#also i don’t really remember any interviews he did at the time?? was he a dick / coward fool ???

[cowardstiel]

WAIT MOFFAT?!?! OH MY GOD WHAT?!!!!?!??? I have been on Tumblr since 2012 since I was 11 I was fuckn 11 with a Superwholock but also Merlin ams honestly Merlin is still my favorite show from that era but Doctor Who and Spn are close seconds. I am so traumatized by Sherlock specifically as a queer person and a person on the ace spectrum I'm like I would pummel been a dick dumper batch

this took me ages to find but this is what i was thinking of! (from the s2e4 x-ray)

ELEVEN YEARS OLD!!!! i am so sorry you’ve been on tumblr that long and been exposed to superwholock that early ☠️☠️ i thought i had it rough joining tumblr and superwholock at 13!!!!

luckily i grew up on doctor who from the time nuwho kicked off so i was inoculated against it by the time i joined and could enjoy it in a regular way. the same cannot be said about sherlock and especially supernatural unfortunately smh

i never watched merlin and now i’m afraid to tbh like is it worth the risk of getting obsessed with it?? do i dare?? or do i live in blissful ignorance??

literally like as a lesbian i watch sherlock and am hit in the face and shot in the back of the head with the one-two punch of homophobia and misogyny IT’S SO RIDICULOUS

[verstappenf1lecccc]

hey! can you please write a lando × bustamante reader....where the reader is the younger sister of Bianca Bustamante and has a huge crush on lando but Lando finds her irritating for some reasons and one day he shouts at her after a bad race when she tries to console him in front of the McLaren crew.. after that lando felt really bad and he had grovel a lot for forgiveness (btw the reader is only one year younger than bianca)....if you do write this thank you very much 🧡🧡

🎀1,317 words 8561 Characters around 5 pages enjoy 🎀

ooo I’m not the biggest fan of bianca but I do love this trope :)

You knew that life was never meant to be fair to everyone yet you had no idea why life constantly tried to screw with you.

Ever since you were a child, you’d always been compared with your older sister, Bianca. She was always seen as the brave, bold, and beautiful one who dared to achieve her dreams and had high ambitions. Whereas people, heck, even your own family, saw you as the timid, overlooked, and frankly dull sibling. Did it hurt growing up like that? Yes, it did.

Did it hurt when all the boys you had a crush on would only use you to get to your sister? Yes, it did. Did it hurt to see your sister achieve everything you’d ever wanted in life and for you to only be known as her sidekick, or, in other words, her shadow? You really don’t remember the last time you’ve ever set yourself apart from your sister and her needs; it’s almost second nature for you to prioritise her and ignore yourself.

This habit of yours was noticed by the eyes of a young British driver. He’s found that habit of yours annoying ever since.

The day Bianica signed for McLaren under F1 Academy was the best and worst day of your life. You were beyond happy for her but you also felt yourself fading further into her shadow. With more media coverage and attention on your sister, you simply faded away.

You had frankly thought about packing your bags and going back home until the same blue-eyed British driver caught your attention. It was silly to say, but you felt like a little teenager with a huge crush.

You knew it wasn’t right to have a crush on your sister’s coworker, but the way he was made it almost impossible. You liked the way he talked, the way he walked, and the way he still had his accent. You liked the way his nose wrinkled any time you talked about sushi or fish. You liked the way that he was a ball of energy, always so confident and fun to be around. What you liked the most about him was the way he made you feel seen and heard. When you were with him, it was almost like you were just you and not Bianca's little sister.

However, within all the giddy feelings of having a crush on Lando, you could not ignore how badly McLaren was doing. It was almost pitiful how poor their race performance was. Qualifying 18 and 19th and having to come into the pits four times in the race would kill anyone’s mood. Lando was no different; over the course of the season, he grew more and more aggressive and agitated after each race.

Lando and her had formed a little ritual: after each race, he would do his interviews while she would wait in the garage, and he would go into his driver's room, and exactly 5 minutes later, she would show up with any sweet treat she could snuggle in, and they would just talk. Some days it would be him talking and her listening, and other days it would be her lifting his confidence up with encouraging words. It is safe to say she really loved their ritual, only hoping to continue their ritual with better results for him.

As the season went on, she noticed a shift in Lando's behavior. His happygo-llucky attitude towards her started to shift towards a more annoyed and irritated mood. It started when she tired of talking to him before a race; he didn’t take kindly to that and simply ignored her and rolled his eyes. It hurt her; it really did, and she could do nothing about it.

They were not friends; they were just forced to be together due to their situations. She knew he would never like her back, but her infatuation with him made each and every move he made romantic.

It started to affect her more when he started distancing himself from her. Lando never wanted to hurt her; he started getting fond of the girl he once was annoyed with. He didn’t know why he started cutting her off; he was trying to play dumb, but deep down he knew he started having feelings for her.

He messed up in Silverstone both on and off track. Home Grand Prixs always have a special place in drivers hearts. It was no different with Lando; Silverstone was the one place every British driver wanted to win in front of their home crowd on their home soil.

The race was long anticipated; she was in his driver's room prior to the race; they had their normal routine done and dusted; he stared at her for a second longer; and she started at his lips for even longer.

They both knew the tension in the room was inevitable; someone just had to make a move. McLaren was proper shit during qualifying, so all expectations were nullified even before the race started. With Lando starting in P9 and Oscar in P5, it irked Lando how well Oscar was doing in the same car as him. A rookie driver beating the team's star child was never a pretty image.

The race started with Lando’s car being 2 seconds off the pace of K-Mag, which was really nice for him. As the race progressed, Lando almost made up 3 places by the end of the 38th lap.

However, McLaren messed up Lando in the pits, being stationary for almost 18 seconds. His 6th place turned into a plum last, and to make matters worse, he ended up retiring the car simply out of spite. He knew he was mad, and he showed it really well on the cameras, especially towards his team.

She knew it was a risk to go see Lando, especially after seeing how mad and snappy he looked. She knew he was probably beating himself up over the way this race went. It didn’t help that Oscar ended up on the podium. It was horrible, really, but neither of them could do anything.

He saw her enter his room; he didn’t like that. He didn’t want her to see him like this, all beaten and broken down. He didn’t realise when his tone shifted or when he felt the anger rise up within him.

All she had said was, “It’s not your fault; I know you are going to do better.“ That’s all he let her get out before he exploded.

“I honestly don’t remember asking for your opinion. God, you are so pathetic sometimes, always searching for attention from anyone who spares a glance at you. It’s all your fault; you think it’s funny to come into my room and give me glances right before a race. God, why are you so fucking stupid?"

“Maybe this is why your sister will always be better than you; your parents probably saw that, and so does everyone else when they see you and her together. Look at her; she’s a driver, and look at you sneaking into a driver's room, offering yourself to him all for what?? bloody attention?? Get out. I don’t want to see you anymore. All you’ve done is clutter my brain.”

Y/N walked out of his room with hot tears running down her face, her face all red, and a pounding headache. But what was worse than all that pain combined was the pain running through her heart; it genuinely felt like her heart was snapped into two and stepped on by a herd of elephants.

She didn’t know why he snapped at her; all she wanted was to help him. Everything he said made her fall into a spiralling downfall. All the work she’s done to keep her insecurities hidden and healed, Lando’s words ripped them apart and left them burning red and raw.

[helenanell]

Every Saturday || Challengers

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Every Saturday || Challengers 

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader 

CW: Kissing. Emotional affair. Infidelity. Angst. Yearning. Bittersweet / slightly sad ending.

Notes: No smut. No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film.

(This is not connected to my other Challengers story - ‘Breath Of Life)

Wordcount: 4K

This is the response to a request from @anehkael :

‘Art, exhausted by the pressure of competition and his wife, decides to escape for a day. He ends up at a local tennis court, where he meets a talented and charismatic female player. Their instant connection on the court turns into an unexpected love affair, but Art's professional and marital obligations threaten to keep them apart.’

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You had always known that tennis would never be your vocation. Vocation implies dedication; a calling to pursue that ever evasive thing in life: utter fulfilment. 

You love it and you know that you’re good, really good, but you’re also realistic. 

The expanse between ‘really good’ and ‘great’ also contains the capacity to make something your career. You don’t have the capacity to go pro. Which is fine. Totally fine. 

You content yourself with filling all of your free time on your local–and free to use–court. Hours that would otherwise be whiled away on the realisation of your own loneliness or swiping right on dating apps only to panic and ignore any messages you receive. 

It’s Saturday evening and the sun is waning, its outlandishly burning rays absorbed by clouds as it sinks down the horizon. 

You’ve just wrapped up a match with a woman who you see at the courts from time to time- shamefully you don’t remember her name. She did tell you it once, the first time you met, but then a month passed before you saw her again and you felt too awkward to ask. Besides, there’s no post-match conversation between the two of you, the woman is in a perpetual rush and always disappears immediately after you finish playing. 

You, on the other hand, have nowhere else to be. 

A young woman with nothing to look forward to beyond the hits of adrenalin and the all too temporary sense of fulfilment that comes with beating other amateurs at tennis.

You’re alone as you sit down on the bench at the edge of the court, chest still moving with erratic breaths. Your skin is already adorned with beads of sweat but when the sun dips down even further, its light is replaced by a swathe of blue shadow and your burning flesh immediately pebbles at the sudden change in temperature. 

Your body is seized by a reactionary shiver, so you jump up off the bench and hurry over to your bag, crouching as you unzip it and dig around for your sweater. 

Your fingers have just closed around the soft fabric when you hear the metal gate to the courts creak open, the chainlink shaking as it shuts again. 

“You forget something?” You call out. 

As you’re presuming it’s your acquaintance, you don’t bother to look, busy pulling the sweater over your head. 

Your head is awkwardly pushing through the neck hole when a distinctly male and very amused voice hits you square in the side of the face: 

“Not to my knowledge.” 

You go still, your sweater settling down onto your torso of its own volition. 

Your mind has a sort of detached recognition for the voice: you’ve heard it before, but perhaps not in person. On the radio, or a movie or…or in a post match interview on tv. 

You scramble, pivoting violently to face the new arrival. 

“What the fuck?!” 

You’d meant for the exclamation to be internal, but in your shock it tumbles out of your mouth that’s already agape. 

Art Donaldson, the champion tennis player– infamous and beloved athlete– is standing in your shitty, free to access local court. 

A genuine, full watt smile spreads across Art’s face before he lets out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you.” 

You watch, dumbfounded as he saunters closer to you, placing down his bag and racket just beside yours. 

Fuck, his racket…it probably costs more than your practically antique car. 

“I'm sorry, but are you lost or something?” You blurt out. 

Art straightens up, hands placed on his hips as he surveys you. He’s enjoying your panic, you realise. Not in a malicious way, just highly amused. 

“What gave you that impression?”

You let out a clipped laugh. “Well…you’re standing here when the exclusive country club is fifteen minutes that way.” You point over his shoulder. 

“I know where it is.” He answers simply, still smirking. 

He’s toying with you. And never one to back down from a challenge, defiance rids you of your nerves. 

“So why aren’t you there, Mr Rich and Famous Tennis Champion?” 

At that Art tilts his head, as though he’s been given new information and has to reassess you.

“Because I don’t want to be.” He responds. “Why are you here?” 

You shrug, brushing past him to gather up your things, heart beating punishingly in your chest. 

“Because I want to be.” 

“But you’re leaving.” Art points out, bordering on exasperated despite his goading tone.

“Because my match is over.” You throw your bag over your shoulder and turn to face him, unable to stop yourself from teasing him back. “Oh, did you think I’d stay just for you?”

“Yes.” He answers unabashedly. It glues you to the spot. “I caught the tail end of your match, you were great but you were holding back. I’m guessing you don’t encounter many people here who challenge you.”

His tone injects some defensiveness into your veins. “I don’t need to be challenged, I’m not a professional. This is fun for me.” 

Art quirks a blonde brow. “Oh, but being challenged is very fun.”

“Are you offering?” You shoot back sarcastically. 

“Yeah, I am.”

And just like that you’re gawking at him again. “Are you kidding?”

Art holds his hands up placatingly, as if showing you he’s not concealing a weapon. “Deadly serious.” He says. 

You look around the abandoned park, searching for hidden cameras. This has to be for a prank show. It has to be.

“I can’t play you.” 

Art frowns as if disappointed at your lack of self-belief. 

“Sure you can. I was watching you, I'm certain you can keep up.” 

You hold his stare, his blue eyes glinting as his expression settles into something anticipatory. You glance at your racket that’s sitting on the nearby bench.

“Don’t go easy on me.” You order. “I’ll know if you do.” 

“I don’t doubt it. Come on, quit stringing me along and pick up your racket.” 

You reach down, your fingers hovering above the racket as you grin at him. 

“Careful Donaldson, it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a tease.” 

His cheek dimples as the corner of his lip tugs up. “Prove me wrong then, pick it up. Play tennis with me.” 

Eyes still on his, you curl your fingers around the racket and straighten up, raising your eyebrow. 

Challenge accepted. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The moment Art wins, you let yourself fall to the ground.

You lay down, uncaring of the harsh surface beneath you as you suck in breaths, your throat aching, your whole body shaking with exertion. 

You’d never felt like this after playing tennis. 

Whoever you’d gone up against before, it had always felt like you were waging war on a one person army across from you: you would bear down on them with all your might to achieve victory. You were an attacking force.

But playing with Art it hadn’t felt like a battle it had felt like…a joining. You were so attuned to all that he was and every move he made, that it felt like you had become one with him. 

For a brief moment in the daunting expanse of time, it had felt like only the two of you existed, only the stars bearing witness. 

Stars. 

Only now as you’re staring up at the sky, do you realise that night has well and truly fallen; the harsh automatic floodlights throwing your exhausted form into stark relief. 

You let out an almost giddy laugh. 

In your peripheral, you see Art run over, easily jumping and clearing the net to get to you. But you’re too tired to move, so you just lay there inertly as he comes to stand over you, placing one foot either side of your hips.

He smiles down at you.

“How you doing down there?”

All you manage to do as your eyes drift shut, is lift up your hand and flip him off. 

Art lets out a full-bellied laugh that catches hold of you and takes you along for the ride. With your breaths slowing, you find yourself able to laugh along with him. 

“Okay.” He begins, shaking off another chuckle. “Let’s get you up.” 

You feel a shift in the air and open your eyes to see Art stepping to the side of you before he’s leaning down and holding out his arm for you to take. 

Like you, he’s drenched in sweat, but neither of you even really notice as drops of it fall from his cropped blonde hair and onto your body.

With a dramatic groan, you sit up and grab onto his arm.

Art tightens his grip and pulls you up, placing his free hand on your back for extra support and tugging you close. 

You’re quickly back on your feet, but as you sway slightly Art keeps his hands on you. 

“You good?” He asks genuinely. His face is so much closer than you realised. 

When the hand on your back begins to rub soothing circles, a traitorous flutter appears in your stomach. 

You’re suddenly extremely grateful that your face is already flushed. How embarrassing, fawning over a married man who likely just wanted to play some tennis in relative peace and with no absolutely no stakes. 

God you needed to have sex.

Your own thought startles you- the same effect as being doused with a bucket of ice water. How desperate were you, that playing tennis with Art had got you so worked up?

No, actually you knew the answer to that. The experience had been beyond any sort of intimacy you’d ever felt. You want him. 

You shake your head, scolding yourself as you pull away from him, stepping back. 

But Art follows you, closing the small distance you’d created. As concern blooms on his features, his hands settle on your arms, bracketing you in his hold. 

“You’re not okay?”

You blink up at him. “What? No, I am. I’m fine.”

Art narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “But you shook your head.” 

When one of his thumbs starts brushing back and forth on your skin, the answering heat that begins to pool in your belly tells you it’s time to leave. 

“Did I?” You ask airily as you shake out of his hold and pick up your racket.

“Yeah, you did.” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to. I’m fine. That was great. Really great.” Each word is forced out.

As you walk over to the side of the court and start gathering your things, you feel him walking up behind you. 

“Yeah, it’s the panic in your voice that’s so convincing.” 

You shove your racket into its case, your back still to him. “I don’t think you know me well enough to judge my moods. You don’t know me at all.” 

He’s by your side in an instant. His hand is hovering over your waist, as if he wants to hold you in place to stop you from leaving but knows he has no right to do so. 

“Look, will you please slow down? I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” 

You let out self-pitying scoff as you turn away from him again and throw your bag over your shoulder. 

“You’ve not done anything wrong. This was…I’ve never felt like that playing tennis. Or ever, really. So thank you.” 

“So why are you running away?” 

You halt, your sneakers scraping against the abrasive ground. Art’s voice has taken on a new severity; a frustration that even he sounds confused by. 

“I’m not running, I’m just going home.”

You’re stepping out of this court and extricating yourself from his orbit that he’d so easily pulled you into. You’re not just attracted to a man who’s one half of America’s Favourite power couple, you also really like him. 

But this court isn’t the real world and he’s almost certainly just passing through. If you can get out now, he’ll be gone: by the time you wake up in the morning, he’ll likely be on a flight with Tashi Duncan, en route to his next competition.

When you walk away and out to the gate, you’re beyond grateful that Art doesn’t call out to you again.

But instead of the disconnect you hope to feel once you're free of his presence, instead there’s a tugging, as if he managed to tie a cord around you and is pulling on it in the hopes he can reel you back in. 

You keep walking until you reach your car, still tense as you peel out of the parking lot.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Exactly a week after you first met him–almost to the hour–Art Donaldson reappears in your life. 

As you’d played your weekly match with the woman whose name you still don’t know, he had been watching. You’d caught him in your peripheral vision, leaning up against the fence and tracking your every movement. 

You curse him and thank him in the same breath. 

You curse him because he’s only going to exacerbate the issue that you’ve been having, which is that he’s taken root in your mind. He’ll burrow his tendrils deeper and stop you from thinking of anyone else for a long time. 

You had been so sexually frustrated after meeting him, that you’d actually committed to a date with a Tinder match for once. You’d just been there for the sex, which you might have felt bad about had your date not made it clear that he had had the same motivations. 

It had been fine. 

You’d thought of Art the entire time. 

And you thanked Art, because…well, you thanked him because you’d been desperate to see him again. Tortured by the ghost of his touch and furious at yourself for the way you’d left things.

It’s a good thing your opponent is always seemingly in dire need to be somewhere else, because she leaves the court with such rapidity that she doesn’t spot the world famous tennis player making his way over to the now open gate. 

Your breath stutters in your throat as Art approaches. It’s the same time of day you’d first seen him the week before, so the light is at the exact same point of fading into darkness. But this time, he seems to be bringing the shadows with him. 

Art looks utterly forlorn. And yet, he still manages to smile at you as he approaches. 

You’re still standing on the centre of the court, your racket hanging in your hand. 

Only as he gets closer do you really register that he’s not in sports gear. Instead he’s dressed in jeans and black t-shirt. 

“You never told me your name.” He says, still making his way over. 

The statement jolts you out of your reverie. Had you really…he didn’t know your name? The evening you’d shared had been so intense that you already felt like you knew him and he knew you. 

You give him your name and he smiles almost gratefully, as if you've bestowed him with a gift. 

When he comes to a stop before you, you find more words waiting on your tongue: 

“Why are you here?” 

Art pushes his hands into his pockets, eyes dropping briefly to the ground. 

“You didn’t ask me that last time.” He says quietly. 

You scoff, gesturing at his clothing and the clear disparity between his casual attire and the tennis court. 

“You’re clearly not here to play another match.” 

“You shouldn’t presume.” He teases. “Maybe I secretly love the feeling of denim and sweat on my skin.” 

Despite yourself, you laugh and it causes Art’s dimples to make an appearance. 

“Well, that would make you a psychopath.” You say.

Art’s eyes skitter over your face, it’s brief but unnerving. It’s probing. Then he steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your face. 

You’re suddenly sure that meeting his gaze will open up a horrible, confusing can of emotional worms, so you set your eyes on the racket in your hand, twisting the handle around in your fingers. 

Art is undeterred by your withdrawal: “Let me walk you to your car?” 

The question sounds so much like a hopeful supplication, that you have to look at him. When you make eye contact, his brows draw together as his gaze turns entreating.

Your eyes widen slightly as your heart sinks. You know what this is. A goodbye. 

“You’re leaving New York.” You say flatly and with the utmost certainty.

“We have a flight in a few hours.” 

“Art.” You say admonishingly, a sharp pain in the shape of that ‘we’ digging into your chest. “You shouldn’t be here.”

We. ‘We’ meaning him and Tashi Duncan. Art and his wife. 

He says your name for the first time and it makes your heart stutter. 

You’re pathetic. You scold yourself internally. You’ve only interacted with this man once before. He’s a professional athlete with a beautiful wife. He can’t be wanting for anything more.

So then why has he been driven to this run-down public court? Why did he spend an evening playing with a stranger? An amateur stranger.

Why has he felt the need to come and say goodbye to you?

You know why:

It’s because the two of you have started something that you can never finish. You’re both enamoured with the idea of a connection that can never be fully realised. 

Art reaches out and tentatively touches your arm. 

“Please let me walk you to your car.” 

You can’t bear to see his face, not when his words sound so sorrowful. So you nod shortly and then move past him to collect your things. 

 ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The walk to your car is made in utter silence, but Art remains close to you the entire time, his arm brushing yours. A couple of times you even feel the touch of his fingertips, as if he’d gone to take your hand but stopped himself. 

As if to compound on your delusion that in this moment only your and art exist, your beaten up red car is the only vehicle in the parking lot. It stands bright against the darkness as an ominous ending point: the moment you reach it, you both know whatever this nascent but potent thing between you will be stifled.  

You don’t let yourself dwell on how Art might have got here if his car isn't here. Whether fear of being spotted had him parking elsewhere, or he was staying somewhere so close that he’d been able to walk to you.

You both slow your pace as you approach the vehicle. You want to stop completely but you know you have absolutely no rational reason to. 

Once you reach the car, you dig your keys out of your pocket. 

“Thank you for walking with me.” You say on an uneven breath.

When you turn to unlock the door, Art steps up behind you, his arm crossing into your vision as he closes his larger hand around yours, stopping you from completing the action. 

You go still, relishing the contact but feeling awful for wanting more. All you find yourself able to do is stay still and wait- wait for him to do something that he shouldn’t. 

You let out a conflicted sigh as his other hand lands on your shoulder and turns you around to face him. He then takes your hands in his own. 

Your sight can’t help but snag on his wedding ring and he must be watching you so closely that he notes the very brief flicker of your eyes.

“It’s just a ring.” He says the sentence like he’s afraid of it. “It doesn’t mean what it used to. To either of us.” 

“But you are still married.” You reply, hating how small your voice sounds. 

“Yes.” 

“And you’re leaving.” 

Art’s hands tightens on yours, his thumbs running over your knuckles. “I’ll be back in New York.”

“When?”

He reaches up and cups your cheek, fingers sinking into your hair.

 “I don’t know.” His tone is somehow simultaneously mournful and apologetic. “But I will.” 

Even though you know you need to pull away, you lean into his touch. 

“I guess I’ll see you then.” You say, trying and failing to sound unaffected. 

“You will.” Art concurs softly. His heavy-lidded eyes drop and his hand shifts, his thumb running along your lower lip. Then his other hand is on your thigh, rising up beneath your skort. 

“Art.” His name is meant to be a warning on your tongue, but it comes out as a whispered plea. 

His thumb drops away and then he’s cradling your face in both hands, he closes in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your lips.

But his next words are anything but chaste. “Unlock your car.” 

His command is feverish, his hot breath skimming over you as he kisses along your cheek.

Only then do you remember that your car keys are still clutched in your hand. You're holding them so tightly the metal grooves are digging into your skin.

“Art, you have to go. You have to get on a plane. We can’t have sex in the back of my car.”

You let out a small gasp as both of his hands fall from your face to encircle your waist, then they go lower, gliding over the curve of your ass before settling just beneath, causing your skirt to ride up.

“I have time.” He mumbles against your jaw, moving down to press desperate kisses to your neck. “We have time.” 

His words are so glaringly false to both of you, that a visceral melancholy appears between the two to you and as it grows larger forcing you apart.

Art strains to stop his kisses, his lips lingering as if he’s fighting against an engrained instinct to be connected with you. When he presses his forehead against yours, his hair tickles your skin. Then as his hands shift to grip your waist, you rest your own on either side of his neck. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, panicking as you realise how deeply entangled you already feel with this man you’ve only met twice. You don’t know him. He’s a stranger. 

And yet, you can’t let this unknown being go. 

But you have to. 

You force yourself to say the words, making them sharp and swift like the severing snip of scissors: “Art, you need to go.” 

He nods, his forehead brushing yours where you’re still pressed together. But he doesn’t move, instead his lips press to your forehead as he encircles your body with his arms. The hug is the same sort of crushing yet comforting force of gripping someone’s hand when you’re afraid you’ll lose them in a crowd. 

When Art buries his head in the crook of your neck, he places a gentle kiss there. You raise your arms and squeeze him back. 

“How often do you come here, to the court?” He asks, another kiss placed on your neck. 

“Every Saturday, the same time.” 

Art pulls back and takes your face back into his hands. His eyes alight on each and every dip and curve of your face as if he's mapping your features like they’re the stars of the night sky. As though he’s memorising patterns so he’ll be able to find you again. 

“Then I’ll see you on Saturday.”

You smile sadly, smoothing back his hair. “Which Saturday?” 

His answer is another passionate kiss.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Summary: You were more than just a secretary to him.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Breeding kink, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: hiiii! I haven’t felt as inspired as I did while writing this for a while 🥹 I hope you enjoy this!

“I want a baby.”

You sputtered out the coffee you were drinking. Your eyes watered as you coughed. You tried to get your breathing under control as you looked at the imposing man sitting in front of you with his legs spread apart. He had not lifted his eyes from the laptop presented in front of him. He was idly looking at photos of paintings from the various exhibits you attended while he was busy with his group’s schedule. As an idol, and on top of that the leader of the biggest group today, Kim Namjoon was an extremely busy person. You were his secretary for almost four years now. You took care of his personal life, while his personal assistant took care of his work life. You were there for him whenever he was done with his work schedule. You were there to make sure that he remembered to call his family during their birthdays, special occasions, and holidays. In fact, you were the first person he was keen on seeing once he landed from whatever country they were in for work. His members, specially Taehyung and Seokjin, let you know time and time again how much you were appreciated. If you weren’t there, they thought that Namjoon would not be as put up as he was right now. You thought that Namjoon would survived without you.

You coughed twice before finally feeling like you could live. “What?” You asked him in confusion before wiping your self with the handkerchief he had somehow laid out in front of you.

Namjoon eventually looked up to you once he marked the photos of paintings he wanted to purchase. He leaned in, resting his elbow on his muscular thigh before plopping his chin on his hand. “I said, I want a baby.”

You squinted your eyes confusingly, “As in…baby as in baby? Or baby as in I don’t know? Not an actual baby?” You knew even as you asked what he meant. Namjoon was the most intelligent man you knew, and he did not make mistakes when conversing. In fact, he was such a great conversationalist that the media loved to invite him on their shows.

So…what brought this on?

“A child of my own, Y/N.”

That was not the first time he mentioned that. If you could remember clearly, he answered in some interviews that he really wanted to become a father. He even bought that cute little shoes when he was abroad just because. In your mind, you knew he would be the best father if how he took care of his members was any indicator. It broke your heart, though, to see him still alone after all this time.

“I mean…are you seeing someone that I’m not aware of?”

He blinked at you, absorbing what you were asking. How could he had another woman when he spent almost all his free time with you? “No.”

“T-then how?” You asked in puzzlement. You could see from his expression that he was serious about this. He rarely said anything without thinking it thoroughly in the complex and brilliant mind of his. This meant that he really did want to have a child of his own now.

You were finding it difficult to process this. Couldn’t he just want another painting?

Namjoon merely shrugged his broad shoulders and went back to looking over the paintings.

You thought that was the end of it. But no. The second time he mentioned this was at Jin’s house.

You two were about to call it a day after running errands for him. To be honest, you were quite excited for tonight. You were set to meet with your college friends, including someone you always looked up to back in your college years because of his superior intellect. He was also always so kind to you, even walked you home to your dorm every night. But you were too immense in your studies back then that you had no time for relationship. But maybe, now?

You made sure to take more time to dress yourself up this morning. You even chose to swap your usual lipstick to a different shade that made you feel more alluring and beautiful. Your fingers touched the beautiful necklace Namjoon gave you on your birthday last year. You thought that the accessory was perfect with the dress you were wearing.

This would be an easy day for you, you thought to yourself seeing that RM’s schedule was just until the afternoon. You smiled at your reflection in the mirror, satisfied with your appearance before leaving the house. When you showed up at the company to pick him up, the staff politely informed you that the leader was still in the studio with Yoongi and that he told them to ask you to go directly there. You were walking to the floor where the studio was when you passed the three maknaes: Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.

“Oh, noona!” Jungkook called you, his voice in pleasant surprised as he looked at your face. His doe eyes took in your clothes with wonder before meeting your eyes again. “Noona! You look so pretty!”

Taehyung smiled at you and nodded his head. “Our noona looks so fashionable,” he commented as he checked out your get up today. You beamed at his compliment, happy that the fashionable Taehyung approved of you.

Jimin sauntered up to you, teasingly wrapping his arm around your shoulders before smirking at you. “Our noona has a date,” he speculated on a sing-song voice that made the other two chuckled.

“So where is hyung taking you?” Jungkook pondered, excitement apparent in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me he’s taking you to another exhibit? Aish, he’s so unromantic,” Taehyung lamented, shaking his head at the thought of his hyung and the disastrous date that was about to happen.

“Hyung is not unromantic! As if you know anything about romance,” Jungkook pouted, fully on defending mode for his Namjoon hyung. His lips were in an adorable pout as he chastised Taehyung.

“I know how to be romantic!”

“As if! Until when are you going to keep giving tickets to her until she shows up in our concerts, Taehyung?”

“She will! I can still see her commenting in the weverse!”

“So? Her bias is J-hope, not you!”

You chuckled at the three’s cuteness. Taehyung was now the one pouting while Jungkook looked like he was enjoying tormenting his hyung. You watched them for a moment before finally correcting them. “He’s my boss. We’re not going on a date.”

The three maknaes looked at you with confusion in their eyes. “B-but, why are you so beautiful today?”

You squinted your eyes at Jimin, “So I’m not beautiful everyday?”

“N-No! That’s not what we meant-“Jungkook denied quickly, his eyes widening even further. He was afraid of offending his noona because then, his hyung would looked at him with disappointment in his eyes.

You chuckled lightly, deciding on ending their distress by telling them that you were going to meet with your college friends tonight, in which they were silent. They looked at each other for a moment, as though speaking in telepathy before the oldest maknae spoke up.

“So noona, is that an all-girls event, or no?”

“There’s going to be boys. Why do you ask?”

He smiled at you cheekily, but this time the smile did not reach his eyes. “Nothing.”

The three maknaes watched you walked away from them, your eyes focused on the tablet in front of you. They sighed in disappointment and worry.

“Namjoon hyung is going to lose his mind,” Taehyung finally broke the silence.

“I don’t want to be here when he finds out noona is going to meet boys from her college,” Jungkook fretted, holding both Tae’s and Jimin’s arms.

“RM is going to be unbearable after this, isn’t he?” Jimin stated with a smile that looked more like a wince. The few times you went out on a date, Namjoon was insufferable. He was quiet, too quiet that the maknaes were scared to make a mistake or speak too loudly. “Shall we move to the mountains for a while?”

Yoongi opened the door, smiling politely at you before letting you in the studio. RM’s back faced you as he hunched over the workspace. He was deciding on what beat sounded best when you arrived.

“You’re here, Y/N? I’m almost done-“ he trailed off once he turned his chair to look at you. His eyes widened before he managed to erase the awestruck expression in his face. But Yoongi saw. He smirked before sitting down on his workstation, looking up at the pair in front of him. The other one was an idiot despite being the most intelligent man in almost any room, and the other was a naive one. He hid his smile on the cup of coffee he was slowly sipping.

“No worries, Namjoon. Take your time,” you smiled at him before sitting on the sofa. He was still not able to take his eyes off of you. And you, the ever naive one, only flashed him your professional smile.

And Yoongi was enjoying it all.

“You looked different today, Y/N,” Yoongi commented tonelessly, egging the leader beside him. “Right, Namjoon?”

You blushed as you could feel your boss’ heavy eyes on you. You flashed Yoongi a shy smile before turning to look at Namjoon. It was a moment, a heartbeat too long before he replied with seriousness in his voice, “She always looks beautiful, Yoongi.”

He wanted to add that you looked like a masterpiece, one that had different meanings whenever he looked at it during different times in his life. You were timeless, his heart wanted to add. However, his brain was deaf in his heart’s true desires.

You blinked at his sudden praise on you. “T-thank you, Namjoon.”

“Is there an occasion?” Yoongi asked innocently after reading the message sent by the maknaes about you and your supposedly college reunion. He almost chuckled when he read that the three were planning on staying as far from the company as possible. But not him. This was fun to him. In his opinion, the two of you should have been in a relationship for a long time now. He thought Namjoon needed the push, or a shove if Suga was being honest. And he was willing to be the one to do that. He was a kind friend like that.

“Oh, I have a reunion with my college friends tonight,” you shared as you fixed the papers that Namjoon needed to look at. You wanted to be efficient today so Namjoon could use the rest of the day to finally relax. You thought his eyes looked a little tired lately.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Namjoon noted lightly, fixing you with his hard stare. “What time are you going to meet them? Where are you going to meet? Will you be out late?”

Yoongi was smiling as he watched RM threw question after question at you. Yet, he failed to ask one thing that should be asked.

“Are there gonna be boys, Y/N?” Yoongi asked innocently, blinking owlishly at you before leaning back and watching it all unfold.

Your affirmative answer made RM’s mood turned sour.

You were on edged as you drove the car expertly from the last location of the schedule today. Even at his age, people around Namjoon still adamantly refused to let him drive. The members thought that he would be a danger to people around him, and to himself as well. Namjoon was uncharacteristically silent as you drove. He was either staring at you or outside. Ever since you picked him up from the company, you could feel that something was off. You just could not pinpoint at it. On the other hand, Namjoon was contemplating…or more appropriately scheming as to how he could keep you with him today.

“Let’s go to Jin’s,” he finally broke the silence, flashing you his normal, dimpled smile.

“What?” This was not in the schedule today. You purposely scheduled light meetings today so that he could go home and you would have more than an ample time to drive to the reunion.

“It’s still early. I promise we’re only going to be an hour.”

Lie.

“Ahhhh actual people!” Jin greeted when he opened the door and saw you and Namjoon. He was carrying the box of baby books he insisted would be helpful to the brain development of Jin’s son.

“Hyung, your son is an actual person,” Namjoon said in a light tone as he took in Jin’s state. Despite the bags under his eyes, he was still so handsome that fans would still call him the worldwide handsome. He looked tired, but his eyes held so much happiness that RM could not helped but be happy for his hyung. At the same time, he wanted, no, he craved the domesticity that Jin was now experiencing.

The men were talking and laughing about work as Jin’s wife lead you to her son. You cooed at the child and thought that he would break a lot of hearts in the future. He was a carbon copy of Jin. He was laughing at you when you made funny faces at him, the melodious laughter reached the men’s ears.

“He likes you,” Jin commented, fondly watching his handsome son babbled and laughed. “Do you want to hold him?” His lovely wife asked.

“Really? Can I?” You asked in wonder. She smiled at you before gently laying the happy child safely in your arms.

Your heart melted as you held Jin’s little bundle of joy. The little weight you were holding was someone else’s whole world. He was barely six months old and yet he had so much personality like his father.

“You’re so beautiful, little one,” you whispered to the baby looking up at you as if he understood every word you said.

Namjoon could not even begin to decipher what it was he was feeling when he saw you holding the little Jin in your arms. He just felt this warm feeling in his heart, as if the image of you holding a baby in your arms was from a dream come true. The image was forever imprinted in his mind, he was sure. Something about you felt right. Something about you felt like the missing piece in his life. You had always been there for him. He was not ignorant to think that he could survive without you in his hectic life.

He thought that you were meant to stay in his life.

You were so focused that you almost missed the heat from Namjoon’s body when he leaned in and looked at the baby from your shoulder. You could feel his breath this close that it made you heart beat louder. Was it from shocked? Was it from shyness? Or was it from something else that you had spent years denying?

“So precious,” Namjoon whispered softly. You jumped from the deepness of his voice. You shivered from the body contact you were not used to. You cleared your throat before turning to him.

“Do you wanna hold him?”

And once he had the tiny human in his muscular arms, Namjoon smiled tenderly at Jin’s son. He brushed the sparse of hair he had on his head gently.

For the second time, he said, “I want a baby of my own.”

You were surprised that he once again brought it up. This time it was not only to you but to his hyung. Jin blinked as if he was startled by RM’s admission. He looked at you before looking at his friend.

“I’m sure you’ll be a great father, Namjoon,” Jin said in all seriousness. He knew he would. He was sure of it.

“When will you start making a baby of your own, Namjoon?” His wife asked him teasingly, leaning against Jin as they looked at the man observingly.

RM glanced at you, “Soon.”

You were already an hour too late to be considered fashionably late that RM insisted that he’d have his driver dropped you off to your reunion. You wanted to say no, yet you knew it would be impossible to resist Namjoon whenever he was in that mood. He always knew how to get his way, you thought. His intelligent mind knew just what to do, just what to say in order to get what he wanted.

And that night, he did.

Your college friends looked at you happily when you stepped out of the car. They walked closer to you, welcoming you to the party. And there you saw him, the man you hadn’t been able to forget. He was still as handsome as ever. You couldn’t help but smile when he was approaching when you felt a presence behind you.

“Hi. I just dropped off Y/N. I’m sorry she’s late,” RM greeted the group charmingly before nonchalantly placing his large hand on your waist. You jumped from the contact. He never did that. What would your friends think? Your head was in overdrive that you didn’t notice your friends fawning over the Kim Namjoon. He was treating them kindly, allowing them to take pictures with him before he turned to you.

“Enjoy your night, Y/N,” he murmured before placing a kiss on your cheek.

Well, there went your chance with your college crush.

You didn’t know what to make of his actions that when you went to his house the following week for information pertaining to the property he was looking at, you were on edged. You didn’t have to knock because he told you before to just enter his penthouse. You were given access to his home. You took a deep breath before walking inside his house, not knowing what to anticipate with him, with his touch…and that kiss that should not have happened.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re here! Come sit!” Namjoon’s mom called from his dining table, smiling pleasantly at you that you froze. You didn’t expect her here but at least there was a buffer between the two of you now, right?

“It’s been so long! You’re so thin! Is my son too hard on you?” She asked as she pulled you to sit beside her, in front of RM who only looked intently at you. You couldn’t read his expression. He was wearing a simple black shirt that fit a little too snugly on his chest. You hated how you were noticing yet again his physical qualities like you did when you were merely starting. His mom was still reprimanding his son as she put plate in front of you despite you offering to help. She merely shrugged you off, happy that you were there to take care of her son. Who knew what would happen to him if you weren’t here, she thought. RM was silently eating, enjoying the way his mom was mothering you when she turned her attention to him once again.

“When will you give me a grandchild? With the way you are working, you have no time for family! All my friends and neighbors have at least one grandchild. Son, just give me one, okay? Just one,” She pleaded as she placed more food on his plate.

“Okay, omma,” Namjoon consented. He was serious, yet his mother groaned as if he was just placating her.

“You,” she turned to you, placing more food on your plate as well. “Don’t be like my son. Go make your own babies! I’ll just borrow your child every once in a while, okay?” She told you humorously as she laughed and told you that you needed to eat more.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, the man’s face darkened with the mere thought of you carrying someone else’s child. He hated the thought of you not being his. He had the whole weekend to think intensely, and all the answers pointed to you.

You didn’t have time to discuss with him what had transpired. The following weeks, he was busy with work, yet this time he had always quietly ordered that you’d be with him. Before, you only had to meet with him thrice a week. But now, you were with him almost everyday. You were working in his office when Hoseok and Yoongi entered the room.

“Oh! Y/N, you’re here!” Hoseok exclaimed before walking to you with the brightest smile you had ever seen. Yoongi only smiled at you in acknowledgement before approaching RM and showing him his laptop. They were deep in conversation when Hoseok asked you if you knew where the list for the event was. You nodded before standing up. It was in the overhead cabinet. You reached for it in difficulty for a moment when you felt a hand on your waist, and RM’s muscular arm stretched beside you as he grabbed with such ease what you were trying to reach. He was as near as that night. “Here you go, Y/N,” he whispered…and heavens did it feel sensual in your ear. His hot breath tickled your neck. You could feel your cheeks heat up from his proximity.

You were starting to notice that RM was becoming…touchy lately. It didn’t feel disrespectful to you, it just felt like something changed with the way he was acting, with the way he was looking at you, with the way he was demanding your attention.

J-hope looked at Suga in astonishment. Were these two finally a thing?

One night, you were walking to your humble apartment with Namjoon beside you. His hands were in his pockets as he walked you to your door despite you telling him that you were fine. But you should know, he was a stubborn one. It was late, and the only light were from the hallway of your apartment. It was almost midnight when the two of you arrived at your apartment after checking out the house Namjoon wanted to buy. He asked you what you thought of it, and you said it was beautiful. The yard was spacious with swimming pool. The house itself had numerous bedrooms that you didn’t know who would stay there. In your mind, you rationalized that it must be his members if ever they wanted to stay. In Namjoon’s mind, it was for his family. He listened intently to what you had to say, and only when he saw how your face lightened up when you saw the whole house did he decide to buy it.

“Here I am, boss Namjoon,” you announced jokingly before straining to look up at your tall employer.

You blinked when he only stared at you, “Namjoon?”

“Good night, my princess,” he murmured with his deep voice.

Did he just…call you his princess?

You were too shocked to notice him leaning down. And once he did, you felt his lips kissed your forehead softly, his large hand on the back of your head. You were frozen when he stepped back.

And then he left.

Namjoon thought you needed time to process everything. He knew you were an over-thinker, that you were a flight risk. He just didn’t know you would be like this with mere kisses on your cheek and forehead. You hadn’t been picking up your phone since that day, and he had half a mind to go to your apartment. But he had to keep in mind that there were less conspicuous method to use.

You read the message from Namjoon this afternoon. Apparently, he forgot to pick up the gift he had for his father’s birthday and he was now in his hometown. He was half-pleading and half-apologizing for his clumsiness that you felt bad to just leave him on read. And so you replied that you’d bring it to him.

Your mind was blank as you drove for hours to him. Ever since that night, the feelings you had tried so hard to bury and successfully did, were resurfacing. It was unfair, you thought. You didn’t have the emotional capacity to fall for him. You knew how this would end. When you started to work for him, you thought he was everything. You looked up to him because he was so kind, so intelligent, and so masculine. He was gentle with you even when you made a mistake. He helped you find an apartment that was safe after he saw how you were living before. He paid for the deposit and for the rent during the first year despite your adamant refusal. He even paid for your grandmother’s hospital bills, the only family you had. She had lived longer than what the doctor said. She died without experiencing difficulty eventually, all thanks to RM’s connections to the best hospitals. You wanted to pay him. You even refused to accept your salary, with no success. Namjoon just merely shrugged and said he wouldn’t let anything happen to you as long as he was around. And you believed him.

And so, you did your best to take care of him day and night. Even going beyond your job description. You became his secretary, but what was more, you became his friend, an ear to vent on, even a shoulder to lay his head to rest.

One night, RM had too much to drink. He was feeling suffocated from the pressure of the world. You found him staring on an empty bottle of whiskey when you arrived in his penthouse. That night, you sat with him, listened to his worries, rubbed his back with comforting hands. You assured him that he was not the version he thought of himself. He was better. He was the best man you ever knew. You told him how much you appreciated him, and that he was doing his best.

That night, he asked you what he would do without you.

That night, you told him he’d never have to find out.

That night, he kissed you.

And come morning, he forgot about it.

But you didn’t. And that was the first time he hurt you.

Your memory trail stopped when you saw him standing in front of their house, waiting for you.

His father, just like his mother, was able to convince you to stay the night. He said you were family, and that it would be his birthday wish to spend it with the woman who managed to keep his son alive. He even joked that without you, RM would probably forget to pay his bills, to keep his fish alive, or even to eat. You laughed and said RM was becoming more mature lately and that he could survive without you. RM disagreed.

“You know what, you could do so much than be with my brother,” RM’s younger sister said teasingly as all of you were eating dinner. She stuck her tongue out to her brother who just rolled his eyes at her.

“Oh,” you chuckled shyly before looking at the tall man sitting beside you. “We’re not together!”

“Why not? I was just kidding. I think you’re perfect for him,” she admitted before smiling at the two of you. She was just voicing out what her family had been thinking for years. By now, you were a permanent fixture in their lives that if and not when the day comes that RM introduced someone else to them, they would find it hard to accept her.

You chuckled before telling her that your relationship with her brother was strictly professional.

“He’s working you too hard, isn’t he?” His father asked you as he shook his head at his innocent son. “Listen to me, life is too short to work all day. Go out and have a beautiful life! Or else you’ll find yourself old and alone one day without a family of your own.”

Once the intimate party died down, you found yourself talking with RM in the living room with alcohol in front of you. The two of you were seated on the floor side by side with the sofa behind you. His parents had called it a night after drinking with them, while his sister tapped out as well. Alcohol and the existence of other people helped to die down the awkwardness you felt. You were laughing at RM’s anecdote about the thing that happened during their dance practice. He watched you with contentment in his face. Seeing you happy was making him feel like he did something right, like he won one of those awards. He didn’t know when it started, but he just knew the desire to make you laugh would never go away. He was sure of it.

“I’m sorry about my family. They’re just used to teasing me.”

You waved him off before pouring his empty glass, before pouring yours. “It’s nothing, really. I had fun. I’m glad I came.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” he admitted, his look at you was as intense as that night that your heart started to beat harder, as if it wanted to escape the cage it was in. You blinked and decided to look away. You fanned yourself, “It’s quite warm in here, right?”

Namjoon smirked before drinking, his eyes never wavering from your face. “You’re beautiful, princess,” he commented, his voice deep as he waited for you to look at him again. He was near, so near that his thighs were touching yours. So near that whenever he moved, his muscular arm brushed against yours.

“God, you’re so drunk,” you muttered before looking up at him.

“I may be. But come morning and ask me again, and I’d still tell you you’re the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.”

You gulped, his voice deepened even further. “You’re the most important person in my life,” he admitted with intensity in his voice, with promise in his eyes. “I know I love you.”

Your eyes widened before attempting to move away from him when you felt his massive hand on your back, preventing you from moving away from him, effectively stopping you from running away from the truth that he never tried to fight.

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your hand now on his chest as you tried to stop him from coming any closer. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he’d feel how hard your heart was beating just for him. Or how terrified you were of falling, only to have him forget about it again. To forget you again.

“I do. I mean it,” he whispered leaning in slowly at you. “I love you.” And then he kissed you. And you were all too powerless to stop him. He pulled away after a moment. You were breathing hard, your eyes trained on his lips before meeting his eyes. And then this time, you kissed him.

You didn’t know how, but the two of you found yourselves in his bedroom. His hand was entangled with your hair, your hands caressing his broad back as he walked you to his bed. You were drunk from the alcohol and his kisses, his heavenly kisses. He pushed you gently to the bed, and not a second was wasted before he joined you. You pulled off his shirt, your eyes in awe at his form. His muscles were definitely more defined now than when you last saw it accidentally back when you were just beginning to work for him. His chest looked definitely stronger. You were aware of this from seeing him wearing tight shirts, but this? This was something else.

You moaned lightly as Namjoon trailed kisses on your neck, peppering it with subtle marks of his own. He thought that you were his, and that your neck should be adorned with his marks. “Keep it down, princess,” he teased you as he got impatient with the endless buttons of your blouse that he resorted to ripping it off of you. He couldn’t be gentle. Not when the woman of his dreams was finally on his bed. “Or do you want me to cover your mouth?”

You didn’t know that he had it in him to be a dirty talker. You were feeling the heat when he smirked at you before you felt his lips on your chest, down to your stomach, and finally to your core. You closed your legs, shyness finally coming back to you as you sobered from his sinful kisses. He was kneeling, his legs were on either side of you as he leaned closer to you once again. “Be a good girl and open your legs, princess,” he ordered, his hand caressing your soft thigh.

His commanding voice was like a hypnotic spell that you found yourself opening your legs slowly for him. And as a reward, he made your legs shook. You were still catching your breath that you didn’t notice he placed a pillow under you, lifting your core. He kissed you once again on your lips so tenderly, so lovingly that for a moment you believed he loved you.

“You are made for me, princess,” he whispered before looking at you with darkness in his eyes, “You’re made for daddy. Say it.”

You keened when you felt his hardness slide at your core teasingly, punishingly as you waited a little too long to repeat what he wanted you to.

“Say it, princess. Don’t make daddy mad,” his hot breaths were tickling your ear as he pinched your sore nipple that you yelped.

“I-I’m made- ugh- I’m made for daddy,” you finally said as you felt his thick head slowly entered your drenched core.

“And who’s your daddy?”

“You are.”

That night, he told you repeatedly how you were his and his only. He made you promised that you would never leave him, and that you would never ignore him once again. He made you come so much that you lost track of the time. His large hand was on your mouth, preventing you from waking the whole house up as he rutted against you with so much stamina and passion. He made you so mindless that you didn’t realize he was finishing inside you each time. He made sure to not let a single drop leave your core.

The third time he didn’t have to mention about wanting a baby of his own, he just did.

Tip Jar

[papaya-twinks]

It's me again (the anon who asked for the Short fic of Lando) 🤠🤠🤠

I'll identify myself as Lia (I don't post openly because I'm embarrassed, but I already consider us great friends ❤️ haha)

About a sequel to this story, I can only say "YES PLEASE" (I would ask anyway 😂)

I was thinking that for the reader's first victory, Lando would be amazed by her beauty on the podium, after taking a champagne bath, her golden glow after the victory etc. And that will make him crazy and very horny for the reader. However, our reader is keen to play with Lando. she will "run away" from him all day claiming to have meetings with the team after the race and at night, despite them being together at the same party, she makes a point of not talking to him and always being involved in a group with more than one person so he can't talk dirty to her or something.

This makes Lando even more thirsty for her but they only manage to have a moment alone in the elevator, returning to the hotel room. Lando wants to punish (not with violence) her and please her at the same time for being so stubborn during the day and so beautiful and seductive, so he gives the reader multiple orgasms with his fingers and mouth. The reader even thinks that she won't be able to get to the part where he uses his member, but she does, and OMG it's the best sexual experience of her life.

That's what I thought for a second part 🤭. I apologize for the length of the text and for any mistakes, I'm Brazilian and not very good with English. (Feel free to change anything if you're not comfortable writing about something I sent).

Eagerly awaiting the continuation 🫶🏻✨

Warnings: Smut, 18+, teasing, kinda breeding

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - firstly I don’t judge requests <3, but also, I’ve heard of someone else on here called Lia. Are you alright with messaging me or something? Also making part 2

Lando’s words rang out in your ears for ages afterwards. What happens after you win a race. It was like motivation, a fuel of some sorts, driving you forwards to win. Which is exactly what you did the following week. “And Y/N Y/L/N has won her first Grand Prix here in Canada!” the commentator yelled as you screamed and cheered through the radio. 

As you thanked the team, all you could think about were Lando’s words. “Wow, Y/N,” the interviewer smiled, “what a victory! So close to Lando,”. You smiled at the words, “Yeah, Lando was really close, it was hard keeping him off,” you laughed, “but yeah, a win’s a win,”. Lando congratulated, evidently impressed, his hug lingering a little longer than usual. 

“And in first, Y/N Y/L/N!” you ran onto the podium, beaming as you locked eyes with Lando on his second place step. “Well done,” he whispered as the anthems begun. You held the trophy aloft, Lando’s eyes tracing your movements like his life depended on it, his own trophy limo at his side as he watched you. And the podium music began, Lando was his signature bottle slam, as he immediately sent the spray to you. 

You shrieked, feeling the bubbly liquid coat you, your skin radiating with the golden glow. Lando had to physically restrain himself from falling to his knees right then. You were gorgeous. Oh what he’d give to just bend you over right then and there. “Remember our promise?” he said, subtly whispering into your ear as you took the podium picture. “Might do,” you shrugged, a small smile on your face. 

“Team debrief,” you said, following the man who collected the trophy as Lando watched you, disappointment etched on his face. “After,” he said. And when the debrief finished, you told him you had another PR meeting. “Done, finally?” Lando asked, seeing you emerge from your motorhome.  “Mhm,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his neck, “oh, wait, I have another meeting,” you said, blinking innocently at him as he groaned 

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Lando grabbed your arm to stop you from walking away, “you’re being a brat on purpose,”. You looked at him, as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. “Don’t give me that,” he said, eyebrow raised at your expression. “And here I am, trying to reward you for winning. Now you’re gonna get punished,” your eyes widened at his words as he took your hand, pushing you back into your room. 

Any of the real meetings you genuinely had were gonna be missed. 

“Lando,” you gasped as he tugged at your team shirt, clawing it off your chest, your baggy trousers coming off with it. “What?” he said, eyebrow raised as he pushed you against the wall, his hand twisting the lock of the door. “Fuck,” you gasped as he nipped at your neck and collarbone. “Feel good?” he asked, lifting your legs up, onto his waist, his hands firmly on you ass. 

Your lips met, a warm, passionate kiss filled with lust and desire, as he moved one hand to your hair, the other one tugging your panties down. “Fuck” he pushed you onto the bed, “you’re soaking, y’know?”. You couldn’t help the whine that left your lips as he threw your legs onto his shoulders, your hands tugging at his curls as his mouth came to your folds. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, his lips pressing featherlight kisses to your pussy, your wrists in his hand, your breast in his other. “Lando feels s’good,” you gasped, tugging at his locks, your hips pressing against him as he groaned, pushing you down. He moved his hand down to your stomach, holding you down, his mouth staying on you as you wriggled. “Fuck, Lando!” you shrieked, your orgasm was like heaven. 

He moved away from your core, his wet, warm lips trailing up your abdomen, his lashes clinging together with your wetness. “Feel good, doesn’t it?” he asked, your body shaking a bit from your high, “Doesn’t it?” he asked again, voice more demanding. You nodded, a small whimper leaving your lips as he took one of you tits into your mouth, swirling his tongue round the sensitive bud. “Lando, fuck” you gasped, his finger running through your folds again. 

Oh he meant punishment. You moaned again as his finger pushed into you, your hips bucking into him, his lips still sucking. “Lando don’t stop,” you rolled your hips against his hand as he pushed his middle finger in, curling inside of you as gasped, the sensation was heavenly. “Oh god, fuck,” you felt another high coming up. 

Your eyes rolled at the sensations, cheeks fiery red as you moaned - at this rate, you wouldn’t be able to take his actual dick. “Lando, Lan…” your voice trailed off, filtering into mewls and moans as you felt another orgasm wash over you. “So good f’me,” Lando mumbled, pulling you onto his lap, your body tired against his, “looked so good on the podium, y’know?” he cooed, pulling his own joggers down. 

One hand pumped his length, the other with his fingers deep inside of you, pumping slowly. “Gonna give me one more, okay?” he asked, lifting you up, before letting you sink onto his cock. “So fucking tight, Y/N, always so tight f’me,” he groaned, bouncing you softly on his lap, his hand coming to circle your clit. 

You were already sensitive from your last two orgasms, the knot building up quicker…faster, as his pace deepened. “Lando, Lando, I’m close,” you whined, your head on his shoulder as he bounced you. “That’s it, yeah? Cum for me,” he whispered in your ear, one hand dangling in your hair. “One more, okay?” Lando said, still bouncing you gently. 

You moaned again as he didn’t stop, your body tightening round his as he groaned. “Fuck, Y/N, gonna cum in you,” he mumbled, “gonna fill you up good,”. His words were what sent you over the edge, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he rode out your high for you, before he followed. “Oh fuck, Y/N,” he groaned as you tightened round him, your body against his chest. 

“So tight, fuck,” he gasped, “gonna fill you up, fill you right up,”. You felt his warm, hot cum shoot in this ropes inside of you, his head thrown back, resting his weight on his arms, which were shaking, his eyes squeezed shut as he rode out his high. “Mmm fuck,” you groaned, eyes shut again. “Feels s’good,” you whined. “I know,” he said, a kiss to your cheek. 

[buddiebeginz]

Reminder guys that just because Ryan calls Eddie straight in his current interviews doesn’t mean he is. In the first place Ryan can’t just give away stuff that hasn’t happened yet and as far as canon goes right now Eddie is straight. Let’s not forget that Buck was perceived as straight by the media and most of the general audience before he came out.

The fact that they are allowing Ryan and Oliver to continue to answer questions about Buddie at all is huge because they don’t have to. I don’t know if some of you were around in fandom years ago but we never got this much talk about Buddie and if we did it wasn’t always these continued answers of like “it needs to be a natural progression for them to get there”. It was more like “we appreciate the fans and we’re open to it”. Buddie is clearly in the works and they’re trying not give it away.

Also listen to how Ryan talks when asked about Buddie, he said he lives moment to moment with Eddie right now another clear indication that in this moment this is what’s going on with Eddie. Aka he’s straight and he’s dealing with all the Kim/Marisol stuff but by next season Eddie could be realizing he’s not as straight as he initially thought.

Most importantly remember that the actors don’t write the scripts. All that matters is that Ryan, Oliver, Tim, and ABC are all supportive of Buddie and are open to it happening and they’ve all expressed that they are.

It would just be really stupid for the show to not take advantage of a couple they know could garner them so much more attention and ratings. Not to mention the more important fact of just how groundbreaking a slow burn queer couple like Buddie coming together will be. I think everyone involved understands the gravity of all of it. They’re just trying to take their time with Buddie’s story and tell it right because they only have one chance to do that.

Also don’t pay any attention to what B/T shippers say about this interview because no doubt they’ll use what Ryan said as a way to try and prove Buddie is never happening and their ship is endgame. Trust and believe even if T*mmy sticks around until s8 Buck’s forever love is not going to be him. Buck is almost like the central character on this show, Tim is for sure going to give him an epic love story and was already trying to put Buddie in the works back in season 4. Buck might be dating T*mmy right now but it’s clear that his heart has always been with Eddie (and Chris).

[mllersjoel]

you're obsessed

you're obsessed

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!actress!reader

Warnings: swearing, no use of y/n

Summary: jamie tartt fic where he has a huge crush on an actress and sees her at a richmond event and she flirts w him he’s really shy bc he likes her but they hook up after idk

Wordcount: 1.6k

A/N: didnt manage to write any smut bc this was getting way too long teehee :D general warnings for swearing.

writing comms are open!

“Oi, Tartt! Stop stalking your actress and give me some laps,” Roy yells, shaking Jamie from his reverie. Jamie is not stalking her instagram. He’s just not; because a stalker would have notifications on as they obsessively checked their profile at least four times every minute. Jamie is only checking once every five minutes, and he doesn’t even have her notifications on. So there. Suck it, Roy.

“Fine, don’t give yourself an aneurysm,” he mutters, taking a quick minute to stretch before he’s running around the pitch. He just has a crush. That’s all. A little one. He first saw you in some thriller that came out last month, and something about you had him hooked. Initially he thought it was just the character you played, a regular yet charming civilian, pulled into the crime world. After watching (admittedly, way too many) interviews, he realised it wasn’t the character. It was you.

You with your witty remarks and comments. The way you laughed good naturedly and poked fun at your costars. The way you were clumsy and scatterbrained, in a terribly endearing way.

It didn’t help that you were also gorgeous.

So, yeah. Jamie had a slight crush. It was fine, though, because you were currently based in Los Angeles (you were in a new Marvel movie) and had no plans of coming to the UK anytime soon. 

“She’s right fit, though,” Isaac says, nudging Jamie as he runs past. 

Jamie feels his stomach tighten with jealousy before he catches himself. Why was he jealous? He didn’t know you and you probably didn’t even know he existed. Well, maybe you did, because he was sexy and a hot football player. Did you even watch football? Would you watch it if you knew he was in it?

Jamie remembers hearing something about a parasocial relationship from Keeley and resolves to not think about you.

At least while he was training.

***

He’s spraying on cologne in the locker room when Keeley bursts in, all smiles and pep.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!”

“Is everything alright?” Ted asks, breaking away from Coach Beard who as far as Jamie could tell, hasn’t said anything but is managing to have a full conversation with Ted.

“You will not believe who I booked for this years’ Gala!”

Roy’s ears perk up at this as he slides into the conversation. “The Muppets?”

“No, Roy,” Keeley says, exasperated, “not the fucking Muppets. Only the hottest new actress on screen right now!”

At this point, all the boys have gathered around Keeley, jostling each other and trying to see the screen of her phone. Jamie fights his way to the front, and when his eyes focus on Keeley’s phone, he’s pretty sure his heart drops into his stomach.

It was you. There. With your smile and your eyes and your name and a headline.

You were coming to their Gala.

You.

He feels his heart drop into his stomach. This couldn’t be real. Maybe it was a mistype, or someone accidentally said they scheduled you but in reality you were on the other side of the globe. It was faked. It had to be.

He broke away from his team, practically running back to the changing rooms. Opening up your instagram, he pulled up your story. There, you had reposted the announcement.

Oh. Oh fuck.

***

On the day of the Gala, Jamie seriously considers hiring a stylist rather than just going with his gut. He needs to look good. Tonight is most probably one of the most important days of his life. His favourite actress, coming to his club’s Gala. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, you’ll bid on him.

Wait. Who was he kidding? He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. Of course you’ll bid on him. He could wear a trash bag and you’d bid on him, because he is just that fucking sexy.

Right?

He shoots a quick text to Keeley, desperate for a second opinion.

Me:

[image0.png]

thoughts? Xx

Keeley:

Ur hot babes!!

Gonna knock em dead xx

Lose the tie u look like a prick <3

He takes one last look in the mirror, running his hands through his hair. Yeah. He’s gonna show up and be so cool. He’s so cool.

***

They’re taking pictures on the carpet, and everyone can tell Jamie is not all there. He barely tells the paparazzi to take pictures of his good side, following it up with “And that’s any side.” His eyes keep darting around, every scream and shout of delight sending his stomach in knots in case you’re the one to step out of the limousine.

Maybe you just won’t show up. Maybe you were already inside.

He can’t decide which option is worse.

When he’s at the end of the carpet, about to head inside, he hears whistles and screams, different from the ones before. These sound a lot more excited, filled with more adrenaline and anticipation. Or maybe he’s just projecting. 

He turns, and sure enough, you’re there.

Stunning. That’s the only thing he can think of. You smile beautifully at the photographers, working the crowd with ease. It was as if you were friends, had a solid rapport with them with the way you were conversing back and forth.

“Close your mouth. You look like a fucking basking shark,” Roy says, elbowing Jamie in the stomach.

He flinches back, giving Roy a shove in return. “Oi, what was that for?”

“You’re not gonna make a good impression with you gawking like a fucking idiot. Go say hi or something. Be fucking normal.”

Jamie sends Roy an affronted look. “I am normal, you old bastard. Just because we don’t act like how you did in the 1800s doesn’t mean I’m being an idiot.”

Roy just growls, shoving past him into the building.

Jamie takes a step forward to follow when a voice catches his attention.

“Hey! You’re Jamie Tartt, right?”

He turns on instinct, a winning smile already plastered on his face. ���I’ll do autographs once—you.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting for him to go on. “Once I what?”

“You’re, um, you’re her.” He says your name, almost reverently.

Your grin widens, almost giddy. “You know who I am?”

“I follow you—” before he could say more, your manager rushes in behind you, ushering you inside. You wince at him, apologetic, before heading inside.

Jamie stands there, dumbfounded. 

I follow you?  That’s what he had to say? Now he really does sound like a stalker. He scrubs his hand over his face, groaning in disappointment.

He’s gonna make it up to you. He has to.

***

Inside, he sees he’s sat with Ted and Roy as well as a few other people and an empty seat next to him. He largely ignores his own table, trying to catch sight of you and not succeeding in the slightest. He huffs a sigh of annoyance, sliding into his seat.

Ted notices his glum aura, nodding sagely. “It’s the oysters, isn’t it? Because I know they have to try to make the flavour appeal to everyone but adding this much lemon is just downright insultin’.”

“It’s not the oysters, coach.”

Ted frowns. “The placemats? I was never really an eggshell white person myself but—”

“Jamie’s pining over an actress he thinks I don’t see him stalk on insta when he’s supposed to be running drills,” Roy cuts in, tired of Ted’s guessing.

“I’m not pining,” Jamie pouts, crossing his arms in a decidedly not childish way.

Before Roy could get another rebuttal out, the seat next to him is being filled, and once again he sees you, smiling at him. “Actresses are overrated,” you say, placing your napkin over your lap, “trust me.”

Jamie’s blood runs cold, convinced the universe is playing a cruel trick on him. Running into you is an absolute dream, he’d never deny that, but running into you with both Ted and Roy there? He may as well be taken out back and shot.

He must’ve been sitting there agape for too long, because before he knows it, Ted is reaching a hand over and giving yours a shake.

“Ted Lasso, it’s a pleasure to meet ya’. I absolutely loved you in that thriller that came out last June. Had me on the edge of my couch! And I know Jamie here liked it as well, he was bawling a right mess by the end of it.”

You turn to look at Jamie, and having the full force of your attention on him made him nearly choke on air. “Were you really?”

Jamie licks his lips, trying to gain some composure. “Bawling is sayin’ a lot, really. More like a reasonable cry.”

You nod along, clearly not buying it. 

“I’ve been keeping up with your games this season. The goal you scored against West Ham the other day was seriously impressive. You were practically miles away from the net.”

Immediately, Jamie perked up. “You like football?”

“Well, I’m no expert, but I definitely try to watch all your games if I can.”

Jamie leans in, feeling bold and taking your hand in his. “Richmonds games? Or my games?”

You shrug. “Depends on the hair.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair, body turned towards you. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

[cordspaghetti]

feeling nuts ok so i was looking at the full page of that High School Drag interview after um going thru the 5 stages of decomposition over it and i recognized one of gerard’s other answers (about people grabbing their package) as identical to something they said in a much older interview so i was like oh are we pulling quotes from other things here? can i Search the Web and find the og source for what he said about doing drag? so i DID and i found each sentence of his answer, which i bolded, within larger quotes from completely different places, like:

“I like to think of it as a cry for help trapped in a pop song...When I was writing it, I was remembering how hard it was to be a 16-year-old in high school. I always wanted to be an artist, so I was this loner kid who just got drunk all the time. I only had one real friend. There was a girl I really liked, and she ended up taking really sleazy photographs with her boyfriend, and that really crushed me...I was just swimming in this pit of despair, jealousy and alcoholism.” (June 23, 2004 from mtv archive)

“I went to school in drag, in art school and my day was completely different because everybody thought I was a chick.” (we all know this one, earliest place i found it was here from 2003ish but i think the site’s broken now)

“You’re going to come across shitty bands and a lot of shitty people. And if any one of those people call you names because of what you look like or they don’t accept you for who you are, I want you to look right at that motherfucker, stick up your middle finger, and scream ‘Fuck you!’” (found this in a bunch of places, the earliest so far being Oct 22, 2006 on imnotokay.net where it’s listed as an “old article”)

for reference again the lad mag interview goes like:

“How did you find high school? Hard. I always wanted to be an artist, so I was this loner kid who just got drunk all the time. I only had one real friend. 

In what ways were you a loner? I went to school in drag. People call you names because of what you look like, because they don't accept who you are.”

so this has me thinking that at least this portion of the interview is entirely collaged together, with the context abt high school for the second answer basically fabricated? idk how common a practice this is in like. music journalism but LAD Mag (which this is from) was a magazine that came with copies of Sugar for free, so maybe the standards were different OR SOMETHING. idk maybe gerard just happened to repeat himself here. i want to believe in high school drag. but also their history with gender is important to meeeee and i want to make sure i am not consuming Fake Info about it !!!! 

[siconetribal]

Put it on My Tab (20)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning: Interview pressure, No filter

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

An ache started at the base of the back of her head. How long had she been standing here with her neck craned back, looking up at the tall justice building that held the Gotham City Police Department. Y/N could count the number of times she had been her on one hand. This visit was not breaking that record, but she hoped this would be the only one needed. She appreciated the department as a whole, but like all places, it had rotten personalities. 

And now weirdos like Dick Dick. She snorted at the little nickname she had for the detective she was working with on the claim case. “Well, I guess he really isn’t all that bad. There are weirder people in this city, like criminals with themes.” The mumbled words were hers alone to hear as she rocked her head side to side to ease the tension before walking in. The ‘enthusiastic’ receptionist barely moved when pointing to a hall of doors, she eventually found her way to the right place and was led to an interview room. 

“Y/N, good morning, glad you could make it.” The young detective flashed her a swoon worthy grin. She was not sure if he was trying to charm or disarm, so she gave a small polite smile back.

“Well, it was either come or possibly have a warrant out for my arrest for fraud. As dull as everyday life can be, I like not having a noose around my neck. Plus, my boss would fire me, and I lack a sugar daddy for that luxury.” The casual shrug was in stark contrast to the wide-eyed shock that currently adorned the face of the handsome detective. His brows were so high that they were slightly covered by his bangs that swept across his forehead. “Everything ok?”

“No-yes, sorry, yes. I was just trying to figure out if that was a good morning or something else.”

“Did I forget to say good morning? Where are my manners, good morning…and now you can tack all that I said after that.” She said with a triumphant smile, taking a seat. “Have a seat, let’s get this statement down, and I’ll be out of your well-kept hair and back to grinding coffee beans and whipping up crazy drinks for overly privileged teens.” She motioned to the seat that was clearly meant for him to take. 

The corners of his mouth twitched as he pulled out the chair and angled it to face her better. He was thrown off. This was good for her, a little victory for her in all this. It was only fair that he be equally thrown as she, a normal Gothomite, would feel while in a room like this. “I’m guessing your dream job isn’t being a barista.” He chuckled.

“What job could be more satisfying than slaving away in a tiny spot with a few others, a single counter keeping you from the rabid coffee-addicted zombies that come rushing in impossible demands that they don’t even know they want?” She raised a brow at him, her voice was flat and dry. He chuckled again.

“You make a valid point, working for the public is not fun.” He briefly raised his hands, palms facing her, before resting on the table again. “Shall we get started then? As you know, this meeting will be recorded. It’s nothing serious, just formality and procedure. We can stop whenever you want, you’re not under arrest or being interrogated.” He placed a tape recorder on the table between them and clicked the red button. “If you don’t have any questions, we can begin.”

“Oh, one question Dick Dick, Nightwing gave me a tip that evening, do I need to hand that over to you as part of the claim or do I just keep it as a usual tip from a customer?”

Dick Grayson sat frozen in place, the reels of the tape slowly turning as it caught all of her words. This was the second time today that this odd young woman rendered him speechless, but this time was different. He was not sure if he should be laughing at her words or at himself. She had not said anything wrong, and he knew that. It was informal, possibly derogatory to some, and very old-fashioned. It was something he never expected, and yet he knew he was at fault for forgetting he was currently speaking with the very young woman who had his usually grumpy little brother even grumpier than usual. 

But did she actually say that on purpose, or was that a slip of the tongue? She was calling me Detective Grayson up until now. Did I miss something? I can see why he’s all knotted up, she really knows how to throw a guy. He watched the slow realization of her words dawning on her. Her eyes widening, her back going straight as she sat taller, and her jaw silently opening and closing until words finally started coming out. A series of apologies and reassurances that she had no ill intentions.

“Can you strike that from the record? Like erase it?”

“I can have it stricken from the transcript, yes, but not from the audio recording, no. That’s, that’s going to be staying on here forever. It’ll just be disregarded, since we’re officially marking it as struck from the record.” He swallowed the laughter that threatened to take over him as she slumped forward with her face hidden in her hands. Her words were low and muffled, but he was certain he heard a few more apologies in there before she forced herself back up and looked at him. “As for your question, a tip is a tip. You said you gave them coffee, they decided to give you a tip. It’s got nothing to do with the claim, since all that’s being asked to be covered is the restoration of the window. Now, shall we officially begin?”

As soon as the interview had concluded, Y/N was out the door before anything else could be said, mostly by her. The last thing she needed was for the detective to try to pry out anything more embarrassing from her. Her heart rammed into her chest as her mind so mercifully replayed her words and the look of horror that came across Detective Grayson’s normally jovial expression on an infinite loop. The flirtatious cop had shrunk away, and the look had to be disgusted, what else would he feel after someone called him something so utterly ridiculous. Regardless of his highly unprofessional dalliances, he never actually crossed a line with her. She, who kept it completely professional throughout the time, had blown everything up to the high heavens.

Because clearly, my mind is willing to give up the idiotic things that come to me, for free. Slapping a hand over her eyes, rubbing up and down a few times before combing her fingers through her hair. “Don’t say it, Y/N, don’t say it. If you say it, something worse will happen.” Climbing up the steps of the bus, she quickly took one of the few available seats and plugged in her earbuds. She sank into the uncomfortable seat, actively pushing the mortifying memory that would haunt her for the rest of her days, as she increased the volume. With her favorite playlist playing on shuffle, she mindlessly went through her phone and realized she was now staring at the old text conversation between her and her ‘capeless crusader’. Automatically, her thumb moved to close the screen, but the finger hesitated. It hovered between tapping back to her home screen and the input box in the chat. 

Maybe he’s a bigger dumbass and thinks I’m happy he’s out of my hair? She bit her lower lip as she warred with what to do. There’s no harm in texting, right? What’s the worst that can happen? He doesn’t read or leaves me on read? He wasn’t the best at texting right away with his work schedule. Not only that, but he could be busy. She reasoned in favor of him. “What do I even text him? It’s not like I’m living an exciting life.” She grumbled when one word from the chat came into focus. 

<Hey, I know this is late, but thanks again for helping me out. I let my brain just shut down and enjoy the first few days of debt-free life. The brownies you made were amazing. Didn’t peg you as the baking type. Books, bikes, and now baking? You’re a triple B threat, Boy Wounder. Are you still planning that meet up, or should I quash my hopes before they’re dashed?> She reread the message several times, tweaking the tiniest of things. It got to the point that she was getting frustrated herself and just hit the arrow to send and shoved the phone into her pocket. It was done and there was nothing more she could do except wait for would inevitably feel like an eternity or will actually be an eternity, if he decided not to reply. Nothing to worry about, but why would her mind side with logic? Today was to be a day of mental anguish, all thanks to herself.

Tags:

@vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotall @antiquecultist

[chaoticloving]

So... I had this funny request.. See.. What if Reader is a famous personality? Like they are an actor and a singer at an young age? Like they worked for movies like Harry Potter and marvel and then later on took singing as career option which resulted being an awesome choice as their music skyrocketed. So what if One directions manager arranged a collab with reader? And one direction was also a huge fan of her but Harry had a huge celebrity crush on reader which he had hinted alot of times in interviews which fans could see, reader didn't knew them well only that they were a famous band and she didn't knew their names too? as she was rather busy with her own stuff plus she didn't knew fans shipping her and harry? So when they all saw reader at the office because it was kept a surprise for them with whom they were gonna collab so Harry started fan girling? I mean it's just pure fluff and teen love?

Performance of a Lifetime

harry styles x reader

a/n: lil blurb for ya! changed it a bit! plus some cheesy h for you!

Harry’s never felt more excited in his life, entirely exhausted, but had that excited-about-to-vomit feeling inside of him while practicing this dance routine.

Its how all of one-direction was feeling at the moment. Wanting to drop dead like flys but not because they needed to impress a certain singer, joining them for a charity performance.

Y/n was a house-hold name, from a young age of being a child star, working her ass off to be taken seriously without being taken advantage of, she slowly dipped into the world of music before she started to become the face of the music industry. She was doing a joint performance with one-direction this friday as the headliner for the day.

Harry nearly fainted when his managers told him they were preforming with her; he also didn’t hesitate to go to dance rehearsals when asked too. He needed to make sure his performance was flawless but also needed to work up his abs—and by work up he means create.

This afternoon though, will be the first time him and be the rest of the band meet Y/n. Harry new he had some competition over winning the stars heart; both Zayn and Louis were trying suspiciously hard during rehearsal to outshine one another, and Harry hated every moment of it.

Soon enough though, they were out of the showers and changing into more professional clothing to meet the singer. Harry was tapping his foot, rehearsing how he was going to introduce himself and win over the girl.

“You ready?”

“Huh?”

Niall chuckled and wrapped his arm around Harry as they walked down the long hall. “You’re going to meet your celebrity crush! Big day for you.”

“I don’t have a celebrity crush-“

“Everyone has a celebrity crush. Mine in Selena Gomez.” Niall chided. “I think Zayn likes one of that Hadid girls, Liam likes Miley Cyrus, and Louis likes any celebrity that people say are nice—which I think is a good thing honestly.”

“How’d you know that then.” Harry sighed.

“You remember in X-factor days, those stair videos we did?” Harry nodded. “Someone asked who our celebrity crushes were, and I think yours is the only one that hasn’t changed.

Harry shook his head, ignoring and hoping that Niall is the only one stupid enough to remember whatever video. “But you saw Zayn and Louis in practice today? They were trying much more than normal, no way they don’t have a crush.”

Niall shrugged his shoulders. “She’s hot. Of course they do. I mean, if she talks to me and is nice I might.”

Harry shoved Niall off of him and groaned, speed walking away from his friend and trying to catch up to the rest of the boys.

“Wait up you dolt.” Niall yelled. “Don’t be stupid, I follow the girl code—I won’t date, flirt, or fuck your crush—and the bro code—I will hype you up. Scouts honor.”

Harry sighed. He was grateful for Niall’s help, really; but sometimes it gets a little carried away with matters of the heart.

“Hurry up ya pussys!” Liam shouted from the elevator, holding the door open for the boys. He got a smack from the manager, John, who gave him a stern glare for his word choice.

Harry and Niall got into the cramped elevator and watched as the doors closed. Harry watched the red numbers go up, slowly yet not stopping. He started worrying as he got higher and higher, it was less than five minutes until he meets his crush—he shivered at the thought.

The doors chimed and then opened. The boys pushed each other out, Zayn, Louis, and it seems now Liam were all extra eager to meet Y/n. John walked slowly behind the group, typing away on his phone.

The say the assistant who stood up when the men entered and made a gesture for them to follow her. She knocked on the door. “Y/n you’ve got your entourage here.”

“Entourage-“ Liam questioned, before the door swung open.

Y/n glanced over the boys, giving them a once-over, and then opened the door fully to let them in. “It’s nice to meet you all!” She chided, flashing a quick smile. “Come in! Come in!”

The women turned around and sat at the other end of a long table, filled with mood-boards, pictures, and tons and tons of sheet-filled binders. The rest of them joined on the opposite side. Harry didn’t miss the glance Y/n sent him, it wasn’t as confused as the last time though, it was more…curious.

Harry ignored that thought. He’s just being delusional.

“Alright so one-direction I can’t wait to preform with you all this weekend.” Y/n’s assistant handed her a clipboard, and she flicked through the pages. “I see the songs you want to preform, and I must admit, I’m not hugely familiar with your work and would like to go over them.” Her manager nudged her. “Sorry.” She sighed, clearing her throat. “I’d like to get to know all of you foremost.”

Harry blinked, but Liam didn’t. “My names Liam, huge fan of your work—both music and film. I sing, dance, date, you name it!”

“Alright nice to meet you-“

“I’m Louis. Raised in Doncaster. And I like your work too, especially that one song on your last album—the one that goes like “why not me la la—“

“Would it surprise you if I told you he’s a singer too.” Zayn smirked, hand on Louis’ shoulder to get him to stop. “I’m Zayn, and to make the rest quick that’s Niall and the one on the end is Harry.”

“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you all. And I’m Y/n and quite frankly I’m ready to get to work.” The boys nodded in agreement, a little afraid. “So...Story of My Life.”

~

“Y/n how was it preparing for this event with a group of boys? Annoying I bet.” The interviewer asked.

Y/n and the boys were in their stage outfits, less then an hour left until their due on stage. Harry had on his black skinny jeans, and a grey tang top, his tattoos on display—trying to go for the edgy, bad-boy look. Y/n had on black baggie jeans and a tight, cropped bra-like shirt to match. Harry liked how they looked coordinated.

“It’s been a trip, honestly.” Y/n laughed. “I didn’t know much about one direction, but I like to think that that I’ve made some friends.” Y/n giggled as she pulled in Harry, her arm around his neck. Harry was quite shocked, first of all, he wasn’t apart of the interview, and second of all, she considered him a friend!

“Can you confirm Styles?”

“Oh yeah. We’re best friends at this point.” He delivered his million dollar smile (with a hint of desperation in there) and felt the heat from his blush on his cheeks rise up. “Nice break from those losers back there.” Harry pointed to the boys behind him, shooting the shit and trying to look better.

“How cute you two look! All matching! Was this on purpose?”

“Uhh.” Harry didn’t know what to say. Luckily Y/n saved him.

“Of course! Gotta have the main attractions coordinating!” She joked, leaning into Harry’s chest.

“How cute of a couple!” Harry’s jaw dropped and could feel Y/n freeze. “I’ve got the others to interview! Good luck!”

~~

How Harry got through the performance will forever be a mystery. How he will face Y/n again is an even bigger mystery.

After the interviews went on, more and more people questioned or reminded him of his relationship status with the star. He couldn't even get much of a break after the show because they swung into even more interviews, some better than others though.

Y/n acted odd though. Harry thought back to different relationships he has had with women he was friends with, none were this close to him, sometimes the hug here and there but never hand holding or arm around the neck constantly. Harry was getting mixed signals and was scared he was misinterpreting Y/n's actions. But the public eye, and his band mates, were always around watching him so it's not like much could be said without fear of someone knowing.

"Alright, I think that wraps up this interview. Next in two." Some manager said.

"Hey." Y/n whispered. Harry glanced around him, no one was near; the other boys sat on a separate couch from him and Y/n, and no praying ears were about.

"What?" Thats how you flirt Harry? Come on.

Y/n smiled though. "I just wanted to say I liked hanging out with you today."

"Really?"

"I wanted to know if you could hang out again, but without everyone else?"

"Like a date?" Harry gasped, voice not even a whisper.

"Yeah? If thats alright?" Y/n asked, looking at the dreamed out Harry who was rapidly blushing. "H?"

"Get ready boys!" ... "And Y/n."

"H were are almost live." Y/n reminded him, fixing herself up and then him. "Wanna answer?"

"Good afternoon-"

"Yes." Harry interrupted the interviewer, looking over at shocked Y/n. "Of course! I know this great place off of some road-"

Harry got knocked with a pillow by Niall, who gave him a rude look.

"Anything you wanna share mate?" The interviewer asked.

Harry smiled, finally looking where he should of been all this time, instead of the girl next to him. He nodded his head, held up high and straightened his shirt.

"I got a date."

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: 17 months “Sea legs”

“Did you really need to bring a recorder here? It's an aquarium hun. Do you really plan on interviewing yourself here?”

“It's not that, Abi. I just, with how bad my memory is, I want to make sure I have something to remember this moment.” 

“And you chose a recorder instead of a video camera because…?”

“I really want to eat the fish. This way I get to focus on your beautiful voice when I listen back.”

“...Gay.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it? Kiss me maybe?”

“Maybe later. Come on, I want to get to the underwater tunnel before it closes!”

“I know it's Hyper city, but it's really cool to see so many therians here. Back in Canada, I'm lucky if I see one in a week.”

“There's a lot of us, yeah.”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just a little sad is all… 

Ok ok, I’ll talk, stop making that face, haha It’s just that, yeah there are a lot of us around. Still feels like we never get treated properly. We’re either freaks or walking tourist spots. I know things will get better eventually, but it's. I really wish I could figure out how to shapeshift into a more convincing human.

“You spent how long on this medication and now you're trying to look human again?”

“It's just useful, that's all. Besides, it's not like I have the right to call myself otherkin… Ow! Don't flick me hun, my skin is sensitive, and you could lose a finger!”

“stop overthinking things. Enjoy your time here and if anyone calls you out, then I'll kick their ass.”

“Thanks, but please don't fight anyone for me. No offense, but you're not exactly capable of doing damage to people hun… ow, ok ok stop it, ah! Haha, cut it out!”

“I'm not gonna stop until you start treating yourself better. You're my mimic girlfriend! You get to decide what you are and no one gets to tell you otherwise. Also! You have a bunch of other people here who would defend you like… is that a werewolf over there? Next to the robot and… um.”

“Pretty sure that's a cyborg, and also that looks like a black arms member?”

“Wait, like the-

“Abi, we're currently having a date in an interdimensional dead end, looking at fish that do not exist in our universe, and I'm pretty sure that fish over there is a badnik. It's really not that strange.”

“That's… fair.. I guess… Hey hun, I'm gonna go grab some ice cream real quick.”

“We're half way through the tunnel already. You sure you want to go all the way back?”

“I'll be quick, just stay put.”

Bzzzt, crackle, Welcome to the wonderful world of Hyperquarium! Thank you for choosing us as the one and only place that can bring fish together from around the worlds in perfect harmony! If you look to our left, you'll see our trained feeder get a chance to show off those gills and show you what only a shark therian can do, he's a professional so don’t worry about being bitten kids. This therian knows how to take care of others. This is also a reminder not to touch the glass as you may spook our feeder.

“Ugh, great, just what I needed, feeling insulted over an intercom. Why does getting second hand insulted have to feel worse? I'm definitely cutting this part from the recor- OW, OH STARS, WATCH WHERE YOU'RE… slithering, um, miss, are you ok?”

“Oh- I’m so sssorry I didn’t mean to, I sswear! This tail just gets sso long by now it’s… difficult for me to control at times. I uh… You haven’t seen any other Lamias around by chance? Or some people in brown uniformss?”

“Uniforms? You’re not on the run or something right? And no, I haven’t seen any other Lamias around, You’re actually the first I’ve ever really had a chance to see. I kind of thought I’d see more with how popular you guys are. But seriously are you alright?... 

Is- is that a shock collar around you?”

“Well… Yes and no- Yes thisss is a shock collar… okay uh- we’re not suppossed to call them that uh… It’s a.. “behavioral correction device”... But yess it’s a shock collar. And no, I'm not on the run… quite the opposite actually… I had a bit of an episode and lost myself in some instincts when watching the fish… and the next thing I know my group is gone and I'm.. I’m not supposed to be away from the group and… if I don't get back soon I might be in a bit of… ah ssscrew it they’re gonna be mad at me anyway… “

“So then… I know a good hiding spot to watch the fish if you want to hide a bit longer. I mean, if that’s ok, and I won’t get in too much trouble, and you won’t get in too much trouble, and I think I’m stumbling over my words, You want to just go hang out in the jellyfish room? It’s pretty dark there and they don’t allow any kind of outside lights in there.”

“Y-yeah that sounds nice! Low lightss could help with that headache. Uhm, what’s your name if i may assk?”

“It's Mayday, and what about you? What's your name?”

“Ah my name-.. It’s uh… oh wait.. I…hmm…Right! Aria… I think. I… am still not sure if I should change it… it’s uh.. complicated.”

* * *

“The jellyfish are really cool, just floating around with not a care in the world. I guess I get why humans find them so boring, but I think they're just not seeing how nice it would be. You know?”

“I totally get what you mean. Just being able to be you… going with the flow of thingss.. Not a care in the world. But that’s just something that therians like us can fully understand… other than the other animals of coursse right?”

“I'm guessing you're past your own crossroads then, like me, based on your words at least. You wouldn't mind if I asked you some questions would you? It's a bit selfish to ask after dragging you here, but I need to know something.”

“Ah well-... i am still “crossssing” it… doc said it will go on for another month or three… maybe longer they are all very vague about this stuff. But sure, I can try to answer to the besst of my ability.”

“So, what do you think of those that don't take that next step? Like the ones that decide they want to stay human in some way, aren't they cheating or something. Like they got to have their cake and eat it too, isn't it a bit unfair? I mean, look at you, you're getting escorted around in a collar by guards, and then we- they get to walk around with not a care in the world.”

“I don’t think that it’ss cheating… It is my choice to go through with it… and in the end I will be what I alwayss wanted to be… fully in both mind and sspirit. This of course will come with quite a few burdens… I am already forgetting so much that I would have loved to remember… But I alsso gain so much more which is just hard to desscribe. All I can hope for is that I ssomehow end up remembering all the faces of the ones that helped me get sso far… or at least ssome other kind of connection.  Those that however stay human to ssome degree have their own struggless to live with. For some it’s never being able to fully control yourself, alwayss having that bit in them that shines through and reminds them that they are sstill “incomplete” which can be a lot on their mind. In the end we all go our own ways, face our own struggless. No sside has it any easier I think than the other, it’s just… different, and you have to choose for yourself which sstruggles you want to deal with in the end. What you yourself think you are able to handle better. For me it was that I was just afraid that I couldn't control the animalistic sside of myself… I could just not live in this sstate i was in, i wanted to fully become me, hoping that it will set me free of the fearsss and anguish that my humanity brings me. But I know what it can cosst me… what it already has… still I weighed my options and decided that this is the best option for myself.  But if you think that where you are now is what is the best option for you, then no one should hold it against you, not even yourself… Does that make ssense?

“Wow, call me out huh. I guess I'm not as good at hiding these sorts of things as I thought. I technically went too far before I lightened my dosage. It left me, broken. Things don't feel right for either side, and I have things I just- there are things I can't let go of no matter how much I want this. It's like I'm splitting apart and I can't figure out how to be anything correctly. I'm not really Mayday, I lost all my memories in my first year. It should have been the perfect excuse to continue forward, but then I got to know Mayday's friends and family. And... I liked them, I liked them alot, I love some of them. I barely know them and when I met them for the first time it just felt right and they were crying like I died and. I can't put them through that. Not a second time. This human side of me just won't let go. I'm putting others before my own happiness again. I'm undermining your sacrifice, being a coward. Sorry I'm ruining your trip aren't I. I'll get out of your scales for you.”

“No wait! It’s okay, I’m used to doing thisss… sort of. Uhm sso… before I got put with the other Lamia’s… I was part of a group that… helped each other… there iss someone there that's a lot like you… multiple actually.. While they did not lose their memories… they stayed partly human too.. They did not continue like I did. Anyway, you’re a lot braver than me, I think.  You… lost your memoriess and still decided to stay with the ones that love you now and before, I don’t think I could have done the ssame. You’re still happy with them now aren’t you? I mean… the way you said it, it’s not just others happiness at stake but your own too. Sso… heh.. I don’t really know where I'm going with thiss but I think you’re brave.”

I can't believe I'm talking about all this with a complete stranger, solidarity is a powerful thing. Who knows, maybe we did know each other at some point and just forgot. But thanks. It doesn't fix how I feel, but it's a good bandage for now. In the meantime we can watch the Jellyfish together until you're ready to go back…

“Did you hear that announcement a little while back? Nice to see therians getting hired here but way to not only turn it into another tourist spot, but also insult all of us at the same time. Can you believe they actually said all that?”

“Oh my god yesss! How do you actually manage to be ssupportive and a total a-hole at the same time!? Urgh… It’s not just here though… god the way they sometimes announce our exhibit is just… urgh something about staying on the paths and not getting too close without sssupervision… like-... As if they don’t almosst OVERFEED us before so we aren’t even in the mood to hunt… and then these stupid collarsss too.. Sigh I thought this stuff is to make us get away from the negative ssstigma.. Not FEED into it..”

“Wait, I'm sorry, did you say exhibit? Like as in… you're part of a zoo attraction? Y'know, if I was still human, I would be throwing up at that. Is that why you're wearing a collar?! That can't be legal. Like when you say exhibit, you mean like they put you in walls that you can’t ever leave without people acting like handlers? That's disgusting!”

“Ah-... y-yeah? Well okay, it ssounds bad when put like that but… okay that's uh kinda the best option? It was either… have ssome other person keep me like a pet.. Definitely no, be put into the wilds far away from civilization and be not allowed within a certain disstance of any human civilization… also big nono in my eyes.. or… Join the lamia exhibit in the zoo. I’d still be allowed to see my friends… or, well, have them visit me at leasst… I can help fix the kinda negative view people have of Lamias ssince most think of the evil folklore… or video games…  I get to live with others of my kind in a gated community… food is taken care of… healthcare too… kinda… Honestly it was the besst of the options I was given… All I gotta deal with is people looking at uss all day… the stupid collarsss, handlerss… yeah… Maybe one day laws change, that we do not have to sign some legal ownership document stuff and can be free in the city as well… but until then… that’s how it hass to be.”

“I guess I understand, but that just sounds horrible to me. You can put up with a lot, if that’s what you're handling every day. Speaking of, are you going to be ok? Either your guards find us and something bad happens to you, or I jump in and take the blame for essentially kidnapping this zoo's pet. Either option doesn't sound particularly fun. Stars, I thought after finishing this transition I wouldn't have to deal with all this negativity. Somehow Hyper city ended up being just as bad as back home, only it's bad in different ways. This sucks. Is there really no other option that's better? I thought that lamias had intelligence comparable to humans, are your instincts really so strong that you'd endanger humans around you?”

“Don’t worry, they are gonna be quite mad at me, and i’m probably going to have to wait quite ssome time before they allow me my next outside trip… but as long as I sstay put, and don’t get in any situation that could be interpreted as me being a danger… they will probably not use the shock collar when they find me.  Well… the besst outcome would have been if at least they put my legal ownership to one of my friendss but… I wouldn't have wanted them to see me sslowly forget who I was and all the other legal stuff it brings with it… not to mention that most of them are therianss on HRT themsself so the state probably would gatekeep that somehow too. And please don’t put the blame on yourself, that would probably give a hefty fine if not jail time… rather leave the option open to see you again at the exhibit than have you banned from it. At leasst then I get visitors I know and like! And as for our insstincts… It’s difficult… yes they can be overwhelming but they get more manageable after the crossroads… At least that's what I heard from a friend. Ssomething about being more aware of them subconsciously. But for our intelligence being comparable to humans, that's true but mix it with our statuss being non human… and laws haven’t developed that far yet… we are basically categorized as animals. And with people being afraid of our fangs, ssnake parts and all that, I don't see it changing soon.”

“Oh that is so gross, I can't believe the universe would let something like that even happen. Sometimes I wish I could just bite anyone who ticked me off. But you're probably right. About everything I guess. I hate the idea of a place like that existing, but I'd rather not get in trouble and not have the chance to talk again. You're strangely nice to talk to, also I don't think I could afford bail if I got arrested. I probably would lose my chance to work with Erian if that happened. Maybe I can do some protesting in front of city hall instead… I also want to ask about that old support group of yours, and also… hm, maybe I shouldn't chew your ear off right. If you don't get into too much trouble, we could meet up to chat more? I'll make today up to you, if the zoo allows it I could get you a plush at the gift shop.”

“Ah-.. uhm… no… trust me that you do NOT want that… it’ss… no… you’ll not forget the taste… ever… *sigh* Anyway thank you that’s nice to hear, you’re also a lot of fun to talk to. A nice change of pace. Protesting could help! Make our voice heard~  I’d love a visit and another chance to talk too! The plushie would be lovely. As for my old ssupport group.. Yeah they are nice, you should really go and talk to them. We have an online presence so jusst look for… Therian THEMS support group!  There’s… a… white tiger… her name… uh… damn come on i know thissss… white tiger… and… brown… nghhh… come on COME ON I KNOW their… their namessss i know them…”

“Don't worry, it's fine. I live at THEMS actually, I didn't realize they had a support group. I sort of never checked around, and don't worry, I don't actually bite people… usually. Come on, we can try to sneak over to the gift shop and… um hey Aria, sorry if it's rude to ask but, well it's just a thought is all. Have you had a chance to see what you look like?”

“I-... I’m sssorry it’s… yeah. Yeah let’ss get there… Wait what i look like?... Now that you mention it… I kinda forgot my own face… not really any mirrorss around in the enclosure… we usually help each other with hairstyling and so on. Why do you ask?”

“Would you like to see yourself right now?”

“I… I mean sure? Iss there like a mirror around here or…”

“Supplemental: I had Erian’s help splicing the tapes together, He’s good with old stuff like this. I wanted to add this to better describe the scene. I want no possible chance I will forget this..

Ok, here goes. Descriptor: Morphing like that felt nice, I’d never done anything like that before, but, it just worked out. It felt like body and mind actually agreeing for the first time since I became a mimic. The faint pale glow of the jellyfish felt like it was a radiant sun illuminating not just the room but my shifting form. My mind felt complete. Sharp. Morphing into something with my human remains and mimic self in agreement for the first time. This state of change I went through, this was what I was meant to have. I could feel my legs twist and fuse into a tail that grew longer and longer. Teeth moved from my body and incorporated into fangs and claws. I could feel the chemical reaction inside of me as poison turned to venom. I never looked away, I didn't close my eyes. I just kept looking back at Aria, understanding every crease and shine in her scales. It was then I finally realized how much I had always wanted to be a mimic. This felt correct. The feeling faded eventually, but I knew I had morphed myself into a perfect copy of Aria, because when I looked at her I felt happy. Did the medication somehow know this is what I truly needed? I need more time to think. End supplemental.”

“Thisss- You’re- I- woah! This is uh- I’m sssorry I’m blown away by thiss! This is what I look like!? Wait before that- You’re a shapeshifter? I- Oh my. Thank you! I-... this feels a bit weird to asssk someone that currently looks like my exact twin but-... can i… you know… give you a hug for thisss!? I mean… looking at you it’ss… looking at everything i ever wanted to be I-... sssorry that wass a weird thing to asssk someone i jusst met earlier I-... Thanksss”

“You can give us a hug if you like. We don't mind being ssstrangers. Oh, we do that too, interessting. Eheheh, but yesss, you may hug.”

“Yeah you get usssed to it~ Okay then uh-... here we go. Thank you.”

“I think I hear people coming. I need to change back before any of those guards see two of you. Glad you enjoyed getting to hug a squishier version of yourself. I must feel like a marshmallow. Oh wait, I think my partner is gonna kill me if I leave her waiting any longer.”

“Haha~ I guess we both are going to get our ears chewed off by ssome people. It wass very nice getting to meet and talk to you Mayday, and I hope to see you again! Just… don’t take it to heart if I end up having to assk your name again or… worsse okay? Oh- and if you meet the people from the ssupport group… tell them i sssaid hi.”

“Will do, you better stay safe then, and don’t you dare end up regretting your choice, you got that! Enjoy your new life, and hopefully it won’t just be within a zoo someday. If you ever need to ask my name again, then I’ll be sure to ask yours as well. I look forward to meeting you again Aria the lamia.”

“Yes, I will do my besst to do that. I look forward to meeting you again too, Mayday the Mimic.”

* * *

“Abi, I’m back!”

“Oh my god where were you! I called like eight times! I thought something might have happened to you!”

“Sorry, sorry, I got caught up in a weird situation, I met a new friend I guess. You’d like her. she was really nice… Ok, yeah I’ll make it up to you. Really sorry for making you worry like that. Let’s go out to eat. This place kinda sucks. What about that sushi place you wanted to go to a couple months ago! I’ll pay for it.”

“You seem awfully cheery all of a sudden

“I just figured out who I am. That’s all.”

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

Start - Prev - Next

Hey, hope you enjoyed what I think is the longest chapter by far. Normally I try to stick with two pages of text to get something that most people can keep their attention on. Not really possible here.

I'd like to take this time to thank @ariathelamia for collaborating with this chapter. She's so cool and you should go follow her right now. Do it right now. Do not finish reading this part until you double check you are following her and reading her Lamia HRT story!

Anyway, I'd also like to point out the cameos/mentions for Tiger HRT and ??? HRT by @tigergirltail and @home-sweet-hive, respectively. Both are extremely good and give me the inspiration to continue writing this story every single day. This story would have probably stopped around the fifth or sixth part without them. So you should go read those stories right now as well. Do it. Seriously though, thank you so much for reading. Have a wonderful day.

-Navi

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

Mention list: @a-shramp, @calliecwrites, @be702, @respectfulevil, @hyacinthdoll1315

@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop

[sasukeless]

what are your modern au sns headcanons?

i like to incorporate as many things from canon into modern aus as possible tbh so i kinda already joked about sasuke being probably hunted down by true crime obsessed ppl trying to interview him about his insane murderer brother and also naruto finding out later in life he might be a nepo baby and his father was a big political figure idk it’s funny to me

as for narusasu specific hcs

they met at an orphanage (because unlike konoha who lets children raise themselves i feel modern au they just get shove into the system)

growing up they definitely liked to vandalize places, especially monuments. or well naruto did and sasuke covered for him because he likes naruto.

naruto spends half of his time in middle and high school carving sasuke’s name into tables and walls. he says he does it so sasuke gets blamed but he’s just in love and has a sasuke brainrot.

naruto is a collage drop out and ends up working with plants (i refuse to let him suffer by going into politics) and sasuke also drops out with him but comes back later to finish some because he ends working with reptiles specifically snakes.

naruto loves buy matching stuff All the time but he never admits it’s matching. he just buys things like bracelets or mugs in purple and orange and that’s it. sasuke is very aware of this but he never complains and uses everything naruto buys.

after they start dating they do wear those stupid matching necklaces kishimoto drew.

in their free time, sasuke is really good at playing instruments whereas naruto is more into painting (he’s so into street art!!!). sasuke for sure has a electric guitar btw

sasuke did naruto’s first piercing (eyebrow one) when they were 14. it hurt so bad they had a physical fight. still, sasuke does the rest of naruto’s piercings too.

they fight a lot!!! everyone is weirded outtt. but it’s normal to them. and five minutes later they are making out. they have a thing for fighting during sex too so there’s always a black eye or busted lip in the morning.

i can’t really see them dating other people prior each other tbh. it’s like in canon they are The One for each other since forever. they have some surface level crushes here and there before they get together but it’s never serious or affects them.

naruto picks kurama when he’s a kid and mistakes it for a puppy. it is in fact a fox but like by the time he’s told that (an hour later) he has already developed affection so no one can do anything about it, that’s his pet.

neither has a driver license. sasuke gets too annoyed at the traffic and the people in said traffic. meanwhile naruto gets distracted all the time. naruto still has a car and drives it because he thinks it’s fun and since sasuke lets him get away with anything he’s okay with both dying in a car crash because naruto kept singing loudly.

naruto texts sasuke 24/7 and even if sasuke doesn’t reply to all, he does read them and remembers them. sasuke’s texts consist in these two emojis: 👍 and 💜

i disagree with the idea that either of them smokes sorry. naruto tries it once but sasuke says he doesn’t like the taste after he kisses him and it makes naruto want to kill himself so bad, he never again gets close to do it again.

yeah, they share toothbrush and all (gross)

they are super competitive over video games and it’s probably the reason of 90% of their fights

each of them has seen like ten psychiatrists through their lives but they never stick around nor follow any instructions. they are rawdogging it at life and it’s okay, they make each other happy that’s what matters

they get married at 18th on impulse. when their friends find out they disapprove and think it won’t last but they do! they never file for divorce or anything

these are all so messy but yeah i can’t see narusasu being normal in any setting, they also don’t want to be normal

[autumnmobile12]

Helluva Boss S2 Trailer:  “You don’t love mother and you don’t love me!”

I have a problem with this line, and I’ve had a problem with Octavia’s character for awhile now, so I’m going to talk about it.

To cut her some slack, her house and family life is a mess.  Fighting parents, cheating dad, feeling neglected by both parents, and she’s a teenager on top of that.  I get it.  Moody, angsty teen with a really good reason for being moody and angsty.

And Stolas isn’t blameless in all this.  With the cheating, he’s actively a problem, but we can see that he loves his ‘little owlet.’  But he is a terrible father.  In the Seeing Stars episode, I thought that it was going to be a lot more Stolas and Octavia-centric on their relationship, but no.  He and Blitzo spend most of the time looking for her just dicking around in some human comedy act when they really didn’t need to be there.  Seriously, it wouldn’t have been the first time Blitzo massacred a group of humans to get out of an awkward situation, but if Stolas is so concerned about his daughter, then why didn't he do something about their situation? If he loves his daughter so much, why is he okay with this distraction? He's not even the one who gets him out of it in the end.  That was the first time Helluva Boss actually disappointed me.  I don’t think the brief bit of backstory we got with Blitzo and Loona justified the rest of that whole bit, so it was really pointless.  That piece could have been handled better.

Throughout the Stolitz ship, Stolas is 100% ignoring Octavia.  But terrible dad aside, the line from the Season 2 trailer, “You don’t love Mother and you don’t love me!” should be emotional.

Except…. “You don’t love Mother….”

…why would he?

Does Octavia not see what a violent, toxic bitch her mom is?  She has seen her screaming, getting violent, and throwing things. I suppose Octavia could have the opinion that Stella's anger is justified with the cheating and all, but then that explanation implies she thinks reacting violently like that is acceptable behavior. And let’s not forget Stella straight up ordered a hit on Stolas, which nearly succeeded.  Does Octavia not know about this?  Again, Stolas being a terrible dad for not taking steps to get the daughter he supposedly loves away from the psycho who ordered an assassination, but did none of this get back to Octavia?

Not that any of it makes Stolas' infidelity okay. If you're unhappy in a relationship, leave it. But with the way Stella behaves, there's no rational way Octavia can expect her parents to love each other. It sucks to be the child in that position, especially a teen still figuring things out, but that is very much an 'it is what it is' situation and you gotta make the best of it in whatever way you can.

As it stands, it isn't fair for Octavia to entirely blame Stolas for their family falling apart.

"You don't love mother and you don't love me," makes it sound like Octavia is consciously choosing her violent, narcissistic witch of mother over her dad. This also doesn't make sense with the plot because there's no sign of Octavia having a close relationship with her mom. There are no portraits of them together in a loving embrace as we see with her and Stolas. Plus, Stella doesn't care about Octavia. The only two times in the show she vaguely mentions her is as the 'one egg that finally dropped out of her' and when she and Andrealphus are discussing the inheritance that will go to Octavia. She doesn't care about Stolas either. The only effect the cheating had on her was the idea of public embarrassment for their family.

Neither of Octavia's parents care for her the way they should, so for the, "You don't love mother and you don't love me," line to work to its fullest impact, it should have been phrased as, “You don’t love me!  Neither you or Mom love me!”

I do love Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel…but Octavia’s character is really poorly handled.  I remember it being said in an interview that Helluva Boss does have heavier focus on its male characters while Hazbin Hotel was supposed to be more female-centric, but when it comes to Octavia, that structure in the storytelling is crumbling under its own weight. There is a story here and it has some major gaps that need addressing.

To give them some benefit of doubt, maybe this’ll be addressed in an episode before that line hits, so maybe it’ll make more sense. Or they could make it clear she said it out of anger.  At least, I hope so because I really need some righteous retribution for how Stolas behaves with his daughter.

...

Edit for clarity: The point of this post is a criticism of the lack of story we get for Octavia that justifies her motives, not a criticism of why she herself behaves the way that she does. The dysfunctional family is heavy stuff and since it is a front and center issue with Stolas' background, it needs more attention than the series gives it.

[luchitohamilton]

lewis being interview by margot laffite for canal+ at the qatar gp '23

I act like a kid all the time. I’m not embarrassed about it; I love having fun. So that’s why, you know, I’m always skydiving, surfing or I’m skiing or I’m riding my bike or whatever might be, that’s me being a kid. And that’s something I refuse to ever let go.

transcript below :-)

So Lewis. I don't want today to talk about the World champion, the Formula 1 driver, I would like to talk about Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, if you don’t mind. Can you describe the kind of kid you were at home and at school? What kind of kid were you?

[Smiling] Did you ever had a show called Dennis the Menace?

Oh yes of course.

You did?

Of that kind, yeah. Denis la Malice.

I was like Dennis the Menace 2.0. [laughs] I was climbing trees, I was just always riding my bike down the fastest hill. Naturally super competitive in everything that I did and, uhm, my dad helped me concentrate that energy into racing and that’s where stability came.

We know you were a huge fan of Ayrton Senna, but did you watch like every single F1 race, documentaries about F1?

No, when I was a kid I only watched documentaries on Ayrton Senna, read his books. Anything to do with Ayrton I would have it, whether it was a coffee mug or, not that I drink coffee as a kid, but I was watching Gran Prix from like since I was like 4 with my dad on the weekends. Yeah, Sunday sitting with my dad watching races was one of the best times, I remember.

If you could go back in time, where and when would it be?

It would probably be when I was living with my mum, before I was 8, so, yeah.

You are running the world so, how difficult is it to build friendships?

Yeah, it’s definitely not the easiest I would say. My two closest friends are from school, yeah, they are my brothers. Places where I’ve found good friendships are obviously on my job, and then when I’m doing music, when I’m working with musicians, it’s just like a different realm and there I’ve built some incredible relationships also.

What does being a grown up mean to you? Is it like tiresome to be more conscious of the impact you have on things and people, rather than the pleasant innocence of being a child?

I act like a kid all the time. I’m not embarrassed about it; I love having fun. So that’s why, you know, I’m always skydiving, surfing or I’m skiing or I’m riding my bike or whatever might be, that’s me being a kid. And that’s something I refuse to ever let go.

When you play a game with some children, maybe your family, nieces and nephews, do you let them win?

No, I try to win! I just [laughs] and they are good, they are getting good, so I have to get my wins while I can. But, my dad never let me win anything when I was a kid. I think is good to learn how to lose anyways, so [laughs]

Are you always on time or sometimes you’re late?

No, I’m always late. The only time I’m ever on time is when I’m getting in the car to race. But like if I’m going for a flight, I’m always late. I don’t know, I like the limit, yeah. [jokingly] I like getting there around the limit, I like the rush.

What are your thoughts and feelings about Max Verstappen? The man he is, the kind of champion.

He’s done an exceptional job. I think the team has done an amazing job. Collectively they truly deserve the success. Max has been faultless this year, he’s not made any mistakes. I only hope that there’s a time when I’ll be able to put up a fight for him.

When you quit F1 would you still want race like Dakar or the 24 Hours of Le Mans?

I currently don't really have any, like, zero, like, feelings to do those things. I love motorbikes, I’ve always loved Moto GP, still love it today. I have 2 super bikes. I think I probably always just gonna take my bikes out. I won’t compete professionally in anything ever again. It takes 10,000 hours to be, you know, a master of something else. I wanna spend that 10,000 hours on being the best dad or something like that, you know, or running my businesses in the best way I can. Where all my energy and focus will go to. For now, I’ll continue to skydive, I’ll continue to surf, those are probably the, riding the bikes, surfing and skydiving, those are the 3 fun things that I’ll make sure I always do.

Merci Beaucoup, Lewis.

Merci.

It was a pleasure as always. Thank you.

[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” Mr. Pennyworth says. 

It feels like a dagger has been shoved into my stomach. I’m not sure what to say, so he just continues anyway. 

“Your productivity is by far the lowest in the company, you’re not reliable to show up on time or even at all, and your long hair is unprofessional and not befitting of this company’s standards.” He clears his throat, sifting through some papers. “We also have reason to believe you called-in on Friday without actually being sick.”

“What makes you think that?” I say, finally speaking up for the first time. 

He shrugs, “Let’s just say we got an anonymous tip.”

******

“Everything alright with you?” Max asks, moving his pawn forward to free up his bishop. 

“I’m fine,” I say, half-heartedly moving my knight with no clear plan in place. “Lost my job today.”

Max frowns, moving his bishop out as I expected. “I’m really sorry, dude. That sucks to hear.”

“Yea…it’s fine, I guess,” I sigh, “Didn’t much like it there much anyway.” 

He still hasn’t said anything about the other day. I’m not sure if he actually saw anything, or he did and just doesn’t want to bring it up. How do you talk about seeing a bunch of sissy toys and diapers in your roommate’s room? Is that even something to talk about?

I remember back in college when my roommate at the time had found a slew of sissy porn on my computer. I was there when he saw everything. That sick feeling in my stomach took forever to go away. It’s back now. 

“Well if you start applying for jobs, you can always use me as a reference. Just say I’m an old manager or something.” He says, putting his Queen in a precarious position. I seize the opportunity and take it. I realize too late that it left my King open for an easy assault. An obvious trap I should have seen coming. 

“Checkmate.” Max says, smiling. 

******

As the weeks went by, so did the job opportunities and applications. I rarely received any callbacks, and even if I got an interview, I’d either get ghosted afterwards or they would call and say something to the degree of “after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

God, the job market is rough. 

My bank account is dangerously low. I probably should have done a better job of saving for times like this, but I guess I was more excited about buying outfits and diapers. Still, I’m not going to make it through the next month without some sort of income. It’s time to have the awkward conversation with Max. 

“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I say, shuffling my feet into the living room. 

He pauses the hockey game and turns to me, “what’s up?”

It’s such a weird topic to bring up, but I have to bite the proverbial bullet. “I’m having trouble finding a job…” I say sheepishly, “I didn’t work long enough at my last one to get severance, so…I’m a little low on funds.”

He just sits there, always with that stoic expression, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue. 

“So…umm..I’m uh, gonna be short on rent this month.”

Again he continues to stare at me, as if deep in thought, stroking his beard. It almost seems a little exaggerated. Like he’s acting. 

“I see,” he finally says. “So you need me to help you?”

As demoralizing as it is to admit, I have to. “Yes…”

He smiles. “Okay. No problem.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

I don’t know what to say. A weight of anxiety and fear is lifted off my shoulders. I can feel it melt away as I start to relax. “Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. Anything you need, just let me know.”

His eyes have a strange glint to them. Like he was hoping I would say exactly that. 

“I actually do have a job in mind for you,” He says, “You can start today.”

I sense a sudden shift in the air around the room. He leans back on the couch a bit, patting the seat next to him. I find myself sitting down beside him, not exactly sure what’s going on, but sensing something amiss. 

Max puts his hand on my leg, “it’s okay, nothing to worry about.” he says softly. I feel myself release a breath, feeling comforted, but still a little uneasy. 

It’s like he’s holding something back. Like he’s trying to find the words but doesn’t know how to say it. I wonder if he knows. If he saw the things in my room.

“I saw the things in your room.” He says. 

Yea, I’d say he knows…

My stomach does that familiar churning. The shame of what I've done, or been caught doing coursing through me. “I-i can explain…”

“Don’t bother.” He says, waving it away. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’ve always tried to be so reserved and secretive with my true desires. I didn’t think anyone else would notice. 

He shifts on the couch again. When he does, something catches my eye, there’s a very large bulge in his shorts. 

Noticing me looking at the log snaking down his leg, he starts running his hand over it and smiling. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

I realize my mouth is hanging open. I gulp, shaking my head. “Not a real one.”

He laughs at that, it breaks some of the tension, then he shrugs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” he gently pulls at his zipper, snaking it down ever so slowly. But he doesn’t pull it out, just leaves it open, letting my imagination run wild. “Do you want to suck it?” He asks. 

Again I find myself dumbfounded, this is all happening so fast, but before I can think about it I find the word escaping my lips. 

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Good, because you were going to have to do it anyway. This place ain’t cheap.”

After our awkward laughter dies down, I’m left in the precarious position of what to do next. Luckily, he guides me after several seconds of silence. 

“Open my pants.”

I reach a shaky hand to his button, it takes me a bit to get my fumbling fingers to work it free. 

Again, I’m lost as to what to do next. Should we kiss? Do I close my eyes? What do I—

“Take it out.”

His direction helps. It’s easier for me to follow orders than it is to take initiative in such uncharted territory. I reach my hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling around for it, my heart beating out of my chest. It doesn’t take me long at all to find the warm, fleshy member. I gently pull it back, it bends a bit before snapping out of the boxers to stare straight up at me. 

It’s big. Very big. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. The veins are popping out the side, and I can even feel his own heart beating through it. Pulsing. Rapidly. He’s just as nervous as I am but he doesn’t show it. 

“Well...it’s not gonna suck itself…”

I realize I’ve been staring at it for a while. I use my other hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Somehow my throat feels both dry and wet at the same time, it doesn’t even make sense. Finally, I push past the nervous excitement, and lean forward. His cock seems to grow as it gets closer to my face. I’ve imagined this moment over and over for years. I’ve watched countless videos through the lens of girls wearing a GoPro on their head taking big, giant dicks into their mouths. But somehow this is different. I’m the girl now. It’s my POV, and it’s what I've always dreamed of. 

I open my mouth when I’m inches away and close my eyes, imagining I'm one of the girls in those videos. 

The head of his dick already feels different than my dildos. It’s squishier, warmer, and tastes just a little bit salty, but in a good way. In a great way. This is what I've always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it. 

I hear a soft moan escape my lips just before they close around his cock. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. Things finally feel…right. Like this is what was supposed to be in my mouth all along. All those things they told me in sissy porn were true. 

I take him deeper in my mouth. I find it easier to slide it  down my throat than my dildo. I take it as far as I can until my eyes water, then go back up for a breath. 

In the overwhelming rush of stimuli, I forgot all the techniques I’ve practiced for so long. I try to remember: swirl your tongue, suction on the way up, not down, and most importantly: keep it nice and wet. 

I let the drool run from my mouth, using my hand to coat his cock with it, taking a breath before diving back down. 

“Someone’s been practicing.” He breathes. 

I melt at his praise. I always wanted to be a cocksucker, and I always hoped I’d be a good cocksucker. But you never really know, my dildo doesn’t make noises. 

But him? He was breathing heavily, moaning, groaning, and doing all the things that told me I was doing something right. It ignited a fire in me. With every grunt he made I found myself getting more and more enthusiastic so as to make it happen again. 

Leaning over across the couch next to him is a bit awkward, though. 

He notices. “Get on your knees.”

I take him out of my mouth and scramble a little too eagerly onto the floor between his legs. 

He looks down at me, almost victoriously, like his plan has come to fruition. I am in no way perturbed. In fact, my cock is screaming inside my pants. I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” He says, apparently noticing my penis poking prominently through my pants. “You can touch it.” 

Is that his decision? I guess so…because as soon as he says it I find my hand going inside my pants. 

“No no.” He says. “On the outside. Rub it like you’re a girl. A sissy girl.”

Just the sound of that word gives me a wave of pleasure. I’m so hot and bothered that my body is quaking. I love the way he’s dominating me. Taking my power away so I don’t have to make the decisions myself, and therefore making me more relaxed about doing something I may otherwise have chickened-out on. Would I be here, on my knees, about to suck his cock if he hadn’t made me? Is he making me? Or am I doing it on my own volition?

I knead the front of my crotch. Feeling my throbbing cock and nestling my aching balls. I feel a bit weird with him watching me, so I turn my attention back to his cock. Well, more specifically, his balls. I’ve learned that when worshipping a man—as I’m doing right now—maintaining eye contact while lapping at his balls is one of the perfect ways to show your submission. I also know (from being on the receiving end) that having your balls sucked does not feel nearly as good as porn makes it seem, it’s actually kind of painful. 

So after licking his sack and stroking for several seconds, I spit on his dick and take it back into my mouth with renewed vigor. My own balls are aching at this point, I can feel them turning blue. I use two fingers and twirl them in circles over my pants while I bob up and down on Max’s dick. 

“Fuck yea…” he moans. God it feels so good to make him make those noises. “I’m gonna cum.” 

So am I. 

Knowing he’s on the verge gets me insatiably hot. I want nothing more than to get him to bust in my mouth, like some sort of primal need. 

I hear myself moaning again. I’m not sure if it’s from the pleasure I'm giving or receiving. 

“You want it in your mouth?” He asks considerately. 

“Mhmm!!” I swoon hungrily around his dick. My hand gyrates over my own. The thought of making a man cum in my mouth is too much to handle. I feel a warmth fill my pants as I shake and convulse, trying to keep my focus on his dick while I spasm in an intense orgasm. 

I feel the desire begin to fade. The reality of what I'm doing seeping in. This is my roommate, and I’m on my knees in our living room slobbering all over his big dick like a girl he just met on Tinder. 

“Ohh yea…” he twitches. I can feel the head of his penis swelling, even more than it was before. It gets me excited again. Eager. Desperate. “Right there, just like that! I’m almost there…”

I’ve never been on the receiving end of that statement. Guys saying they’re almost there but are actually a few minutes out. 

My cheeks are starting to burn, my throat is getting sore, it burns from the bile of gagging, I need air, to take a break and a breath, but I don’t want to lose my progress. I need to power through and do what I need to do. 

He grips the cushion of the couch. His legs flail and tense. The head of his cock is bigger than ever. His breathing becomes labored, syncopated, and then it stops. 

That’s when I felt the first gush hit my tongue. Even though I was expecting it, I wasn’t exactly ready for it. Another pump, and then another. I worry I won’t be able to hold it all. 

He gives a big exhale, and that’s when I know he’s spent. I hold his dick and his cum in my mouth a bit, not exactly sure what to do next. I suck a bit more to pull out any remaining drops, then take him out of my mouth. 

The jizz is warmer than I expected it to be, saltier too, but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s my reward. A token of my accomplishment. I just sucked my first real dick, and it was everything I hoped it would be. 

I gulp down the load, smiling gratefully like any good little slut would. 

“Good job.” He says, patting me on the head like I’m a well-behaved puppy. “Now run along…”

That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls up his pants, zips them back up, grabs the remote, and resumes the Hockey game. 

A little disheveled, I wipe the slobber from my mouth, get up, and head out of the room like a discarded toy. What did I expect to happen? For us to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear? I don’t even think I would want that. But to be thrown away like that makes me feel…used. 

Then I remember the wet, sticky stain in my pants. A reminder that I enjoyed myself, a lot. 

So I guess it’s no surprise that when I got back to my room, I shut the door, locked it, and started enjoying myself two more times…

To Be Continued

~~Click HERE to go see Chapter 3!~~

[crowleysgirl56]

Something that I’ve been thinking about for a good 6 months now, ever since Good Omens season 3 was green lit, and that was the three sentence description of the plot that Neil gave in his official announcement interview:

The plans for Armageddon are going wrong. Only Crowley and Aziraphale working together can hope to put it right. And they aren’t talking.

It really makes me think about the book sequel he and Terry had discussed and what was going to be included in that story.

Season 2 was thought to be that story. But then Neil confirmed after the season aired that it was in fact a bridging season that he wrote deliberately in order to get us to season 3, which would be based on the story that he and Terry plotted together in the 90’s and early 2000’s.

Neil also famously never gives anything about his stories away, always excited to tell us to ‘wait and see’. The fact we get this much of a description is quite exciting.

At first glance it doesn’t seem like anything we didn’t already know:

The plot involves Armageddon: Metatron told us as much when he mentioned the second coming at the end of season 2.

Crowley and Aziraphale need to work together: they have always done so before, so this time shouldn’t be any different.

Crowley and Aziraphale aren’t talking: very evident from where we left off.

But did you notice something else? Something hiding in plain sight? The plans are going wrong. And they hope to put it right. So what are these plans? Why are they going wrong? Who made them go wrong? What exactly does going wrong mean? What does putting them right mean? Also, notice how Neil doesn’t say Crowley and Aziraphale need to work together to stop it. Interesting choice of words right?

Now let’s think about the book sequel for a second. For a moment, let’s pretend that the TV series doesn’t exist (*shakes everyone by the shoulders* HEY, STOP SCREAMING! CALM DOWN! The show STILL exists! Just go with me for a second here, and you can go back to remembering the show in a moment! It’s OKAY! *pats everyone until the screaming subsides*). The Good Omens novel is structured with flashback sequences of Aziraphale and Crowley together over time as the story of the Anti-Christ and the Non-Ageddon unfolds. What if the three sentence description of season 3 that Neil gave was the actual tagline of the book sequel? Like, this is literally what he and Terry came up with? Something happened between Aziraphale and Crowley between the end of book 1 and the beginning of book 2, and the second book is telling us the story of the second coming, whilst at the same time providing us flashback scenes of exactly what happened between A&C? That part of the book is the mystery of why these ineffable husbands who spent the last 6000 years together were suddenly no longer talking.

Can you imagine reading that blurb and thinking “WWWHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAATTTT?”

Whether the intended sequel involved the story of a memory wiped Gabriel is up for debate. But I understand why Neil devoted an entire season to telling this story, because I don’t think there would have been room to do the second coming storyline and devote enough time to exploring the relationship breakdown at the same time in just 6 episodes.

And if my theories are correct, this is why I don’t think we will get any further flashback sequences in season 3. If we’re really lucky, maybe we’ll get a 1941 part 3 flashback, and a “what happened when they went back to Crowley’s apartment and body swapped” flashback (I’ve drafted some wildest dream posts on these, so look out for them coming in the near future). But unless they’re relevant for the plot, I think we’re out of flashbacks. This next season is likely going to be focusing specifically on the second coming, the consequences, and answering the question what does putting it right mean?!

This is obviously all opinion and conjecture and I could be completely wrong. I just like putting my thoughts down and sharing with others. So if you want to discuss comment or reblog! Let me know your theories! (And as always, please don’t tag Neil)