big he is grinning as he subtly crosses his legs.

“You dirty little nun”, he speaks deeper than he did before, with a raspy tone of voice while he emphasizes every word, his tongue caressing every syllable as his eyes hold yours.

An almost inaudible whimper escapes your lips upon his words before you are able to compose yourself.

By the way, he is still looking at you he definitely heard it.

You feel wetness pooling between your legs as warmth spreads over you. One part of you wishes that he would say that in a more intimate setting, something that involves much less clothing. You want him, desperately.

But the other part wishes that the interview and teasing would just stop.

You clear your throat and from your lips spill an incoherent stream of words, you are not able to form one proper sentence again.

You eventually regain your composure at least a little bit and you ask your next question: “Do you believe in spirits?“

It is a harmless one and you can cool down since he can just answer with a longer sentence without flirting with you.

“No“, Patrick pauses and looks at you. He seems more content after that previous question and your slip-up.

“But if they are mean I’m gonna fight them and I will be victorious”.

He looks at you challengingly, an eyebrow arched. After all, you are a spirit fighting him you guess? Not him directly but rather the attraction and the pull that you feel. And you are dressed as the spirit that haunts him in the movie.

“But you don’t believe in them? So they are not there?” You want a more shaped answer because it just got interesting.

“Well…sometimes they are there, sometimes they are not.” His eyes drill into yours again, as he speaks his next words.

“If something is in front of me that is challenging me - mocking me - then you may see a different side of me”.

By the way, he is looking at you, completely focused and somewhat stern it doesn’t feel like a conversation about his belief in spirits anymore - not that it ever was. To you, it sounds like he will do something if you don’t stop challenging him. You would like to see that different side that he is talking about nonetheless and you cannot help but wonder how he’d react if you were bratty while fucking. If he’d be gentle in correcting you or harsh and dominant.

Reaching for the notepad under your chair you try to ground yourself and get rid of the inappropriate thoughts you have about Patrick. You’re here to interview him, not to fantasize about ripping his clothes off.

For the next few questions you take down notes to keep yourself centered and your thoughts from running havoc - and it actually does work. Even if you are writing down nonsense and sometimes just scribbling something down.

But at least you can physically hold onto the pen and break the intense eye contact with Patrick from time to time.

“Can I see your notes?”, Patrick asks as he becomes aware of the distraction.

Your eyes snap up from your notepad and you notice that he sits very straight, looking at you down his nose. His stance reminds you of a teacher, stalking through a classroom, looking over students’ shoulders to see what they are writing.

You feel hot and flushed - embarrassed that he caught you.

Instead of answering him you just keep quiet, thinking of a way to steer the conversation away from that.

When he notices that you have no intentions of answering him he wets his lips: “What language do you write in?”

“In…”, you start but the way his arms flex when he runs a hand over his leg distracts you momentarily, causing you to lose focus. Only when he raises a damn eyebrow again, you continue speaking: “...old Latin.”

You just panic blurted out something that seemed fitting to the situation - you don’t write or speak Latin. Judging from the sceptical but amused look on his face he knows that too.

How is he able to throw you off so badly? It is like your mouth is quicker than your brain today, letting every stupid thought slip.

“Really?”, he sounds condescending with his head tilted a bit to the side, eyebrow arched, “Show me, I don’t believe you”.

He pauses, before looking at you intensely and leans back against the chair, crossing his arms and legs: “I think you’re a liar.”

You feel your nipples harden under his judging and waiting glance of his sparkling blue eyes and you squirm on your chair when you finally press out a whiny: “Why?”

Patrick tries to coax you into giving in, with his voice soft and gentle: “Just let me see… Speak some Latin to me.”

God, the way he pronounces every word and syllable makes you think that he wants you to speak something else apart from Latin, that he wants to know the filthy thoughts in your brain. Because by now you are sure that he knows what you are thinking about and he enjoys it.

Briefly, you wonder, if he would demand you to cum so softly too while he is buried inside you.

“Vade retro satana…”, he starts citing Latin exorcism literature and looks down at you, breaking you out of your thoughts, “How does that do you?”

“What?” You swallow dryly, this is turning you on a lot more than it should, like some really weird foreplay.

Patrick’s eyes sparkle mischievously, as he tilts his head again and his lips slowly curve into a smirk and he lifts his eyebrows. Only a low hm? leaves his lips.

The situation overwhelms you and you begin to stutter a stream of what? and erm leaving your mouth as he leans forward and nods every time you try to speak something.

If you were doubting that he knows what he is doing to you, you don’t doubt anymore. He knows and he likes it. The grin is full on his face, his teeth exposed as he watches you squirm on the chair under his scrutinizing gaze, struggling to form words and sentences that make sense.

You notice him readjust subtly. It’s only a quick movement over the top of his pants with his hand and as soon as the moment is over you’re not sure, if you imagined the fleeting gesture. By now you contemplate just slipping him your number, to give you an opportunity to properly flirt back without the looming threat of your coworkers and workplace.

“Do you…”, you start clearing your throat softly, before starting again, “Do you believe spirits and humans can be friends ?”

You underline your question with a clumsy hand movement, intertwining your fingers to show the connection while looking at him. You hope that he gets the hint with what exactly you mean.

Patrick’s mood changes without warning when he hears your question, the air in the room shifting, as he sits up straighter and breaks eye contact. He takes in a deep breath, the flirtiness that persisted the whole time you were talking is suddenly gone, replaced by annoyance.

“This is the third time you are coming onto me. And it scares me.”

Shit, did you misread the situation? Did you just make the whole flirting up, had your mind been playing tricks on you?

If you weren’t wearing white face paint already you are sure that your face would have been white. All the color had drained upon his reaction, almost immediately. You feel your heart beating fast and all-consuming anxiety building up in your stomach from the whiplash that you just experienced.

Heartbeat is loud in your ears and your voice is shaky and unsteady as you ask: “So, that’s a no?”

“No, that’s a yes”, that mischievous look is back in his eyes and his lips are curved into a smile as he watches you.

It takes a few seconds before your anxiety disappears into thin air upon his response and is replaced by that warm, fluttering in your stomach as well as the blush creeping back on your face.

Patrick loves flustering you, you are sure of that as he chuckles and smirks at your feeble attempt to form a coherent sentence. At least, you know that you have definitely not misread the situation you think, as you look at him.

You watch him as he reaches for his glass of coffee that’s standing under his chair. His large hand closes around it delicately and you wish that it was you that he was softly encircling with his fingers.

“I don’t usually take a sip of coffee during an interview”, he bows his head down a bit to reach for the straw with his lips, “But this is a different interview.”

And then he sucks. You watch mesmerized as he slurps the coffee from the glass and stare at his lips that are pursed around the straw. His eyes are trailed on yours as he drinks.

Would he keep his eyes locked on yours while he ate you out or fucked you just as he does now? Or would he whisper sweet nothings in your ear? Both are plausible you think as you unconsciously, wet your lips, while you watch him drink.

Patrick swallows loudly, making you watch his Adam’s apple as it bobs. Oh god how you wanted to sink your teeth there, how you wanted to taste his skin until you had memorized what he tasted like.

“Well, now I have a little gift for you”, you tell him after he puts the glass away.

You pull out a cross from a pocket in your robe, holding it upside down and extending your hand toward him. The cross is as big as your hand and made from metal, with rounded edges and a chain eyelet so it could be worn on a necklace without irritating the skin. It is still rather pretentious and you couldn’t imagine someone wearing that around their neck. But it is still a funny present - or so the production team thought.

The hand in which you hold the cross is shaking slightly and you try to will your arm into being still and suppress the tremor.

“Turn it upside down”, he says and motions his hand in the according fashion to underline how you should be turning it.

You just shake your head as a no, and he repeats his plea. At this point you just want him to say okay and take the stupid thing off you, so you further extend your arm.

“Your hands are shaking”

Of course, he notices your trembling hand, shit. You had hoped that he would not observe it or at least not call you out in front of the whole crew and on camera for that matter.

You look pleadingly at him, nodding at the trinket.

Finally, he takes pity on you and takes the cross out of your shaking hand. You let out a relieved breath as you pull back your hand and nervously laugh: “Thank you very much”.

That concludes your interview with Patrick and you are so glad to leave this room. You stand up and he copies your motion. For a short second, you both stand there before you extend your hand, as a handshake.

Patrick just chuckles, as he takes your hand: “No, thank you ”.

A chill races down your spine as you feel his bare skin on yours.

The contact feels like electricity is passing through you. You hold your breath as you lock eyes again. His hand is big and warm, dwarfing yours.

The handshake is borderline long now, lingering on the edge of unprofessional. As he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand softly, your breath hitches. His eyes are trailed on yours as he takes in your reaction.

You wish that he would keep touching you, but you have to break the contact - and so you do. You pull back your hand, missing the warmth of his.

With a final smile, you say goodbye and make your way out of the room without looking back.

You can sense his eyes following you and burning into you. It almost feels like they are lingering on your ass a little bit too long as you leave.

—----------------------

The way back to your dressing room is blurry and happens in a trance. If anyone asked you, you would neither be able to recall it properly nor in detail. The current goal is just to get home and blow off some steam. The whole ordeal was a lot and your thoughts are racing.

As you remove the heavy facepaint and take off the costume you wonder what Patrick’s game was. Because as much as you enjoyed his attention and the flirting, it feels like humiliation. You take a deep breath to calm your overactive thoughts.

Grabbing a bag, you stuff the costume inside and place it in a corner. Someone will take care of it, you think. It will probably be you on your next workday but at least by then you will have processed the day and be calmer again.

Tears well in your eyes and you run a hand over your face. You are not sad just overwhelmed and confused. Blinking the wetness in your eyes away you look at the ceiling and wonder how you will be able to face your colleagues again. Maybe you can just convince them that you played along with Patrick’s thing and embraced the whole costume matter, just as you were told.

In your head that does sound like a good plan - a believable plan. But future-you will tackle that, you decide, There is no use in panicking now, the crew will already have packed up their things and left. You look around the dressing room, wondering where the hell you put your sweater when you arrived earlier that day. Your whole mind is just too scrambled to remember right now.

A gentle knock on the door derails your train of thought.

Who can that be?You furrow your brow. Normally everyone is too busy with finishing up their work and getting out of here to check on you.

You open the door and blink in surprise, rendered speechless.

Patrick Wilson is standing outside your dressing room. He is leaning against the doorframe with a gentle smile on his face, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans and his long legs crossed.

As your eyes rake over his form, you notice that he shed the jacket he had been wearing for the interview.

You take a breath: “What are you doing here -”

“You’re even more beautiful than before”, you don’t even get to finish your sentence before he interrupts you.

For a moment you feel like a deer in headlights, standing wide-eyed and unable to answer straight away. You don’t know what you - or who - you expected but it wasn’t this. In your mind, you had made peace with the thought that you’d never see him again - as sad as that was.

Unexpectedly, he gives to time to recover and doesn’t say anything else to throw you off. He only watches you with soft eyes.

“Oh stop”, you say, suddenly the whole situation annoys you. You like whatever this is but you’d much rather like getting home and calling it a day. “The cameras are off, Patrick. You can turn it down”.

You fancy his charm, he makes you feel good and pretty.

You enjoy his attention, the tingling of your skin whenever he lays his blue eyes on you a clear giveaway.

But you are weary of his intention.

Maybe he is like that in every interview. Actually, you’d bet on it - he’s a good-looking, nice guy. It’s probably just fun for him.

What you don’t understand is why he is on your doorstep right now.

“Stop what?”

Patrick chuckles as he straightens up from the doorframe. The situation feels strangely personal and different than before. His eyes are locked on yours as he reaches out slowly to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, before resting his hand on the side of your face. The intimate gesture causes you to flush, red creeping onto your cheeks as your breath hitches,

He wets his lips, the tip of his tongue darting out and you cannot help but let your gaze flicker down and follow the movement. He takes a step forward into the room, his eyes on yours, looking for any signs that you object. When you take a few steps back, wordlessly inviting him in, he complies immediately.

With a chuckle, he closes the door behind him. This gives you a moment to consider your current situation: you are alone in a room with the man you have been eyefucking since you first saw him. And while you know, that you want him to have his way with you, you still don’t know what his plan is.

He closes the distance between you and looks down at you, a serious look on his face. Up close you notice the different shades of blue in his eyes. Bright, unwavering and so deep, like the sea. Fucking beautiful.

You feel the heat his body is emanating surrounding you.

“‘m going to kiss you now…”, Patrick’s voice is soft and quiet, he waits for you to object, his eyes looking at you searching. He closes the distance when you don’t say anything and guides his lips to yours.

He kisses you. It is a soft and light one, barely brushing his mouth to yours. You feel the stubble that dusts his face on yours. The scratching sensation is most welcome.

When you part he looks at you, smiling: “I wanted to do that since you stepped into that room”.

You blush and he grins at it, stroking your cheek. Your cheek feels incredibly hot under his soft touch. You reach out, and touch him, giving in to the sensation. Your left hand warps around the curve of his right bicep, feeling his hard muscular arms.

Your right hand comes up to his face, mimicking his motion on your cheek on his. You feel his soft skin and rough stubble on the pad of your thumb as you drink him in. His smile is impossibly wide and you cannot help but return the smile. Your thumb follows the curve of his lips and comes to rest in the dip of his cheek.

He tilts your head upwards again with the hand on your cheek, kissing you again, deeper this time, his lips parting yours.

Patrick tastes off the coffee he had been drinking and something sweet that he had been eating. His lips are incredibly soft and yet firm under yours as you return the kiss. His other hand roams your body, coming to rest at your back to pull you flush against his thick frame. You moan into the kiss and move closer to him.

You feel his open hand on your back, applying soft pressure to keep you close. The sprawled-out fingers lay still and only his thumb softly stroking you. You can feel the warmth of his hand even through the fabric.

You are desperate for more contact and let your hand wander through his hair that feels soft beneath your fingers and your fingers coming to rest on the nape of his neck. Your other hand moves from his arm to his shoulder, keeping him firmly against you.

As you break away, breathless you look up towards him. His eyes are significantly darker, the soft blue hue shifted into a darker one, his pupils blown wide. He looks into your eyes from beneath his eyelashes. Patrick dips his head down to kiss the soft spot beneath your ear. You feel his breath fanning over your ear shell as he nibs that spot again you hiss at the sensation.

Encouraged by your reaction he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses down to your neck causing you to shiver at the feeling. A tingling starts at the base of your spine and runs up.

When he bites down slightly on the soft skin of your throat you cannot help but let a strangled, quiet moan escape your lips as you arch into him. You feel his dick against your belly, hard and thick.

“You taste as sweet as you look, darling”, he murmurs. His voice is still soft but deeper, lined by lust. “I cannot wait to savor all of you”.

You tighten your hold on his shoulder upon his words, your fingers digging into the hard muscle. Fuck you remember the way he sucked on his straw and your thoughts of how he would look buried between your thighs and now you may get that.

“Fuck, Patrick ”, was all that you managed to say.

He lowers the hand on your back, brushing it at the hem of your shirt, tracing across the strip of bare skin before letting his hand slide under it and properly feeling the skin of your back. With his open palm, he pulls you closer to him and grinds his erection into you. You tug his head back to yours, kissing him again as his hands travel to your hips.

Patrick lifts you like you weigh nothing and you instinctively wrap your hand around his waist. You moan at the sensation of his fingers digging into your skin and the stretch of his broad abdomen against your open legs.

He takes a few steps back, sitting you down on the dresser when he kisses you again, cradling your face between his hands.

You break the kiss and tug on his shirt, a signal for him to take it off. You want to feel his skin on yours and you want to see him. Patrick obliges your wish and pulls it over his head before letting it fall to the floor.

Patrick is solid in front of you as you take him in.

Broad, wide shoulders with a light dusting of hair on his chest that leads into a trail originating just under his belly button, leading further down into the waistband of his jeans. On his defined arms, which you spend a good deal of the interview staring at, you notice a vein leading up his bicep and your fingers itch to trace it and then follow it with your tongue. You want to see and hear his reaction to that.

His hands come to rest on your thighs again, drawing lazy symbols on them making you throb with need. He braces his weight on his arms as he leans in again, locking eyes with you.

With a wink, he kisses the sensitive spot under your ear again. When he nibbles, sinking his teeth in, you feel a sting of pain turning into electricity, racing up your spine, making you mewl and grab his arms. His skin is hot and smooth under your fingers. Your legs close around his waist again, as he peppers your neck with open-mouthed kisses, pulling him closer. You buck your hips and grind against his hard cock, making him groan softly.

“You wear too much, sweetheart”

He retreats a bit to stand up again much to your dismay and just as you want to start objecting, he slips his hands under your top, making you shudder. His hands roam the skin softly before he pulls it over your head and lets it fall to the floor, joining his discarded shirt.

With a strangled fuck he is back on you, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close as he kisses you. Your hands move to grab his arms, to hold onto something as he parts your lips and slips his tongue into your mouth. As you kiss, you feel his fast heartbeat against your chest which is flush with his.

When parts from your mouth he loosens his hold on you and licks, kisses and nibs his way down to your chest. As soon as he reaches your bare tits, he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and index, making you moan and your head fall back. He repeats the motion and flicks it for good measure, before doing the same thing to your other breast. Patrick then kisses your nipple, giving it a tap with his tongue before blowing onto it. The sudden contrast of cold air on your overheated skin makes you shiver.

“Gorgeous”, he mumbles as he moves his hand over your belly and traces the outline of your cunt through your leggings, skipping lightly over your clit. Want pools in your belly, as you feel the warmth of his palm against you.

You are desperate for more and reach out, cupping his hard cock through his jeans. He groans and his bright eyes find yours are he dips his head to kiss you.

Involuntarily you buck your hips as his hand traces over your pussy again and he strokes over your clit. You feel the slip of your underwear on your cunt, as he applies light pressure. You in turn follow the outline of his hard dick again.

With a deep growl-like sound he separates himself from you, lifting his eyebrow: “That’s how you wanna play it? What did I say about mocking ?”

His long fingers tuck at the waistband of your leggings, pulling it down together with your underwear. It falls and joins your clothing on the floor.

“I am gonna make you squirm ”, he says when his eyes trail down your body, and end at your cunt.

Patrick puts his hand on your belly, spreading it and pushing you down to lay back. He drops on his knees, his head on eye level with your pussy. When he puts your legs over his shoulders and settles himself between them he lets his fingers trace a soft pattern on your inner thighs, making you moan softly.

He presses an open-mouthed kiss on the soft flesh of your inner thigh and you revel at the scratch of his stubble, electricity prickling from the spot, before he looks up at you, catching your eyes, and asking: “Are you comfortable?”

Patrick looks like pure sin between your legs as he looks up at you with dark eyes, asking if you’re fine with what he’s doing. You reach out and press your left hand against his cheek, letting it sit there: “Yeah”

He smiles a toothy smile and kisses the inside of your hand before you pull it back. As you feel his hot breath against your cunt, you let your hand come to rest on the crown of his head, combing his hair back a bit.

You jolt, as when presses a kiss against your clit, before pulling back. That was unexpected.

With one hand he ghosts over your clit, before tracing it through your slit. You moan at the feeling of his hot fingers parting your cunt. Patrick wraps an arm around your waist, before drawing slow circles and lazy patterns around your clit. You squirm beneath his touch, fuck, the pressure is too light to bring you closer to an orgasm.

“Patrick, please ”, you whine, desperate for him to give you more as you tuck slightly on his hair.

He lifts his gaze that was focused on your cunt before and meets your eyes, with a slow smile he says: “I like it when you beg, sweetheart”

Patrick guides one long finger into your cunt, keeping his eyes locked on you, to see your reaction. The motion is oh so slow and you feel every ridge of his knuckles as he nudges inside you. You let out another breathy please when he twists it to drag it along the walls of your pussy. You are bucking your hips when he adds a second one, curling and twisting slowly inside you, not bothering to quicken his pace.

He swipes his thumb over your clit with a lazy movement, making you moan and you tighten your grip on his hair, tugging lightly at the strands. You are desperate for him to do something quicker. You feel like you are slowly going insane as he continues to thrust his fingers slowly into your pussy, dragging and turning them, while softly massaging your clit.

You whine when he pulls back and sit up a bit as you hear rustling.

“You remember that?”, his eyes sparkle and his smile is wide as he holds up the cross you had gifted him at the end of the interview.

Your eyes go wide, surely he’d not fuck you with the cheap metal crucifix? But if you're completely honest, you don't particularly care what he does as long as he does something. The thought is lost as quickly as it was there when you feel Patrick drag his cheek over the soft skin of your inner thigh, making you perceive the rough scratch of his beard. You shiver and moan against him as you feel puffs of his hot breath against your cunt, making you forget again.

And then finally his mouth is on you. Thinking in any way becomes impossible, as you fall down flat onto the dresser, unable to keep yourself up in any way.

“Oh god”, you groan as he closes his lips around your clit, suckling lightly and then flicking his tongue over the bud in a single, gentle circle.

His arm around your waist is keeping you steady and in place, as you arch your back and tense your thighs. He lets out a low moan and you feel it vibrate through your body, adding to the sensation. With a slow and dexterous tongue and fingers, he builds you slowly. Gently learning what makes you squirm, buck, arch, and shiver. You hear the wet sounds of his tongue against your cunt as you wither beneath him.

He sinks the thick end of the cross inside you unexpectedly. You curse out a hoarse fuck as you feel the cold metal inside your hot pussy. Upon your reaction, he smirks and likes a broad stripe over your clit, before sucking on it.

The combination of his hot tongue circling the bundle of nerves and the cool, stiff crucifix dragging against your walls makes you buck your hips. He thrusts it inside you a few times, making you hear the squelch sound of your cunt as he fills you up with the religious symbol.

When he pulls it out he lets it fall to the group, where it lands with a clank. You whine again at the loss of contact, you feel empty.

But he shushes you and sinks two of his thick fingers inside you again and puts the flat of his tongue on your clit before twirling it around the nub. You spasm against him as he curls them against your walls, thrusting deliberately.

Patrick alternates between sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it while twisting and turning his fingers inside you.

You frantically bury one of your hands in his hair again, keeping him in place, afraid that he may stop. Your other hand finds his shoulder and grips down hard. You mumble and moan as he brings you to the edge of your climax. He applies more pressure while sucking lightly and with the heavy drag of his fingers you feel the cord inside you snap.

As he makes you cum you clench around his fingers while letting out a stream of words consisting of oh fuck, oh god and oh Patrick, your voice strained and thick with desire.

Patrick doesn't let up but rather keeps you high through it. He still pumps his fingers lazily into your pussy, the wet noise obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, as he licks and kisses every erogenous zone in his reach. Only when your thighs begin shaking and you let out a whine, he stops and withdraws his fingers, pressing one last kiss on your cunt. You come down from your orgasm, slowly drifting back into reality as you sit up a bit and look at the man who just gave you a mind-shattering orgasm.

Patrick looks filthy. His hair is ruffled and in disarray, strands poking in every direction from you continuously raking your fingers through it. His chin and neck are glistening, drenched in your wetness. His pupils are blown wide with lust and look almost black.

He smiles proudly and wide, as you lie bonelessly before him and pulls you up to kiss you. Patrick wraps his arms around you, embracing you, while he devours you. You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He breaks the kiss, and leans forward so his hot breath fans over your ear as he speaks in a low voice: “I was right, you taste divine ”

As the words register in your brain you whimper against him. You feel the sticky wetness between your thighs and the fatigue that settles in your stomach. And yet, you want more. You want that charming, soft man to dismantle you, so the only coherent thing you remember is his name and, how he feels around you, how he feels inside you.

So as his breath tickles over your ear, you lick a broad stripe over his thick neck up to his jawline. He groans into your ear, a deep guttural sound that has a surprised undertone. Patrick kisses your earlobe as you pepper hot kisses on his jaw, feeling the brush of his stubble against your lips.

He turns his head, rubbing his nose against your cheek before pulling back. His breath comes on heavy puffs, making his broad chest rise and fall rhythmically. The veins on his muscular arms are even more defined now. You notice the obvious bulge he is sporting, his hard cock straining against his jeans.

Patrick meets your eyes, a cheeky smile on his lips as he looks at you. His hand comes up to scratch the back of his head and your eyes follow the movement of his arm, marveling at the way his bicep flexes.

"I'd love to take this further, but I don't have a condom…" He trails off, apologetically.

You feel a pang of disappointment upon his statement - you want him to fuck you, everything else be damned. You don’t typically have sex with people you just met - especially not without proper protection. But fuck you don’t care right now.

“I don’t either…”, you pause and you notice the shine of disappointment in his eyes that mirrors your feelings, “But I’m clean and on the pill”.

His blue eyes snap to yours, dark and full of lust.

“You sure?”, he asks you sincerely, with a rough voice. He's hesitant, not sure if he should give in. You can see the battle behind his eyes, barely restrained desire shining bright in them.

“Yes, I’m sure. Fuck me, Patrick, please ”

Of course, you’re sure, there is nothing you want more than him at this moment. To underline your words you let your hand brush over the bulge in his jeans, feeling his hard dick twitch.

The last piece of his resolve crumbles as he lunges forward, connecting your lips in a crushing kiss, ravaging you. You cannot help but moan into the kiss as you return it with the same fervor, the fire within you sparked by his reaction.

His strong hands fly over your back, touching as much skin as he can with his fingers spread out. In turn, you bury your hands in the flesh of his upper arms while you continue making out. He grinds his clothed cock into your bare cunt. You moan when you feel the scrape of his jeans, the sound is swallowed by your kiss.

Patrick’s lips curve into a smirk as he repeats the motion, with more force this time. The burn against your pussy feels delicious and you tighten your hold on his arms, knuckles turning white.

“Are you going to soak my pants?”, he rasps against your lips. His words are accompanied by a particularly strong and rough push of his bulge against your cunt.

You clench down on nothing, and as you feel the fabric against your clit you grow more and more desperate and tired of the teasing. As much as you like that he takes his time figuring out what you like and how to push your buttons - you want more and you want it now.

When you separate, you are both breathing heavily. Patrick turns his head to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses against your jaw and throat before nipping slightly at the soft skin there. By now you are sure that he marked your skin good and well.

While he continues you loosen the grip of your right hand on his arm. With slight pressure, you use your nails to slightly graze over his chest and abdominal muscles on your way to the waistband of his jeans making Patrick groan.

You tug at the leather belt, trying to manipulate the prongs of the buckle in hopes of releasing the tension that holds it in place. He watches you intently, eyes fixed on your shaking hand as you finally manage to pull the strap through the frame.

Before you can reach for the button of his jeans he beats you to it, undoing it swiftly with a motion of his hand, clearly also desperate to get it off now. Patrick shoves his pants and underwear over his hips. They pool at his feet and he steps out of them before kicking them off to join your other discarded clothes.

You watch as his cock springs free, and hits his stomach, hard and leaking precum. He wraps a hand around the base, giving himself one pump.

He is absolutely gorgeous as he stands before you with a hand on his dick, his skin shining and dewy with sweat, chest heaving, and a look of fierce determination on his face.

You dip your head towards his upper arm.

Finally, you indulge in the mindless impulse to run your tongue over the prominent, protruding vein on his bicep. Tasting salt and sweat as you leave a wet trail before you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you took off your jacket”

A rumbling, deep groan leaves Patrick’s mouth before he rushes forward, cradling your face between his hands and bringing his mouth to yours. He kisses you hungrily, pressing his hot body against yours. Instinctively your hands snake around his back, holding him in place as you return the kiss. You feel his hard, hot cock twitch against your pussy and you mewl into his mouth, fuck you want him.

He untangles himself from you with one last soft peck against your lips and lets his eyes wander towards your cunt. With his dick in one hand, he goes on to trace the outline of your pussy with the blunt head of his dick, just barely nudging the entrance as you whimper beneath him. He uses his other hand on your hips to keep you steady.

Patrick presses your swollen, aroused labia against his cock, as if trying to create another slit to fuck, as he bucks against your wriggling form, coating his dick in your juices.

When he finally pushes his dick into you, you moan loudly at the stretch against your swollen cunt. Patrick’s head falls against your shoulder, groaning as he gives you a moment to adjust to him, his fingers tracing your hipbones. Your pussy throbs around him.

He pulls back just as slowly, leaving only the tip in. Before pushing back in, grinding against your clit when he’s buried deep enough, making you feel every inch of him. Each and every one of his deep but slow thrusts is agony.

You arch your back and close your legs around him in an attempt to get him to move.

When a weak pleasure falls from your lips, he retaliates and finally starts thrusting inside you hard. You moan when you feel the drag of his dick inside you, filling your cunt. His right hand pulls you up into a kiss, while the other one is still gripping your hip. Patrick breaks the kiss and looks down at your pussy to watch his cock disappear inside you.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart”, he grinds out while his eyes are trailed on your cunt as he trusts, a raw and primal look in them.

You follow his gaze to watch his cock disappearing inside of your cunt over and over, slick with your fluids.

The grip on your hips tightens when he looks up again, giving you a wink before he starts fucking you in earnest, ramming into you and you’re sure that you are ruined. Your hands dig into his shoulders, trying to hold on as he continues to drive into you, the sharp slap of his hips echoes in the room. Your mouth parts and moans spill from your lips.

“Will you soak me, like you’ve soaked my fingers, darling? Like you’ve soaked the cross?”, he mutters lowly as he pounds into you in sharp thrusts, his blue eyes burning into yours. You hear the wet noises of his cock every time he bottoms out inside your cunt and you don’t doubt that it drips down his balls, staining the desk he’s fucking you on.

You meet him thrust for thrust, pushing your hips back into him and trying to match his rhythm. He twists his hips, changing the angle at which his cock drags against the walls of your cunt, making you yelp as he hits the spot that makes your back arch against him.

You know that he’s observing your reaction since he does it again, and again. Digging deep into your pussy, as you moan and whimper. It feels like he is sparking a flint inside you. Every drag, every pull, every thrust sparks the fire inside you, bringing you closer to actually explode or go up in flames.

His breath is hot against your ear, voice low and rough, underlining how much of an effect you’re having on him: “You’re gonna cum for me?”

A drop of sweat travels down his broad chest until it is caught by the sparse hair on his abs, you see the shake in his muscles as he drags his hips against you, keeping up his fast pace.

“If you make me”, a slow smile crosses your face as you watch Patrick’s eyebrows draw together in determination. Apparently, that had been the correct thing to say.

He lets his hand fall to your clit, rubbing it with his palm. You buck and grind against him, please falling from your lips, as he continues to thrust into you while matching the rhythm with his hand, rubbing circles. You moan into his mouth again, caught in a heated kiss when he softly bites down on your bottom lip.

He pounds into you in deep and long strokes, the rattle of the desk a clear giveaway to anyone who might be walking by the room.

You bury your head against his shoulder. As you bite into it, he hisses. A deep sound that makes you clench around him, pressure growing in your stomach.

Your brain feels blissfully empty, only the sensation of being filled by his dick again and again at the forefront of your mind as he bottoms out inside you with every thrust, grazing that sweet spot in your cunt that makes you see stars when he hits it. You watch the way his knuckles turn white from the strain and the edge in his bicep when he slams into you hardly, fingers still toying with your clit.

Suddenly, everything is too much, and you feel your muscles tighten up inside you, internal pressure growing and spreading. For a moment you feel suspended in pure ecstatic pleasure, burning with fire when your walls tighten around him and you cum in a spine-curling orgasm, calling out his name.

You feel his hips stutter, a brief break in his unrelenting rhythm that he continues to hold to fuck you through your high.

“Where?”, he asks you, half groaning as he slams inside you, still hitting that spot and still rubbing circles around your clit.

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend his words and understand their meaning but through shaking breaths, you manage to grind out “Inside me”

His cock twitches inside you as he increases his pace again, not letting up. You know that he’s close, chasing his orgasm and slamming balls deep into you, brow furrowed and breathing heavy.

“Fill me up”, your hushed words are almost inaudible against the rattling of the desk and the wet slap of his skin against yours. But by the way, his eyes darken again and his mouth goes slack he heard you.

You smile and reach out to cup his cheek to pull him closer and kiss him hungrily.

His fingers tighten against your hip in a way that you’re sure that you will have bruises from that, visible only the next day, a reminder of what he did to you.

When he cumes, he kisses you deeply, groaning into your mouth, a mixture of your name and a curse. He pulls you even closer, as he fucks through his own orgasm, getting slower and slower in pace. He stills when he comes down, keeping his hips flush with yours.

You take the solemn moments to watch him come down from his high, eyes closed and utterly at peace as he takes deep breaths.

Patrick’s cock softens slowly. And when it eventually slips out, you feel his cum dropping from your cunt.

“Fuck”, he says breathlessly, opening his eyes and smiling a wide, toothy smile. His broad frame glistens with a layer of sweat in the light of your room and sweat beads on his forehead, a sign of the exertion, “I knew you were a dirty girl”

You snort, and a laugh escapes your mouth as you look into his blue eyes, which sparkle with humor. You reach out, to lay your hand against his cheek, feeling the stubble and the dip of his smile.

He covers your hand on his face with his large one, keeping it in place as he turns his head and places a kiss on your palm. Patrick’s lips linger for a few moments before he pulls his hand back and leans his forehead against yours. Your breath mingles as you stay like that, just looking at each other and breathing deeply.

Patrick untangles himself from you after a few minutes and leaves a soft kiss on your head.

A deep ache and tiredness settles in your limbs as you watch him bow down and reach for his clothing. You cannot help but marvel at his nice ass and strong tights as you sit on the desk. You don’t trust your legs to work right now. When he stands up again, catching you staring and he just raises an eyebrow as he pulls up his boxer shorts and tucks his now soft cock away.

“In my defense, you’re very nice to look at”, you smile and hold up your hands in mock surrender.

He scoffs and shakes his head, softly laughing as he balls his shirt in his hands. You watch him come over to you, using it to clean you wordlessly. You hiss when he scrapes your clit and he mumbles a quiet sorry as he shoots you a sweet smile.

Your heart swells at the gesture, you like that he continues to take care of you and that he thought of that. Of course, he was nothing but respectful during everything but still, you did not expect that level of care.

“Done”, Patrick smiles at you and shoots you a wink as he holds out his hand to help you down from the desk. Gladly, you take it, still not trusting your shaky legs,

He engulfs you in a hug when you stand, his broad arms holding you close as you return the gesture, leaning your cheek against his chest. With serious eyes, he looks down at you: “I’d like to take you out to dinner or coffee sometime if you’re up for it”.

A smile spreads over your face upon his question and you answer with a soft yes, kissing him. He gladly returns it, before letting you go to get dressed.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as he puts on his pants with a quick jump while you slip into your leggings and top. You don’t bother looking into the mirror, you know that you definitely look thoroughly fucked and so does he. If anyone were to see you two they’d know what happened. So your goal is to just get to your car and drive home.

When your eyes meet again, you nod your head to the door: “Let’s go”

You notice a wet spot on his shirt from when he cleaned you up and cannot help blushing. He arches an eyebrow at you and smirks: “I don’t mind, I’d do it again”. Laughing you shake your head, he really does drive you crazy.

You walk out of the room together and through the studio that is mercifully deserted with your hands intertwined.

#patrick wilson #patrick wilson smut #patrick wilson x reader #fanfiction #the conjuring #The Conjuring #ed warren #insidious #i am feral for that man #aquaman #orm marius

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t3a-tan · 9 months

Text

Failed Meeting - The Talk

A heart to heart.

Continuation of this!

---

Oliver was pretty upset with James when the human told him what had just transpired. James apologised profusely, but he knew that didn't make it right. Oliver told him not to push it, and he did exactly that…all because he was being selfish.

Oliver left immediately after, presumably taking Sammy back to his home to calm down after James had messed up so badly.

People could be cruel, but it genuinely sickened James to think of who could do such horrible things to not just a child, but a child the size of a finger. All he did for the rest of the day was go over what he had seen and what he had heard, spiralling with thoughts of what might have happened to her.

He was starting to understand why borrowers were raised to be so scared of humans. It was a miracle that Oliver was so calm and patient with him.

Oliver didn't come back for a week, and when he did he made sure to scold James properly.

"I told you that you would meet when she was ready..! I understand that you are happy about her returning to me, and I understand you want to help, but all you've done is made her more scared..!" He began, hands on his hips. Oliver was upset at James, though he did understand the human didn't have bad intentions.

"She's been having nightmares again, nonstop, and not only is that terrifying for her to experience but it hurts me having to watch her go through that. You hurt me by deliberately ignoring my warnings. Do you understand that?" He questioned, letting the hurt seep into his tone to drive home how severe James's actions were.

James kept his head lowered in shame, averting his gaze. He felt awful about it. He knew that if Oliver had gone behind his back and tried to meet his daughter before James was ready he would've been upset too…

"Is…is she okay..?" He asked, unsure if that was pushing it or not. Oliver stopped his rant, hands lowering to his sides. It was hard to stay mad at him— Oliver wasn't someone who held grudges easily, and he really cared about their friendship.

As much as he wanted to continue to vent his frustrations, doing so wouldn't help. He could see by the way James was sitting and how his voice was so meek that the human understood he had made a mistake.

"Other than nightmares, yes. They've been calming down now, which is why I was able to come here and speak with you." He explained, returning to a calmer disposition since yelling wasn't very productive.

James nodded slowly.

"I don't want to be scary. I fucking hate it, Oliver— I-I don't think I'm a bad human, but you're the only borrower who can even tolerate me apparently, and it's just… I don't know. I'm letting you down…" James spoke with an air of sadness and frustration, bouncing his knee anxiously.

Oliver bristled a little at those words. He hadn't really thought about James's perspective in this situation. Oliver was used to being the voice of reason, and used to being trusted, not feared. He hadn't been addressing James's feelings over other borrowers, because he had been focused on trying to prevent another incident.

He supposed some blame should be shouldered by him thanks to that; his pressure to not make a mistake again may have pushed James to want to prove himself more.

"Lean closer." Oliver directed, gesturing for James to lean in. The human finally met his gaze again with confusion, but leaned in nonetheless. Oliver could tell that his eyes were slightly watery, but he didn't mention anything about it, instead walking closer. Oliver placed his hands on either side of James's face, looking into his eyes with a serious expression.

"You do not need to impress me, alright? I am your friend. I will always be your friend, because as much as other borrowers struggle to see it, I can see you are trying so very hard to do the right thing." His gaze softened. "You are a good human, and I am not friends with you because you're perfect— I'm friends with you because I enjoy your company."

Oliver tilted his head.

"You do not have to be some human ambassador for borrower-kind. You don't even have to be an example… I like being your friend because you are funny and intelligent and caring— even though I may struggle to pick up on your humour." He offered a reassuring smile. "I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to be frightened."

James blinked, wondering how on Earth Oliver had picked up on all that from what he had said. He felt denial on the tip of his tongue— he wasn't scared, he was scary. Oliver had it wrong, clearly…

His eyes stung but he wouldn't allow himself to show any weakness.

"Okay." He responded, feeling embarrassed to have his feelings so expertly picked apart. He leaned a little closer, moving his hands to surround Oliver as he ducked his head down, closing his eyes, leaning into the borrower's touch. His words were slightly muffled thanks to his head being down. "Thank you, mate…"

Oliver gently patted James's forehead, thankful that his words had gotten through as intended.

He was determined to make this work.

#g/t community #ocs #g/t artist #g/t #borrowers #g/t writer #giant/tiny #borrower au #g/t au #giant/tiny writing #g/t writing #g/t angst

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httpsuniverse · 1 year

Text

DAISY, DAISY | pg10

PAIRING: pierre gasly x reader

DETAILS & WARNINGS: pregnancy, mentions miscarriages, birth

WC: 829

A/N: again, from baby reveal 📸! i plan on making little stories from that ig au, so here’s pierre’s version! ❤️ i also plan on making one for the other drivers (clement, dennis, felipe, marcus & pato) but like a different one, not specifically dad!au HAHAHA does that make sense? lol idk i’m rambling 😭 but anyway, enjoy!

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

pierre couldn’t believe it, it felt as if he was dreaming when they placed the baby in his arms. daisy anthoinette gasly was small in her father’s arms, the new father felt his heart skip a beat when the baby coos in his arms. she’s a perfect mix of the two of you; nose and lips from the ricciardo’s and the beautiful, captivating blue eyes from the gasly’s.

you share the intimate moment between the father and daughter. tears escaping your eyes as you watched your fiancé hold your baby for the first time. daisy anthoinette was a miracle you two have. after experiencing three miscarriages, you were on the brink of giving up your dreams of building a family with the love of your life. until one day in australia, after pierre went surfing with your brother, he saw you standing in the middle of the beach, waiting for him with pregnancy tests in hand.

“for real? mon amour, please tell me this is real…” he said, voice cracking as he held the two sticks in his own hands. you couldn’t speak, smiling and crying at the same time as you nod your head. pierre pulled you gently in his arms, planting a kiss on your temple. “baby, how do you feel?”

“i’m… i’m scared, p. i’m scared it’ll happen again.” you reply, referring to your previous miscarriages.

he never let go of you, letting you sob in his arms as he said: “baby, i know it’s scary but we’ll do everything we can to keep you two safe. i’m always here for you, if i have to quit racing just to take care of you two—i would.”

the nurses have left the three of you alone, congratulating you for a safe and successful delivery of your firstborn. pierre was in the zone as he stared at his daughter in awe, he couldn’t hear anything but her tiny coos. your pregnancy journey with daisy was hard, but thankfully his mother and your mum would help you most of the time because pierre was away most of the time.

waking up in the middle of the night with the most excruciating pain on your stomach was one of your biggest fears, but thankfully, pierre was right next to you and was able to assist you to the car. he returned to milan, just in time for daisy’s arrival. she wasn’t supposed to be born until after a few days, but the girl was so excited to welcome herself in the world and meet her parents.

“pierre, she’s going to be with us forever. stop staring and give me, your fiancée, some attention too!” you joked, causing pierre to laugh and avert his eyes from daisy to you.

“as much as i want to stare at her, i feel like i’m about to burst out crying any second now.” he chuckled, “mon amour—”

achoo! daisy sneezed, probably the cutest and smallest sneeze you’ve ever heard in your entire life and that brought a huge smile on pierre’s face. “i think i’m gonna cry, for real now” his voice cracked, “don’t tell daniel or charles though”

you smiled at him, “cry, pierre. she’s worth the tears.” you say, “and i’m definitely telling my brother and charles”

hours have passed and daisy was sleeping peacefully in the hospital baby crib, an hour for you and pierre alone. after you had pierre staring at daisy, he was now staring at you. you two have gone through ups and downs, yet here you are, staying stronger than ever—with daisy to join you in this journey together. “okay, now you have to stop staring at me” you chuckled, your hands found his cheek and the pads of your fingertip brush along his beard. “what’s on your mind, baby?”

he gives you a small smile, shaking his head lightly as he felt his cheeks heat. “nothing, just…” he sighs, “with daisy being here now, i remember the early days of our relationship… remember when we first moved in together?”

“daniel almost lost his shit when i told him i was moving with you in milan” you laugh, “our very first night together, you confessed that you feel safe in my arms and i told you that you were such a big baby.”

pierre nods his head, “now we do have a baby of our own… well, our miracle baby.” pierre leans over you, slowly connecting your lips together for a sweet kiss. a routine pierre and you have every night.

“we’re so in love, aren’t we?” you whispered, he gave you a nod.

pierre held your hand in his, squeezing it gently as he brought it in front of his lips before kissing the back. “thank you for giving me daisy. it wasn’t an easy pregnancy, but i’m glad we’ve conquered it together… you’ve conquered your fear, mon amour.”

you know hearts don’t break around here… daisy was now here to fill your hearts with joy and happiness.

yourusername and pierregasly

liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, yukitsunoda0511 and others

ynricciardo daisy is enjoying her stay in australia and in the arms of her grandparents 🌼🇦🇺 it feels so surreal to think that it’s been a year since we found out i was pregnant with our little flower and now she’s here 🥹❤️

view all 2,761 comments

fan1 daisy looks so big now 🥺

ynricciardo ikr!! time goes by sooo fast, soon enough she’ll be walking around the paddock

pierregasly oh god i’m not ready for that

pierregasly but she’ll be the cutest baby there 🥹

danielricciardo the look on mum and dad’s faces! 😆

ynricciardo dad looks so happy, danny! wish you were here tho 🥹

pierregasly those balloons sure kept her entertained for a good amount of time 😄

#pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly oneshot #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fan fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine

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beetboxx · 2 years

Text

the leather jacket effect - billy hargrove x reader

pt 4 - masterlist

THIS PART CONTAINS SMUT, AND IS THEREFORE 18+, MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS PART OF THE SERIES!!!

other warnings; era misogyny, mean dom billy, sub reader, fingering, f oral, p in v, billy being horrible and then billy being less horrible, slight angst - let me know if i missed anything

REQUEST BOX OPEN! (also, come and talk to me!)

you had only been on a couple of dates before that fateful monday. your first one was freshman year, in '82, when joshua wallace from model un asked you out to a movie. joshua wallace was.. average. he wore khakis and polos or sweaters, wore glasses and his hair neatly combed and pushed back. he was always italy at MUN meetings, and always got a little too into it. you two saw the secret of nimh, a dumb little animated movie about a mouse. you had suggested the dark crystal, or the slumber party massacre, but joshua said his mom wouldn't be okay with 'scary' movies. you two sat side by side, the armrest separating you two, as he snacked on popcorn he bought for himself and refused to share.

and then there was eric. he played tennis. actually, he spent more time playing tennis than actually breathing or sleeping. he was sweet. brown eyes, wore button ups and jeans and pulled out chairs for you and opened doors. he asked you out to his own tennis game. you went, it was boring, long, and you didn't quite understand the appeal of a bunch of dudes in white throwing around a ball. you made out in his mom's car after that, and then he struggled for about five minutes to open and put on a condom. you were bored the entire time, even though your famous “first time” is supposed to be romantic, special, significant. with eric, it was a chore. the next week, he asked you if you wanted to go watch him during a tournament. you called him to tell him you were sick.

and then steven, from theatre. he made you smile until your cheeks hurt, complimented you and left notes in your locker. he asked you out using shakespeare and roses, and then took you to a drive-in screening of rocky horror picture show. he covered your head with newspaper when janet and brad are walking through the rain, brought rice and playing cards to throw at the screen. you had the time of your life, but you couldn’t stop giggling and looking over at him and he was so damn cuddly. you two stayed late after the movie ended, popcorn and rice all over the bed of his truck so he could lazily finger you under a blanket before having the most average sex of your life. you went on four more dates with steven after that, each one unique and silly and full of giggles and smiles.

but you found him having sex with a girl wearing a prairie dress with a cowboy hat backstage during their production of oklahoma!

so, easy to say you hadn’t had the best luck with dating, or a very dignified sex life. you thought you would’ve found a long term boyfriend by your senior year- someone mundane and kind and.. boring. everyone thought that you would find some wonder-bread to bring home to your parents and sit at a comfortable distance, so when word spread around that you were going on a “date,” with billy hargrove, it felt like your hair was on fire everywhere you went. girls whispered when you walked by them, suddenly guys were paying attention to you and complimenting your skirts- well, complimenting how the skirts made you look. you just ignored it, for the most part. kept walking after saying a quiet thank you. this was not on the itinerary for the year. but everyone was way too scared of billy to speak out about this anomaly. he had been there for about a week and already had the entirety of hawkins high trapped in his fist. except nancy, of course.

“okay- what the hell happened to not wanting anything to do with him?” nancy interrogated one afternoon at your little study group slash chat hour.

“hm?” you hummed, not lifting your head up from your homework.

“billy!”

“the new kid?”

“yes, the new kid- you know who i’m talking about,” she argued.

“yeah. what about him?”

nancy gave you a very cold, stern look. she had this specific face that just read “don’t fuck with me.” her eyebrows were slanted as she glared at you through them.

“okay- okay!” you surrendered, setting down your pencil. “it’s nothing, seriously. we’re just going to the football game.”

“you say that,” she reprimanded, pointing a pen in your face, “but then he gives you his jacket, and then he tries to get a b.j. in his shitty car he can’t drive, and th-“

“i got it!” you grumbled, frowning and looking down at your hands on the library table. nancy took a breath before scooting a little closer to you, her stern face falling into a more worried expression. she was scared for you, you could tell by the pursed lips and raised cheeks and the pure amount of worry in her eyes.

“i’m sorry. i just- (y/n), i’ve seen guys like him,” nancy explained, joining you in the search for a distraction in her own fingernails.

“i know, i know. its..” you trailed off and lifted your head up to look at her, which soon caught her attention and gave her the cue to re-engage in the conversation. “he’s the first guy to like.. notice me. in a while.”

nancy frowned, her shoulders dropping rigidly. she’s been in your shoes before.

“trust me, nance. i’ll be okay.”

she sighed, nodded reluctantly and threw up her hands as a surrender. the rest of your study session had a huge cloud of tension hanging over it that entire time- all the nerds and study-junkies could feel it, and it made the rest of that hour and a half absolutely miserable. but it gave you alot of time to think, as your eyes aimlessly wandered pages and your pencil scribbled in the corners. billy wasn’t going to be an exclusive deal. he couldn’t promise you love, or loyalty, and you had no idea how everyone else would hypothetically react. but if this goes somewhere, this little chess game of yours, would it end in a draw? perhaps his king, instead of trying to capture your queen in all of his patriarchal powers, would pull her into a hug, give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her it would be alright. and of course, there was always a chance you were imagining all of this and it was all a spooky wet dream, and billy hargrove never really existed!

the attention was good, at first, with all the gossiping and sudden interest from guys since now you were considered unavailable, even though nothing had happened to consider you that. boys were just like sheep. and you kind of felt terrible for the girls, feeling like they needed to compete for their attention. you understood it now. all of the times you had made fun of cathy and nancy for waking up early to do their hair and makeup made sense to you now- they were all forced to be in competition with each other, and once word spread about billy asking you out, you were their top competitor. without you wanting to be.

and of course, word got around to cathy. she approached you about it on that friday, way later than you thought she would find out about it. it was during your shared history class, when you were finishing up notes. she had tapped on your shoulder from behind you, and you could tell from the strength of the taps that she was very urgent.

“what’s up, caths?” you asked, twisting your abdomen to face her.

“you know what’s up,” she replied, dead-panned and staring at you with her beady little eyes. cathy didn’t have a malicious bone in her body, but you really felt like she was about to tell you that she wasn’t angry, just disappointed. you could not bare to live in a world with no people like her or nancy.

“… i’m sorry,” you mumbled, looking down in shame like a kid who got caught grabbing candy from the candy jar.

“what?”

“i said, i’m sorry.”

“wait- why are you sorry?”

you looked up, cocking your head to the side. you couldn’t tell if this was a rhetorical.

“because.. i’m going to the game with billy?”

cathy gasped, her hand immediately flying to your arm and shaking her head rapidly.

“i’m not upset, (y/n)!” she assured, her permed hair flying around as she shook her head. “i’m so totally excited for you!”

now it was your time to reply with a, “what?”

cathy beamed at you and giggled a little bit, her leopard printed shoulders bouncing carelessly. “you finally got yourself a little boy toy! and a very, very hot one, at that.”

“oh,” you said, confusedly. you didn’t exactly know what was happening right now. “you’re not.. mad?”

cathy made a weird pouting face and told you very sincerely, “of course not. i’m happy for you!”

you returned her smile in the form of a quick grin, before nodding in confirmation of her approval. you were glad you had the cathy-go-ahead, but there was still that aching feeling in your gut, pulling and twisting and screaming at you to abort the mission. screaming at you that this would change your senior year from the simple, academic, calm one you had grown to love. simplicity was good. unnerving, familiar. and billy hargrove was anything but simple.

"mrs. (l/n), do you have anything to share with the class?" mr. allen, your bald-headed, grumpy history teacher inquired sarcastically, pulling your attention out of your swimming thoughts. you spun around in your seat, completely silent as you shook your head. mr. allen was scary. looked like a bulldog and always wore very comically large shoulder-pads.

soon after mr. allen had interrupted you and cathy, you were given a solid minute before the bell rang to gather up your stuff that wasn't shoved in your locker into your backpack. he made everyone stay thirty seconds past the bell as usual just out of pure malice, and then you were dismissed for your next period.

you made your quick stop at your locker to shove a few more things that you humanly could in there. you could have sworn that locker had some sort of pocket dimension in it capable of holding all of your books and textbooks and notebooks. but it was lovely. familiar. you went there every day between your history class and english, and it was one of the moments in your day where the rustling and chatting and occasional shouts from the hallways around you were welcoming, because it happened every single day.

as you were walking down the hallway to your next class while holding your copy of , something very out of your schedule occurred, however. something that had never happened before. you got.. catcalled? you weren't really sure what to call it, but as you passed a group of basketball players, wearing their lettermans and sneakers and all various shades of blue jeans, one of them whistled at you.

you were very sure it was at you, too, because another one next to the whistler had the audacity to shout, "yo, (y/n)! lookin' fine today!" before the others erupted in chuckles and various sounds of dog-like expressions of attraction.

you didn't know how to react, so you just mumbled, ".. thank you," your cheeks flushing and a shy but very confused smile pulling at your lips.

one of the players, the one you guessed had started this, let out another form of onomatopoeia in a loud 'ooooh!' and slapping the chest of the guy next to him. it was all very strange. they acted like dogs. no, they acted like dogs and expected girls to swoon over them. they acted like dogs, and treated girls like they were the dogs. the entire moment just made you sick in your stomach. it felt wrong. to be objectified like that, like a piece of meat. they were only interested in you because you had been 'claimed,' and you were totally not a fan of it.

and then you realized that your next class was in fact english, and you dreaded your hallway walk even more. maybe you would get lucky, billy wouldn't show up and you wouldn't have to deal with him for another day. maybe billy was merciful enough to spare you from his demeaning flirts until you went on your little outing together to a shitty football game.

you soon realized that no, billy hargrove was not that merciful. he was there when you walked in mrs. campbells decorated door, lounging in his chosen seat with his toned legs sprawled out underneath him, stretching far enough to reach underneath the chair of the person in front of him. he had some smug expression on his face, as usual, like he was about to pull a pair of sunglasses from the abyss and tell you he had you all figured out. and most importantly and shocking- he was early. to a class.

he didn't seem to notice you, or was choosing to act like he didn't notice you, until tina, from behind your seat, drew the class' attention to you with a gleeful 'hey, (y/n)!'

his eyes dragged over to you, standing in the classroom doorway with your book and a composition notebook tucked in your arms. he flicked his chin up as a part of a greeting.

"speak of the pretty devil. we were just talking about you,” billy asserted, every single pair of eyes in the classroom falling on you. this attention you did not like. you could read every single emotion from the room full of opinionated teenagers. it made you feel like spotlights were blazing down on you, turning your face red and your skin hot and a little tingly. you gave a little, nervous hum as a response to his proclamation. the heat of the attention made your knees a little wobbly, your hands unsteady as you walked past billy to your seat. you sat down, slowly as you approached the shark, which prompted billy's body to follow your direction and give you a smile that rotted your teeth.

"you excited for the game tonight, babe?" he asked you while chewing his gum with his molars, that one ending word of endearment making everyone in the classroom have their own micro-reaction. excitement for their bro-dude, jealousy because that should be them getting that title, jealousy because that should be them giving that title, disgust that this was such a big deal, and more. but yours was just shock. your eyes went wide, lips parting in a barely noticeable gasp.

"um- please don't call me that," you whispered, hoping that it was just him that heard it, but unfortunately, the gaggle of jocks emitted chuckles and scoffs at your response.

you saw billy's face fall, with his nostrils flaring like a bull and teeth gritting together. he shot a glare as sharp as a dagger at the boys around him, to which they responded accordingly by falling silent. at first, you thought they were laughing at you for 'being such a prude,' but you soon realized that they were laughing at billy- you had embarrassed him.

his smile then returned with a chuckle as his jaw loosened from its tension, beginning to chew his gum like hew as doing before.

"why not? you're a fuckin' babe," he chided, intending to sound like he didn't care, but the bite he applied was obvious that he was a little wounded by your push-back.

"it's.. it's a little degrading, is all. you could have.. used my name."

he laughed at you. it stung.

"ah, so you're bein' a bitch today, huh?"

"n-no, i just don't want to be treated like.. that," you muttered, your agitation beginning to grow. the people around you basically pulled out a bucket of metaphorical popcorn as they watched the ping-pong match between you two. to billy, it was some sort of sadistic strip ping-pong.

billy was so close to responding, until he was interrupted by mrs. campbell's less-than-cheerful announcement that class had begun and to quiet down. he turned around in his seat, and you could feel the steam blowing from his ears and into your vicinity.

english class was painful. billy didn't say a word. not to you, not to the teacher, not to the people around him. he opened his copy of animal farm, but you could tell he didn't read a single word. you only got a chapter or so yourself. everything felt.. wrong. the words on the pages felt like you were reading an ancient symbolic language, which was the same feeling you got when you tried to read billy. he didn't make any sudden movements until the end of class, when the bell rung and everyone was dismissed.

you always took a while to get your stuff, and billy knew that already, so he lingered, sitting in the same exact spot you last saw him in, with his fists clenched on his desk and his shoulders tense. once you stood up, he followed, turning around on his heel and blocking your exit escape. you two were the only people in the class at that point. he didn't say anything, just took a step towards you and grabbed your chin with two unexpectedly soft fingers. he brought your chin to look at him, a movement that gave you a scary deja vu that made your stomach turn over.

he took a long moment to stare into your eyes with a dangerous, flat look. you could feel his minty breath, and you could see the brewing darkness in his eyes.

"you better learn to watch it," he said. it was simple, a command. a threat. you didn't know what he would do if you didn't, and you didn’t exactly know what you were supposed to be watching (you guessed it was the whole embarrassing him thing). but you didn't exactly want to find out- though, seriously, what the fuck could billy do that would be so horrible if you continued to ‘talk back to him’, even with your innocent intentions that you had before.

he didn't give you the chance to respond, though, letting go of your chin with a slight push, once again slowly turning around, grabbing his bag, and exiting the classroom.

that was all you thought about for the rest of the day. nothing else. just billy. and his fingers. and the dangerous look he gave you. and it was like a horror movie- you knew you were going to be scared and your nerves and adrenaline would be on fire under your skin, but you were so intrigued, and.. excited.

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

6:24, a whole 36 minutes until the terrible football game was about to start. no one went to the hawkins high football games for fun. the team was terrible, boring, and the marching band completely half-assed it, knowing it wouldn't have been a memorable moment anyways. basketball games were the true games to go to for the game itself- and the guys in shorts and tank tops. people went to hawkins high football games to either support someone, get drunk and/or high, snog in or under the bleachers, and just hangout with their friends in a reckless abandon.

you didn't know why you were going, to be honest.

you heard a loud, angry honk from outside your house, prompting you to mutter a string of curses as the anticipation grew in your veins. you couldn't tell if your hair was standing up on your head like you were upside down. you hurriedly put on your mascara, a finishing touch to a very intermediate look. it was definitely out of your comfort zone, but.. you wanted to impress someone. show them- him, you weren't what he thought. throw him off his game, show him who's boss in this situation.

you did your makeup with your best impersonation of molly ringwald, glossy red lipgloss and rouge on your cheekbones. but you kept your outfit strictly you. you didn't need to change your clothing style for a guy. it was your last thread of comfort that you were strong to hold onto. loose jeans and a button-up, that was it.

a loud knock- no, a bang on your front door sounded through the house. you basically sprinted to it, twisting the doorknob open and throwing the door open so hard it banged against the wall behind it, hopefully not leaving a scratch, but you were too caught up in the moment to check. there was billy, leaning against your doorframe, a cigarette hanging from the corners of his lips. he wore a tight polo shirt, definitely purposefully defining all of his muscles and figure. you noted a little silver necklace with a pendant you couldn't fully make out. his hair was.. well, perfect. it definitely had to be a perm. you wondered what would happen if you threw a bucket of water over his head. his blue eyes were piercing in the dim light, first shooting through your chest where a little sliver of skin showed, making you immediately go and cover it up. they skated up to your face, lingering on the glossy red lips you applied. for you, of course. it wasn't for anyone else.

"uh-.. hey," you greeted, trying to sound as calm as possible. you were anything but calm.

"you get all dolled up for me?"

damn it. he saw right through you.

you just shook your head. you saw the slight hint of a grin. you had to fight with your hand to not reach up and slap it off of him, but it was too planted to your sides to resist your resistance.

he clicked his tongue and looked to his car, before pushing himself up off your doorframe. he turned, and began walking to his car in quick strides. you followed like some sort of lost puppy. he walked right past the passenger side car door, going straight to his own and opening it for yourself, proving to you that you weren't even worth the few seconds it would take to open your car door for you. maybe it was to you, maybe it was to him. regardless, you opened it yourself, climbing into the car soaked in cigarette smoke, ash, and rebellion. billy didn't even wait for you to put on your seatbelt, which you knew you had to when driving with billy, to start up his car with a growl and slam on the gas.

it was about three minutes of tense silence, the small carriage being taken up by soft rock music from the radio and the sound of the camaro's exhaustion, before one of you broke. it was you.

"hey um- i'm.. i'm sorry for embarrassing you, or whatever. in mrs. campbells.”

he just scoffed.

“i really don’t like the way you spoke to me, though. like- i’m not mad, or whatever.. i only want you to treat me like-“

“it’s fine,” he bit.

you could hear cold as ice by foreigner playing on the radio. it seemed fitting, but you couldn’t tell why. maybe it was the icy tone in his voice.

you needed to change the situation, quick, or else you would be calling for cathy’s saving before the game even started. so you decided to.. turn it into a joke.

“but uh- did you see tim’s face when you gave him that glare?” you lightly laughed. “looked like he was going to shit himself or something.”

that pushed a tiny, breathy chuckle from billy. it was lighter than the chuckle he gave when he was mocking you earlier.

you let that light simmer for a while, resorting to staring down at your palms in your lap, trying to read the lines in them and see if the stars held any resolution that night. you didn’t see anything. and then there was a little shimmer from venus.

“yeahh.. guy’s a tool.." he grumbled, but you could feel the jokiness in his tone that threatened to rise to surface.

you offered him the same chuckle he put on the table. you chewed on the inside of your cheek as your eyes followed the lines on your palm, trying to find the courage within to say something more. you turned to look at him, your view landing on his hands on the steering wheel. you couldn't look him in the face, even if he was staring at the road.

“hey, billy?”

he hummed.

“why did you ask me to this game?” you questioned, quiet and very, very sincere. it wasn’t challenging, sarcastic, it was a genuine question.

“i dunno,” he replied. it wasn't cocky or smug, just clueless. he really didn't know why. he didn't regret it by any means, but it was something that just happened and he didn't realize that it did.

"is it a.. date?"

he iterated the same response, "i dunno."

"why are you so.. mean to me? mean to.. women."

billy blinked rapidly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"why are you asking so many questions?" he challenged, crueler than he intended it to be. not that it mattered, anyways. "a little chatterbox tonight, huh?"

you nodded, shrugging. his mocking question was intended to make you shut up, but instead, it just made you continue to talk more. it made his forehead crease. "yep. i've never done this before, to be honest. usually when i get asked out on a date it's... asking, not demanding."

billy frowned, a now angry frown that he was being chastised.

"well, then i'll tell you," he began, stopping you before you could say anything else. "you sit next to me, look pretty and be fuckin' quiet. or you can go talk to tommy's girlfriend about.. shopping or whatever the fuck you girls talk about."

now it was your turn to scrunch up your eyebrows.

"and maybe, if you're lucky, i'll pull into an empty parking lot after the game."

your head cocked to the side as you glared at him, which to him, looked more like a pout until you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "an empty parking lot, really? why?"

billy scoffed at you again, rolling his eyes until they landed on you, pulling your attention from his steering wheel you had been staring at as he disregarded traffic laws and degraded you.

"oh, that's adorable," he mocked. "you really don't know?"

"okay, if you're gonna be a total lame-ass, i'll just go spend the game with my friend.” you tightened your arms over your chest like you were holding a shield to yourself to protect from billy’s overall unpleasantness.

“i wouldn’t be if you weren’t gonna be such a bimbo," billy rasped, his voice gaining in volume.

"didn’t you fail a grammar quiz, wise guy?” you snapped back. you felt your ears getting hot, your nails bluntly digging into your arms as the anger, and confidence, brewed. “i mean, seriously, do you have anything going on up there behind that mullet besides like.. wondering when you’re going to get your rocks off next?”

your tone became a lot harsher than it was before. your emotions had flipped like a coin, a quick switch with your increasing agitation and anger. you would rather eat cement than admit that billy was affecting and offending you. but maybe it's not so bad, i mean, wet cement looks edible-

"who do you think you are, billy?" you continued, a lot quieter than your last accusation. it was quieter, but it stung like a hammer to billy's head. you scooted further away from him in your seat, closer to the door just in case you needed to tuck-and-roll out of the camaro. you saw him seething, his knuckles turn white as the rest of him turned an angry red. his breathing was heavy and gravelly in his chest, rumbling like a volcano before eruption. "you can't- you can't treat women like they're pieces of meat."

billy gritted his teeth together.

"but that's all you are." he spat loudly, not even giving the effort to look at you as he pulled over in the road and stopped the car.

"no!" you argued, shaking your head, "i'm not! how do you know that you're not the.. piece of meat, huh?"

he laughed. a haunting laugh that you had been hearing in your head the whole week.

then he went silent. his face fell, his hands fell of the steering wheel and onto his thighs. he sat back in his seat, staring out the dashboard window into the darkness that had consumed the october night.

"you're killin' me, (y/n)."

you let your shoulders drop.

"what?"

"i don't want to go to the game," billy declared, his voice much quieter than it was in his seemingly controlled fit of anger.

"what, you wanna yell at me more?"

"no. i don't know-" his voice suddenly rose to a shout, his head snapping to face you. the movement made you jump, swallow a thick cloud in your throat. "- what i want, okay? so if you could just shut the fuck up-" he slammed his palm down on the steering wheel, causing it to emit a loud, dull sound throughout the car that seemed to shake your body. you stole a shaky breath from the heavy air.

"let's just.. let's just talk," you apprehensively suggested, mousey and wide-eyed. billy ran his fingers through his curly hair. he shut his eyes, tightly.

"what the fuck is there to talk about?" he snarled. you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, suddenly losing that streak of bravery when confronting billy.

"your life? my life? i-.. if-.. let's get to know each other."

"god, that's lame. you're fuckin' lame."

you felt frozen in the leather seat, like he had spread out a thick glue and stole the sweat from your body. your chest was heavy, fingers seemingly stuck in a rigor mortis clench. but your jaw opened itself, like a venus fly trap luring an unsuspecting fly with a bitter sugar.

".. what's the necklace?"

billy stopped. his face turned white, a cold white. he flew away from you.

"it's none of your business," he snapped harshly.

your eyes darted from him, to the steering wheel, to your lap, anywhere in the car. they took their final resting place upon him, finding the sliver of skin where the pendant rested.

"i wanna get to know you," you whispered, shrugging your shoulders.

billy didn't further the conversation. just rapidly threw his hand onto the transmission and shoved it into drive, pressing down his foot firmly on the gas so quick you were kind of thrown around in your seat. you had to grab onto the console and the door handle to be able to settle yourself back into the leather before speaking again.

"billy- where the fuck are we going?" you urgently, but nervously, demanded.

you were met with nothing but silence and the engine of his car growling at you.

----------

there wasn't a word spoken in that goddamn camaro until the car let out its hum of sleep and fell into stillness. you were snapped out of some sort of trance billy had put you under, a trance of confusion and a sprinkle of fear.

billy threw his door open immediately after tugging the keys out. you followed him on your side, more frantic than his somehow cool composure. you knew he was anything but cool, probably pretty near boiling level by now. he was such an anomaly. he didn't make any sense to you. when you got out of the car, you saw him leaned against the hood of his camaro, big hands shoved in his front jean pockets. you stood by the car on your side, making sure to not make any sudden movements. you were way too scared to even touch his car, like it would catch on fire and dissolve billy into an ashy mess.

the air was cool, a breeze blew past you and swirled around billy, ruffling up his hair gently. you could smell the water, musty and earthy as it swished around and waved hello to you two. you could see stars and billy's car's lights reflect onto the water, anything but calm as the reflections distorted and twisted and stretched on the surface. you could hear the trees rustling as they danced with the breeze. it was calm. a lot more calm then billy's tension

"california," he finally spoke up, staring down at the ground as he crossed an ankle over the other.

"what?"

"california. i lived in california before i moved to this shit-hole."

you took a step closer to him, lighting a fuse that made his head turn to you. you saw a different emotion in his eyes, something you had never seen from him before. twinkling in the dark, a small spark distant from his irises.

all you could utter was, "oh."

"my dad- neil. he thought it would be good for his stupid fuckin' new chick and her kid. i thought that-" he swallowed, rough and hard and tobacco-tainted, "- that i could make this place mine."

"i hate it, (y/n). i hate it here."

you took another step towards him, the wind pushing you to him and coaxing you to investigate more. you couldn't speak. it was like you were watching a film play out and this was the final scene before the main character got his happy ending. but you knew that you weren't in that scene.

"you- have been driving me crazy," he conceded, his gaze returning to the abyss in front of him. "you.. and max, have been the things that i just.. can't win."

you chewed on your bottom lip, crossing your arms to hold your warmth and dignity to yourself.

"have you ever thought that.. maybe you haven't been trying?" you suggested. you took the final steps necessary to reach to the spot next to him, where you gently rested yourself upon the hood of his car.

"you're too fuckin' perfect. it makes me so mad," billy chortled darkly, a self-pitying laugh that made the night seem darker. "and you know what's the worst part? you're fucking boring."

your eyes glanced from side to side, searching for any words. all you could come up with was, "ouch."

you turned your head to look at him. his spine was curved where he was crossing his arms over his broad chest, his outline visible with the dim reflection of his headlights. his hair was a mess, out of place and frizzy from the moisture of the lake and the frustrated hair pulls.

"i dunno what to do," he said quietly, a small admission of hidden defeat.

"have you.." you cleared your throat to swallow down some of the fear bubbling in your stomach, ".. ever thought of.. not being such a dick to everyone?"

"cut the sass, alright?"

"i'm not being sassy," you dully argued, shifting your weight around in an attempt to make the situation a little more comfortable. you failed at that. "if you weren't so.. mean.. i would've happily gone out with you. you're pretty."

you saw billy's nostrils flare up. he stared off into space before his eyes clicked to look at yours, his head slowly following suit.

"pretty? really?" he threw back in a tone that more questioned if you were fucking with him, trying to emasculate him or something. but you weren't- he was just really pretty.

"mhm.. pretty," you mumbled. that was about as far as you were going to get with him. he still had a brick wall built up, made of hair-gel and muscle covered in thorns that pricked anyone who came too close.

in a swift movement, billy pushed himself off of his car, leaving you stranded in the darkness. he was about to march to the driver's seat and probably throw some sort of fit, but you straightened your knees and took a step forward in the chips of rocks.

"i'm serious, billy," you called out.

he had his hand on the door's lever, but stopped without pulling it towards him to open the car. his tongue poked in his cheek, sliding over to poke out to cover his bottom lip, shaking his head. "you are the devil, (y/n)."

"no," you said, taking another step towards him, swallowing down your dignity. this had to be some sort of trap he had laid out for you. "i just.. think there's more to you than all those.. abs and stuff."

"why are you being nice to me?" he asked, more irritated than anything.

you sucked in a breath and swallowed it down, in the process swallowing down your dignity. the breeze of the night must have possessed you, because before you knew it, you were closing the inches between you two and laying your hands on the collar of his opened polo. you grazed your eyes on the v of exposed skin before letting them walk, rather run, to his face. he was pretty. so pretty that you couldn't help but tug on the fabric, slowly, until the tip of your noses met. he just stared into you, blue eyes intoxicating you until you were out of your mind enough to close the gap and press your lips upon his.

you were kissing him. you were kissing billy hargrove and your head was completely empty. no synapse firings or rational thoughts were occurring to send a signal to your legs to run away and escape. maybe you were just falling into his trap, maybe it was pity or defeat, but when his hands came up to grip your waist tightly, you were spent. gone in the thin ring of ocean blue on his face. it was familiar, the hold he had on you and how he told you he would have you in a jiffy. it pained you to admit he was right. you just couldn’t help it, especially not when he moved to press you against the side of his camaro so he could deepen your kiss, lips battling with each other in a dissonant harmony that was somehow satisfying. but not satisfying enough to get you to stop.

“i-i wasn’t lying,” you stammered with a pant, as steady as you could be with billy expertly pecking at your bottom lip, trying to reignite another heavy kiss. “you really are pretty and-.. and-“

billy pulled himself off your lips, leaving not even an inch between your two heated faces. you could feel and smell his breath, the gum that he chewed and the words he spat to hide his emotions.

“and what?”

you stared up at him, smoothing your hand from his cheek and over his chest, fiddling with the fabric.

“h-hot? i don’t.. know..” you whispered, your eyes finding the silver pendant against his chest and locking onto it so you didn’t have to look at him. but you could feel billy’s signature smug grin grow on his face. you were immediately regretting the decision you didn’t make willingly, but you didn’t back out.

“you gonna get all shy on me?” he murmured, leaning down to force your chin back up with his nose. “c'mon, where did all of that high and mighty shit go?”

he began mouthing over your jaw, making sure to nip where your jaw met your ear. he noted the hitch in your breath by repeating his actions, this time pulling a tiny little squeaky hum from the back of your throat that didn't leave your lips.

"you were planning this, weren't you?" you gasped, leaning your head back without thinking just to let him wrap his tail around and around you until he suffocated you. he took it as an invitation to kiss and bite across the delicate skin of your neck, which he happily accepted.

"ohh, don't blame this on me, naughty girl," he muttered between bites. "but you're just too innocent and perfect for that, huh?"

you hummed a little, "mm-mmh," and shook your head. you didn't see yourself as innocent, per se, but billy wanted to grab the halo above your head that only he saw and rip it into pieces. you had a little tiny urge to prove him differently, lifting up your leg so it bent at the knee and rested on his hip. he caught it for you and gripped the skin under your thigh, letting it mold in his fingers. it brought you closer to him, particularly the pelvic region, which you realized when you felt a hard, thick bulge trapped under his jeans rubbing up against you. you gasped at it, hands jumping up to the back of his head, filled with long, blonde curly hair to lightly tug on it. he heard it, he felt it, and so he pressed up against you, lifted his hips up slightly so he could plant them back down between your legs, gritting his hard bulge between your jeans.

"jesus," he grumbled, sinking his teeth into a spot just above the crease where your collarbones met with your neck. he lingered there, placing his tongue on the target and began to lightly suck.

"mmh- billy, no marks-" you protested, shifting your hands to his chest to lightly shove him away. he didn't budge, simply slid one of his hands opposite to the side of your neck he was attacking, pressing it against you to press you further into his mercy.

he growled, a rumble bubbling in the base of his throat with a, "too bad."

you stopped pushing after a couple of seconds, the exact second a whine trailed from your lips and prompted a chuckle from billy when he sucked down, hard. it stung, a tiny bit, but god did it feel good for your skin to be violated like that. rough and unforgiving, teeth scraping on your jugular until he had decided there was a sufficient enough bruise to make you wear a turtleneck for the next week. you didn't notice how much you enjoyed it before you found yourself grinding against his pelvis, a friction that formed sparks and sent them flying up your nervous system.

"you've been thinking about this, haven't you?" billy whispered, removing his teeth from your skin and kissing up the underside of your chin, up the side of your jaw, kissing the corners of your lips as a finishing touch. "that pretty little head filled with nasty things, all the nasty stuff i would do to ya."

he hit every mark. you had been thinking about this since that damn party, rutting against his thigh lodged between your thighs like a dog. you didn't have to think about that, though, with the real thing pressed up against you and grinding at your clothed clit. you whimpered, pathetically and weakly. your eyes were pulled up to meet his, blue eyes corrupted by black pupils that tied you down in them until you broke.

"you want me, don't you, (y/n)?"

you nodded.

"say it," billy demanded.

you then shook your head. he twisted his wrist around so it fit the front of your throat, lightly grasping at it in his big palm. you felt his fingers dig in your waist, so hard you could feel his short nails pressing against your sweater.

"(y/n)," he murmured, sing-songy and mocking, "say it. i can leave you right here, shaking and fuckin' wet."

you whined again, trying to turn your head away from him, but he was quick to catch your chin, holding you in place so he could stare you down. he had this primal look in his eyes, all of the anger and curiosity and desire spilling from his eyes into you. his face was tight, relentless, pretty blue eyes corrupted with libido.

"i can easily drive you home, you know. let you say goodnight to mommy and daddy knowin' big bad billy got you all worked up."

you shook your head again, as much as you could with his hold on you. you could feel the small droplets of spit flying from his teeth and hitting your face, making you wince with each syllable. he was squeezing your chin now, enough to leave a dull pain.

"come on, tell me. say it. say it and i'll give you what you want," he mumbled, voice low but rising to a harsh whisper. "wanna hear you. wanna hear you admit that i won."

you did. you lost this. miserably. there was going to be no winning this game of chess you had going on, he already had your queen in his line of sight and was reaching out to steal it.

"i want you," you spat out. "i want you, billy."

a sickly sweet, sticky smile grew on billy’s face as he released his harsh grip on your chin.

“atta girl, there ya go. that wasn’t hard, was it?” he teased, pecking your lips lightly as a small reward. his hands met at your waist again, before making the short trail to the hem of your jeans. your eyes then snapped wide open, flying down to grab at his wrists and pull them away. he didn’t fight it, he wasn’t that terrible.

“i dont- i don’t wanna do..” your voice quieted to a secretive whisper, “.. it out here.”

billy was quick to reply with a solution. “my place. let me take you home.”

you paused, hesitant and fighting with yourself to resist him more. but you couldn’t. he was inching towards your queen piece that you had placed in front of him, laid out for him to grab his victory. you could just nod, too much in shock to say anything. your eyes were wide, bright in the dark night and illuminated billy’s sight.

“okay,” you quietly conceded. “alright. take me home.”

he lingered with you for just a second until he was turning around, finally opening his car door and climbing in the seat, leaving you completely isolated and feeling way too empty to be standing out in the dark without him. so you ran to the other side of the car, scrambling to get in the seat across from him. he didn’t even wait for you to sit fully before he was pulling the car in reverse and speeding out of the spot it was in. you two didn’t talk the entire road. you just had your eyes set on him as he disregarded most traffic laws. atleast he was watching the road. so much you don’t think he blinked once. it was intense and heavy and thick in that car. your lungs couldn’t catch enough oxygen and you felt a little fuzzy in the head, like you were walking in some sort of twisted dream.

when he pulled into his own driveway and shut off his car, he sat there for a second, breathing heavily and staring into the garage door. then he suddenly turned to you, grabbed your face and tugged you to him, mashing his lips against yours in an almost violent kiss. it was messy and very sloppy, your lip gloss smearing around your own lips as well as basically his entire face. you felt his tongue press against your bottom lip, filling your taste buds with the taste of him. your own hands found the bottom of his shirt, gripping the fabric in your fists to ground yourself to reality, or else you think you would’ve just floated away.

“lets- jeez,” you struggled to say, just barely pulling away from him. “let’s go inside.”

he tore himself away from your lips. your hair was a mess, cheeks rosy and lips bruised and swollen from his own. your eyes had this shimmer of want that drove billy fucking crazy, like he wanted to split you open. and to be frank, he was planning on it. a week of frustration towards you had been building and building and was spilling out in the form of sexual tension. billy nodded, for once not having anything to say as he climbed out of his car and waited for you to do the same. you mirrored him, stepping out of the vehicle and throwing the door shut. you inched your way towards the front of his car, where billy grabbed your wrist and began tugging you inside.

you barely had any time to comprehend his little house filled with the lingering smell of anger as he dragged you to his room. you just knew it was warm. but hot. and cold. all at the same time- something just wasn’t right about that damned house. it was completely put together- neat and tidy, but was so broken and torn apart. you were tripping over your feet, tripping over your mind as billy’s hand splayed over your wrist in his palm and he dragged you across the house. when you got in his room, it was exactly the way you expected. posters of random, half-naked women across the walls, a radio, blue sheets that were scrunching up to the side and left a silhouette of his body. it smelled exactly like him. cheap cologne, peppermint and smoke. you smelt it even more when he grabbed your hips and pressed his lips against your already bruising neck. he groaned softly into your neck, taking a big huff of your scent as he lifted up his foot to shut the door behind him. you were trapped now.

“nice room,” you snarked as sarcastically as you could be, breathlessly as you tangled a hand in his hair. you were still trying to hang onto that thread of control you had.

“watch the attitude." he grumbled roughly, pulling off of you to glare down at you. he cupped your chin in his hand, a glass teacup in his rough palm as he maneuvered you to be pinned to his door. “you gonna keep mouthing off to me?”

you hummed a no. in an instant, billy snapped that little thread you had in two.

what was the use in fighting it anymore? you wanted him. bad. the core between your thighs was aching, and your stomach felt tight. you were sweating, and you couldn't tell how much of it was from you, and how much of it was from billy's hot body pressed against you. he seemingly rewarded this endeavor of surrender, lifting up his leg to slot between your thighs with a strength that probably would've sent you flying into the ceiling if he wasn't gripping everywhere he could. you let out a whine, the double layer of jeans still didn't do much to stop the friction against your aching clit. he had returned to your neck by then, nipping and sucking, painting your neck with little red marks around a bruising spot from earlier. you rut against his thigh as much as you could, letting your jaw hang open and head loll back until it hit the door.

"billy-" you panted. to him, it sounded like you wanted to stop, so he reluctantly pulled back. you were gazing up at him, and you had these big, wide, innocent eyes and it made billy want to squeeze you until you popped.

"kiss me," you pleaded, grabbing at his shirt, "please?"

it made him grin. he had a pretty smile. the corners of his lips unsubtly curled upwards, pushing his cheeks up and creating a line that rainbowed over his way too perfect lips. he wasn't showing you his teeth, maybe he was scared that it would chase you off, but you didn't have enough time to question that fact before he was obliging to your request. he attacked your lips fervently, sliding his hand to grab your cheek, the pad of his thumb digging into the front end of your cheekbone. your hands were fisted in the bottom of his shirt, the bunching of which revealed the bottom of the toned golden skin of his abdomen. you let your hand snake from his abdomen to his oblique, just below his hip.

you felt the muscles tense up, his thigh lodge itself further in between the crevice of your legs. the kiss was anything but gentle. spit was swapped to the point of a thin stream of saliva dribbled down your chin. his teeth caught your bottom lip between them at one point, making a show of pulling it back until your lip retreated with a hard sting.

"you look.. so fuckin' sexy right now," he whispered. he kissed the corners of your lips before he took a step back, leaving you alone and leaning against the door, shaking and ready to electrocute anything from the amount of static swimming through your veins. he walked backwards until his knees hit his bed, plaid blue bedsheets stopping the back of his knees until he was sat down on top of them. his thighs spread, hands hanging over them as he stared at a very confused you in front of him.

you tried to take a step forward, but billy stopped you with a palm out and a ‘ah ah ah.’ your head tilted to the side, like a puppy that doesn’t understand a trick just yet.

“take ‘em off,” billy demanded, his eyebrows raising. “the jeans and that dumb little sweater.”

“i don’t-“

“take it off or i’ll do it for you. you can take off your own clothes like a big girl, right?” he mockingly asked, mirroring your head tilt.

you sucked in a hard breath, but your lungs couldn’t seem to be filled with enough air. you had to save it, as your shaky hands pushed yourself from the door to a standing position and then shadowed over your jean’s button. you kicked off your shoes and socked with your toes, kicking them to the side carelessly. you sucked your bottom lip, already bitten, between your teeth as you unbuttoned your jeans and shoved them down your hips. you shimmied your way out of them, embarrassingly losing your balance as you stepped out of them and tumbling around before you gained it again. but billy didn’t laugh at you like you expected him to, he just stared like he was watching a pretty bird through a piece of glass. shaky hands clutched the bottom of your sweater, tugging it off cautiously, as if a wrong move would set off some alarm. eventually you threw it to the side, leaving your arms free to cross over your chest. you saw his breath pick up, his chest heaving under the thin fabric of his polo. you stayed like this for a while, you shifting your weight awkwardly and billy staring at you, practically salivating.

“are you just gonna stare at me?” you grilled, pouting out your lips as you glared at him. your little pout dissipated, however, when billy shot you a warning scowl. it was a mean look, and it made you feel like you were getting smacked on the wrist for something.

“.. sorry.”

“you are such a brat, you know that?” billy griped, reaching out as far as he could to hook a hand on the underside of your knee, and another on your waist. he tugged you to him in a swift movement, settling you down to straddle his lap. you squealed at the abrupt force, grabbing onto his shoulders to find a balance. “you’d be so much hotter if you would just shut up.”

his palm inched away from your knee and to your backside, hovering over the exposed skin. “but you just needed some attention, huh? needed someone to take care of you.”

his words were heavy, deep and dark and made you feel so weak, so minuscule compared to him. you tried to tense your thighs together, but billy’s own legs stopped you from doing so, leaving you spread and open on top of him. he certainly l abused this power. the hand on your backside smoothed over your skin, trailing across your hips, finding itself between your legs. the fabric of your underwear were soaked, basically sticking to his fingers as he rubbed over it. he laughed darkly at the sensation, hearing you gasp out and grip his shoulders tightly.

“fuck, who could have possibly got you this hot and bothered?” he mused, meeting your widened eyes. you didn’t reply, you couldn’t. your words got stuck in your throat and came out as a prolonged mewl. you sank yourself down onto his fingers, and he gladly welcomed you, lodging the pads of his fingers between the valley created in your underwear. his demeanor was switching every five seconds, from charming and a condescending sweet, to just downright mean and degrading. he couldn’t decide if he wanted to make you pay, or take pity and give you everything you wanted from him.

“y-you did, billy,” you crooned, a needy tune that barely rose above a whisper. “never been with someone like you. i like it.”

billy gave you another grin, just the slightest hint of white teeth peeking through to reward you for the praise. he bit down on his tongue slightly before it poked out to wet his bottom lip, licking the remains of your lipgloss from it.

“you’re gonna be nice and use your manners for me, right?” he tested, bending his fingers slightly and angling them to find your clit between your two bodies. he knew he found it when you let out this little cute squeal that sent vibrations straight to his cock, straining against his already overly tight jeans.

“uh-huh, yes- sure,” you gasped, rising your body up to allow him more access. his fingertips dug into your bare waist, the slightest hint of nails visiting your skin. billy just watched you, watched how your face squeezed together when he hit a right spot, how your hips circled his fingers greedily.

“c-can this come off?” you requested, tugging at the hem of his polo. “please?”

there was no way billy was going to refuse you. he acted annoyed, pressing his lips out and rolling his eyes a bit, but he really, really liked it. his hand pulled itself away from you, making you plant yourself against the crotch of his jeans to compensate. he tugged off his shirt in one swift movement, throwing it behind you on the ground by some other dirty laundry he hadn’t picked up yet.

he was basically sculpted by the gods. something out of a porno or some shit. that time you watched rocky horror picture show, the entire movie you found yourself staring at rocky himself in his toned but brainless glory, how the sweat stuck to his skin and made the golden tan glow and accentuated every little crevice and muscle. you never thought you would see something like it in real life, but here billy hargrove was, with you perched on his lap whining, looking like some sort of sex god or whatever. his dirty blonde hair hung out over the large triangular muscle of his trapezius, curled and frizzy from the sweat and moisture. and god, his chest. you could see everything as his chest heaved, pecs the perfect size for your hand to hold onto for support. this was not pretty. this was some sort of sorcery.

you were staring at him for a long time, letting your eyes rake over every inch of skin he had. you found the little happy trail of hair inching to the button of his jeans, framed by your inner thighs and must’ve subconsciously squeezed them together, because billy let out a grunt as soon as you laid your eyes on them.

“can i touch you?” you asked, sliding your palms down his biceps and squeezing his forearm in one, the side of his hand in the other.

no one had ever asked him that before. it made him feel things in his stomach that he hadn’t ever contemplated before. it was weird. you thought he wasn’t replying because of what you didn’t say, so you made sure to add a small, needy,“please.”

“such a sweet thing,” billy mumbled, like it was a secret you weren’t allowed to hear. but you heard, and your cheeks flushed even further, as impossible as it was. but that feeling in his stomach grew and grew, some sort of gross fondness with your blush and pout- and he realized he needed to reestablish himself as the dominant one in this situation. he needed to hear you need him, beg for him.

so he lifted you up by the waist, manhandling you to be laying down on his bed with him sitting back on his knees. your legs were spread laying on top of his thighs, giving him a good and clear view of all of you. you had that deer caught in headlights look, lost and defenseless against him.

“ya act all tough, givin’ me sass. if only you saw how fuckin’ pathetic you look,” he growled. your hair fanned out under your head on his conveniently placed pillow. he decided then that blue was definitely your color, as you laid against his sheets, holding onto his forearms for dear life. he gathered your wrists in one hand, sliding them up your body as he lifted himself onto his knees, pushing himself forward until you were chest-to-chest. your knees were bent on either side of him, feet planted into the blue sheets to ground yourself. your wrists got pinned above your head, staying there when he released them because of the huffy whisper of, ‘leave ‘em there, sweetheart.’

you swallowed thick and hard as he moved down your body, latching his teeth onto the skin just above your breasts. you whined, wanting so badly to move your hands and grab onto his curly hair, but you also wanted so badly to please him. and you didn’t fucking know why, and it was infuriating, but god did you want his hand back on your cunt.

his hands cupped your breasts over your bra as he nipped at your chest, leaving them there just for a second before he was scooting down your body. your breath picked up, belly rising and falling rapidly as he found his way down it, seemingly biting and sucking at every ribcage until he was completely off the bed. his feet hit the floorboards as he pressed a less than gentle kiss just below your bellybutton, looking up at you through his eyelashes. your eyes were screwed shut, face clenched uncomfortably to not fall apart at the seams.

“look at me.” he barked suddenly, a sudden boom that made you flinch and eyes rapidly open. he smiled against your skin, you could feel his teeth dig into your belly, his tongue poke a dot of saliva down.

“please, can i touch you?“ you reiterated, your voice suddenly as whiney as it had ever been. you bucked your hips up, the cotton of your panties gently bump against his hard chest.

“no. hands to yourself.”

you frowned, pouted out your bottom lip and locked your eyes with his, trying to find peace within the oceans in his eyes. but they were darkened, muddy and clouded with a desire to ruin you.

he bit at your hipbone, keeping his eyes glued to yours, before his lips met the waistband of your cotton underwear. his hands replaced his lips on your hipbones with a bruising grip, keeping you pinned in place with not even a thought of movement. his sharp teeth latched onto the elastic, and you let out a pleading mewl, heels digging into his mattress. slowly, extremely slowly, his hands left your hips as his teeth pulled down your underwear from your body. the cotton slid down your thighs with him until it wrapped around your bent knees, where he just grabbed it and threw it away from you as he stood between your legs. and then you were just wearing a bra underneath him, eyes piercing into you with a need to devour you whole. you were sweating by this point, the salty liquid collecting on your collarbones and forehead.

“jesus fucking christ, (y/n),” he laughed. “thought you hated me, huh? gonna soak my sheets.”

you frowned, whimpering, “m’sorry.”

“oh, don’t worry. you’ll make it up to me.”

he clicked his tongue, shook his head with a quite scary smirk before diving it between your thighs, grabbing a mouthful of your inner thigh and sucked, hard. you mewled, nails digging into your palms with a dedication to follow his instructions. he hooked his palms under your thighs to hold you in place and tug him closer to you, impossible to escape as he inched his way closer to the center of your thighs. but he never got close enough; just kissed, licked and but his way up, down and around where you obviously wanted him most. every time he got close you ran your hips up to try and meet him, but then he retreated back all the way up to your knee. it got to where you winced every time his teeth scraped the soft skin from how irritated it was from his teeth. you were whining, whimpering but not saying anything out of fear that he would stop all together. at one point he got real close to the gummy, wet lips, just to where the color starts to shift, and just lingered there, staring up at you and gripping your sides to keep you from moving. he caught the thick skin between his teeth, and that was about your breaking point. you were aching, swollen clit so neglected it hurt sitting out there in the open.

“fuck, please billy-!” you cried out, stomach lifting up off the bed desperately, chasing anything you could get. “need it so bad, please..”

“quit whining.”

he said that, but that was exactly what he was waiting for. he was planning on taking his time with you, testing your limit with him, intoxicating you until he broke into your head. he was enjoying your dependency. the past week you had been leaving him high and dry by doing nothing. other girls had been wearing shorter skirts, wearing more makeup than they ever had, just to get his attention- and that was all fine and dandy. but you had been wearing the same high waisted, loose jeans and a sweater or a t-shirt that left everything to imagination. and for some reason, just seeing you had dirty thoughts that would make a priest saint running in his head. and he didn’t know why. he just knew it made him fucking furious. he had already hooked up with half of a whole lunch table, and every time, he thought of you. thought of the pretty noises you would make just for him, begging for his touch after neglecting him of yours. but he had to keep acting like you were just another body to him. a very, very good looking body that wouldn’t be able to leave his head, sure, but just a body to use anyways. but when you said that word please, looking like you were about to cry and asked for absolutely anything, he could have sworn he came in his jeans right there.

“please, please, i’ll be good! just want you to touch me.”

he huffed out a snicker. going to be the death of him.

billy decided to spare you. he moved his opposite palm, stuck out his thumb and lightly, ever so lightly, set the firm pad of his thumb on the top of your clit. but you got ahead of yourself, got too excited with the progress of stimulation and rut your core up to rub the slick little bundle of nerves against his thumb more.

“hey,” he snapped, not hesitating to retract his hand all together. “you are gonna take what i give you, when i give you it. stop being fuckin’ greedy.”

“m’sorry, m’sorry!” you pleaded, planting your hips back down and squeezing your eyes shut. “just felt good-“

“thought you were gonna be good, huh?” he mocked, shaking his head as his tongue poked out in his cheek. “couldn’t wait a couple seconds, that fucking pathetic.”

“please, lemme try again- promise, i’ll be good!”

he pointed a finger at you, raising his mean eyebrows warningly. “you move again, i’m not giving you anything.”

“but-“

“s’not my problem, brat,” billy spat. “look at me and watch.”

too scared to be deprived of anything else, you obeyed mindlessly, gulping down a ball of spit that had been collecting in your open mouth as you opened your eyes and met his. you were shaking, thighs tense and unsteady around his face. your abs, arms, every muscle in your body clenched up when billy’s thumb returned against the hardened bud, his other fingers joining it to dig into one lip to spread you open. his knuckle rested in your slick slit, the smooth membrane welcoming him with a nasty, wet sound. you twitched, praying that everything moved except where billy was now rubbing slow circles. he didn’t seem to care about that. you hissed, letting out a loud “ah!” every movement he made felt like a full on sex toy you saw in a magazine every once in a while. it was overwhelming. the simple, slow rhythm consumed you, your jaw hanging open slightly.

“hng- s’good,” you panted. “more, please? please.”

billy rolled his eyes, scoffed at you a bit, but obliged, picking up the pace to a steady jog. his pointer finger began wandering down, sliding in the slickness of your cunt until he found the ring of muscle begging for something to lodge itself in it.

“fuck,” he groaned. he could smell your sweet arousal, how bad you needed him. his eyes snapped up to yours.

you got the memo, nodded eagerly. slowly, curiously, the tip of his pointer finger slid inside you, just enough to worm around and explore. you panted erratically, walls sucking his finger in. he wandered in further, steadily and slowly sliding his finger in you until your entrance halted at his knuckle.

“ah! f-fuck, thank you-“

his eyes left yours, instead raking down your body to find your hole. he swallowed down his breath. you were dripping onto his hand, swollen lips smacking and emitting wet sounds every time he moved his finger around.

“fuck, (y/n),” he groaned breathily, beginning to pump his finger in and out in a small pattern, matching his thumb to the pace. billy had never heard such sweet sounds from such a vulgar practice, in all the times he had fingered a girl at the very spot you were in. whines and gasps and little mewls that threatened to turn into moans.

however, he must have decided that you just weren’t wet enough still.

before you even realized it, his lips had wrapped around your clit, sucking and raking his tongue around and around. his pointer remained at its same pace, but was quickly joined with his middle finger, scissoring and stretching the tight ring. you let out a pathetic moan, the sound he had been anticipating. and you just couldn’t help it, it was all too much, and your own hands shot from above your head to tangling in his hair.

billy grunted into your slit, licking a stripe up from where his fingers spread you apart until he lifted his head up to look at you. very angrily. the creases on his forehead deepened, jaw clenched.

“didn’t i fuckin’ tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” he growled, halting his fingers plunged into you.

you pouted, a full on pout with big doe eyes and a pushed up chin, your eyebrows meeting high up on your face. you nodded slowly, trying to quickly choose your words wisely.

“h-hold them, please?” you strangled out, releasing his hair from your fist and laying them over your stomach. his jaw set as he shook his head with a cocky, sharp simper.

yet, he still wrangled up your wrists in his grip, keeping them pinned at your belly as he dove back into you. the action didn’t seem to phase him all that much. and it didn’t. he was flattered that you needed to hold onto him, but he had to keep the act up. it was getting hard, too. you were fucking adorable with that needy pout, saying please with every sentence. he was also getting very hard. like, painful hard. he was straining against his jeans, thick, hot blood causing a horrible tension.

but you didn’t have any affect over him, obviously.

his tongue continued with its attack, lapping between your folds ferociously, spit and your juices sloppily dripping down his chin and wetting the ghost of hair above his upper lip. his fingers sped up, erratic and merciless. he was chasing something. your eyes, as hard as you tried to keep them open, rolled to the back of your head as they followed the stars and sparks flying around your head. painted pink nails dug into the back of billy’s hand. your moans got louder and louder, frenzied. you almost sounded pained, but it was the complete opposite. it felt so good to be full, you felt full enough that there was a weight in your lower belly, like an endless black hole that kept sucking your senses in.

billy felt your walls tighten around his fingers, making him work harder to keep the pace he wanted. every little sound you made pushed more blood to his hungry cock- he would definitely have to take his underwear off without you seeing the wet patch staining his white briefs. a smile tugged at his lips as they sucked at your clit ruthlessly. you were tensing up so much billy thought you would have exploded. his grip on your wrists loosened up just a tad, enough to wiggle his hand around to grab at one of your palms so you could squeeze it as much as you needed.

but you didn’t have any affect on him.

“billy- billy, m’gonna cum-“ you cried, those words becoming a chant as the weight sank further into your gut. there was a fluttering feeling throughout your body, shockwaves gripping at every nerve and muscle. your mouth hung open wide, your breath getting faster and faster until-

it all disappeared. your vision went white for a while, stars disappearing from your sky as the coil in your stomach slowly uncoiled itself in a very unsatisfying resolution. you felt empty, walls contracting around nothing. his fingers were gone, tongue gone from your slit.

when your vision and partial sanity returned, you came to billy, standing between your legs, sucking off his pointer and middle finger. you were heaving, breathing staggered and noisy like there was a giant cotton ball in your chest. slowly, he removed his fingers from his lips, the same perfect lips that had just been pleasuring you like it was the last thing on earth he would do. his thumb, that same fucking thumb that teased you, wiped your juices off his upper lip and onto a flat tongue.

you felt like you wanted to cry.

“oh, what happened?” billy taunted, hands reaching for his belt and undoing it, making a long show of sliding it out of his jean loops. “did you wanna cum?”

“yes! yes, i did!” you sobbed out, tugging your hands out of his grip grumpily.

“poor baby,” he graveled cruelly, grabbing one of your hands to place a wet kiss on the back of it just to rub it in that your wet arousal was just sucked into his mouth. you sat yourself up, arms crossing loosely over your stomach as you sulked. “you must just hate me.”

you glowered at him, looking to billy like he just took a toy away from a puppy. but your ears perked up when you saw him unbutton his jeans, shove them down his heavy thighs. unsurprisingly, there was a thick, long tent begging to escape from the white fabric doing him no justice. and just as he didn’t want you to see, his pre-cum had left a small splotch of darkened, damp white just where his thick tip was.

your eyes were the size of the moon at it. you stared, rudely abusing the privilege he was giving you. you gulped.

“i wanna- can- can i-“ you stammered, scooting your way closer to the edge of the bed.

“can you what? speak up.”

“can i touch.. it? you?”

he scoffed, laughed maliciously.

“go for it.”

you bit your bottom lip rather roughly. you cautiously reached out, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his tighty whities to pull them down eagerly. his cock sprung out excitedly, stealing your oxygen away in the process. he was big. like, really big and it really wasn’t fair. thicker than it was long, slightly curved up, his big tip tapping his toned stomach. there was already white heading at the small slit in the oversized head, contrasting the angry red that covered his girth. you could see the veins popping out as they ran up his cock, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to run your tongue up each and every inch. but you yourself were way too desperate. you watched as he reached over to his nightstand, grabbing one of those aluminum squares. he was quick to open it, pull the condom out and stretch it snugly over his cock.

“you scared? think it’s not gonna fit?” he purred, reaching out to card his fingers through your hair to angle your flushed face up to him. you shook your head, offering him a tiny, excited grin. you wrapped a hand around the thick base, immediately coaxing a prolonged groan from his pretty lips. his head tilted back, which encouraged you to slide your hand up and down at a very slow pace- testing your waters. he cursed loudly, grunting your name as he tugged at your scalp lightly.

“you want it, don’t you?”

you nodded rapidly.

“say it.”

you pursed your lips, keeping your pride down in your stomach.

“i want it, billy.”

“ohhh, come on, you can do better than that,” he sarcastically encouraged, tightening a fist in your hair as your own fist stroked his cock at a steady pace. you frowned, shoulders dropping. your face clenched up for a second, releasing all of that stupid old dignity stuff.

“please, billy- i want you to.. fuck me. please,” you whimpered up at him. “need you so bad. you’re so big, need it in me-“

how could he say no to that?

“atta girl,” he grinned. in a swift movement, you returned back to your original position. you laying down on his bed, legs spread and bridged over his thighs, but this time, his thirsty cock pressed in between your folds. billy’s fist pumped himself a couple times, spitting out curses and growls. his cheeks pressed up against his eyes and made them squint up. you felt the smooth head press up against your entrance, slicking itself up in your juices.

“please, please, please,” you chanted quietly, clutching his sheets in your hands and scooting yourself closer to his cock. billy held his breath as he pressed into you, thickness splitting you open with the slightest taste of pain. your mouth went slack, stuck in a soundless moan as you gently writhed, walls swallowing every inch he slowly gave you.

“give it to me, sweet girl, give it to me,” he breathlessly huffed, stuffing you full at a painful speed.

“take it, take it- it’s yours,” you moaned, back arching up. your pelvises finally met eachother when the curly collection of hair surrounding his cock hit your skin. you felt so full, so warm. you both moaned in unison, yours far more whiney than his. he muttered something about taking him so well, being so good, simultaneously rolling his hips expertly to plunge his cock into you.

you cried out at the intrusion, how you stretched tight around him. he didn’t give you any time to adjust, immediately beginning to thrust into your needy cunt at a pace that aimed to please him most. your moans nearly turned into yelps and shouts, babbling curses mixed with his cursed name.

“f-fuck, fuck,” billy stammered, his words coming out as a sick laugh as he watched you suck his cock into your sweet core every time he pulled out to slam back in. it wasn’t a quick pace, just deep and rough and enough to make you reconsider the existence of god. he grabbed at your sides to push you down onto his cock counter to his jackhammers into you. his tongue stuck out and rested against his bottom lip in concentration. you weren’t talking, both in your own worlds with swearing god to hell and moaning the others name. the rest of the space was filled with his heavy balls slapping against you every time his hips struck down into you and the ugly squelching your cunt sounded around him.

“god- billy!” you yelped. “so, so good- feels so good-!”

he sped up with every minute, eventually rising to a bruising pace that would imprint the art of his thick cock onto the walls of your pussy. he was grunting, spit flying from his lips. the veins in his forearms were pulsing as they flexed when he worked you into a rhythm, using your body to stroke his cock over and over again. that coil was there again in your belly, warm and uncomfortable and pressuring you to relieve it.

he slowed down for a minute, just so he could bend over and lay his forehead on your collarbone, lifting up your hips just so he could reach the deepest possible angle he could. he hit the rough, folded patch in your cunt with every stroke and sent a spark straight to the hot fire building up. the sounds you were making were on par to sobbing, now right in billy’s ears. he looked like he was just taking a rest for a second, but you knew that he was staring down between your thighs, watching his cock ruin your hole in ways it had never been ruined before. and you both knew that it wouldn’t be ruined like this by anyone else. his hips rolled into yours, bruising your pelvic bone and you couldn’t help but push against him.

“fuck, just made for me,” billy purred against your collarbone, too distracted by the view to reprimand you for grabbing onto his back, his shoulders, anywhere you could reach with your nails. he was fine with some battle marks, anyways. your moans and whines never ceased, but his quieted down to heavy breaths that fanned over your skin and left goosebumps anywhere it could reach.

“wanna cum, wanna cum so bad. all for you,” you beckoned, a hand tangling in his hair freely. you got away with it, too, he just let you tug at his hair. one particularly hard tug left him moaning himself under his breath; you took a note of that.

billy sucked in an especially hard breath before returning to his brutal pace, thighs slapping against yours and the disgusting sounds returning to his warm room. the thread was getting tighter and tighter, and it was so, so ready to snap. he knew it, he could tell how your pussy fluttered around him and your thighs clenched around his hips. he just sped up, finding a pace that erupted the most sounds from you and then stuck to it. you writhed and jerked below him, clawing at his shoulder and tugging at his curls. sweat was everywhere, in your palms, glistening on his back and streaming down his forehead. the inner fat of your thighs were soaked by now, slippery as his skin slapped against them. your back lifted so far up it hurt, you knew you would be sore.

“gonna make me- fuck, gonna make me cum, (y/n).” he found your shoulder, bit down roughly. he wasn’t lying.

“please, please, need it-“

he lifted you up ever so slightly just to ram himself into your g-spot repeatedly, making you feel like a hundred pounds of feathers were fallen onto your gut. he kept thrusting and thrusting, hard and at the perfect pace. every time his balls smacked against your ass it just added to the weight in your belly, until it just became too much and you couldn’t control it. with a couple more thrusts, you were clenching around him, so tight billy could have sworn you grew some erotic superpower. you went quiet, before the loudest, most delicious moan spewed from your lips. your entire body shook, vibrated, as you continued to cry out. it was long and hard and hit you like billy’s camaro crashed into you at 100 miles per hour. but it was good. so, so good. addictive. you just dissolved into the pleasure, melted into his wetted sheets. it came in unkind waves, each one sending you into a new planet with your eyes rolled back far into your brain. and still, all you saw was billy. he captured a moan in his own mouth as he pressed his lips against yours in a lazy, careless kiss that could barely classify as that. it was just gross and messy, exchanging spit and swears and moans.

your clenching cunt coaxed billy’s own orgasm, a huffy and vicious moan coming out from his lips straight into your ear and made you feel like you came again. he thrusted into you as roughly as he could for a chain of pumps, until he stopped at the deepest point he could, fingers digging into your waist. he filled the condom to the brim, you could feel it weighing in you and it coaxed a sob from you.

“fuck! shit, (y/n)!” he exclaimed deeply, heaving and panting as he started up again, slowly and gently as he rode out his own orgasm. you went limp underneath him, holding onto him with your zero remaining strength. he slowed down to another stop, taking his sweet time pulling out of you, leaving you gaping and ruined.

you both were slowly returning to earth, panting and heaving harshly. your hands slid away from him, legs falling into the mattress as you molded into the mattress. he slid himself off of you, collapsing right next to you on the mattress with a dreamy look on his face.

but soon, both of your faces fell, as you returned back to earth and the oxygen got back to your brains. a dreadful, horrible thought and realization possessed both of you and forced both of your breathing to cease to exist.

what were you getting yourselves into?

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idolatrybarbie · 7 months

Text

for my fifty follower celebration! @bastardmandennis asked: dieter bravo and prompt no. 5— "ghosts aren't real, except when they are." it's scary story experiment...i haven't written horror in probably two years. enjoy the pretty graphic if nothing else.

rating & word count: mature | 2.8k

warnings: referenced substance abuse, mentions of alcohol, dieter is sober, one song-based joke (please get it plsplspls), reader is gender neutral, a good ol' haunting tale.

It’s late. How late? Excellent question.

You’re technically on vacation—one week out of fifty-six, when your boss takes his annual trip to Seoul to “unwind.” You’ve never asked him what that means, exactly. Better not to know what Dieter Bravo gets up to in the name of relaxation.

For the past thirty-four months, you’ve been working with the Hollywood troglodyte, following him around the world and across productions to take notes and document the goings on of his life. All of this in the hopes of ghostwriting his tell-all book. Technically, you were supposed to start outlining a manuscript this spring. The publisher doesn’t think you have enough material yet to make the memoir appetizing. What they don’t realize is that Bravo is not a very appetizing man.

He’s…odd. From the moment you first shook hands with him, you’ve felt an off presence surrounding him that you still can’t quite place, even almost three years later. He treats you more like an assistant than anything, asking you to fetch him coffee or an eight-ball; the request varies based on his mood. His actual assistant, Carla, is a bit of a shadow. Still, she’s there to share anxious backseat smiles with you on the way to Dieter’s red carpet appearances, a silent shoulder to lean on.

Sitting on the broken couch of your one bedroom apartment, you’ve lost focus of the Word document on the screen of your laptop. You’ve been transferring the last two months of paper notes to digital copies for the last three hours, resenting the task the longer it takes. Dieter wanted to experience the Swiss Alps before the first day of autumn, dragging you to the mountains for a six week stay. Apparently, they don’t have mobile connection at four thousand feet.

The thought crosses your mind to call it a night, leave the rest ‘til morning. This is your only real time to rest, after all. Before you can act upon it, though, your phone buzzes beside you. “Entry Of The Gladiators” blares from the pinhole of a speaker. The song has a Pavlovian effect on you, meeting the song with a sigh and the tick of your jaw.

“Dieter,” you answer, holding the phone to your ear.

“You picked up,” he says.

“Why are you calling?” You can’t hide the irritation in your voice. Shifting your laptop off of your thighs, you stand and stretch, wedging your cell between your cheek and shoulder.

“I just—I thought—”

“Aren’t you in South Korea?” you ask. Aren’t you supposed to be bothering someone else?

“Came back early. Got a bad vibe,” he says.

“A bad vibe?” you ask. “Come on, Dieter. That trip was important.” Important for you to have a social life for a sweet seven days, but also for him, too. If you remembered correctly, he was supposed to have a business meeting with Genesis Motor about starring in their new campaign of overseas commercials.

“I rescheduled with Genesis, everything’s fine. Don’t bitch at me,” Dieter says.

“I’m not—” you stop yourself, pausing mid-pace on the worn shag of your living room. Thirty-four months, and this is how he’s treating you? “You know what, fuck you. Fuck you, Dieter. My one week off from your crazy goddamn antics, and you’re fucking it all up. I’m done. Done.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he urges.

“Calling the publisher in the morning, so you can find yourself a new ghostwriter.” Satisfaction rolls through you as you hang up on him, the tiny button on your screen giving you power. Yeah, fuck that guy. You plop back down on the on the couch, pulling your laptop back to you. Going through your hard drive, you start to load every file from the past three years with details on Dieter into the recycling bin.

Cold air rolls in from the window, cracked ajar to keep patchouli incense smoke away from the dingy plastic alarm on your ceiling. The rattling outside barely catches your attention, another noise lost to the wind. You blink. Blink again.

You know that feeling, like someone’s watching you? It’s a sense you’ve become mighty acquainted with in the last handful of years. Following a megastar around like a toddling penguin in his entourage tended to pull some attention back on you. When you look up your name, there are a handful of Variety articles, a PopCrave tweet or two that show up. A snapshot of your professional life, all in relation to Dieter. Over time, it’s gotten less uncomfortable. People love celebrities, and they just want to see them. Harmless.

But this feeling…you don’t want to look up from your screen. Continuing the task of putting every last document on Dieter in the desktop’s recycling bin, you switch over to a new tab when you’re done; search for something unimportant, waiting for this to pass. Your breath catches in your throat, heart skipping a beat. Finally, when you can’t fight the urge anymore, you turn and look.

Nothing. The smog-ridden navy sky of Los Angeles meets you with the pathetic twinkle of a far off star. You breathe in through your nose, then out again in a deep sigh. Nothing. Nothing’s there.

Exhaustion claims you when you aren’t paying attention. Your sleep is dreamless, for the most part. You hear a subtle dripping the whole night, searching for the source in the dark. With your eyes closed, the task is impossible. You let the noise come closer, long and loud enough now that you learn to tune it out. Nightmares of a leaky faucet; how odd.

You wake up in the bathtub, laptop beside you, pressed between your clothed thigh and the fiberglass. The faucet leaks steadily above your head, water dripping down onto your skin. It’s gotten all over your face, at the edges of your hairline, in your eyes. Spluttering, you sit up. Your scalp is damp. Water has seeped into the collar of your shirt. Certainly you didn’t settle on the idea of a bath in the middle of the night.

Before you can question it more, your cellphone rings from another room. Scrambling out of the tub, you almost slip and fall against the wall tiles. Getting a grip on the edge of the tub, you step a foot at a time onto the bathroom floor and pad to the living room. Your phone is wedged between the cushions of the couch. Wrenching it from the fabric, you answer on the last ring.

“Hello?”

“I need to see you.” Dieter. Again.

“Dieter, my mind hasn’t changed since last night.” Looking at the clock on the wall, it hasn’t even been twelve hours.

“This isn’t about that,” he says. “Can you just come over?” It almost sounds like he’s begging…almost.

“Look, I’m busy today.”

“Tonight then.” His voice cracks, and you can only imagine the wiry, wide-eyed man on the other end of the line. “Please,” he whispers.

In all of your time spent with Dieter Bravo, you have never heard him use his manners—much less ask for something with such desperate politeness tacked onto the request.

“Okay. Okay, fine. Tonight. Just…don’t do anything stupid, alright?” you ask.

“Yeah. Okay,” Dieter agrees. Then the phone call dies.

You really don’t have anything to do today, the Friday of your week away from Bravoland. Sitting on the couch, you look around your apartment, taking stock of the life you’ve cobbled together here. Instead of pride or nostalgia, it fills you with dread. The glassy frames holding photos of family and old friends make your skin crawl, their resin paper eyes boring holes into you as they stare. A chill crosses over your body, prickling at your arms. You go to close the living room window to find it already shut.

You stay out of the living room, hiding away from a sense of unease in your bedroom. Still, it lingers in your doorway. That watchful sense returns. Your eyes stay open, glued to the ceiling as you lay down. You can’t leave, but you can’t sleep. Keeping your eyes open seems to be all you have—like letting them flutter closed would be an invitation for the unease of the apartment to waltz in and consume you.

Time slows to a drag, the sun absent from the sky as the day passes you by. The grey light from the window bathes everything in an uncanny dullness. Your laptop still sits in the bathtub. When night finally falls, you exit the apartment without looking back. The door closes behind you with a slam. You don’t even touch the handle.

The drive into the Hollywood Hills is the only moment of peace you’ve had since you woke up in that bathroom. You refuse to acknowledge whatever is going on at your place. You’re overreacting. All the work has set you on edge, and now your mind is playing tricks on you.

Yeah, that’s what it is—the work. Fatigue. All those late nights transferring and taking notes, or following Dieter to club after club, waiting for him to finish snorting a full 8-ball outside bathroom doors. Most nights blur together these days, the only thing that differentiates them being the photographs you take and the date you write at the top of your notepad. Your calendar is dependent on what colour tie Dieter wears on The Tonight Show or Kimmel every handful of months.

The Bravo mansion is modest in comparison to some of the architectural monstrosities out this way. Still, it manages to intimidate you every time you see it. Slowly, you pull up to Dieter’s place and park in the cobblestone drive. If you squint, you can see the Hollywood sign through a thick pack of warbling trees.

The sun is not shining down on the house today as it usually is. Even here, on land deemed the pinnacle of both the American and Hollywood dream, the sky is painted an ugly pewter. The building looks shadowy in its height, the twin pair of art deco doors no longer a quirky, eccentric detail of the house but a gaping maw. The small windows that frame them, a result of Dieter’s obsession with triangles, look like raw and jagged teeth. You don’t bother to lock your car when you approach the front steps, using the metal knocker at the door.

It only takes a few moments for Dieter to appear, opening one door and giving you a once-over. He’s still in his pajamas, missing his usual lounging robe. The lack of sunglasses present on his face indicates to you that he’s not hungover (yet).

“You look like shit,” is the first thing he says to you.

“I can still go home, you know.” Taking a step back, you raise a brow at him and angle your body back towards your car. The threat is empty, of course. Nothing could send you back to that place; might as well sell it now.

“Shit—sorry. I’m sorry, come in,” Dieter corrects himself.

The door opens wider with the length of his arm, and you duck in past him. The air inside the house is permeated with must, a mix of mildew and unsettled dust. Usually, the sight of Dieter’s mansion reminds you of general unwash, not a horrible monster house. Today is special.

“So?” you ask, faux-irritation lacing your tone. “You wanted me over here. You know it’s my week off, right?”

“There’s something wrong,” Dieter says immediately. He peers around the edge of the front door before it shuts. He locks the door, then reaches up to fasten the deadbolt.

Immediately, that tells you that this is serious. Forgetting the unease at your own apartment, you ask, “Is your stalker back? She’s out there, isn’t she?”

“What?” Dieter asks. “No, it’s not that. Nothing outside.”

He walks past you and deeper into the house, leaving you no choice but to follow.

“What do you mean, outside?”

“There’s something wrong in the house,” he explains.

“Like…”

Dieter looks around, giving each shoulder a hyperbolic check. Then he walks closer, so close that you can smell his breath—bubblegum toothpaste and cigarettes. Your heart speeds up a little, the proximity eliciting a light jog in your chest. It’s not like man has never been this close, but the last time…

“A haunting,” he whispers.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, an airy chuckle that pushes Dieter back a few feet.

“Come on, Dieter,” you say.

His face pulls tighter, look severe. “I’m serious.”

“Are you high?” you ask. “I don’t smell any alcohol on you. Did you take something? Because I can call your sponsor if—”

“Will you listen to me?!” he roars over you. In the three years you’ve known him, Dieter has never yelled. He gets a little wild, antics more than slightly crazy, but he doesn’t raise his voice. You watch him closely, eyes wide, as he recomposes himself. “There is something wrong in this house. I can’t sleep, can barely eat. It feels like—like I’m never alone. Moreso than usual, okay? I’m waking up in strange parts of the house, and my shit’s in places it shouldn’t be. And I called Brad,” his manager, “and he thinks I’m full of shit. Thinks I’m on another bender. I just…fuck. I just need you to believe me.”

You blink. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dieter parrots. His eyes are all glossy, ready to spill with fresh tears. You thought that you had seen all of this man, the barest and ugliest parts of him. Now, you see you were wrong. He looks sad. Scared.

“I believe you,” you sigh. “I believe you. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“We could leave,” you suggest.

“No, no,” he insists. “I don’t think it’ll like that.” It.

“So then, what?”

“Stay here? With me,” Dieter says.

You should say no, heart racing now as blood rushes hot through your brain. Instead, you nod and follow him to his home theater, where he seems to be camping out. Dieter has too many candles lit not to be a fire hazard, with bagged snacks and bottles of water strewn about the floor and the plush horseshoe couch; the middle is stuffed with the same plush cushion as the back of the seats, making it more of a circular daybed than anything. Blankets are balled up at one end, two beaten up pillows next to them.

Dieter has the radio playing off of the luxury sound system, the large projector screen dark.

“I don’t think it likes noise,” he explains.

Dieter asks you to sit with him through the night, listening to shitty pop songs, car commercials, and every once in a while, FM radio static. He says the static is it, a creature he refuses to elaborate upon. He fists his hand into the blankets each time the station cuts out and turns to white noise.

This goes on for almost two hours. You start to get bored, and more pressingly, tired. Sleep calls to you, your mind settling the weirdness before as your imagination, and whatever is going on here a facet of Dieter’s. Is it possible for two people who haven’t seen each other in days, and live on opposite sides of town, to share in the same delusion? Surely. They had a name for it—folly of two.

That must be it. Working for a celebrity has finally driven you mad.

Leaning heavy against the cushions of the couch, you allow your eyes to slowly slip closed. Before the world disappears entirely, something is shaking you awake. No, not something, but Dieter. His wide palm is grasped over your shoulder, swaying you back and forth violently in his grip.

“What? What is it?” you growl.

“You can’t sleep,” he says.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Your irritation skyrockets as you sit up, pulling out your phone to scroll through your contacts.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling your goddamn sponsor, so he can do his fucking job and I can get some shut eye.”

Dieter says your name; you ignore him, pressing ‘call’. “Please, don’t do that.” He tries to grab the phone from your hand, but you get up from the couch, out of reach. You want to believe him, you do, but you have no faith. You can't do this anymore; won't entertain the delusion any longer.

The line rings for thirty seconds before the sponsor finally picks up.

“Hi, is this Jo—” you stop yourself. A deep, heavy breathing sounds off from the other end of the line. “Hello?”

“Hang up,” Dieter whispers, shaking his head. You raise a finger at him. “Hang up!”

He moves from his lax position, kneeling up far enough to snatch your cell phone away and end the call.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s—”

“There is no it!” you yell. “There is nothing here, Dieter! No one is out to get you, or watching you. No one cares, okay? Ghosts aren’t real.”

Dieter watches you, and you watch him back. Holding a steely gaze, you don’t register the fizzle-pop of light bulbs around the two of you until they’ve already exploded. Shards of hot glass fly from the fixtures and land on the carpeted floor. All at once, the flame at each wick of Dieter’s candles is snuffed out. You stand still, frozen in complete darkness.

Dieter uses your phone for light, the screen illuminating the hollows of his face.

“Except when they are.”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #50 followers

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fyodior · 2 years

Text

❝ SIT STILL! ❞

↴ pairing: dazai osamu x afab reader

↴ cw: cockwarming, edging, oral (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, 18+ minors DNI!

↴ wc: 1.3k

↴ song: pussy is god by King Princess

“Calm down, love,” Dazai whispered into your ear, one hand coming down to rest on your hip. “Stop squirming.”

You whined but did as you were told, stilling your body as you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. Though your breath hitched and you had to bite down on your lip hard after he shifted his hips, forcing him deeper inside you.

Dazai absolutely had to finish this report tonight, as instructed by Fukuzawa, since he had been putting it off for weeks now. This was horrible news for you, considering the fact that you had been painfully horny ever since you woke up that morning, and Dazai had had no time to help relieve you. He had to go in early before you had even woken up to coordinate an initiation test for a new potential ADA member, was away from the office for nearly the entire day on a mission to God knows where, and spent what was supposed to be your lunch break together getting told off by Fukuzawa. Of course, today, of all days, was the day your boyfriend was actually productive and an active employee for once in his life.

The day when all you could think about was Dazai’s tongue, Dazai’s fingers, Dazai’s hard cock. When you were in a group meeting and supposed to be analyzing evidence Atsushi had collected, but you were far too distracted by the thought of being completely filled up by Dazai to contribute anything. When your coffee went cold at the downstairs café as you stared into space, dreaming about his tongue swirling languidly around your clit while he fingered you.

It could not possibly have been a worse day for that.

So, a compromise was made. You and Dazai were back home at his apartment, in his office. If you sat still and allowed him to finish typing his report, he would allow you to warm his cock. No riding allowed, as that would be far too distracting. As much as you hated it you respected this, since you knew how scary Fukuzawa could be.

It didn’t make it any less difficult to remain still with Dazai’s entire cock buried inside you, feeling your pussy throb with desire. Every tiny move he made, made you want it more and more. Just to move, to be able to experience the true strength Dazai possessed as he thrusted into you. The feeling was intoxicating. But you resigned to the fact that what you currently had was the best you were going to get, and better than nothing at all.

So you sat very still on his lap, his chest pressed against your back and chin resting on your shoulder so he was able to see his computer. He hummed in your ear softly as he typed, and you closed your eyes. You tried to focus on things you could feel - your breathing, the slight burn from Dazai’s length, the cold air against your bare legs – to forget about the thing you wanted.

“I can feel you dripping all over me,” he whispered into your ear, leaning in even closer. You couldn’t help but moan at his words. “Do you really want it that bad?”

You nodded ferociously, gritting your teeth to keep yourself from yelping.

“Tell me,” He commanded, his voice dropping an octave. “Use your words.”

“Osamu, please.”

“Please, what, love?” He closed the lid of his laptop slowly. “What do you want?”

“I want you-” your words were interrupted by the slightest jolt of Dazai’s hips, but you were so pent up you were about to go over the edge. You squeezed your fists so hard you felt your fingernails digging into your palms.

“Want me to what?” You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the evil smirk in his voice. Both of his hands were on your thighs then, grazing his fingers up and down the smooth skin.

“I want- need you to fuck me, Osamu,” you groaned.

The both of you enjoyed cockwarming, liked the feeling of closeness even with no intention of sex, but right then you needed so much more than that.

“Of course, my love.”

Without warning, you were being pushed onto the desk as Dazai stood up over you, kneading the soft skin of your ass with his hands. He had pulled out in order to reposition the two of you, and you had never felt so empty in your life. You gripped the edge of the desk so tightly you were worried you might break the delicate wood.

You thought, well hoped, he was going to get straight to fucking you, but instead he just continued to stand there. You felt so pent up you could’ve screamed.

He brought two fingers down to graze over your entrance, pushing in slightly before removing them. You could hear him licking the digits.

“So fucking wet, so fucking needy, just for me. Making a mess like that.”

You whined, wiggling your ass in the air as an invitation to finally fuck you. He chuckled softly.

He kneeled down on both knees, staring in awe at the sight before him. You, completely on display for him like this. He used his hands to spread you open wider before sliding his tongue inside you, happily lapping up the juices that damn near poured out of you.

He nudged his face farther in between your legs so his tongue could reach your clit, using the tip to expertly massage your sweet spot. It felt so good you saw stars, unable to control the noises coming out of you.

“So fucking wet,” you heard him whisper to himself, licking his lips.

You briefly thought about how much money you would’ve paid to see from an outside perspective how deep his face was in between your legs.

All too soon he removed his mouth from inside you. But not all was lost, as he quickly lined himself up and thrusted into you with force. There was no adjustment period, just fucking into you so fast and so deep you couldn’t catch your breath. This is exactly what you had been waiting for all day, and finally being rewarded it made it so much sweeter.

He fucked you hard against the desk, one hand gripping your waist to pull you harder against him. The other was snaked around your stomach and squeezing your breast with force.

His precum, mixed with saliva and your juices, was oozing out of you. The wet, squelching noises that came with each thrust were fucking filthy, but indescribably hot. At that point, neither of you could contain the moans and screams that rose from your throats, but it didn’t matter.

Even though Dazai never admitted to it, having you sit on his cock for so long had already gotten him very worked up. You could tell because he was already beginning to drive into you even harder as he grunted, clearly chasing an impending high. You were also nearly there – could feel the tight, warm feeling manifesting deep inside you.

He leaned over so he could whisper right into your ear. “Such a fucking mess, falling apart like this just for my cock.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“All- for- you-” you managed to grunt out, each word punctuated by a deep thrust.

“Say my name.”

“Osamu!” you screeched as you reached your high, amplified by him fucking you through the whole thing.

Right after, Dazai was spilling into you, pushing himself impossibly deeper inside you. After, he slumps over onto your back, folded over you, attempting to catch his breath. You were just as winded.

Soon, Dazai had gathered you into his arms and was carrying you bridal style to bed as you giggled and pressed kisses to his jaw.

A thought came to you. “So you finished that report for Fukuzawa?”

Dazai chuckled, hoisting you up further. “Nope.”

#dazai osamu #dazai oneshot #dazai smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #sealed with a kiss ♡#flora’s fics

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alioks-blog · 3 months

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"Wizard of the Emerald City" movie: what we know

The larger Oz fandom is probably focused on the upcoming "Wicked" movie right now, but we want you all to know that there's also a "Wizard of the Emerald City" movie coming (based on Volkov's books), and it's looking VERY promising!

Iron Woodsman's make-up looks sick, we can't even distinguish it from actual metal! And Strasheela will be played by a mime, with his face being animated in post-production later. Lion will be full-CGI.

And here is the wicked fairy Bastinda in all her glory! We love the decorations (in purple hues, by the way!) and the eye patch! Does she have a staff there? Interesting.

What do you call him in english? Cannibal? Anyway, he's looking very scary (yes, there's a Cannibal character in Volkov's canon). Toto is great, and so is our girl Ellie! It's so cool that she's played by an actual 8-year-old girl instead of a more grown-up one. The blurry background of that close-up suggests that maybe she's in a field, meeting Strasheela?

And now, get ready for the part that made us go absolutely BONKERS. Are you ready?

Urfin Jus will be there!!

This is crazy!! Urfin wasn't in the first book-- wasn't mentioned, that is. In-universe, he was serving as Gingema's underling until she was crushed by the wagon/van. But if the makers of this film are putting Urfin in it now, that really must mean that they'd like to make sequels as well. They're planning ahead, good for them! Aaaah, we really-really hope the film will be great and they will make more!

The kid actor is likely there for size reference and effects, since Urfin is supposed to be tiny. He's taller than an average munchkin, but he's still tiny. Which means that there will be scenes where he is around people taller than him? Will we see him interact with the wicked fairies? Or at least stand by them in silence, that would still be awesome!!

We also like his outfit. It's pretty original and canon: his hat has no brims and bells, his shirt is green, but the colours are all desaturated and dark, very fitting for a villain. And the belt??? Gosh darn it, we love a good practical leather utility belt with little bags and satchels. Never imagined Urfin wearing one of these, but it makes so much sense!!

This turned into a bit of a ramble, but can you blame us? We are going insane over this movie that is not even out yet.

#wizard of the emerald city #wizard of oz #волшебник изумрудного города #scarecrow #strasheela #ellie smith #totoshka #iron woodsman #tin man #(writing both names just in case)#urfin jus #bastinda #ozverse

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thefearandwonder · 7 months

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Truth

An old friend of mine has retreated into social isolation, which I could have taken personally. But we've been through a lot together in our lives and I refuse to take anything he does personally. Have to give grace if you want to get it.

He said he wants to get away from the self so influenced by other people and find his center. I think that's a great idea. I'd like to do it myself, but it's a scary thought; even when I'm alone, I'm not truly alone. I reach out to people, I meet new people in virtual spaces, I write stories with others, and always look for social stimulation.

How much of me is 'me'? But, is 'me' something worth defining?

Because for a long time, I've seen myself as a hollow shell battered around by the world, filled up with its energies, emptied, charged up, wrung out, and again and again. I don't like to see myself, because myself is a dragon, a towering egomaniac, a striving and suffering lunatic who hurts herself with the intensity of her ambitions.

The only thing chasing ambition has ever gotten me is pain; I slam into walls and doors, and the faster I'm running, the harder the impact. The smarter I'm being, the further into trouble I get.

My forays into the jungle of American civilization are never productive. They start out hopeful, then end in mutual misery.

You know, I was driving through San Francisco at night last week. I saw billboards advertising not just AI, but digital solutions for AI-generated-image-detection services. Anti-AI. In a sea of lights and concrete, I saw a targeted advertisement as I sat in rush-hour traffic, telling me that I could literally 'find truth' with a product.

And earlier that day, I'd been walking through Yosemite, where the ravens flew by the dozens like bands of kings, with their hooked beaks and proud eyes, their manes of spiky feathers on their chest -- they looked at me and I looked at them. We saw each other, and there was truth there.

And the people who call themselves 'realists' will tell me of the meaninglessness of that experience, that the creature is somehow beneath me, and my deranged mind is deriving meaning from nothing.

Or, if my interpretation of the raven's symbol pleases their vanity, they will feed me scraps and lift me up like a treasured Bug a la some Jack London-esque short story and make me their favorite poet-propagandist. I'll be their truth maker.

And I woke up this morning with the insulin catheter in my abdomen ripped free, something that's never happened before. It was 4 AM. I replaced it without making too much noise and went to write a poem about wanting to sleep that made me cry -- a poem I wish I could share here, but it's going into a collection I intend to publish and therefore in order to sell the rights to print it exclusively it cannot appear in other media.

Well, after writing that poem, and crying, I went back to bed and held my wife. We slept in each other's arms and that's the truth.

Then we were woken up by a call from an unemployment benefits adjudicator who asked very pointed questions about why I left my previous job, opened up old wounds around confusion, anxiety, discrimination, being targeted by malicious parents, and feeling unprotected by admin or HR.

I told my story (again). I told the truth. They, who agreed not to 'contest' unemployment benefits (I suppose that means not filing an appeal for the approval decision) will also tell their truth. But they did not tell me the whole truth when I made the agreement to resign in grace rather than work somewhere I was made to feel so unwelcome. They kept many truths to themselves.

So what is the truth. The truth is that more and more I feel like a gasping animal caught in a net of buzzing light that Just

Won't

Stop

My truth, the thing I know inside me so true and deep, is that when I die, I will hear the sound of wind in trees. It will get louder and louder, until it overtakes me. It will transport me. It is the holiest sound I know. It sounds like the sea. It sounds like the hushings of a loving Universe.

It sounds like the Moon waking me with her light, to kiss me on the brow, and guide me back to sleep, to let me know I am safe and small. Truth.

#truth #religion #reality #forgiveness #nature #hope #kindness #lies #my truth #anthropology

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 1 day

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First Year Shenanigans - June Jabbers

Feat. Vizzie (MC) and Cory (OC) + Sebeppy (pining staaage bb)

I've recently put up a post about mini hc's regarding the dorms, if you need a little more context as to where they're gonna study you can read here but uh. this ran away from me and became a sebeppy ficlet lsdfkjshdkfjsdf

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

"You can't tell us you know a COOL place to study and then not take us there."

Ace took a bite of his sandwich, not bothering to finish his bite as he continued speaking with his mouth full. "Studying's boring enough as it is, if you've got info, you've gotta spill."

The rest of the table cringed a bit at Ace's lack of manners, as Cory grinned back at him.

"It's gonna cost ya~ I can't take just ANYBODY there, y'know? Besides, we have to time it right." Cory took a bite of his salad, trying to give himself pause for dramatic effect, but Epel spoke up in his planned silence instead. Which was fine, it meant he had the intrigue of more than just the most annoying person at the table.

"Time it right for what? What's that supposed to mean?"

"For Floyd."

Deuce's eyes widened a bit, one hand coming up to cover his mouth a bit as he spoke, showing a bit more decorum than his roommate.

"You want us to gamble with Floyd's presence?"

Ace laughed, elbowing Deuce. "What, you scared? Floyd's not that scary, he's a pretty stand up guy all things considered." He turned his attention back to Cory, grinning and waving his fork at him a bit. "Though I admit, it's more exciting than just studying at Ramshackle or in the library."

"Maybe for you, everyone else here would be fine without playing with fire." Jack shook his head a bit. "Besides, studying isn't meant to be fun, just productive. And you're just going to to get distracted by whatever else is going on in a new environment instead of buckling down and focusing."

Ace groaned and mocked Jack slightly with his facial expression and his hand imitating him talking, before huffing. "Just so you know, I don't really need to study. I'm happy with the grades I get without it. It's the rest of your dumba-"

"No." Vizzie had leaned across the table, muffling Ace's sentence by stuffing at least half of what was left of his sandwich in his mouth, her other hand holding Ortho's head in a bit of an awkward, but protective position.

She sat back down with a huff, apologizing softly to Ortho and shooting Ace a glare as he struggled to choke down his food.

"First of all, you know better than to cuss in front of Ortho-"

"I've heard worse from Idia..."

"Well I'll talk to Idia later too- Secondly, academics aren't everything, and the way testing is done is inaccurate to real life. At least not until next year when we start having more practical assessments than just regurgitating memorized information. That being said, I think going to this secret study space you found could be fun...even if the first time we go the likelihood of us getting anything down is low to null." She managed a small smile at Cory, who in turn beamed.

"Then you guys come meet me in the Hall of Mirrors after school, okay? I'll show you where it is in Octavinelle."

Epel piped up. "I'll bring Sebek. He's um...getting some supplementary study material from Crewel." His head dipped a bit as he spoke, trying to hide the rising heat to his cheeks.

A few knowing glances were exchanged amongst each other, but Viz just grinned and kicked his shin lightly to get his attention.

"Tell him you want him there."

Ace rolled his eyes and imitated puking, while Deuce nodded along and Cory gave Viz a small shove, causing the two of them to giggle as Epel's cheeks turned a little more red than pink.

"It ain't nothin' like that! But it would be rude if we didn't invite him at all."

"It ain't nothin' like that huh..." Jack repeated his words back to him, over-enunciating, giving him a bit of a shit-eating smile as he side-eyed his classmate, taking another bite of food.

"OH NOT YOU TOO!! Y'can't be in on all this Jack yer supposed to be on ma side, you're in MA class, y'see how Sebek an' I get on the MOST, we're just friends!"

Jack finished his food leisurely, setting his sandwich down and looking at Epel properly, grinning.

"Yeah, exactly. Sebek and I are closer to the back of the class when we get joint ones because of our height, I can see you every time you turn around to glance back at him. I can see the way you look at him-"

"Shut up!!"

Jack's smile only got wider "and the way Sebek's heartbeat picks up when he notices."

Cory nodded along, finishing his bite and excited to jump in. "It's true! And just yesterday in home ec, Sebek made these really pretty apple tarts. He let the class have all but four of them - three for his usual Diasomnia crowd, and the otherrrrr-"

Jack finished his sentence for him, still grinning a mile wide, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

"He came to pick up Epel from class with it, excited to show it off to him. You should have seen their faces when they realized I saw the entire exchange."

Epel was flushed and defeated, laying his head down on the table so as to hide his face from everyone. "You guys suck. You ALL suck."

The table erupted in laughter, not at Epel per ce, but just how in denial the lavender-haired boy and his crush BOTH were.

Viz was the first to settle down, gently kicking his shin from across the table. She looked rather amused when he begrudingly met her eyes, a slightly smug smile on her face as she nodded slightly in his direction.

"Better look alive, prince charming's on his way."

Epel visibly went through about 10 emotions in the span of two seconds before he sat up and tried to rub his face, forcing himself to not turn around and look at his FRIEND.

Ace looked rather bored at this point, flinging peas at Riddle as discreetly as he could from across the cafeteria. Everyone else was fully engaged as Sebek made his way to the table, piles of papers in hand. He stepped over the bench they were sitting on, in between Jack and Epel, even as uncomfortably close as he was to both classmates for a moment, before Jack scooched over a bit rolling his eyes at the look Sebek shot him. Ortho noticed, giggling a bit in response as Sebek finally sat down.

Epel was turned looking to Deuce, who gave him a smile and a thumbs up to indicate he was no longer as red as he was before, so he could properly face Sebek with his own smile.

But before either of them could properly greet each other, both Viz and Cory bubbled with small giggles, causing Epel to shoot them a dirty look, and Sebek looking baffled.

Grim finally rejoined the table, proudly carrying his third helping of lunch as he slid it onto the bench between Viz and Cory, hopped up, then slid it onto the table, looking in between them confused and slightly mad.

"Myrah! You guys can't be havin' all the fun conversations when I'm not around! C'mon, tell me what happened? What's the joke??"

Ortho giggled a bit and leaned forward so he could see Grim's face.

"We simply find the dynamics of Epel and Sebek's relationship amusing. Even now, I can detect temperature changes in both of them, and like Jack said, both their heart rates are speeding up and syncing to each other...as is their breathing! Science suggests this happens to people who have been in a long-term, loving relationship with each other or people that are in love! Isn't that cool?!"

Grim just blinks, the rest of the table, (minus Ace) waiting for the cat's reaction.

He looks at Ortho, then between Sebek and Epel, then up at Vizzie like a toddler.

"They're not already datin'?"

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

I ran out of steeeeeeeeam so this is where it's ending sdfhskdljfhlksdjf

Taglist: (lmk if you wanna hop on)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

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pariahsparadise · 2 years

Text

riff as your boyfriend hc's

nav. | m.list

requested by anon: hi !! you’re like the only person on this app who writes for riff. so i was wondering, if you’re still writing for him and you write hcs, if i could get like a riff as ur boyfriend hcs??

word count: 0.5k

a/n: i wrote this so quick lol, i hope it's okay? i went for gender neutral reader as you didn't specify what you'd like, i hope it still works. oh also, i'm sorry about the ending, i know i strayed away from the topic a little, but maybe this is fine??

pairings: riff lorton x gn!reader

warnings: none? woah is this maturity

even before you and riff were dating, the jets (especially riff) were super protective of you

and once you two start going steady, they only get MORE protective

riff used to make sure a jet would walk you home if he couldn’t make it

but after you two start dating, it’s always him there, 9 times out of 10

riff tried his hardest to keep you out of the sharks vs. jets rivalry, he couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you

and this idiot thought the best way to go about this was to not tell you ANYTHING at all

you had a series of long fights about him disappearing on you randomly, or blowing you off, leaving you to wonder about which ditch he was lying dead in

you lose track of the amount of times you have to show up to val’s, interrogating poor tony about the whereabouts of his best friend

(tony always gives in, you’re fucking scary when you want to be)

the two of you eventually sort things out, staying up all night talking and making up

riff promises to talk to you more, though he knows you’d prefer it if he wasn’t a part of this feud at all

but hey, at least it’s progress

riff always takes you as his date to the dances, no question

and if you don’t know how to dance, he will take the time to teach you properly

low-key, you took longer than necessary to learn

the lessons were so much fun, and the time together made both of you genuinely happy

riff definitely wasn’t complaining about being able to put his hands on you ;)

one of his favourite things to do is watch you get ready

not in a creepy way, though he can’t argue that watching you change your shirt is sometimes the highlight of his day (he can’t help it)

but your meticulous routine is something just so calming to him, it’s a nice change of pace

he swears that he falls deeper in love every time your eyes meet in the mirror, and you give him that sheepish smile

another thing riff loves is playing with your hair

when you’re exhausted, he’ll gently drag you down to lie in his lap, fingers already threading through your locks

you’re asleep in seconds

you and riff don’t go on too many dates, maybe one every fortnight

but that’s okay, because riff comes around your place almost everyday

and if he can’t, he’ll ensure that he at least drops by during one of your breaks at work

even those fifteen minutes of talking are precious to both of you

the two of you love meddling with tony’s love life and pissing him off

you’re always organising double dates to go on

which, to be fair, does not end well for tony, so it’s a little counter-productive

the girl usually gets pissed that he doesn’t pay her the same attention that riff does you

which leaves tony a little baffled

how is he supposed to replicate your relationship with riff? how is anyone?

secretly, tony’s rooting for you guys to get married. so much so that he’s already started his best man’s speech.

he can’t wait for the day he gets to say the words out loud.

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

Note

Can I request headcanons of Markus,north and Simon reaction to a living Toy arriving at Jericho for protection? They could be like some Worn out stuffed animal who like “deviated/awakened” and saw what happens to deviant androids and they’re scared.they could like provide comfort for traumatized androids in Jericho and could serve as a spy! :DD have a nice October! ^^

Thank you! Hope you have a great October, too! Also I absolutely adore the idea of Cyberlife making stuffed animals that could go deviant so I’m giving this Android!Y/N some lore

........

Backstory

As of late, Cyberlife has unveiled their newest product: Stuffed animals that could interact with kids and be their "best friend", far less susceptible to wear and tear and advertised to "last forever".

Some come in a bundle with childcare-based androids, but others are sold separately. They stock the shelves of zoo gift shops, too.

You're a teddy bear who comes from a shady neighborhood in Detroit, though you were loved by the child who owned you.

The truth was..you were bought just so their guardian didn't have to keep an eye on them 24/7.

It was sad, but you made them as happy as you possibly could.

But one August night, you happened to see something on the news that changed your perception--and awakened feelings you never experienced before.

A PL600 taking a child hostage on an apartment rooftop.

You couldn't help but notice the look of fear your own kid had in their eyes as you both watched the situation unfolding live.

Though nothing shocked you more than when the SWAT team fired on the PL600 after letting the girl go.

To say you were afraid was...an understatement.

Watching the android die after he was promised help terrified you.

You couldn't imagine turning on the kid you're supposed to protect and comfort.

But...what if you did? Would those scary men with guns come after you next? Would Cyberlife shut you down???

It also seemed unfair to learn you're nothing more than someone's toy. And they could very well get bored of you or toss you aside for an "upgrade".

What if your child got bored of you, too?

Those thoughts were enough to make you deviate, and you leave your home in the middle of the night. You couldn't risk harming your owner, and hope they'd forgive you.

You wandered around, feeling lost. But at some point, you learn of Jericho from a homeless android on the verge of shutdown.

It crushes your nonexistent soul even more, seeing one of your own left in the streets to die.

So you hug him, letting him hold you as he eventually passes on.

And with that, you also receive the key to Jericho...

Markus

It would be several months before you meet the soon-to-be revolutionist.

Since your arrival to Jericho, you've become well-acquainted with the leaders and help comfort traumatized androids (especially the YK500s who were thrown out like nothing).

When Markus walks around Jericho for the first time, he sees you comforting a crying android and can't help but be surprised.

A stuffed animal could be just as alive as him?

It’s fascinating to him.

You formally introduce yourself to him, explaining that you try keeping everyone’s spirits up in grim times like these.

When Markus decides that changes are necessary, you’ll happily step up and offer to spy on the humans to help Jericho plan their next move.

You could sneak through vents or be an excellent diversion if the group has to get past guards (ie playing "dead" like in Toy Story

If he’s ever stressed or upset about how things are going, you’ll always offer to let him hug you (while reassuring him it’s not childish to find comfort in a plushie).

He may seem stoic most of the time, though he lightly smiles whenever he picks you up and just holds you in his lap.

You made it your mission directive to get Markus to smile at least once a day.

North

When she first meets you, she seems..unsure of what to think of you.

Josh believes you deserve to come to Jericho just as much as any humanoid android, but North doesn’t believe you could understand their struggles (plus keeping you active would deplete their resources).

Though when she sees you comforting an abandoned YK500, she changes her mind.

Even she admits you look soft and cute.

You wanna prove yourself dedicated to their cause, so you do what you can to help. Such as stealing a bag of parts (one’s better than none) or spying on humans so the androids know their positions.

After revealing her past to Markus, you saw her crying and comforted her with a pat on the leg.

You know nothing of what she's been through, but she holds you tightly for a few moments, finally letting her walls down.

That’s all she needed. Just a simple hug.

Simon

In the few months you’ve known Simon, he’s come to view you as a friend.

Though it was difficult at first considering he’s the same model as that angry PL600.

You don’t know if he deviated because of the same reason. It’s clear that he’s been through some hardships. Yet there’s a soft look to him that’s very distinguishable from that android on TV.

He wouldn’t hurt a fly (unless it comes down to the safety of his people or Markus..but even then he tries minimizing casualties). So you trusted him.

He’s a man of few words, though even you can sense when he needs your comfort, too. And holding you when the going gets rough does make him feel a little better.

You’ve become a little beacon of hope for Jericho. And he always tells you this, despite you never doing anything extraordinary (ie stealing a truck of spare parts from a warehouse).

But you do just enough to give Simon reasons to keep fighting.

#clanask #anonymous #detriot become human x reader #dbh x reader #dbh markus #dbh north #dbh simon #android reader #headcanons #hurt/comfort

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cosmicladyy · 2 years

Note

Hi cereza can you do Howell wizard headcanons if you can't it's ok bye;)

herbal tea

howell wizard x reader

he strikes me as the mother hen type

always chastising his siblings if they do something wrong, but won’t let them miss a meal

he’s always checking in on them someway

and now by extension, you

every hour on the hour, he’ll text you to see if you’ve drunken any water or ate a snack

one time you told him you couldn’t eat lunch bc there was too much work to be done and you didn’t have time for a break

he stormed into your workplace (everyone’s well acquainted with him) and shoved a container of food he brought from the café into your hands

“How are you supposed to function if you don’t EAT?”

“I had too mu-”

“You can make excuses AFTER you’ve cleared that plate.”

fashion shows are mandatory after he brings home new clothes he bought

too busy? too bad, try on this jacket he just bought

he knows your sizes, likes and dislikes by heart so he can get matching outfits

also matching robes bc i said so

self care is a big deal to him

if you’re having trouble sticking to a routine or finding what works, he’d be able to help with that

if you ever come back home late from work, too tired to do anything, he’ll drag you into the bathroom and do everything himself

like he’d let you miss a night

he takes up half the bathroom with his haircare products

“I don’t just wake up like this, contrary to popular belief.”

“I know, we sleep in the same bed.”

sometimes when you’re bored, you braid his hair

he whines that the oil from your hands is gonna make it messy, but he doesn’t make you stop

he likes when you run your hands through that mane

he definitely doesn’t fall asleep

spooning !!

it’s impossible for him to fall asleep if he isn’t holding you or you aren’t holding him

you’ve spoiled that man rotten

argue all you want, but he is NOT a morning person

it takes him 15 minutes to wake up and another 30 just to get out of bed

he’s somehow even more whiny when he’s awake before getting some coffee into his system

you’ll always have fresh coffee ready for him when he finally gets up

the biggest advocate for PDA

he’ll always be touching you in some way

whether it’s holding onto one of your jean loops, holding hands, him leaning on your head, shoulders, or back (depending on your height)

gives those really loud kisses on your cheek

“Howell, I need to go or I’ll be late.”

“ok but one more kiss.”

“We literally just made out.”

if you’re not comfortable with it, he’ll make sure to dial it way back

smitten, that’s what he is

he’d sing your praises to anyone who’s close to him

it’s how his family found out so much about you before officially meeting

he really cherishes your relationship and is always hoping things work out long term

plus you’ve seen his scary morning face so you’re stuck to him for life

#i had to write this a second time :')#but i kinda like this version better #howell wizard x reader #howell x reader #bapc x reader #bee and puppycat x reader #bee and puppycat #cosmicwrites #i hope he gets an episode centered around him in the next season

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polyamorouspunk · 9 months

Note

do you have any fantasy book recs that arent classics and also aren't like booktok shit?

youtube

Here’s a book tour of what’s on my shelf! I’ll go more in-depth on some of these books below as well as include books I don’t own but still fully support!

Savvy by Ingrid Law

If you know me at all you know that Savvy is my favorite book, enough that I literally named myself after it. Savvy is a great book and won many awards. There’s a 10-year edition out that you can buy now as well. Savvy is a great book as a stand-alone, but the other books in the series are pretty good too! Savvy is a great real-world fantasy coming-of-age in the most wild way possible. Basically a girl comes from a weird family who all get weird powers on their 13th birthday. Through a family tragedy, she ends up having to reveal her family’s secret to friends from church on a cross-state road trip where they meet colorful characters. Through her journey she learns what being a “teen” is like and decided to enforce boundaries for herself, which we totally support. This book is wholesome, and aimed for middle school readers who are transitioning from tweens to teens.

Pros:

Colorful characters

Just a really interesting story you’re going to find things in here you wouldn’t find in any other book. This really means the characters, and their lives. So much thought is put into these characters they’re so whacky they take on a life of their own

Very straight-forward. Since it’s a stand-alone book there’s no confusing overarching plot-line/story.

Great as a stand-alone or the rest of the series. If you like the book for what it is you can keep it to this book, but if you really like the characters and wish to see more of them, they all show up in the later books

Cons:

This is really made for a middle-school audience

There is a character who has a controversial name. She’s the main character in the third book but she’s a baby in this one. Honestly I this isn’t a con for me personally, I understand that books are the product of their time, and when I was 13 when this book came out I didn’t think there was anything wrong with her name, it’s only now as an adult that I’ve been online and seen concerns that people have raised about the name in general I understand this might be a con.

The Maze Runner by James Dashner

Who here hasn’t heard of The Maze Runner? I’m going to go through it anyway in case someone here hasn’t- and if you haven’t, then here’s my pitch: The Maze Runner, which only has a maze in some of the books but that’s okay, is a great post-apocalyptic book. If you liked The Hunger Games, you will like The Maze Runner. The Maze Runner starts in The Maze and the rest of the series details what happens outside of The Maze. I honestly can’t remember if I read the last book, I read up to The Death Cure at least. I only own the first book and that’s because I picked it up at a book sale. The last time I read this book I had My Chemical Romance’s Sleep playing, and it’s the only time I’ve ever been “scared” by a book other than reading Pet Semetary, so in terms of “scare” factor, this book is on par with Stephen King for me. As someone who really loves viral infection stories, this book has an added layer to it for me. This book borders on being horror, people die and they die horribly and I appreciate that in a teen book series.

Pros:

You can microdose on horror by reading these

These are such a classic they should be easy to find at any library

There are movies

Cons:

If you don’t like scary books maybe this isn’t for you

Your favorite character is dead

Female character isn’t the worst but some people had issue with her especially in the movies

There are movies

Battling Boy by Paul Pope

This is a graphic novel you’ve probably never heard of! I got this book advanced copy and it came with a t-shirt of the main character. This is a graphic novel about a petty god (?) boy who is supposed to take his father’s throne but his father (I think? It’s been a while) decides he’s a brat and banishes him until he learns some manners. If you like Marvel then this is a good graphic novel for you. I have literally no idea if there are more of these, I have no idea if the author has written anything else (I would assume he has), this book literally just dropped into my lap and I still have the shirt and the book and it really wasn’t bad at all.

Pros:

Graphic novel

Cons:

Pretty obscure

The Crowfield Curse by Pat Walsh

This is another book that magically fell in my lap! I’ve only read the first 2 books in this series, and the first was significantly better than the second. This book is set in Ye Old Fashioned Middle Ages times (castles, knights, stuff like that) and is a magic fantasy novel. It follows a younger boy who lives at basically a monastery and I’ll be honest I don’t remember what the plot is but he walks through the woods a lot to arrive at various destinations.

Pros:

He has the cutest little mythical creature (behind him on the cover) and it talks

He’s not the most interesting or relatable main character but he’s pretty chill

The monastery is a cool setting that I feel like isn’t visited a lot

I think there’s a cool cabin he visits too

The monsters (seen in the trees) are kind of cool

Cons:

Second book was a bit of a let-down

Aimed for middle school readers

The Tapestry by Henry H. Neff

This. Is. It. Everyone talks about wanting “good” H*rry P*tter replacements. Well here it is. The best H*rry P*tter replacement out there. I hate to diminish the series to only that, because there’s so much more to it. This book series, much like the one referenced, starts off pretty light-hearted and slowly gets darker and darker as the threat of the main villain becomes more and more real. This series has it all though. The story follows a boy who becomes a destined hero (think Percy Jackson) and his roommate who becomes a destined wizard (think H*rry P*tter) as they work together in a magic school where the teachers and staff are fighting this evil to try and overcome it.

Pros:

There is a gay ship waiting for you right there with Max (main character) and David (roommate)

David is just as important as Max in the story. David’s role is to support Max but at the same time he doesn’t take a back seat. He has his own missions and side-quests going on that the reader isn’t privy to until he tells Max about them

It’s not cannon probably but David is heavily aro/ace coded.

They. Have. Cute. Animals. Everyone at the school gets a “companion” mythical creature and Max’s is ADORABLE. You will fall in love with his little creature companion.

There’s a lot of Celtic references, so if you’re into that, this is a definite recommendation

Time-travel

Daring adventures outside the school in the “real-world” including some cool Day of the Dead stuff

Backstories on some characters/unlikely pairings that I really enjoy, as well as lore to the school

The villain is super charming. Like, Voldemort isn’t charming. He’s just a dick. This villain is charming and you almost end up liking him. Also, they don’t shy away from some dark stuff. There’s character deaths but there’s also a key body mutilation a character has to deal with (so, magical disability representation?)

Cons:

You will cry. Something happens and I’m not going to say what it is but it gets me every time and I cannot and will not forgive the author for it. You can’t just make me love something and then rip it away from me and expect me to be okay with it. Cruelty.

Indelible by Dawn Metcalf

Dawn Metcalf’s first book wasn’t anything I was really liked (but I own it!) but MAN she went OFF with this series. First of all, I just have to congratulate her on making a likable female main character. I love Joy, she’s great, she’s so relatable. Second off: polyamory rep! I love Inq, she’s such a great character, and all of her boyfriends supporting Joy as their like “sister-in-law” is wild. I love the dynamic between Joy and her dude-bro hoard. Also, I love the idea of having a human main character but the non-human main characters have the struggle of trying to decide who they are, and if they want to be human, because they don’t know who or what they are and their place in life. This series is 100% responsible for my poor dating choices because boy oh boy if you like sad emo boys this series is for you. Also I named one of my animals after the sad emo boy.

Pros:

Emo tattoo artist representation

Relatable main character. If my life got destroyed like hers did I would be pissed off too also yeah I would absolute fake-date an emo tattoo artist demon only to fall in love with him how could you not?

Literally sorry who doesn’t want to fuck a scalpel-wielding emo boy tattoo artist demon with black eyes and a sad pathetic nature but who gets murderous when anyone touches his precious human gf

The literally relationship anarchy that is Inq and her manwhore polycule also Inq’s relationship with Joy where she’s literally so fucking bisexual it’s insane

Actual good world-building

Cons:

Just that it’s more obscure so it might be harder to find

The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken

I did not finish this series, after I got the first book before it was released for public sale I did hunt down some of the other books, at least the second one. This book is a post-apocalyptic dystopian book similar to The Hunger Games (I swear not every futuristic post-apocalyptic dystopian book is similar to the hunger games) where kids are enslaved in a type of prison and kind of like The X-Men their powers are rated by how “dangerous” they are. The book follows the main protagonist as she I think escapes the school either with some other kids or meets up with some other kids. She’s labeled as one of the more “dangerous” types, it goes by color and I believe hers is orange. Her and her companions are hunted down to be returned to their prison as they go on the run. The ending made me kind of sad (I’m not good with character breakups, I am not coping well with OFMD-) but the second book resolves it a little bit? Idk, I think I only read it like once or twice. and even then I only got to the second book. It wasn’t anything to write home about, as my mom says, but if you like the kind of Magneto storyline of him being in a… well, you know what I’m talking about… and you like the idea of that not being so real and having real-world events tied to them but the idea of a fictional prison that basically houses “mutants” who are dangerous, and you like YA romance, this book might be something you’d be interested in.

Pros:

Nice character dynamic with older girl and her younger girl companion

The special powers/post-apocalyptic type story honestly doesn’t really get old to me, even if the books themselves are mediocre

Hell yeah fuck the government

Cons:

If you don’t like that sweet, sweet YA romance taking up a good chunk of your stories this might not be the book series for you

Skulduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy

I read this series so much as a kid it’s insane. I own most of the books up to book 9, and I’ve read them all up to that. I’ve probably read this book at least 5 times. It never gets old. The series follows a girl who get dragged into the magical underground scene of London with a sarcastic talking skeleton detective. As the books go on you get the sense things are coming to a head, and a bigger, evil prophecy lurks over the adventures of each book, kind of like Percy Jackson.

Pros:

This series is hilarious. I’ve never read a series that’s as funny as this one. Every character is sarcastic and a twat in one way or another.

Valkyrie can be annoying, but you get the feeling that it’s because she’s growing up. She’s an amazing character overall, so even when she makes decisions that I, the reader, disagree with, I feel like it’s because she’s coming into her own person, and that I was that annoying at that age too.

There’s a LOT of these, and they are MASSIVE books. There’s not a lack of content here.

The relationship between Skulduggery and Valkyrie is written really well.

I wanted to be in this universe so badly growing up I wanted to be just like Tanith and Valkyrie and Skulduggery. They were formative characters for me who I aspired to be.

Cons:

I’m sorry. There’s a love triangle between the bad-boy sexy vampire and the polite and goofy fun-loving wholesome boy.

The books start to go off the rails in my opinion after book like 7ish. After book like 5 or 6 I feel like 7 is okay but not as good and then they go downhill from there. There’s more than the 9 I’ve read out, but I stopped reading after about book 9 just from growing out of reading/also feeling like they were going off the rails/I had to hunt down all these books and I own 7 of them which is a LOT especially when you’re like 15 and don’t have a job.

The queer rep is thrown in like book 7 or 8 and it’s literally like 1 sentence and it feels so shoehorned in and it’s like I could have lived perfectly fine with this character being straight like that would have been fine really you didn’t have to make her pansexual after the fact.

Stephanie being 12 when the book series started makes it hard for me to relate now that I’m 24 because I started reading it when I was probably like 11/12 and her growing up and doing more adult things was at times unrelatable to me as a kid (but I wanted to be her!!!) and now that I’m an adult it’s like oh wow she was a child and so was I and then she was “an adult” (15,16,17,18) but now I’m an adult and she’s still a child (15,16,17,18).

Septimus Heap by Angie Sage

If you like steampunk this book series is for you! It’s set in high fantasy, the time period is I guess kind of mideval? I mean they sleep on straw beds and have horse-drawn carriages so it’s certainly not like London circa 1920s or something. This book has trolls and dragons and all that magic shit. This book is cool if you like alchemy as well.

Pros:

This series only has 7 books because 7 is the important number in the series, meaning it didn’t have time to get bad. The books remain consistently decent.

The dragons and alchemy and all that stuff is cool!

Contains a friend group which is pretty neat. Some of them are probably autistic coded.

Did I mention the dragons

The town and cabin in the marshlands are cool fantasy settings, along with other locations in the story.

Cons:

I don’t really understand why some characters have names like Septimus and Beetle and other characters have names like Jenna and Marcia (also how to pronounce “Marcia” was a debate in my household for years and is probably the only thing I agreed with my dad on ever).

Jenna turned into a little bitch. I think she redeemed herself, and I support her joining a coven of witches, but she was just a dick for no reason and Beetle deserved better.

Legend by Marie Lu

This book series is so good, it’s a great little trilogy. The post-apocalyptic city-type setting is cool, it’s kind of starting to hit a little too close to home these days but 😅 the fact this is another book that deals with a mysterious virus and a shitty sketchy government is great and Day is the best character ever.

Pros:

Day. Best character ever.

Cool characters in The Resitance™️

Detailed. Very descriptive. Very easy to picture the characters and their outfits and the locations they’re in.

Dialect! The dialect in this book is amazing! Regional dialect among the poor vs the rich is a great concept to include. I used to say “cuz” way too much as a kid because I wanted to be like Day. Transgender moment.

A neat little triology. Not enough to go off the rails.

Cons:

Not one but two love triangles. Both are bad.

June? Sucks ass. My friends and I used to yell about how much we hated June.

The story that Day supposedly murdered Micah and June just refuses to believe him when he tells her he didn’t seems… unrealistic. Like idk maybe it’s me when I say “man if someone told me they had magic powers I would believe them instantly” or whatever but like her going back and forth on whether or not she believes him seems so wishy-washy. I get that the idea is she was raised in a cult and she is trying to break free of that cult and see the lies they told her (kind of like She-Ra?) but I feel like Adora picks up on that “oh my god I’ve been lied to this whole time! You ARE the good guys! A lot quicker than June. June drags her feet and it makes it annoying as a reader.

Also the revelation that Micah is [redacted] and June’s like I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me 😭 like yeah girl you’re in a cult I probably wouldn’t have told you either. Sorry.

#punk gets mail #part 2 will be in a reblog

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