#look ma i made a stupid post!

[iiscpr]

you must make aus of your own ocs, you must

[luvjunie]

heyyy, idk if your request or open atm but could you write about miles (e-42) sneaking into the readers house at night, to hangout 🤗 nothing nasty LMFAOOO but like a cute lil moment

— 2:00 AM

pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader

contains: fluff, miles being a big baby because yes

summary: miles has a hard time falling asleep when you’re not next to him. wc: 1,205

a/n: i loveee soft 42!miles omfg 😭 also i realized i changed up the plot a little after i’d already written it and came back to find the request, so i hope you still like it <3

Tossing and turning instead of getting a full night’s rest seemed to be the norm for Miles as of late.

He laid on his back with an irked sigh, hands scrubbing down his face as he lightly groaned into them. There was no need for him to check the time, he already had a pretty accurate guess seeing as he’d been checking his phone every twenty minutes when his eyes would spring back open after another failed attempt to fall asleep.

He missed you. That he couldn’t deny. He’d made the mistake of falling asleep with you one night, and he’s found himself suffering through the same old routine ever since. He’d never slept as peacefully as he did than when he was next to you, and his mind craved your presence more than it craved sleep apparently. The both of you could’ve slept on concrete and he still would‘ve sworn it was more comfortable than his own bed.

It was a stupid idea, and had he not been desperate for a solution he would’ve realized that. But there was no one to talk him out of it as he got up from his bed and fished around in his dimly lit room for his jacket and a pair of nike slides, so it looked like he’d be going through with it anyway.

He scribbled a quick note for his mom onto a post-it note, stuck it to the fridge for her to find after her shift and left their apartment without another thought, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Night walks through Brooklyn didn’t scare him, in fact they calmed him. Everything was quieter at this time, slower— and he knew these streets like the back of his hand. And even if he didn’t, he was pretty good with the switchblade he kept in his pocket at all times. Your place was only a few blocks away, and even through the slight haze casted over him from his lack of rest, he was still vigilant as ever.

He climbed the fire escape just three stories up until he got to your window, using both his hands to hoist him over the steel railing, his feet landing on the old metal as quiet as he could make them.

He hoped that you still kept it unlocked for him, that your offer stood firm when you told him he was welcome anytime. He whispered a plea before he curled his fingers under the edge, sighing in relief when the window lifted open, though the unpleasant squealing due to the age of the pane made him wince.

The last thing he wanted to do was wake you, so he only lifted it halfway, ducking down and stepping into your room and out of the cold. He glanced over to see your cheek still smushed against your pillow, your legs probably tucked into the fetal position with the way your blankets were swaddled around you.

He managed to close the window without making a sound, but on his way over to your bed he accidentally bumped into your dresser, causing a bottle of perfume to clatter into the other objects you had up there.

“Fuck—“ he hissed quietly, twin braids following the act of his head whipping in your direction when you stirred.

You weren’t the lightest sleeper, but the noise had been enough to startle you awake. Lifting your head from the pillow, you sat up quickly, eyes adjusting to make out who the hunched figure was. The two of you had said goodnight just a few hours ago, and now here he was, in your room.

”Miles?” There was a slight rasp to your voice.

“Hey, ma…” he responded, hands nervously hovering over the mess he’d unintentionally created. He fixed it to the best of his ability, but it definitely wasn’t the way you had it before.

You reached over and turned your clock towards you, the bright white numbers making you screw an eye shut.

“Miles, baby, it’s two am in the morning,” you grumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands and yawning. “What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

Blinking the sleep from your sight, you took in his slightly slouched disposition. He looked exhausted, annoyance from his sleepless night evident in the way he sighed.

”Nah, nah,” he shifted from foot to foot, hand hesitantly raising to scratch his head. His idea seemed sensible at first. He was willing to do anything to get some shut eye, and to see you again, but now he just felt silly for waking you up for no good reason.

“Nothing happened, but I—I couldn’t sleep for shit. So I just thought—“ he rubbed his brow and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know, it’s stupid. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight and I just wanna be laid up with you. I really didn’t mean to wake you up and I can leave if—“

“It’s okay! It’s okay,” you cut his rambling short and opened up your blankets, scooting over to make room for him. “Come on.” Even in your drowsy state you could tell he was getting flustered trying to explain himself.

“Oh thank God,” he said beneath a breath as he shuffled his jacket and shoes off, eagerly slipping into your bed beside you.

You shifted back onto your side like you were before and pulled the blankets over the both of you, his arm instantly slinking around your waist to pull your body into his, your back against his chest.

“I love you so much.” he sighed tiredly.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath in through his nose just as your hand came up behind you to caress the top of his head. His behavior made it seem as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks; like he was trying to refresh his mind of every aspect of you.

“I love you too… Miles, are you sure you’re alright?” you asked, not yet all the way convinced.

“Mhm. Just needed to be with you.” he hummed, his words muffled as he pulled you closer.

“What about your mom? I don’t want her to be worried.”

He grunted at that, his response slurred and barely audible. “She know where I’m at.”

His fingers slipped under the waistband of your cotton sleep-shorts, hand traveling to the round of your lower stomach and resting over it. Why guys were so obsessed with the extra weight girls held there was still an anomaly to you. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, but he always threw a fit if you didn’t let him hold you like that so you allowed it.

“Goodnight, Miles.” You murmured into the stillness of your room.

Your eyes opened after receiving no response from him, and you were barely able to turn your head to look over your shoulder since his own was occupying the space there.

“Miles?” you questioned gently.

Your answer came in the form of faint snores and slowed breathing from the boy who was knocked out behind you, a smile inching onto your lips at how quickly he dozed off. You let your eyes flutter to a close, ready to fall asleep again, but this time in the arms of your favorite person.

[thaatdigitaldiary]

passenger princess

paige bueckers x fem reader

disclaimer!! i don’t usually write fics, i’m better at writing educationally (lame) but me & my friends wanted me to try something out of my comfort zone so enjoy. criticism is welcome, but be kind!

this is based off of the picture i posted of paige earlier so that’s the context (also on the banner)

tags: @rosemariiaa & @patscorner for encouraging me to do this elohel kisses to yall

enjoy 🤫

it was 10:47 am. the ac blasting throughtout your studio apartment. you tossed and turned in your bed, groaning from the lack of sleep the night before, caused by a stressful day of work yesterday, completely draining you. you were in a slump to say the least, and the only person who could help cheer you up, was your girlfriend. as you picked up your phone, it vibrated suddenly with a notification popping up, “p 💓” it read, and you opened the message.

it was a picture of her and a brand new car, a red cadillac with a black interior. after the picture comes through, another message follows.

“surprise?” it reads, and you’re shocked, not only about the fact that your girlfriend impulsively bought a new car, but how undeniably beautiful she looked.

her beautiful blonde hair, roots slowly coming through, but she made them look so good. she was clad in a gray sweatshirt despite this summer heat, and those stupid, yet adorable 2024 sunglasses you gave her for new years last year perched on her head.

as you go to text her back, you hear a knock at your front door. you fix your hair and throw your robe on, and go to answer it, while a text that just came through your phone appears.

“i’m outside”

“hi baby.” she says standing in front of you, grinning like a kid who just entered a candy store, jingling her new keys.

“paige.” you say sternly, slighting smirking at the fact that she was so excited to show you her new car. despite the fact that you and her have been dating since your sophomore year of college, she still made you nervous.

from her tall, lean figure, to her beautiful eyes that wander everytime you two see each other. she starts talking, but you can’t stop looking at her.

“baby.” she says, laughing a little. you were staring, and hadn’t heard a word she said to you.

“im sorry, did you say something?” you say, chuckling nervously, feeling embarrassed, but paige never found it embarrassing, she found it cute, matter of fact she loved it.

“i said did you wanna come ride wimmie? you gotta be the first in this car and you know that.” she tells you, leaning on your doorframe, taking you in. she looked you up and down and bit her lip, admiring you and your figure.

“of course p, lemme get dressed and fix my hair, i shouldn’t be too long.” you say sweetly, smiling at her and kissing her on the cheek.

she goes to sit on your couch, manspreading per usual, watching you walk away and into your room to find something to wear.

you rummage through your closet to find something comfortable but cute to wear, just in case you two make any stops, which you knew you would.

you do some finishing touches on your hair, leaving it down, just how paige liked it.

you walk out of your room, having a slight sway to your hips as you walk, which drove paige insane. you wore jean shorts and a black tube top, with your “p” necklace sparkling around your neck.

“jesus ma.” she says, whistling while her eyes travel all over your figure.

“what? should i change?” you asked with concern, worried you were overdressed.

“fuck no, you look beautiful, especially repping me like that,” she says, referring to the necklace with her initial on it, as she rubs her hands together and bites her lip, making you laugh.

“we can go wherever you want to mama, i filled the tank right after i left the dealership.” she grabs her lanyard with her keys attached to it out of her sweatpants pocket, and goes to open the front door for you.

“hm, there’s a new spot not too far from here, they got real good breakfast food, me and jana went the other day.”

“anything for you ma.” she tells you, sneaking a kiss in as you approach her car.

“okay this is beautiful p, and shiny as hell jesus,” you say, describing the darkish red colored car your girlfriend just impulsively bought.

“it needs a beautiful girl to sit in it y’know,” and you roll your eyes at her corniness, but you secretly love it. she opens the door for you and closes it behind you, and walks to the driver’s seat.

about 10 minutes pass and you two are almost at your destination. paige hooked up her bluetooth to her car as soon as she got it, you both listening to her playlist and singing along with the windows down and the wind blowing in your faces.

paige watched as your hair flowed in the wind, your smile so beautiful, and all she could think about what was how lucky she was, getting to see you whenever she wanted, hold you, kiss you, and be there for you, all the time.

she rested her hand on your thigh, driving with one hand, and smiling.

“baby,” you said softly.

“yeah ma?”

“i love you.”

“i love you more than anything ma, yk that.”

you two made it to the restaurant, paige disconnecting her phone from the aux, and gets out to open the door for you.

you could really get use to this new car smell, and being paige’s passenger princess for a long, long time.

I HOPE YALL ENJOYED! this might be a one time thing as i could never be too consistent but lemme know any feedback and i love you guys! 🙂‍↕️

[hansumswife]

could u do like a dad!chris x mom!reader fic/drabble whatev u want and it's post-labour, the reader's given birth to twins ( 1 boy n 1 girl ) and chris is gushing about how cutie his babies r ?? at first he's slightly nervous to pick the babies up bc he's afraid he's gonna hurt them or drop them or smthn, but you reassure him and he's like being the most cutie patootie, greatest dad ever once he tries and warms up to it. and he's also comforting u bc of post-labour pains and discomfort and saying reassuring things like "you've done so great, mama bear" and calling reader cute names and being by her side <33 luv u xx

ᴍᴀᴍᴀ ʙᴇᴀʀ

dad! chris x mom! reader

(no use of y/n)

mentions of pregnancy, labour, and pain

@st7rnioioss @its-jennarose @timmyscomputer @kriissy4gov @liz-stxrn @sunrisemill @mattssluttywaist @riasturns @mx0qin @junnniiieee07 @alorsxsturn @nonameisthegameandilovejake

So far your day had been.. eventful. At around three in the morning you woke up to the bed being wet, only to release your water had broke and you were now going into labour.

Quickly waking Chris up beside you he, of course, panicked but then grabbed your bag and carried you to the car. The drive there was funny to say the least: Chris struggling to turn the engine on due to being so excited yet stressed, lil skies immediately blaring through the speakers which he couldn’t seem to shut off. His hand held onto yours the entire journey, looking at you and making sure you were okay every once in a while - making sure you weren’t in pain.

Surprisingly (not really due to the time), the labour was a quick process. You both checked in quick and got a room sorted and before you knew it you had a baby boy and a baby girl in your arms.

After the doctors and nurses cleaned the babies and made sure everything was okay, they left the room to give you and Chris a moment with your new additions.

Chris slowly walked over to the bed you were laying in, watching the babies laying on your chest in awe. “Can, Can I hold him? Then her next?” he asked gently, lifting the baby boy off your chest as you nodded towards him encouragingly. “I don’t wanna hurt him.”

“You won’t, I promise you.” You nodded, placing the boy in his arms so he had no choice but to hold onto him.

He cradled the baby and rocked slightly, his hand hovering over the babies face - scared he’d break such a delicate thing. “Hiya baby, you have your mommy’s nose.” he coo’d, laughing at the newborns features. He slowly eased into the sway, smiling at the boy. “I cannot wait to be your best friend buddy, little Chris Jr.” he whispered the last part causing you to shake your head at the stupid name he teases you with.

You smiled at the sight of him with a baby, everything he’s been waiting for as soon as he saw the two lines on that pregnancy stick you took, ever since he told bisexual parents and friends, ever since you told him you were craving carrots, ever since you hung the pictures of your scan up on the fridge, ever since you cleaned the house every day trying to prepare.

You stroked the baby girls head before clearing your throat, “You wanna hold her now?” Chris nodded at your offer, replacing the babies for one another as he now rocked his baby girl.

“You’re so pretty, just like your mama bear.” he smiled, kissing his daughter’s forehead. You cringed and laughed at the silly nickname, wincing at the pain it caused your stomach. “Uncle Matt is gonna be so jealous. I’m sure we’ll all spoil you.” he smiled before looking over and seeing your discomfort.

He gently put his daughter down in the small bassinet they provided, taking your son off your chest and doing the same before sitting on the bed with you. “You doing alright ma?”

“I’m okay just a little pain, but it’s okay.” You smiled, holding onto his hands before he let go - reaching over and re-tying your hair for you. “Are you okay?”

He nodded proudly, stroking your cheek. “I’m so proud of you, mama bear.”

You laughed, wincing at the pain but carried on anyways, “Chris! Stop that’s gross!” The new father only laughed into hugged you, making sure to hold his own weight so he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Seriously, I’m proud of you. My pretty girl.” You smiled at his praises, running your hands through his hair whilst shaking your head. “Anyways can we please call him Chris Jr-!”

“Chris! No!”

[sunflowerkiwis]

Forever WAG

charles leclerc x reader - part three summary: big news come from you and charles and the fans finally find the answers they've been looking for... feedback is appreciated + requests are open! enjoy xx

part one | part two | part three | part four

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,233,467 others

charles_leclerc i love you so much, i don’t even know where to start. for five years, we’ve been here for each other. through ups and downs, you’ve loved me. you’ve dealt with me in my toughest times and in my peaks. you give me the strength i need to get through life and you love me each day no matter what.

here’s to our forever, ma précieuse and my future Mme Leclerc

tagged: yourusername

- comments have been turned off by creator -

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, and 1,217,846 others

yourusername 🎶it’s been a long time coming, but…🎶 here’s our engagement party🤍♥️

words simply cannot describe the ecstasy i feel knowing you’re the one i’ll spend my forever with.

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all comments

danielricciardo i wonder who chose that cake😂😂

redbullracing oh no… we’ve lost her😔

user02 CONGRATUALTIONS OMGGGG (but that last slide-)

user04 fr, who’s gonna tell them the honeymoon is AFTER the wedding

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly, georgerussell63 and others

user02 not the whole grid coming after them💀💀

yourbestfriend i guess it’s safe to say you won…

yourusername told ya

user06 ????

user54 okay so charles is gonna write her a whole thought out paragraph and she’s just gonna sit there taking pictures and quote taylor swift…?

user26 what exactly do you gain from sending this?

user54 i’m just saying, don’t think he should be marrying someone who doesn’t appreciate him as much as he does them

user40 babe… where have you been the past five years…

scuderiaferrari our parents🥹🥹

liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername

user36 OMG CONGRATULATIONS I TOLD YALL I CALLED IT OMG YAYYY

liked by yourusername

user08 none of us… none of us believed u and now 🥲🥲

yourmomsinsta congrats my babies 🥰🥰

user22 omg i completely forgot momma yln see these posts. yn your poor mother

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and others

georgerussell63

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1,113,786 others

georgerussell it was a pleasure to help with this amazing day, congrats you fools🫶🫶

yn and charles - 26.05.26

view all comments

pierregasly hey, i helped too

georgerussell63 you’re literally the best man

charles_leclerc thank you so much mate (but also ow)

yourusername we love you too stupid &lt;3

user84 you just know mans had a whole powerpoint made for them 💀

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and charles_leclerc

~ 8 months later ~

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, and 1,749,837 others

yourusername she would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head (the bride was in fact drunk) 🤍💍

tagged: yourbestfriend, yourfriend1, yourfriend2, yourfriend3, yourfriend4

view all comments

charles_leclerc wow

charles_leclerc hot

danielricciardo you can stay there while i bleach my eyes 🙂🙂

charles_leclerc pls come back :(

pierregasly ouch

carlossainz55 ouch

georgerussell63 ouch

maxverstappen1 ouch

yourusername that's crazy

user24 queen energy right there👑

danielricciardo pls don’t

yourusername 🫥

yourbestfriend my wife😍😍

carlossainz55 🤨🤨

yourusername my darling🥰🥰

charles_leclerc 🤨🤨

yourfriend1 five gorgeous gorgeous girls and a goddess of a bride🫶

liked by yourusername

yourbestfriend babe 🤍

liked by yourusername

yourfriend3

liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, and 405,678 others

yourfriend3 girls’ weekend with the future mrs. leclerc

tagged: yourusername

- comments were turned off by creator -

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,624,104 others

charles_leclerc bachelor’s weekend (two can play this game😉)

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

user52 the tag💀

user96 he rlly saw yn thirst trapping and said nonono😭

yourusername damn

yourusername now that’s just mean

charles_leclerc 😉

user58 he took my wife and i can’t even complain

yourbestfriend right??? @yourusername you rlly left us for a banana man????

yourusername what can i say? i like bananas ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

yourbestfriend yeah, HIS

liked by yourusername

user60 💀💀

pierregasly

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 1,119,036 others

pierregasly a wild charles enjoying his last few moments of freedom

tagged: charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc

view all comments

yourusername that guy in the middle’s pretty handsome but i will say, that fella on the far left is my favorite

arthur_leclerc he is pretty great isn’t he👀

pierregasly what about the one on the right

yourusername meh

charles_leclerc you two do realize she’s marrying ME right?

liked by yourusername

sebastianvettel enjoy it while you can

yourusername i’m telling your wife

charles_leclerc handsome guy in those last two photos

yourusername hot.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, and 1,245,634 others

yourusername you can’t outdo the doer, baby &lt;3

tagged: yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc

view all comments

user94 them tagging each other and trying to out thirst trap one another is something that probably should’ve been on my bingo card this year

user10 the way it’s like a competition but they still only comment on each others posts to thirst over the other 😭

charles_leclerc it’s always worth the thrill😉

landonorris i’ve refrained from interfering, but i’d like to remind you that there are children and parents here

yourusername babe did you forget to drop him off at daycare again

charles_leclerc i thought you were doing it?

yourusername honey, i’m not back until a few days remember?

charles_leclerc i’m sorry chéri, force of habit. @landonorris get ready, we have to leave soon

landonorris 😐

carlossainz55 yn, vale, can i have my girlfriend back

yourusername she was mine first, wait your turn pepper boy

yourbestfriend

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1,129,357 others

yourbestfriend happy wife, happy life ep 1: girls’ post-bachelorette party bachelorette weekend getaway ✨🫶

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

user58 yn always serves like that second pic????

user92 these two being couple goals and serving per usual

charles_leclerc lovely♥️

carlossainz55 you look gorgeous querida❤️ both of you. can you please come back now 🥲

charles_leclerc i second that

yourusername no :)

yourbestfriend the bride has spoken

- tags <3 -

@luciaexcorvus @roseseraj

[sooniebby]

so.... ive read your izuku fanfic and damn they were sooo good i wanna cry t__t anywaaaays, idk if ur requests are open or nah so can i request puppy persona!m!reader x timeskip sakusa kiyoomi from haikyuu, whereas reader is sakusa's s/o and when sakusa publishes reader as his s/o on his insta (he posts their pic tgt) someone's commenting bad about reader and he saw it, what happens next is up to you :DDD stay healthy xoxo

ఌ 𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈

❝ 𝘼𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙥𝙞𝙙? ❞

꧁ 𝙆𝙞𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙢𝙞 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 1.9k

Rating › SFW

Warnings › minor homophobia

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

Kiyoomi felt great. His team had just won a game and they were close to getting a spot in the semi finals. Pulling up his mask, he swiftly left the locker room, aiming the just shower at home. Still, even as he grew up, crowds bothered him. 

Most of his fans seemed to get the message by now as they mostly stayed at least five feet away from him. Though it took some screaming from his manager. 

“You did so good, Sakusa!!” A girl screamed. 

Kiyoomi simply gave her a curt nod, walking over to the car that his manager drove. He swore he could hear a loud shriek and then a thud. 

Weirdos. 

The drove home took longer as his manager made sure to take a long route so that no one would follow him. Kiyoomi wasn’t even sure why some fans wanted to know where he lived. He wasn’t going to invite them inside, are they stupid? 

“Thanks.” Kiyoomi’s word was muffled but his manager gave him a thumbs up. 

He got inside his apartment complex and punched in the code to his door—ready to get attacked by his overly excited boyfriend. 

Which he was. 

Kiyoomi being the taller one, and used to this, he easily caught his boyfriend and walked inside as if this was a normal thing. It technically was. He wasn’t sure if he hated it or loved it but he hasn’t asked (Name) to stop so it was borderline tolerable at the least. 

“How was the game?” (Name) asked, wrapping his legs around Kiyoomi waist as he shuffled around to take off his mask and shoes. 

“I’m sweaty.” 

“So?” 

“I wanna bathe.” 

(Name) smirked. “With me?” 

Kiyoomi pushed him off, with just enough force to not actually hurt him. “Absolutely not. I’m tired.” 

(Name) whined as he watched his boyfriend go off to their bedroom to take a bath. He pouted to himself as he went into the kitchen to take out Kiyoomi’s dish of curry. 

The two of them had met by chance, really. (Name) wasn’t into volleyball. In reality, he hated sports in general. He had gone to Karasuno so it’s a shock they had even met. It was honestly by luck when Kiyoomi went on a dating app under a fake name and ended up matching with him. 

It was a bit rocky at the start. Their vastly different personalities caused some clashes in the relationship. But it was better now, except (Name) had a problem. 

He wanted people to know that they were dating. But he knew why Kiyoomi didn’t tell his fans or anyone that wasn’t his family. 

Some fangirls had… problems with their faves dating. (Name) was always confused by this. Kiyoomi wasn’t an idol or anything. He was a volleyball player—who really thought they had a chance with him? 

Well, he randomly got a chance with him… 

(Name) brushed the thought away. He should be glad that Kiyoomi even told his parents about him. It was about a few minutes later when Kiyoomi joined him in the kitchen dressed in some pyjama bottoms. (Name) smirked at him, a playful look in his eyes as he looked him up and down. 

“No.” 

“I didn’t even say anything.” (Name) pouted, handing him the bowl of curry. 

“Didn’t have to.” 

ꕤ

Kiyoomi yawned as he laid down in bed, ready to sleep for over 12 hours after such a harsh game when his phone rang. He cursed as he reached over and answered it, knowing it was his manager. 

She’s the only one who’d dare to call him after a big game. 

“Sakusa! Sorry to bother you but you forgot to post a picture today!” She yelled, causing him to wince. 

It was a tradition that his manager came up with. After any game, especially if he won, to post a picture of him thanking anyone who came to the game. It was nice in theory because it made his account seem alive when he only posted like twice a year before this tradition. 

It also helped him go viral to gain no fans. But they weren’t really the fans he liked. They were the fans that liked him for his looks—not his skills as a player. He hated it but hey, ticket sales were higher each next game when he did this. 

Besides, his true fans seemed to also like the rare photos he did. Might as well reward them. 

“Alright,” he said before hanging up. 

A shirtless picture with only his lamp to illuminate him would certainly gain more attention then his usual covered up ones. He was in a semi good mood away. Kiyoomi positioned his phone upward to get mostly his face and bare shoulders, showing that he was indeed shirtless. 

He hit post and quickly went to sleep

What he didn’t know was that he forgot to angle (Name) out of the picture. (Name) was already asleep on the bed, facing towards Kiyoomi so his full face was in the photo. 

Anyone with eyes could tell he wasn’t a friend he’s ever posted before and that (Name) was shirtless as well. 

Yeah, Kiyoomi (really his manager) was screwed in the morning. 

ꕤ

(Name) woke up to Kiyoomi pressing a kiss on his neck before leaving for his workout of the day. He stayed in bed for a while before getting out, checking his phone for his account on social media. (Name) wasn’t famous by any means but he did have a decent 10k followers for just posting pictures of himself. 

He knew it was mainly people who thought he was cute but he didn’t mind. So many of his comments said he was like a puppy, looks and personality wise. He kinda led into it by this point—jokingly wearing dog ears in some pictures that his fans and friends loved. 

To anyone else, it’d look a bit weird but he didn’t care. 

(Name) frowned when he saw the amount of notifications he got. 

Weird, he usually didn’t get this much unless he posted something but he hasn’t in at least a week or two. He checked them out and he felt scared. The comments that mentioned his username was talking about him being a weirdo. 

And it was Kiyoomi’s fans. Their icons almost all had his face in it. 

(Name) checked Kiyoomi’s account and cursed when he saw the recent picture he posted last name. There he was in the background. If there wasn’t anyone practically attacking him right now, he’d say how handsome and sexy his boyfriend is but he couldn’t. 

Was this what his fans felt? 

Was he really that ugly? 

He shouldn’t have but he did. (Name) spent almost an hour just looking at all of the comments on Kiyoomi’s post and his own account. A few people were fighting back against the obsessed fans—stating how creepy they were acting. 

But it was like fighting against the ocean. It was too much. So many kept saying that he must’ve corrupted Kiyoomi into being a homosexual. 

Wow, Kiyoomi was right to hide their relationship. 

“(Name)?” 

Kiyoomi was in the bedroom suddenly. When did he get there? (Name) felt Kiyoomi wipe away his tears, a small frown on his lips. When did he start crying? 

“What happened?” 

(Name) opened his mouth but only a sob came out and his tackled Kiyoomi into a hug. He cried his heart out, not caring at how sweaty Kiyoomi was. Large arms held him tight, as Kiyoomi didn’t ask any questions. He just allowed him to cry out. 

It wasn’t until Kiyoomi’s phone rang that he pulled away, pressing a kiss on (Name)’s forehead. He reached over for his phone on the nightstand. He never took his phone with him on workouts. 

He just never saw the point in it. There was numerous miss calls from a few of his teammates and his manager. He called back his manager, Miss Watanabe, pulling (Name) back into his arms for some cuddling that he gladly returned. 

“Hello?” 

“Sakusa!! Finally, shit! If you wanted to come out you should’ve told me! We could’ve done it in a more less surprising way!” She cursed, sounding weirdly stressed out. 

“I haven’t come out… What are you talking about?” 

“The picture…” It was silent. “Oh no, Sakusa, was it by accident?! Shit, shit. It’s too late to delete. Oh god.” 

Kiyoomi put Ms. Watanabe on speaker and checked his account, seeing his picture certainly did went viral. 

And for all the wrong reason. He saw every comment that bashed (Name) and even checked his account to see them calling him a freak for wearing dog ears. Kiyoomi was angry. 

He wanted so desperately to just make them vanish out of thin air (kill them) but he knew he had to make sure (Name) was alright. 

“There’s a fan meet next week before the big game… I’ll come up with a speech for you to talk about it!” 

“Why would I need a speech? I’ll just saw he’s my boyfriend.” 

“Uh, are you sure…?” 

Kiyoomi hummed, glancing down at (Name) who had stopped crying by now and was actively listening to the conversation. “It’s time they knew.” 

“Ah,” Ms. Watanabe sounded as if she wanted to disagree but stopped herself. “Alright. I’ll stand by you. Do you want to delete the post still? It might not do much but it’ll delete the comments.” 

“No. I’m going to post something. Bye.” 

“Oh, uh, bye.” 

(Name) sighed. “You don’t think I’m weird right?” 

“No. You are a cute dog. My dog,” Kiyoomi said, a hint of teasing in his voice as he gently grasped (Name)’s neck. (Name), despite his puffy red eyes and teared stained face, smirked. 

“Need me to get my collar?” 

“Now you made it weird.” 

“Oh you’re no fun!” 

Kiyoomi simply smiled, as much as he did really, and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower. Get dressed, you have to look good for our picture.” 

“Our picture?” 

(Name) was honestly shocked. Kiyoomi was going to take a picture with him. He had made (Name) wear the dog ears (but not the collar) and dress in their matching sweaters that Kiyoomi didn’t even like wearing often. Just who was this man and where was his boyfriend? 

They were sitting on the couch as Kiyoomi pulled out his phone to take multiple photos—vastly different from his usual one. Each pose was different. One was just them leaning in close, another was Kiyoomi playfully biting his cheeks and a few was of them kissing. 

It was, in Kiyoomi’s word, a way for them to not deny it. 

He captioned it as a full sentence instead of his usual one word. 

My dog is better than yours. Love you, (Name).

(Name) giggled to himself ignoring the weird look Kiyoomi gave him. He tackled him into a hug, babbling on and on about how happy he was to have the world know he was his. 

It really took only two minutes before Kiyoomi’s phone began buzzing like crazy. He hesitated to grab it but knew he should at least see what they were saying. To his surprise, a lot of them were kind, a few shocked by the somewhat “kinky” display but happy for him none the less. 

Though there was one that caught his eye by a random model he noticed that always commented on his post as soon as possible. 

Seriously?! Why him?! With all the people in the world?! To think I thought you were hot. 

Kiyoomi never comments. But he did just this once. He wanted them to know that he’d never take any disrespect from his fans on his lover. 

Are you stupid?  

And that’s all was what needed to be said. He shut off his phone and pulled (Name) into a long cuddle on the couch. 

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Request number two!! I wasn’t sure what you meant by puppy persona so I just adapted it like that, hopefully it’s fine!

Requests are open!

The request for tomorrow is a threesome with characters from BNHA :)

[cvnntagious]

Have My Baby | C. Sturniolo

"Where'd you come from, with all these statements? / Only thing I wanna know is, can you have my baby." -Chief Keef

pairing : Toxic!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary : When a sweet date night with your boyfriend turns into arguing in the restaurant, Chris wants to let you know he still loves you, even though he doesn't act like it most of the time.

Warnings : use of y/n, mentions of cheating, arguing, swearing, use of bitch in a derogatory way, lowkey angst??, manipulation, smut, p in v, riding, talk of breeding, pet names (baby, princess, ma), 18+

authors note : please don't point out how i keep posting everything BUT the requests i've gotten… i also made a bot for this so enjoy

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

The fancy restaurant you sat in buzzed with chatter, lit with only the dim, warm lighting of the expensive glass-beaded chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. Chris set his menu down with a small, content sigh, smiling at you as he looked into your eyes. "Know that I want," He said simply, placing his hands in front of him on top of the menu, "You?"

You looked up from the menu, matching your boyfriends smile. "What're you getting?" You asked him before setting your menu down in front of you as well, still opened, "I'm a little stuck. Maybe we can share?"

The gesture could've been seen as some type of romantic 'Lady and the Tramp' scene, if it weren't for the underlying tension. You two had never been good together. The way you practically had to beg Chris for two days straight to take you out tonight said it all, and yet, you both sat disingenuously and played house day by day. Even so, all this fancy bullshit had only been enough to fool your boyfriends fans, but everyone else around you guys saw. They saw the way Chris' shitty antics affected you - How they'd caused you to vie for his attention in the same shitty ways he did yours.

There was a flicker of something you couldn't quite make out in Chris' eyes, but he maintained that same smile. "Pasta, like always. You don't like Alfredo," He answered, his tone sweet, making it so that no one around would notice the complaisant undertone like you could.

Of course he'd be like this, how stupid of you to assume he'd enjoy himself tonight. His attitude made you remember how silent he was while you got ready for your date after he finally agreed, only watching you get all dolled up while he wore his usual beanie and t-shirt. Your shoulders dropped when you caught the insincerity, eyes flicking to look at the menu once more as your smile faded. You took a minute to examine while Chris watched from across the table, opening your mouth to say something when you were ready, only to be cut off by the dinging notification on your phone.

Instantly, your head snapped to your phone not far from the menu, reaching to grab it. "Forgot to turn off my ringer." You gave him an uneasy chuckle, flipping the switch on the side of your phone.

"Who's texting you?" Chris asked, smile now gone and hands to the side of him when you looked up at him.

You sucked in a sharp breath before clicking the power button to check the contact. "My mom," You answered, hearing your phone buzz a few more times on the table.

"Seems important, you should text her back."

Hesitantly, to his wishes, you picked your phone off the table and unlocked it with your face. You clicked on messages to type a reply, feeling your phone being snatched from your hands before you could even read the texts for yourself. "Chris-"

He hummed as he read the messages, his face sour with your phone held up to it. "Baby pictures," He replied, sounding disappointed.

A huff left your mouth when you saw him going to type for you, making you reach over the table and snatch your phone from him. "The fuck?" Chris raised his voice a bit, causing people at surrounding tables to glance over.

"I'm not a cheater like you, asshole. Don't sound so down about it." You ignored the agitated charge in his tone as you tweaked your neck at him, speaking in a low tone and giving him an almost disgusted look.

Chris rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Oh please, don't be a bitch about stupid shit. I've never cheated and you know it." His tone was sassy, tongue prodding at his cheek.

The scoff that came from you was so bitter, it almost had Chris leaning over to spit the taste of it out of his mouth. "Only 'cause I caught you before you could actually meet up to fuck her." The blunt words caused a pain in his chest, though he'd never admit it. He kept his composure in front of you, not even flinching at the daggers your eyes threw at him.

He shook his head dismissively, looking up at the light fixtures above you two. "I can't stand you sometimes."

That instant click of your tongue he knew so well made Chris' eyes snap back to your face, knowing he'd really ticked you now. "Ya know what? I shouldn't have even forced you to take me out on a date for once," You stood from your seat, grabbing your belongings as calm as you could in hopes to not alert other people simply enjoying their meals, "I knew it was too much for you to handle. Especially in these times where you 'can't stand' me."

Chris watched with parted lips as you walked away from the table, stiletto heels clacking against the marble floors. You thanked the hostess, letting her know you wouldn't be dining here tonight in a sweet tone before turning to the door. It took a moment, but eventually Chris snapped back into reality, rushing out of the doors to catch up to you.

You already had your hand on the door handle of your car when he finally caught sight of you again, making him sigh in relief that you hadn't already taken off. Your eyes met his when he made it to the tail of your car, sighing before opening the front door. "Get in, you scrub," You demanded in fed up exasperation as you slid into the drivers seat.

━━★

The ride home had been silent, and it was no different for the walk into your house. You hung your purse up on the hooks nailed by the door, Chris walking past you and stopping at the bottom step with his hands in his pockets. Why didn't you just take him home and go back to your place? You hadn't a clue. You really had no intentions of talking things out— at least not tonight.

There were many things you didn't have a clue about. Like why you hadn't left him back when you guys were seventeen, when he'd hid you and played with your feelings all the way up until he realized he could brag about you when he started doing YouTube. You could've really put your foot down when you guys were eighteen and he'd told you he could never love you. You should've told him to fuck off back when you were nineteen and caught him practically sexting multiple other girls for the first time. But now he's twenty, all rich and famous, dragging you out to LA with him and his brothers, and he doesn't even feel the need to show any sort of appreciation for everything you do for him.

"You look gorgeous," He mumbled as you walked past him, making your way up his stairs with tall heels on, to which he wrapped an arm around your waist from behind to guide you.

The stinging from you swatting him away from you was nothing compared to the stinging way you'd walked out of the date you so desperately pleaded with him for because he couldn't manage one peaceful night with his girlfriend. "I don't need your help." You placed your hand on the wall as you picked up your pace to walk a few steps ahead of him.

Chris sighed, slowly but surely trailing behind you. By the time you'd made it to the stairwell leading down to his room, he'd just made it to the top of the stairs at the entrance, searching your irritated face as you rounded the corner. His pace picked up significantly when he saw you take the first step down without even thinking to take your shoes off, afraid you'd fall or something. He grabbed you again, this time hooking your arm on his. "Please," He said gently, not wanting you to push him away this time.

Again, you huffed, reluctantly allowing him to guide you down the stairs like he was some gentleman, though you knew he wasn't. "I'm so tired of you." You started, unable to help yourself. You were just so frustrated with him all the time.

His eyes on the ground, Chris licked his lips at your words, genuinely ashamed of himself for tonight. "I know, baby," He assured you, surprising you when his words came out remorseful, "I know."

"Don't 'baby' me, you ruin everything," You continued on, ranting out of a mix of sadness and anger. "What am I? Just some girl you flaunt to a camera as if you're some awesome, amazing boyfriend?"

He looked up at you, eyes drooping like a child being scolded as he opened his bedroom door for you. "I love you." He simply replied as he let go of you, voice barely above a whisper.

You walked into his room freely, finally taking your shoes off. "Every time you start some stupid 'I love you' shit, I physically cringe," You began an almost entirely new rant, Chris grabbing your heels from your hands to set them neatly aside as he listened intently, "Because, fuck, I love you, but I'll never ever believe you feel the same after what you said to me years ago."

"So was I. And now what? You're gonna say you didn't mean it?" You cut him off, "Even freshly eighteen, I'd never say some stupid shit like that to put you down, whether I meant it or not."

Chris hummed as he turned back to you, "I was young-"

"So was I. And now what? You're gonna say you didn't mean it?" You cut him off, "Even freshly eighteen, I'd never say some stupid shit like that to put you down, whether I meant it or not."

"You don't understand," He took a few steps closer, "Y/n, I'd do anything for you."

You crossed your arms as you looked at him, not buying it. "Oh, I'm sure you would, Christopher."

The sigh he let out at your sarcasm actually caused you to snap out of your angry haze for a moment, feeling a bit sorry for him for some reason. Of course, he had this chewing out coming for quite some time now, but you'd never expected yourself to be so blunt about everything out of nowhere. "you're just so much better than me," He said in a defeated tone, features soft as he looked you up and down.

At any other given moment, he would've said that in such a condescending tone, but it was almost as if he didn't have it in him to pick and egg on the argument like normal. "I want nothing than to spend the rest of my life with you," He breathed, stepping closer to wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.

"Chris, what're you-"

He cut you off with a kiss, much more gentle than any kiss you'd ever gotten from him before. His fingers made his way up to underneath your chin, lifting it to move the kiss from your lips to underneath your jaw. "We could do so much together," He picked up his head, hands sliding under your cute, flowey shirt, "We should've done so much more together by now."

You looked at him with a confused expression, like you were unsure of if he was being serious or not. "I wanna start a family with you," He punctuated his words with kisses down your neck, "And get married. All that sappy shit."

"You're such a fake," You replied as he gently pushed you down on his bed. This, like other times, had to be some sort of manipulation to keep you from leaving, and deep down you knew it. Yet, for some reason, you always ended up letting him have his way with you. Of course, the sex was good, but was it good enough to endure the torture of Chris Sturniolo himself?

Even so, when your boyfriend crawled on his bed to attach his lips to yours from above you, you opened your legs for him to slip himself between. Chris groaned when you reached your hand around his neck to play with the tufts of hair just at the base of his skull, ultimately pulling his kiss in deeper. "A fake?" He feigned offense, "You have no idea how i really see you."

"A little hard when you claim to hate me." You forced out a chuckle, shifting uncomfortablely benath your boyfriend.

Chris sucked in through his nose. "Don't be like that," He breathed before allowing his head to dip just under your chin, peppering kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You rolled your eyes, chin subconsciously lifting to give him better access. His motions only served to dampen your panties. Your hand rose to fall into his soft curls, massaging tenderly at his scalp. Chris groaned at the contact, lips exploring your body in slothish motions. He was in no rush.

Finally, he lifted his head again, kissing you so quick and gently that it'd almost felt like he caressed your lips with his. He wasted no time in sitting up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap in that same motion. "Healthy or not, I could do this every day," He said softly, reaching up to brush his thumb over your cheek, "And this-" He didn't finish his sentence, hands roaming down the fabric of your dress in admiration.

He was so right— The problem is that this wasn't healthy. But fuck did you guys know how to forgive each other, with as much as you knew how to get on each others nerves. You exhaled softly at his words, somehow feeling content by them. Your arms wrapped around his neck, resting on his shoulders, "Sad to say I could too."

"I know."

With that, he grabbed your ass and lifted it from his lap, then letting go to unbuckle his jeans. He pulled them and his boxers down simultaneously, freeing the erection you hadn't even yet noticed. He wasn't interested in fully undressing himself, and he wasn't interested in undressing you at all. With how sexy you looked all dressed up for your guys' date? There was no way in hell. He reached to bunch your dress up at your waist, fingers dipping to press against the wet spot on the fabric of your panties. "Perfect, you can't resist me," He hummed out, lifting you over his aching cock.

"I can," You tried to fight back, only for your argument to be diminished by the way he ran his tip through your folds, eliciting a whimper from you.

You practically broke down on top of him, your legs on either side of his as you held onto his shoulders for support. He allowed the head of his cock to tease your aching clit and dripping entrance to no end, making you unable to hold back the pants the soft caressing on it forced out of you with your face now buried in his neck. "Chris," You whined, causing him to chuckle.

His hand let go of the base of his dick, gripping your hips to plop you down onto him with a hiss. You yelped at the way he'd filled you up so quickly, trembling a bit in his grasp. "Stay still, okay ma? G'na fuck a baby into you," He demanded, voice gruff with lust, "You'll know I'm fa'real then."

At that, he began thrusting into you, agonizingly slow as he sucked in through his perfectly straight teeth. You looked down between your bodies, lips parting to let out more sporadic pants of pleasure. Impatience took over him, beginning to thrust into you at a faster and rougher pace. By then, full moans escaped your lips, unable to contain them as he fucked you so good.

He grunted as your jaw went slack, his pace almost animalistic. He was never one for wasting time. He needed to cum. What other way would you carry his child if not for him shooting his warm seed into you? Surely your favorite panties would be soiled by the end of this, and you'd be lucky to keep your dress nice.

w/c : 2.7k taglist : @m4ttsmunch @mattsnumberonehoe @k4yd1 @sturnobsessedwh0re (lmk If you wanna be added!)

[urmommysbathroom]

Earned It, Chris Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n was teasing Chris all night while they were having dinner with their friends. Chris isn't very pleased with this... so he takes his frustration at one way or another.

Warnings: Smut (obvsly) dom!Chris, sub!reader, p in v, teasing, build up to the actual smut.

A/u: this is my first story I've posted on her and I'm TERRIFIED.

Based of Earned It by The Weeknd

 It was around 6 pm and me and Chris were getting ready for a dinner date with some friends. 

I purposefully put on the red lace set and a very skimpy red dress that I knew drove him crazy. 

I’m sitting at the desk doing my makeup when he comes up behind me and places a small, quick kiss on my cheek.

”Alright baby come on we;re gonna be late.” He says, patting my thigh letting me know I need to hurry up. 

I quickly applied some red lipstick and stood up fixing my dress. 

“How do I look?” I asked, looking up at him with big submissive eyes.

”Beautiful as always, ma.” He says, with a toothy grin before placing another soft kiss on my lips.

We walk out the room and up the stairs into the kitchen where Matt and Nick are standing, waiting on their phones.

Matt snaps out of his trance and looks up from his phone.

”Alright, let's go.” Grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

That’s where I got the bright idea: tease Chris.

It was ovulation week and I was already in the mood after seeing him in that slutty black and white suit. God how can one man be so hot? And how is that man my boyfriend? So many questions flood my head as me and Chris hop in the back seat of the minivan.

Whenever we all sit in the car Nick sits in the passenger seat because he knows me and Chris will want to be together. And that’s when I pulled my first move.

As we started driving, I sneaked my hand up Chris’ thigh.

”What’re you doing, sweetheart?” He says, in a low husky voice; a voice that made my legs tremble.

”Nothing baby. Don’t worry about it.” I smile at him, knowing exactly what I’m doing to him.

”Don’t pull anything stupid tonight, alright? I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work, baby.” His voice remains at a low whisper, careful his brothers don’t hear him.

I frantically nod my head. Oh, I am not going to be ending my teasing here. As selfish as it sounds, I want tonight to be all about me. We haven’t had sex in over a month because of Chris’ busy schedule, and I can’t seem to get off on my own. I need him. NOW.

Once we make it to the restaurant we wait for our friends to arrive. We hear a knock on the window, and there it is. Jake Webber and Johnnie Guilbert. Tara was supposed to be here but she got sick and couldn’t make it. Leaving me alone with five boys who act like children. In an expensive restaurant.

We all hop out and walk into the restaurant. We sit down at our booth and order our drinks. While everyone was talking, I decided to tease Chris some more. Whilst he was talking to Jake about whatever the fuck, I grabbed his hand. His big, strong, veiny hands.

God, his hands are attractive. I caress his hand lightly and play with his fingers a bit, imagining what they would feel like inside of me. He curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot right on the spongy material coating my walls. Just thinking about it made an ocean form in my panties. 

I subconsciously squeeze my knees together to try and gain some friction. I pulled his hand down to my thigh so I could feel him touch where I needed him the most. I slowly inched his hand up to my core, but he yanked his hand back right before I got the pleasure I wanted. 

Once again I placed my hand on his thigh, half expecting him to drag me to a bathroom and fuck me over the sink. But no, instead, he firmly grabbed my wrist and pushed away. 

About an hour passed, and I hadn’t done anything since. We get up, say our goodbyes, and leave the restaurant. Once we’re on the road, I look over at Chris’ pants, and there’s a very prominent bulge. I placed my hand on his crotch, which caused his breath to hitch and gave me a stern look. 

I smirk and look away. Watching cars pass and palms trees sway in the distance. I think about what’s going to happen once I walk into Chris’ room. I smirk to myself and giggle at my own thoughts.

We get home and get out of the car. Chris is quick to grab my wrist and drag me out of the car and up the stairs, unlocking the door and running up the set of stairs leading into the house. 

As soon as we reach his room, he closes the door and locks it before pushing my back against the wall.

“What the fuck was that? Teasing me in front of my brothers and in public. You are such a desperate little slut.”

The names he called me caused me to whimper. 

“Pathetic. Get on the bed and strip. Now.” 

I do as he says and strip down to just my lace set I put on just earlier before crawling onto the bed.

He walks over to me, lust filling his dark blue eyes. He undoes his belt and puts it up to me.

I take that as a sign and give him my wrists. He puts the belt around my wrists, looking up at me to see if I'm uncomfortable.

He takes off his tie and throws it somewhere in the room. Along with his button down.

He crawls on top of me and speaks.

“I'm gonna give you ten seconds to explain what the fuck you were doing tonight.” He sneaks his hand down my stomach and stops right above where I need him.

“I just really needed you, Chris. I didn't even want to go to dinner. I just wanted to get you in the mood so that we could fuck.” I say swiftly wanting him to touch me sooner.

“Well since you're telling the truth, I won't go that hard. But still, whatever fuckary you were pulling in the restaurant is bound to get you punished.”

“Chris please fuck me.” I said in a breathy whine.

“Do you think you've Earned It?”

I nod my head frantically. He just smirks and slides his fingers between my folds. Feeling how soaked I am just from his anger.

“Already soaked, and I've barely even touched you yet. You're so pathetic.” He says, lowering himself between my legs, looking up through his eyebrows. 

The names he calls me whenever we're getting intimate always turn me on.

He doesn't give any warning before diving in and eating me out like I'm his last meal. I yell out a loud moan but quickly cover my mouth as Nick and Matt are just upstairs. 

My back arches off the bed, making him hit even deeper spots.

He pulls away and comes back to my face to make out with me roughly, making me taste myself.

He takes the belt off my wrists. And unbuttons his pants.

“You know your safe word right, baby?” He says, pulling his pants and boxers down at the same time. His dick springs out and hits his belly button.

“Yes I do, Chris.” I say, making eye contact with his dick.

He was so big. Nine to ten inches at least.

He spits on his cock and spreads it with his hand. 

He slips his dick between my folds. I let out a whine. His teasing drives me insane. He notices how desperate I am and smirks.

He shoves his entire length in me, not giving any time to adjust before he starts ruthlessly pounding into me. His tip punched my g-spot repeatedly.

I cover my mouth to cover my moans, but he moves my hand away from my mouth and interlocks our fingers.

“Since you were so needy and desperate, why don't you show my brothers how much of a slut you are, yeah?” 

“Fuck… yes, Chris.” I say dragging out the “fuck”

He laughed and continued bruising my cervix.

“Shit I'm so close! Chris can I please cum?” I beg, tears filling my eyes.

“Not yet, baby. You gotta wait for me. Can you do that?” He comes down to my face, leaving kisses and marks all over my face and chest.

I let out an irritated groan as to be denied my orgasm. He grips my hips tightly, surely leaving bruises. 

A string of groans and grunts leave his mouth. He's using me as a toy, and I am not complaining.

“Fuck, baby. Come on, give it to me. Cum on my cock.” His thrust got sloppier as I let out my orgasm.

My vision goes blurry, and my ears start ringing. I felt myself getting soaking wet. Then Chris said…

“Damn, ma, I didn't know you could squirt. That was so fucking hot.” He half yells half moans that last sentence before releasing his orgasm deep in my pussy.

He fucks us both through out orgasms then plops down beside me.

“Did I go too hard, sweetheart?” 

“No baby, it was perfect, I promise.” I reassure him by kissing him softly on the lips. He smiles and hops up, running up to the bathroom.

He walks out with a towel and starts cleaning me up.

“Shower?” He says softly, lifting me off the bed.

“Yes please.” He nods and takes me to the bathroom.

@annamcdonalds67 @slutsturn @urmomatemycoochie @kvtie444

[freelancearsonist]

all that we see or seem

➔ Dieter Bravo x AFAB!Reader

➔ 5.7k words

➔ You moved to Hollywood in hopes of chasing your dreams; you get a lot more than you bargained for from your new boss, Dieter Bravo.

➔ Rated MA // dark fic, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used) and generally able-bodied, age gap (unspecified, reader is younger than dieter), vampire!dieter, blood/both consensual and non-consensual blood drinking, knife use, slight self-harm, gore of the mouth variety, pet names, takes place in 1983 bc i’m a sucker for changing settings

➔ this was requested from this prompt list by the very lovely @sp00kymulderr!! happy birthday darling, sorry this took so long but i hope it's worth the wait <3 thank you so much to @missredherring for this AMAZING header graphic ily 🖤

Los Angeles is a far cry from the little town you grew up in. It’s a seemingly endless maze, with more possibilities than you ever could’ve dreamed. It’s a little daunting, really. You step off your plane with your suitcase in hand, and you feel like the world is in the palms of your hands.

The harsh reality comes crashing in without warning.

LA is expensive, especially on your own. As the money you’d saved up to get you started dwindles much quicker than expected, your dreams only get further and further out of reach. Life always finds a way to fuck you over, and the city of angels does it quicker than anywhere else. The glitzy neon nightclubs and the glamor of Hollywood swiftly become an omen of doom rather than a beacon of hope. You’re in over your head, but it’s too late to back out now.

Auditions get put on the backburner. You work yourself to the bone as a server in a dumpy little diner, but it’s still barely enough to cover your basic expenses.

You wake up, you go to work, you come home, you go to sleep. The cycle repeats itself so quickly that your days all merge together into one, long, neverending nightmare.

The light at the end of the tunnel appears shortly before the first anniversary of your move. You’re scanning through the paper during your meal break when you see a help wanted ad. It’s normally the type of thing you would ignore, but a few things about it draw you in. The part that really catches your eye is the large, bold letters that proclaim “work closely with one of the biggest names in hollywood!” It seems too good to be true, and certainly something you’re not qualified for. But it could be a start–a way to get your foot through the door of the industry that brought you out here in the first place. Really, what’s the harm in trying?

You go to the library, type up your resume, and mail it in to the address listed in the ad. Realistically, you know that there must be hundreds of other applicants and you probably won’t get so much as a rejection letter back; but the needling little ‘what if’ in the back of your mind gives you a boost of hope that you’ve lived without for an achingly long time.

You get better than a letter–a broad, handsome man shows up at the diner late one night asking for you three days after you drop your resume into the local mail slot at the post office. Janine, the shaggy-haired waitress you work with almost every shift and have sort of become friends with, nudges you excitedly while you’re handing a ticket back to the kitchen.

“Honey, do you know who that is?” She nods her head over her shoulder towards a table in the corner of her section and you try to look over as nonchalantly as possible.

Of course you know who that is. His face is everywhere in this stupid town–magazine covers, billboards, movie theaters. Even with sunglasses obscuring the dark brown eyes that have made thousands swoon, you recognize Dieter Bravo. He’s bigger than Hasselhoff and Swayze combined.

“He’s asking for you,” Janine whispers. “By name. You know him?”

“Not yet,” you answer truthfully. You know without a doubt that he’s here because of your resume and that your entire world is about to change.

You’ve seen him on the big screen before and now you can definitively say that it doesn’t do him justice. He’s more handsome than any man has a right to be. He’s wearing a black hoodie and black trousers, an ensemble that stands out in the brightness of 1983 but yet perfectly complements the tanned tone of his skin. His shoulders could fill a doorway and his smile might actually melt you into a puddle. You can’t help but notice–with a hint of trepidation–that his canines are the sharpest you’ve ever seen, although that thought is quickly pushed from your mind when he greets you by name.

“Your resume is impressive.”

“No it’s not,” you respond with a little laugh before you can stop yourself, then you have to refrain from banging your head into the wall. What a great start to an interview.

But he laughs, and you can’t help feeling you’ve done something right. You’d do a hell of a lot worse just to hear that gorgeously deep, hearty chuckle again.

“Okay, I’ll rephrase. You said all the right things. You’ve got exactly what I’m looking for as an assistant.”

You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, because this is much too good to be true.

“You’re not from LA,” he states factually. “What brought you here?”

You consider lying–coming up with some story that’s less pathetic than the truth. He’s appreciated your honesty thus far, though, and you don’t want to break a streak. “I wanted to act, but… it’s hard to get started when you don’t have any connections. So I’ve just been kind of… getting by.”

He nods and gives you a look over–assessing, you think. “We all have to start somewhere. But this isn’t an easy job.”

There’s something unreadable in his voice, but you choose to ignore it because you want nothing more than a chance to impress him. It’s not about ‘making it’ anymore; it’s about proving to Dieter Bravo that you’re worth taking a chance on.

“Neither is this,” you reply with a vague wave at the diner around you. “If I’m not covered in fryer grease at the end of the day, it’s a good job to me.”

He chuckles again and it washes over you like fresh water after years of drought. You want more of him–more of his charm, more of his warmth.

“When can you start?”

You ask for two weeks to leave your diner gig on good terms, and he’s gracious enough to accommodate you. As the days tick past, the anticipation ramps up and time seems to move slower. You’ve never been so excited for a new job. Normally, your gut twists with anticipation and your mind swirls with every little minute detail that could go wrong–but not now. No, now you’re just excited. The possibilities of Hollywood finally seem to be within your reach again, and it all starts with this job.

You learn a lot about Dieter within five minutes of starting on your first day. For one, he’s incredibly personable. He greets you himself and vows to show you the ropes. There’s no third party to teach you everything you need to know, it’s just him. Just the two of you. You appreciate that immensely, because you’ll be serving him directly as his assistant. There’s no better person to learn from when it comes to his desires and routines than the man himself.

Two, he wears many different masks. It’s a little spooky, the way his demeanor changes depending on who he’s dealing with. He can be the sweetest, most charming man you’ve ever spoken to, then turn to a producer and be a complete hardass all in the name of getting things done. He knows exactly what persona he needs to wear for each person he interacts with–it’s all very calculated. You suppose all actors have to be capable of that; the mark of a good thespian is being instantly able to pretend you’re someone you’re not.

Still, it’s a little chilling. If you didn’t see it in some form or another with every person you meet on set, you’d be a little concerned. Dieter just makes it look like adaptation–fitting into his surroundings as a means of staying afloat. He’s been in this industry for a long time, he knows what works; and, subsequently, what doesn’t.

As far as the job goes, it’s a nice change of pace from what you’ve become accustomed to. You spend nights on set with him, fetching his coffee order or running little errands while he’s busy shooting. The hours aren’t unreasonable, and it pays double what the diner did. Now that you’re not struggling to get by financially, you have the free time you need to start pursuing your dreams again.

You have only Dieter to answer to, which is a definite learning curve. Directors, producers, and even other actors chase after your favors, but Dieter tells them unequivocally to fuck off. You’re his–it’s a heady feeling each time he  reasserts it. It makes for easy work when you’re not being pulled in thirty different directions simultaneously. He asks for what he needs when he’s around and he gives you a list of tasks to complete when he’s not. He’s a little eccentric–he tells you he can only work after dark because his eyes are sensitive–but it’s nice, falling into a routine after so long of working unconventional hours at a job where no two days are the same.

Still, as days turn into weeks by his side, you wonder exactly what version of Dieter he’s presenting to you. Which face is the most authentic? You want to believe he’s himself with you, but you’re not quite naive enough to convince yourself of that. The thing that bothers you the most is that you want him to feel comfortable enough to drop the facades around you. You want to get to know the real Dieter Bravo, underneath all the masks. But you also swore to yourself, when you accepted this job, that you would be nothing but professional–and wanting to get to know him so intimately is definitely a step beyond just being his employee.

To his credit, he’s strictly professional–even if you wish he wasn’t at times. There’s a lot of rumors and gossip about him, about his hedonism and the life he supposedly leads at night, but you don’t see that facet of him. With you, he’s friendly, kind, and respectful. He’s the perfect gentleman–and that’s how you know that you’re not getting a full glimpse of the real him. There’s too much contradiction between the rumors and the Dieter that you interact with. 

No matter how straight-laced you try to be, you can’t help wondering what it’ll take to get a look at the real Dieter Bravo.

You think he starts to peek through when Dieter asks if you would be willing to work longer hours and be more of a personal assistant than a production assistant. You know him inside and out, he tells you, and it would be a pain in the ass to teach a whole new person how to deal with his errands. He even offers you a sizable raise when you pretend to be contemplating it, like you weren’t bursting at the seams to say yes before he even finished asking. 

The sad–maybe even pathetic–truth of the matter is that you’re falling for him. Every facet of his charm, from his darkly passionate eyes to his easy humor, have you completely bewitched and ready to ignore the way your hair stands on end each time his gaze meets yours. You’ll take any small fraction of him that you can get.

He eases you into your additional duties, at least; that much can be said in his favor. He starts you out with small tasks, like ordering his groceries and picking up his dry cleaning. Dieter’s so kind and patient as he explains how he likes everything done–he’s particular, but not unreasonable. He even gives you a grand tour of his home so you can see exactly where and how he likes everything done–it’s like finally getting that real glimpse of him that you’ve been hoping for.

His Sherman Oaks mansion looks like something straight out of a Bram Stoker novel on the outside, yet the inside is a testament to the warm side of his personality that you’re more familiar with. It’s decorated in shades of orange and red, with patterns that are a little out of date but still manage to feel intentional. It gives the impression of someone who was more comfortable and sure of himself in the 70’s, or at least someone who hasn’t quite adjusted to the new trends that came with the turn of the decade. The walls are covered with art–most of it signed with his familiar “DB” in the bottom right hand corner. It’s neat, but not so neat that it feels staged. It fits the Dieter Bravo that you know perfectly, and it even starts to feel like home to you when you start spending more time there with him.

There’s never anyone else around when you’re there. For someone who has a reputation for throwing the liveliest parties in all of Hollywood, he doesn’t actually do a lot of partying. Not when you’re around, at least. It’s almost like he’s trying to hide that aspect of himself from you. If he has to host, he sends you home early or lets you know in advance that you’re getting a paid night off. You’re almost disappointed–parties have never really been your thing, sure, but you feel like you need to experience at least one of his.

Plus, people are starting to talk. You hear it on set first; his co-stars whispering about how he’s gone soft, how he’s gotten boring. Even the tabloids are starting to wonder if they’ve seen the last infamous Dieter Bravo party, which were once highly coveted and exclusive events. The few times he’s hosted lately have been small, quiet affairs–definitely not the big, star-studded shebangs that he’s gained a reputation for.

A rumor even starts circulating that he’s finally decided to settle down with a nice girl, which makes your stomach twist with a little green monster that shouldn’t be there. He’s your employer, you reason. That’s all. No matter how friendly he is, no matter how much he flirts with you, no matter how much he compliments your perfect cup of coffee, that’s all he is. Your boss. And yet, despite your constant self-assertion, your brain just can’t seem to accept it. You know you shouldn’t want anything more than that, and yet you just can’t seem to stop yourself from hoping.

“What’s going on with you?”

You’re in the midst of trying to sort through the files in his upstairs home office so you can find out when his insurance needs to be renewed when you hear the voice, loud and clear due to the open floor plan downstairs. Sound travels like crazy up the double-wide staircase with Dieter’s office door right at the top. You couldn’t shut it out even if you wanted to–and you don’t. God help you, you’re a little nosy and a little curious.

“Nothing.” That’s Dieter’s voice, but you don’t recognize the other.

“Bullshit. You’re not yourself.” It’s a deep, rich tone that you’ve never heard before and it immediately has your interest hooked. Dieter doesn’t get many visitors, much less such purposeful ones. Most people like to schmooze him, but evidently not this unidentified man.

“I’m trying to be different,” Dieter explains half-heartedly. “It’s time I cleaned up a bit.”

“No. Cleaning up your act is nothing more than a good way to get yourself caught. Things happen in the party climate, that’s how you fit in. Things don’t just happen to nice rich actors.”

Caught? Caught doing what, exactly? You creep closer to the open door on light feet, curiosity peaked.

Dieter sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I’m tired.”

“So what are you going to do? Just give up? Waste away after… how long?”

“Maybe I should,” Dieter retorts–there’s grit in his tone now, maybe even bitterness. “Maybe I never should’ve taken the deal in the first place. You don’t see how fucked up this all is?”

“So, what? You’ve gotten everything you could’ve possibly wanted, and now you’re tired of playing the game? Pathetic.” There’s a sneer in the tone of this unidentified speaker and you don’t like it. You want to jump to Dieter’s defense, but something tells you this is a conversation that you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on.

“Whatever, man,” Dieter scoffs dismissively.

There’s noise downstairs now–a slight thud and what sounds like Dieter grunting as if the wind has been knocked out of him. 

“What changed?”

“Fuck off,” Dieter spits.

“What. Changed?”

“You weren’t fucking honest with me.”

“Bullshit,” the stranger growls back. “You knew exactly what you were getting into.”

“No, you said everything I wanted, that was the deal. Remember?” It’s quiet for a long moment, and you wonder if Dieter’s pacing. He does that, when he starts to get stressed. “I’m still alone, though.”

“That’s your own fault,” the stranger replies–voice a little softer now. “I didn’t say I would hand you your dreams on a silver platter. You make your own destiny. Surely it hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten that little qualifier.”

“I can’t bring someone else into this shit and you know it,” Dieter replies. The venom is gone from his voice now–he just sounds done. Exhausted and spent.

“You can, but you won’t.” There’s a moment of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Start acting like yourself again before you raise too much suspicion.”

“Fine,” Dieter sighs heavily. 

There’s a few long moments of silence, and then you hear the heavy solid oak front door shut. Presumably the guest has gone, and while you’re eager to sneak down and see if you can catch a glimpse of who it might’ve been, it’s far too risky with Dieter down there. Something tells you that he should never find out about the way you just eavesdropped on that conversation. You don’t know who he was talking to, or what kind of deal they were discussing–you just know that it’s serious, and definitely above your paygrade.

“Did you find that paperwork?”

You didn’t hear Dieter come upstairs–his sudden question from right behind you makes you jump and whirl around to look at him. You fight to keep your calm as you catch your breath; the last thing you want to do is clue him in that you overheard his conversation with his unknown guest.

“Yeah, I’ve got it right here,” you answer after a thick gulp.

“You’re a doll,” he proclaims with a wide smile. How easily he picks up the face he wears with you after a conversation that clearly upset him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you hum with a smile. “This entire room is a nightmare. It’s a miracle you ever find anything. You need to get, like… some filing cabinets. At the very least.”

“I’ll, uhh… get right on that,” he says in a way that makes you sure he definitely won’t get right on it.

Despite the nerves still thrumming through your veins, you laugh. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re a doll,” he repeats with his trademark grin. “Oh! Hey, uhh… you have tomorrow off. Paid, obviously.”

“Why?” You ask before you can think better of it. 

He seems surprised–you don’t normally ask questions, especially about paid vacation days. “Work stuff I gotta take care of. No big deal.”

“Okay,” you answer with a slight frown. “Sure I can’t help?”

He actually does seem to be contemplating it for a moment–his eyes scan over your body, and it’s like he’s considering you more than the actual offer. “No, honey, I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.” You take a short breath, then head towards the door–this was the last task on your list for the night. “Anything else you need before I head out?”

He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he follows you down the stairs. “No. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You feel heat fluttering underneath your skin at the pet name–he uses them often and they never fail to make your heart pick up pace. It’s like he can tell, because his eyes linger on your lips for a moment before trailing down to the pulse point on the left side of your neck. You wonder for a second if he can actually see it beating, but you quickly push that ridiculous thought away.

“You’re sure there’s nothing I can do for you tomorrow?”

His eyes are still trained on your neck like he’s completely zoned out or something. You watch as his tongue slowly glides over his bottom lip, trance-like; it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

“Yeah,” he whispers after a long moment–he’s standing so close now, you didn’t even notice him closing in. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Okay.” You want nothing more than to grab him and pull him in, to kiss him like your life depends upon it. He sounded so upset and every bone in your body is screaming to comfort him. The way he’s looking at you right now, you don’t think he’d mind at all. 

Instead you take a deep breath, grab your bag from the bench next to the door, and bid him goodnight.

Dieter doesn’t seem to realize that you’re always working, whether you’re on the clock or not. Even on ‘off’ days, you get loads of calls for scheduling requests and other tasks. Your saving grace is your trusty day planner—it holds both of your schedules, all neatly color-coded for maximum efficiency.

The worst thing you could’ve done on a weekend leading up to awards season is leave it in Dieter’s home office—and yet, as you frantically dig through your tote bag and your desk, that seems to be exactly what you’ve done.

You know Dieter’s got whatever event he’s hosting at home, but you can’t keep taking calls and scribbling notes on napkins without your schedule in front of you. The last thing you want to do is overbook him at a time where every single interview counts.

With a heavy sigh, you dial Dieter’s home number. It rings for what seems like eternity, and just as you’re about to hang up an unfamiliar voice answers.

“Hello?”

With a sigh of relief, you ask, “Hi, is Dieter there?”

“He’s busy.” The voice is high and sweet, yet her tone says she couldn’t be more irritated.

“Okay… umm, it’s kind of important.”

The stranger sighs dramatically. “I can take a message.”

“I just… I left something there, and I need to come get it as soon as possible. But I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

This time when she speaks, her tone is considerably more friendly. ���Oh! Yeah, come on over. The more the merrier!”

You can’t help your intrigue, although you really don’t want to intrude without Dieter’s say-so. “Are you sure? I could always come tomorrow, I guess.”

“No no, come! It’s a party, everyone’s welcome!” Then the line goes dead without any further discussion.

You consider redialing in the hopes of speaking and clearing your visit with Dieter, but you doubt you’ll actually get through to him–and really, what harm would a quick visit do? You know exactly where you left it, on the desk in his office. It’ll be five minutes tops, a quick in and out. He might never even know that you’d been there.

You shake off the curious sense of foreboding that overtakes your mind as you grab your keys and lock your apartment door behind you.

It’s a twenty minute ride to Dieter’s house–a lot of time to spend thinking. At the forefront of your mind is that peculiar conversation you overheard last night; you’re not entirely sure why, really. Whoever that man was sounded almost as if he was in some kind of position of power over Dieter, and you don’t have even an educated guess at who that could possibly be. Dieter’s his own boss and he doesn’t take bullying–you’ve never heard someone get away with bossing him around like that before. He’s constantly in some weird form of pissing match with the directors and producers of whatever film he’s working on; he’s never seemed to be good at taking orders, even when he’s supposed to. You’ve heard many a rant about how much he values the ‘freedom of expression’. It all serves to make the mysterious visitor more confusing. Who does Dieter have to answer to?

The cab pulls up in front of his gated home before you’re able to find a plausible answer. You instruct the driver to keep the meter running since you’ll only be a minute before you step out into the crisp late-January air.

The grounds are a lot quieter than you expect them to be as the guard on duty opens the gate and closes it behind you. One thing Dieter’s famous for is noise–his parties are always reported as loud and exciting affairs akin to the fraternities in his favorite movie Animal House. There's no noise at all today, though, and it makes you curious. Is it really a party? Or was the stranger who answered the phone maybe his only guest? If the latter is the case, why would she want you to join in?

There’s a pale man in a cheap-looking suit waiting just inside the door, a tray of filled wine glasses in his gloved hands. “Take one,” he instructs, his eyes distant like he’s looking through you rather than at you.

“Oh, no thank you, I just need to–”

“Take one,” he repeats. “Master’s orders.”

Master? Of course Dieter would be into that. 

The wine is a deep red, probably that expensive vintage shit that he’s always raving about. You prefer the grocery store stuff yourself, not just because it’s all you can afford. A drink never hurts, though, and you could certainly use something to take the edge off–because that tingling sense of foreboding has only gotten stronger since your arrival.

You take a glass and swirl its currant-colored liquid around. It seems more viscous than any wine you’ve had before–probably a mark of its age, but that’s just guesswork on your part. You take a small sip, then nearly gag. It’s like drinking a pile of melted pennies. You swallow it down with a grimace anyway since you don’t want to make a scene of spitting it out in front of the server. It leaves a metallic taste in your mouth that you’re eager to wash out–thankfully, the kitchen is on your route to the stairs. You quickly deposit the glass on a table once you’re out of the server’s eyesight, then head down the hall in a desperate search for water.

Once you’re out of the foyer, there are people everywhere. Very subdued people, at that–draped over furniture like throw blankets, some even laying on the floor. You consider checking one’s pulse until he twitches and lets out a muffled groan. Clearly high on something, you’re just not sure what. You nearly trip over one person and they actually hiss at you like some kind of feral cat. Your skin starts to crawl with every step you take. Even more important than your discomfort, though, is finding Dieter. What if he’s like this, too? Do you need to call someone?

You notice a dull ache starting in your gums as you make it to the kitchen–thankfully you’re familiar with his home, and you have a glass of water in your hands within no time. It seems that no matter how much you drink, though, that coppery-bloody taste never leaves your mouth. What the hell was that stuff?

There’s a short-haired blonde woman propped up against the wall underneath the mounted phone; she reaches out a lazy hand in some sort of greeting. She looks vaguely familiar, like someone you might’ve seen on the set of one of Dieter’s films.

“You made it!” She says with a lazy smile. She must be the woman you spoke to earlier, although you’re not sure how she can identify you.

“Yeah. Where’s Dieter?” The longer you’re here, the more worried you become. Something isn’t right, and your skin is prickling with apprehension.

“Upstairs,” she murmurs, then her eyes flutter shut and she slumps a little further down. She’s visibly breathing, at least. 

For a moment, you consider picking up the phone and ringing the police. Would that cause more harm than good? Dieter must be aware of what’s going on here–you know you should talk to him before you do anything.

Your mission to find your planner momentarily forgotten, you make your way through the living room towards the stairs.

You check the office at the top first–there’s a few bodies zonked out on the couch, but none of them are Dieter. With trepidation in your very soul, you make your way down the hall. Each room is more of the same–people in varying states of unrest, no sign of the man you’re looking for. Most of them have red-stained lips and you eye more than one smashed glass along your journey. Your own mouth is starting to get alarmingly sore, but you ignore it in favor of finding Dieter.

Each step you take drives your worries deeper into your skull. What if something’s happened to him? What if he’s knocked out like all of his guests, or hurt, or something worse?

This is the first time you’ve breached the bubble of his bedroom. None of your work has ever involved this room, and while you’re a naturally nosey type of person, there’s something deeply personal and sacred about the space someone sleeps in. 

Ignoring the steady throbbing in your gums, you knock once before pushing open the door.

Dieter’s alone in his room, sprawled out like a starfish in a sea of rumpled sheets at the center of his massive bed. Something akin to a groan of horror escapes your throat as you see the state he’s in. He’s paler than a corpse and drenched in sweat, chest barely rising and falling with breath.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place. Your entire body breaks out in a cold sweat as you notice the knife in his right hand and the deep gash in the crook of his left arm, right where an IV would normally be set. You can smell the blood draining from him, you can even taste it in the air–or maybe that’s just the lingering taste of whatever you drank downstairs.

Your stomach churns violently with the sudden realization of what you’ve done, of what you’ve drank.

“Dieter!” You manage to choke out while your brain tries to remember how to send the signals required for your body to fucking move. 

He lifts his head shakily, brown eyes widening after a long moment of trying to recognize the face he’s looking at. “No no no,” he whispers hoarsely, “you’re not supposed t-to be here. You’re.. y-you’re supposed to be a-at home.”

A sharp, shattering pain in your top gum snaps your brain back into action. In a flash you’re crawling across a seemingly endless desert of mattress and it feels like you’ll never reach him. Everything is moving so slowly–each movement seems to take a hundred times the effort it should.

You spit out a mouthful of blood as the pain heightens, barely registering the two upper canines that go with it.

“What the fuck have you done?” You sob, uselessly pawing at his slashed left arm. It’s a precise cut straight across the artery–your hands are sticky and soaked with red the moment you touch him. Pressure, your brain screams at you. Put pressure on the wound.

“A real artist must suffer,” he mumbles weakly–then, even quieter, “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re dying.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own anymore. It’s higher, breathier. 

“You drank it, d-didn’t you?” He asks, ignoring your statement. His distant eyes are trained on the sharp fangs that have pushed your canines out. “Fuck. Fuck! You were n-never supposed to…”

“Shut up, shut up,” you plead. Every shaky breath seems to cost him years. “How do I fix this? How do I fix you?”

“Thirsty,” he mumbles. There’s water on the sideboard, your brain reminds you. You don’t even remember bringing the glass with you, much less setting it down. Everything is so fuzzy. Your arm doesn’t move nearly as fast as it should when you reach for the glass, and Dieter’s hand weakly comes up to stop you.

“Not water,” he croaks. “Need… need…”

He can’t seem to form the words required to tell you what he needs. He doesn’t have to, though. You know.

“You’re not dying on me, Bravo.” You take the knife from his slack right hand before he can stop you and grit your sore teeth together as you slash it across your palm.

“N-no, don’t…” But he doesn’t resist as you hold your bleeding palm to his mouth. His empty eyes flash back to life with the first taste, and then he takes your hand in his own and drinks greedily. You watch with nothing short of disbelief as the cut on his arm seals itself right before your eyes.

“You were supposed to stay away from this,” he murmurs as his tongue sweeps across your palm. “Why the fuck are you here, baby?”

You don’t even remember anymore. Everything is hazy, everything hurts. It’s a chore just to keep your eyes open.

“Damn it,” he growls–pushing your hand away from his blood-smeared mouth seems to take all his willpower. “I never wanted this for you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur as you slump down against his sheets. They’re so soft and light, and you want to cocoon yourself in them for the rest of time. “It’s just a dream.”

“Why’d you have to come save me? Huh?” His voice sounds so far away that you’re not even sure he’s really speaking. 

“I love you.” It’s okay to say that, because he’ll never actually find out. It’s just a dream, after all; you’ll wake up in the morning confused but totally okay.

“You were never supposed to,” his voice echoes from some plain of existence far, far away. “Damn it honey, stay awake just a minute longer.”

You try, but your eyes are so heavy. He sighs heavily, as if he knows it’s useless.

“Promise you’ll still love me when you wake up,” he pleads through the tunnel that separates you.

Nodding saps the last of your strength, so you let your eyes flutter closed. “Okay.”

You feel his lips against yours and his coppery kiss nearly brings you back from the verge of sleep. In the end, though, your throbbing head wins. Sleep takes hold quickly despite your feeble resistance. 

How strange it is to fall asleep in a dream.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my lovelies <3

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

[lullabyes22-blog]

FnF Characters in an Acting AU + Shipping AMV Reactions

For you @frostybearpaws

<3

Mel: Former model. Not just any model, mind you. We're talking Iman or Naomi Campbell levels of powerhouse. She is the muse for a dozen fashion brands, from Versace to St. Laurent. Fluent in a half-dozen languages. Has an MA in art history. A prodigy at piano and harpsichord. Her social media is sublime eye candy; she is lauded as a style icon, and highly sought after by Vanity Fair and Vogue for covers.

Champions tirelessly for better roles for black women in TV and film. Outspoken advocate of the #MeToo movement. Passionately antiwar, and works with a number of educational advocacy groups. Has even made a formal speech before Congress.

re: the AMVs - "Oh this is delightfully done." Flattered by the passionate responses of fans, and amused by the spirited fanbase split between Meljay and Melco. When asked who she ships: "Meljay, I'm afraid. Silco has his charming qualities. But Mel needs someone who will prioritize her, and only her."

Violet: Relative newcomer. Mostly typecast in sporty 'tough chick' roles. Had a big breakout role in a "Bend it Like Beckham" type early 2000s film. The scriptwriters chickened out with a heteronormative ending, but fans latched on to all the queer subtext in film. She's got a huge Insta following, due to her popularity in the fandom, her status as an LGBTQ+ icon, or her being an ex-pro athlete.

She's a big proponent for more diverse representation in pop culture. She also has a degree in gender studies, and is an avid fanfiction reader. She's even written some smutty one-shots of her own <3

re: the AMVs: "Wow. Just... wow." Speechless at how horny y'all are.  Like, off the chains horny. And she's totally not judging. At all. But... "Damn. Take a cold shower, guys."

Sssh. She ships CaitVi too.  And she agrees the Nao arc was uncalled for. "Idk what the writers were thinking. Vi would never cheat on Cait. Even if they did break up." </3

Jayce: Child actor who was thrust into the limelight after starring in a 1990s sitcom. It was cancelled, but ended up having a massive cult following. His last big project was the 2000s comedy flick, "Freaks of Zaun," which, despite a critical drubbing, remains a favorite of the genre. He's kind of a douche irl, but fans are still super into him. He's also an influencer, and runs a successful YouTube channel where he posts workout routines, travel vids, and other lifestyle-adjacent stuff.

Huge fanboy of his own character, and never shuts up about him.

re: the AMVs: "You know what? I kinda get it. These are pretty good." Is a little miffed at the whole "Jayce is an idiot" meme.  “Look, he's a fucking scientist. I don't think a stupid guy could pull off the invention of Hextech." He also doesn't appreciate the ship wars, especially when it gets into toxic territory. "C'mon, guys. It's acting. There are no actual relationships. Don't turn this into a hatefest."

Has gotten cancelled once already. He's since learned not to touch that particular can of worms.

Ships MelJay and tolerates JayVik. Blanches at the mention of JayCo.

Jinx: Total newbie to the industry. Was a former gymnast, and an Olympian in the making. A torn meniscus put her out of the competition. Her agent, who'd been trying to convince her to switch to acting, seized the opportunity to get her in front of the camera. She's never had a day's training. But she's a natural. Her energy is infectious, and her charm is unmatched. A real sweetheart, too. Loves dogs and is a vegan. Advocates tirelessly for animal rights.

re: the AMVs: Shrieking at the first video like a kid in a candy shop. "Is this real? How do I join?" The first to suggest livestreaming the cast's reactions. She's not a fan of shipping wars, but has a live-and-let live attitude. Will scroll through instagram liking any video or post that has #Timebomb in the tag - her favorite ship, btw. She also likes Melco, Sevilco and JayVik.

But not Cait/Vi. Or Jinx/Silco.

"Just... yuck."

(CaitVi shippers accuse her routinely of homophobia. She's not homophobic. She's ace-aro. She's just finds the CaitVi pairing boring.)

Sevika: A rising star, and a fan favorite. She was a former MMA fighter before an accident left her with a paralyzed left arm. She'd been content to go the rest of her life as a trainer, until a talent scout noticed her. She was cast as a supporting character in a cop procedural. It ran three seasons, but her charisma made her a longstanding fandom icon. Audiences in FnF have been clamoring for more screen time, and the writers have been accommodating. Rumor has it that they're working on an origin story arc, where she'll be the main character.

re: the AMVs: "How'd this become a thing? You're all fucking weird." Has an opinion on every video. Doesn't hold back. Her reviews are highly anticipated, and fans love her blunt commentary. She doesn’t ship anyone. But she will like any MelCo tags that cross her Twitter feed.

Not because she thinks they're hot, but because she hates Jayce, and thinks it'd be fun to watch him suffer.

Married IRL to Mel, whom she met on set<3

Caitlyn: Nepo baby. Her parents were both Academy Award-nominated actors, who met while filming a romcom. They've had an on-again, off-again relationship for the last thirty years. Cait has been in the industry her whole life, and acting professionally since she was five. Her resume is filled with romantic comedies and period pieces. She's been compared to Audrey Hepburn, and is considered a classic Hollywood beauty. Originally, she was cast in the role of Nandi, opposite "young" Silco. But the Vekauran community derided the casting as whitewashing, and her chemistry with young Silco was totally lacking. She was recast as Vi's romantic interest, and the rest is history.

She's a huge fan of CaitVi, and is known for her frequent appearances at Comic Con. Always happy to pose with cosplayers of her character. She also has a penchant for weird memes.

re: the AMVs: Has a very strict rule about never Googling her name. Opts out of the shipping wars, too. "If it makes people happy, who am I to judge?"

Vander: Former action star, and a fan favorite. Played a superhero vigilante in the late 80s. Known for his iconic lines: "We can do this the easy way. Or the hard way." He had a string of hit films before the industry shifted away from the genre. His career suffered, and he found himself typecast in a string of poorly-received knock-offs of his old films. His final movie tanked at the box office, and he nearly threw in the towel. But his manager convinced him to audition for the show.

He and Silco are known for their on-screen chemistry, and were the subject of a lot of "Are they?" questions. In an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, Vander even stated, "Look, I'd do Silco. It's no secret." Which caused quite the stir on the internet. Sources still aren’t sure if he meant the actor or the character.

He's a huge fan of the show, and a proud member of the fandom. He ships Jinx & Silco, but as platonic soul-family. He's also a CaitVi and Timebomb fan.

re: the AMVs: "Aww, this is cute." He's the most positive out of the bunch.  Is a bit weirded out by the fan obsession with his love life. "I mean, I'm flattered, really. But c'mon, guys. I have a husband." Is super active on Twitter, and frequently replies to fans.

Viktor: Little-known actor from a small country in Eastern Europe. He'd been an up-and-coming romantic hero, guest-starring in a popular soap opera. When a visa snafu kept him from appearing on the show, he was replaced. But the fans revolted. They loved the character, and didn't want to see him gone. The studio listened, and after he found good legal representation, he was able to secure a permanent work visa and keep the role.

Very sweet and reserved; he's not really into social media, or even the internet.

re: the AMVs: Totally geeking out over them. Has a huge crush on Jinxtor, but doesn't realize it's a no-no in the USA as Jinx is 18, and Viktor is 34. He enjoys JayVik as both a scienbros dynamic and as a romantic couple.

Favorite ship is SkyVik. He's even collaborated with a few AMV creators on Youtube on a whole collection of SkyVik videos.

"It's a tragic love story, no?"

Silco: Indie darling. He was a teen star in the early 80s, and garnered a small but loyal fanbase. His first film was a horror flick, where he played a troubled runaway who'd been possessed by a demon. The raw animalism of the performance garnered him a Golden Globe nomination, and his subsequent projects had a similar gothic flair. He's also starred in a number of subversive art house films. His breakout role was the dissolute vampire king in the cult classic, "Blood for Blood" - for which he snagged an Oscar nod.

IRL he's a vocal advocate for unionization, and regularly attends protests in support of worker's rights. Conversely, he's also a vocal proponent of capital punishment.

re: the AMVs: Is mystified at first. Then intrigued. Then appreciative. "This is quite good. The editing. The cinematography. The music. It's not all amateurish, as one might expect." Mostly, he's a silent observer. Always watching, and seldom commenting. A veritable mystery.

He ships CaitVi, but only for the aesthetic. Jilco gets a raised eyebrow and a headshake. Vanco gets a crooked smile. Sevilco, and he'll actually chuckle.

"You are a strange, strange people."

His favorite ship is Melco. Largely because he and Mel had a fling irl during his tenure on the show.

Ekko: Hearthrob of the fanbase. He's an influencer, and runs a YouTube channel where he reviews tech toys and gadgets. His fans are mostly teens, and he has an adorable 'too cool for school' schtick. He's a huge nerd, though, and is actually a prodigy when it comes to mechanical engineering. His parents were scientists, and he was homeschooled his whole life. He got his first TV role by winning a game show, where he had to create a prototype toy that would be marketed and sold to kids.

He's also the funniest out of the cast. And he knows it. Always quick with a zinger, and can turn even the most awkward situation into a comedy routine.

re: the AMVs: Cracks up over the first few videos. Then becomes an avid fan of the whole genre. Has a soft spot for Timebomb, but he and Jinx are friends irl, so he doesn't want to make things weird. Comes up with his own random ships to troll the fanbase.

Ekko/Vi - "A disaster. Imagine how awkward that would be."

Ekko/Mel - "She's totally out of his league. But I'm down to see how it would go."

Ekko/Sevika - "Now, that would be something. She is one hot mama."

Ekko/Jayce - "I'd top him. There, I said it."

Ekko/Cait - "She's totally a virgin. She'd die."

Ekko/Silco - "Fuck this guy, amirite? Literally."

[sidusvenari]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤVAMPIRE .. !

where you made a real big mistake, but Miles made the worst one look fine.

inspired by Oliva Rodrigo lyrics.

pairing: e42!aged up!Miles x reader

genre: angst, no comfort.

warnings: infidelity, both of them are 19, cursing, Miles being toxic

a.n: hi guys! i haven't posted day 2 of my writing challenge so here it is! i'll post twice today to make up to it, and i'm already working on it! love y'all, enjoy! xoxo.

taglist form

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPLEASE CONSIDER REBBLOGING!

you hadn't heard from Miles in days. sick worried, you had talked to all of his friends, and all of them would just shrug you off, and you knew something was wrong. you knew that it wasn't exam season at college, so why was he avoiding you? leaving you on delivered every day, not answering your calls, nothing. it was like you never met each other. until you got a text from an unknown number: a picture of Miles kissing another girl. the one girl that would always say how cute you two were together, the one girl that Miles told you not to worry about. you just couldn't believe that, after all of that you've done for him, you ended up being the fool. you texted him that same day.

you: we gotta talk.

mi vida <3: im omw

you: bet.

(delivered at 3pm)

he showed up at your window in his prowler suit at 2AM while you were writing your daily diary entry.

"hey." he called, making you look up from your notebook. "you good?"

"yeah, i'm good."

he looked at you, and you could see that he wanted to tell you something. you knew him better than he did, and that was the worst part of it.

"spill it."

"i… i fucked up, ma."

he mumbled out, and immediately you knew what he was talking about. why he was so distant. why his mother was avoiding you, why even his uncle, who was never even nice to you, asked if you were okay this morning when you ran into him.

"fuck yeah, you did."

"i'm sorry, y/n, i really am-"

"no you're fucking not. don't bullshit me, Miles Gonzales Morales."

"can you listen to me first?"

"no! no, i can't! God, i can't believe how stupid i was."

"ma, you're overreacting."

"am i? am i overreacting when some random number text me a picture of my fucking boyfriend kissing the one girl i was insecure about?"

"it was a one night stand, ma, i made a mistake! i love you!"

"no, Miles, i made a mistake. i made a real big one, and you made it look so fine!" you raised your voice, tears flooding your eyes. "and you can't love anyone, because that would mean you have a fucking heart!"

"c'mon, y/n, you're better than this. bet it was those crazy friends of yours that filled your head with that bullshit."

"don't you open your mouth to talk about them! they warned me! they told me you were bad news and you called them crazy like you did just now! God, i hate the way i called them crazy too…"

you leaned back, covering your face so he wouldn't see you crying. he walked to you, taking your hands and analyzing your face carefully.

"are you done? can i kiss you now?"

you scoffed, pushing him away

"is she better than me?" you mumbled, wiping the tears away.

"what?"

"is she better than me, Miles?

"you can't ask me that-"

"yes or no?"

he was silent, but you felt the energy shift.

"no one is better than you."

"it's incredible how you lie without flinching."

"listen to me-"

"get out of my fucking house."

"woah, who do you think you're talking to?"

"a stranger." you looked into his eyes, and you knew he knew it was over. "i hope you're happy, Miles. i truly do. but we both know that you'll never have another me."

he started to walk away, ego as shattered as your heart.

"thank God for that."

you took the ring out of your finger, placing it on his hands.

"we'll see about that."

you watched as he walked away, giving you one last look before leaving through the window. as you set down on your bed taking the notebook to write that down, you felt your eyes tearing up, and soon teardrops were staining the black ink that covered the pages. you knew that, eventually, Miles would regret that, but it would be too late.

this is so bad, i'm so sorry (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠) i hope y'all like it and let me know if you want a part two !! love y'all, xoxo!!

taglist: @elusive-honeydew

edit: I'm working on a part 2 of this one!!!!please lemme know if y'all wanna be tagged!

[zelphin124]

Idol Error meets Idol Fresh (Short Story)

Finally, the long awaited prize for @zucchiyeni, I am sooooo sorry it took so long to get to..

These short stories were the prizes of the honorable mentions in the SeasonTale Creative Challenge.

Whew, now, onto the story!

~o0o~

"That's like, totally unrad bro."

Error glanced down at his watch again. 5 minutes... they were five minutes over the meeting time they were supposed to speak with him, and it ticked him off.

Error was one of the most famous independent singers in the entire multiverse. He had rewards for his skills in rapping and voice tuning. Despite his inefficiency with technology, he produced some of the most captivating videos and VR experiences known to mankind. It was said he only had one producer, but to this day, no one could figure out who it was.

And the contractors wanted to hire him.

He told himself it was stupid. He knew that they would take his rights to his music if he agreed to their deal... yet the price tag wasn't something he couldn't refuse.

His producer seriously needed a raise.

"Dude, you can't fire me! I won't be the vibe anymore! The town's countin on me radical skills!"

Error rubbed his head, hearing the younger guy talk in the room with the contractor. All he could think about was how annoying his voice sounded. The way he talked, and the way he yelled... It was ticking him off even more.

He decided he wasn't going to wait any longer. He stood up, banging on the door to the office. "HuRrY Up," he hissed. "I d0n't g0T a11 d@y t0 wa1t f0r y0u."

The conversation stopped, and rapid footsteps were heard before the employer, wearing a bright smile, opened the door. "Error!" He smiled with glee. "So happy to have you here, just give me maybe 5 more minutes as I deal with this hobo mkay?"

"1 d0n't h@vE m0r3 t1m3," Error glitched, adjusting his outfit. "T1m3 1s m0n3y."

"But of course," the small skeleton shuddered. "Right, Fresh, I'm going to need you to leave. Unfortunately, we will not be renewing your contract and that's final."

"But lad," Fresh, a tall-appearing skeleton begged. "Tis is ma only source of income! I can't produce any more music unless you chill and let me have the rights to my own voice yo!"

Error grimaced in disgust at his rainbow outfit. He was a walking kid's toy, with trinkets on his outfit that made no sense and the style skill of a two-year-old. However, he didn't like the look of the contractor's outfit either... it was all black with a white undershirt. Very boring, in his opinion.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I could do."

"Wh@t d0 y0u m3an, yoU dOn'T hav3 th3 r1ghts t0 yoUr OwN v01c3?" Error gestured to the hobo, considering what he said earlier.

"Totally unfair, brah!" Fresh explained. "In the contract, they steal the rights to your voice, music, everything! They only pay a pretty penny until your rates drop because of their unrad standards!"

"Wait, no, that's not entirely true-" The contractor had a pleading look in his eyes, glancing at Error and grabbing the scruff of his sleeve.

Error immediately shot his hand out of his reach, looking at him in disgust. "N@h, that's BS r1GhT th3rE. I'1l c0nt1nuE t0 b3 ind3penDenT."

"But-" The contractor flattened his face with a defeated look. He glared at Fresh as Error walked out, but not out of earshot. "You just ruined our chance to make a big buck, prepared for your entire career to be ruined."

The scrape of a chair echoed through the hall. "Too bad you already did lad."

Error rubbed his head, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He really needed the extra cash, but with the terms he overheard and the reviews from other artists stuck in contracts with the company, he saw no benefit. Even the Star Sanses were stuck with them for six more years, unable to produce their own stuff. It made Error wonder if the instant fame was worth it for them.

Not like he experienced that desire. He had posted his music one day and it caught fire quickly, each of his videos going viral the moment it released.

Yet, nothing paid him enough to give his producer the raise she needed. Most of the money he made himself went back into his production and to pay his own bills.

"Yo broski, wait up!"

Error cringed, clenching his fists together as the footsteps behind him got louder. As if this hobo couldn't get any more annoying...

"Sorry about the lazy impression back there bud, I tots wasn't having the best convo of all time. But I know your music and I must say you're pretty rad and wanted to ask if you wanted to collab sometime." Fresh rambled, before stopping and taking a few big breaths.

Error glanced Fresh up and down... well, more up than anything. He raised an eyebrow and continued walking. I don't have time for this...

"C'mon broski!" Fresh bounded after him. "I won't let you down and I can add some sick beats to your vocals!"

"1 h@v3n't h3arD yOuR mus1c beFor3." Error glitched, adjusting his clothes once more. "YoU juSt g0t f1r3d, wHy shOulD 1?"

"Look look look," Fresh immediately pulled out his phone to search for examples of his music. Even Error was surprised at the rate he pulled it up while keeping up with his pace.

The song played fancy and radical tunes, ones that Error had never heard before. There were some parts he liked, but the main melody of most of them sucked in his opinion. Error then explained to Fresh the few parts he liked while everything else was trash.

Fresh did not seem disheartened in any way. "Thanks for the feedback broski, I will take it into account! I could lend you the sounds for a collab, just one brah."

Error scoffed, turning around to face the rainbow once more. "Tw0 w0RDs, m@ss1v3 mAk30v3r," Error gestured to his entire outfit. "Y0u'R3 n0t l0Ok1nG l1kE th@t 1n mY v1d30."

"Really brah?" Fresh frowned, unzipping part of his outfit to show the inside of it. "You think this is lame? It's better than the lazy hobo that you're wearing."

"Th1s 1s f@shi0n, thAT b3l0nGs 1n th3 DumPSt3r." Error fired back, getting more angry by the minute. He snarled and waved his hand in dismissal, walking towards his car.

He didn't see the devilish grin of a cunning idea wrap around the parasite's face. "Relax lad, why don't we let yo cute producer decide? The collab would be made by her anyway~"

Error stopped dead in his tracks, glitching in and out at the mention of his producer. There's no way this loser could have figured out who she was... right? The fact that he even talked like that about her fueled his fury. How disrespectful of him.

If it weren't for his popularity, Error would have strangled him on the spot. However, people were starting to look and point them out, as he was being recognized. Fresh knew this, he saw this... and he laughed about it. They both knew Fresh was taunting Error.

"I'll make it stop if ya wish to collab, broski," Fresh shrugged, rezipping his coat.

Subconsciously, Error pulled the strings from his eyes as they continued to glitch, showing his anger. "N3-3-3-v3r." He hissed, holding the strings around his fingers. "N0 0-0n3 wh0 diSr3sp3ctS m3 @nd m-m-my c-cr3w w0rkS w-w1th m3."

"Hope to see you on stage then broski, when you come crawling back to me!" Fresh bowed, the silver on his clothes blinding Error when the sun reflected off of it. "I'll personally be your rival. It'll be easier to get popular that way."

"D0n't f-forg3t a-a-ab0uT th@t s-stup1d c0ntr@ct y0u siGn3d." Error unlocked his car, seething.

"What they gonna do lad, fire me? I'm on my own," he gives a mocking salute to the rap star. "And I'll be the one to take over your career. Good luck broski..." his eyes turned a scary shade of purple. "You'll need it."

Error was incredibly puzzled by Fresh's behavior as he drove home. The only word he could use to describe it was childish, yet it still got under his nerves. Usually, threats don't bother him as they don't get very far. But this one... it was very unsettling.

The rap star would make his way home in silence before eating his favorite meal and collapsing in bed to sleep. Despite all the things he tried to do, Fresh stayed fresh in his mind, and he was unable to shake the feeling that something was about to go seriously wrong for him.

Little did he know what kind of battle for his career this rainbow hobo would bring... And the rivalry it started to this day.

Even then, his producer stayed loyal to him, and Error still made music as usual. Security was increased, and he was able to get his producer a raise due to the song rivalry with Fresh, despite never collabing. Error always thought Fresh's music was childish and inexperienced, especially when the song was putting him under the bus. He believed he had the real roasts when he finally put the song together to tick off the parasite back.

But after the song "Fresh to Rotten Fruit" was released, Error was unable to sleep. He pissed off the rainbow parasite... and the threat on his life and his producer's life was too serious to be ignored.

And Error couldn't fix it without ruining his career.

[ebaylee422]

Decking the Halls

Steve Harrington X Girlfriend!reader

Author’s Note:  Angst to cute sex, I’m not sorry. This is post Season 3, pre Season 4. I just love being angsty. I also really needed to clear my drafts soooo X-mas in March everyone!

Summary: Stockings aren’t the only things being stuffed this Christmas season. Steve has never decorated for Christmas, he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to ruin your sprit by avoiding you. Don’t worry though, he shows you just how appreciative he is after. 

Characters: Steve Harrington, Girlfriend reader, mentions of shitty parents and the rest of the ST nuggets. Best Friend Robin Buckley!!

Warnings/Tags: Smut (Minors DNI!!!) abandonment issues? as an intro, p in v sex, marking kink, praise kink, fem oral (receiving). breeding?

Word Count: 3k

Part One/?

You had tried everything to get Steve into the Christmas spirit: buying decorations for your apartment, getting matching pj’s, going to watch the lights in Indianapolis,  watching Christmas movies, the Ice-Skating was most regrettable because you fell forward and knocked your teeth hard enough to bleed. Even planning a white elephant with him and his friends, sharing hot cocoa and warmth of your space heater. What you didn’t know is as soon as he left your place he was greeted by his parents' empty house. Decorated from some stupid trendy catalog his mother only glanced at before swiping a credit card. His father, not even home long enough to realize the tinsel monstrosity within the living room. The presents underneath were fake, they stopped being real when his father told him to grow up. That Santa wasn’t real, saying he needed to start giving instead of hoping for some joy from a fat man each holiday season. So that’s exactly what he did, the first Christmas he’d enjoyed in a long time was on Christmas of 83’, when he was with Nancy. They’d gotten each other meaningful gifts, it was the happiest Christmas he thought he’d ever had. Even if he went home unable to look at his pool outside for too long knowing his friend had died. Even if there were disgusting monsters trying to eat his friends when they had the chance. How horrible humans were in comparison, like the Russians nearly beating him to death at Starcourt. Instead of celebrating what he was thankful for, he felt immense guilt every holiday. He’d confided in you once about his survivor's guilt, as you had called it a couple months ago during an intense flashback. You’d comfort him, make sure he wasn’t alone. He didn’t want to be anyone’s burden, Steve knew you were worried about him it would show whenever he ‘had’ to leave for work or Robin’s, or get clothes from his place.

It all came to a standstill when you’d asked him if he would come pick a Christmas Tree with you. Wanting to have it up before the kids came over, finish decking-the-halls you’d told him. Only Steve didn’t know what picking out a Christmas Tree was, sure it’s self explanatory but what if he made a fool of himself. With his pretty rich boy ‘I’ve never had to pick one out’, it seemed too intimate. Sure you’d bared your body-mind-and-soul to him, but wanting to do something so domestic together like picking out a Christmas Tree. For your first Christmas together as a couple, it was scary for him. So instead of being a Scrooge so he could work on his feelings, he faked an illness even going as far as calling out sick today. Keith hadn’t been too happy but chopped it up to Steve sucking too much face on the job and gave him the day anyway. And he was back to square one, an empty ugly house with none of your warmth. People would think his middle name was self-sabotage, especially when that door-bell rang. He got up from his cocoon from the coach with a groan, an aching shooting up to his spine when his socked feet hit the freezing hardwood. Shined and renewed for the inevitable party his parents would throw this Christmas Eve for work friends, where they forgot they even had a son. He stopped dead in his tracks shaking the sleep from his eyes when they were met with yours, holding a tote bag while shaking the light dusty of snow off your figure. It melted into your skin leaving you shiny with the dew, nose and ears kissed pink while your chin and neck were tucked tightly with the collar of your coat and scarf. You smiled at him as he studied your form, like an angel sent just for him. He was bundled up in simple joggers, thick wool socks and heavy blanket around his shoulders worn like a cape tucked around his body, but shirtless still despite it being nearly as cold inside as it is outside. Shaking your body of the remaining snow, laying the tote bag of groceries and sick necessities you’d brought over on the stairs so you could slide out of your heavy snow covered boots.

“Hi baby, how r’ you feeling?” you asked him with a voice full of sticky sweetness and adoration. His face changed in that moment from shock to guilty, you felt the change floating in the air like oil through water.

“What are you doing here?” He asked louder than either of you had expected, causing you to turn his way fully as you began to undo the ties of your coat. 

“I came to check on you, bring you some-”

“Why?” He scoffed, tucking the blanket to cover himself from the breezing air flow of the open hall. You were wearing a red corduroy skirt, with black stocking underneath and a cream sweater that didn’t even compare to how soft your hair was laid across your shoulders. You looked at him like he hung up the stars, even though you were the brightest thing about his life.

“Robin called me worried about you saying you called out because you were sick. So I canceled the tree plans to come check on you because you didn’t call me. I even whipped up some Chicken and Rice soup and scrunched up a couple medicines.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, I’m fine Y/N. You should go get your tree and I’ll see you on Friday like you planned.” he brushed off your kindness,

“Well I wanted to take care of you.” you told him shyly, "You haven't been around as often."

“Okay thanks.” he shook his head, body and tone still uncomfortable and unmatched of your own tenderness.

“Do you not want me here or something?” You scoffed with affection grabbing the bag from the stairs, stepping in front of him giddy with untamable affection.

“No.” He answered quickly and when your face dropped, his own heart went with it when you backed away from him. “No, I mean yes but not right now. I’m just-”

“It’s fine, Steve." You cut him off, turning away and grabbing your stuff. "I get it, I’m sorry I could’ve called.” he stopped you putting out his hand as an olive branch. You took it without hesitation, sniffling away the tears that built up for weeks of you arguing and avoiding each other. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, especially to me.” He took your reddened cheeks in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “I’m just being an idiot, I’m sorry but I’m not even sick so you doing all this nice shit over-” 

“I know you’re not sick, Steve. You’re a terrible faker.” You said factually, with a teasing tone. Still not looking at him but rather at your wiggling toes against the shiny floor.

“Oh really now? Robin didn’t tell you anything.”

“Well the strange, ‘Steve wanted my shift the same day he always has off’ the one day I could go tree picking with you. Then calling out and claiming illness, and not calling me is pretty obvious.” You let the bag fall again, his shoulders relaxed as you tugged on the length of his blanket. “Are you breaking up with me?” you asked with furrowed brows and a whimper to your voice.

“No!” Steve yelled, “No never no, I-I love you so much. You are my favorite everything Y/N.” He wrapped you both in the blanket tugging you flush against him. “I just have a hard time with the holidays, I don’t really know what to do with myself. I didn’t want to be embarrassed, it was a lot of pressure.” You both held each other silently letting the fear wash over both of you, until you giggled into his neck.

“I love you, Steve. Honestly, just talking to me would’ve saved us both a headache.” He sighed heavy as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, head resting on your chin.

“Jeez, what are we gonna do with me?” he whispered into your scalp, the fluffy hair on his chest tickling your cheek as you were held by his heart.

“I can think of one.” You pursed your lips, closing your eyes with your chin held high awaiting a kiss. He obliged you immediately, cupping your cheeks in his hands to accurately press his lips to yours. His hands were freezing, sending a shiver and gasp involuntarily out of you. Steve took the opportunity to lick into your mouth, tasting-ly. Pulling back before you could reciprocate, you whined gripping his biceps accidentally pushing off his blanket.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, nose brushing against yours.

"I didn't mean to pressure you, you just seem so sad."

"You make me happy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you could meet me in an ice cream shop above a secret Russian base. While enjoying strawberry more than chocolate ice cream and you'll still make me happy." 

"Well, if our circumstances of meeting are the worst part of the relationship, I think that's a pretty good incentive to making better more normal memories, yeah?"

"Maybe." He kissed the tip of your still pink nose.

"Maybe, we could go back to my place? It's always freezing here." You added with a shiver making the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Not when you're here. Just stay here a second longer." His lips moved with their own incentive. It didn't take much convincing on either of your parts before you were upstairs in his room. A path of clothes thrown haphazardly off of each other through broken giggles and soft kisses, until your just in under clothes. He holds you to him as he opens the door to his room, and your feet barely touch the floor as he twirls the two of you around. Bringing you down with him as he falls backward on the bed with a thud. Kissing you with fondness, sweet like the honey color of his eyes. You loved him so much it hurt like the side pains after laughing so hard you teared up. Like when you realize that magic might not be real but people were and kindness. Kindness and compassion were the real magic. People found a reason to be with each other, even if it was once a year. Steve never had that. Everything in his life was transactional, Christmas, school, his parents, most other relationships. Those few closet to him probably haven't ever seen this side either. The checkered boy room with little to no traces of living aside from Steve's nightstand with Polaroids of everyone scattered about. A bin in his closet kept hidden away where he'd kept his Scoops Ahoy name tag, a letter from a pen-pal in sixth grade, ticket stubs of every drive in movie. Some more Polaroids for his eyes only you'd given him after you first started dating, and he'd left his shirt in your room. Even as you lay on top of him now, kisses sucked into your neck, his strong hands massaging your sides in worship. You couldn't help what words came out next.

"Come with me." You begged him breathlessly opening your eyes to see his lips swollen and slick, hair haloed and shaggy around his face and sheets. Like melting caramel against the ugly grey and navy bedding.

"Already babe, I haven't even touched you." He mumbled rocking his pelvis into yours, forcing your legs to accommodate him more with a thigh on either side of his hips. You sat up taller straddling him, a pout etched into your face.

"No, I mean. Come home with me, lets live together. I'll get rid of things you can bring whatever you want, I can dip into my tuition nest egg and buy whatever we need for the apartment. Make it yours too, or we can find another one that you like better. I just want you all to myself." He sat up holding onto your waist so you didn't fall, making you squeak with the shift in position. Your heart sank as his eyes were so wide they could've jumped out of his skull.

“What?” he asked as his breath caught in his throat, a pure swell of undoubtable happiness warming him from the tip of his nose down to his sock covered feet.

“It’s just, I wasn’t lying Stevie. I wanna take care of you, you give so much to every-” He kissed you, desperately. Teeth clashing and tongues forming together making you dizzy enough to loose balance upright on your knees. Pulling back to gasp for air, a string of spit connecting you to him. He wiped it away, tucking his head into your chest.

“You’re perfect. I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“Even picking out a Christmas Tree with me?”

“I will grow you a damn Christmas Tree, even better I’ll get the kids to help me chop down one in my backyard!”

“Stevie! That’s dangerous.”

“Well, sweets. 

Danger.

Is.

My middle name.” He trailed four kisses down your body, stopping just shy of your covered mound. Hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear, biting your hip making you buck up long enough for him to shimmy them off your legs.

“I thought your middle name was Alexander?”

“You won’t your own name once I’m done with you.” He said sultry, kneeling at the foot of the bed. Yanking your ankles to bring you closer to his mouth, spreading your legs wide and over his shoulders. You were beautiful, regardless what you were doing but letting him take care of you. Make you feel good and be vulnerable, made his head spin. Your lips were sticky with arousal, he could smell your sweet nectar begging for him to taste you. Marks still slightly visible from last time, he started there sucking and biting the mailable flesh. 

“Stevie, please-” You cried out, hands trying to find purchase with his. He stopped sucking a bruise, eyes blown wide when he found yours. Locking your hands to your sides,

“Your so sweet, baby. Asking so nicely.” He chastely kissed on your hood, tongue licking underneath to wet and flick at your clit. You groaned and threw you head back, “So sweet, baby. Keep your legs open for me. I have a lot of apologizing to do down here.”

“Stevie, no I want you. Please.” You writhed on the bed trying to keep your legs spread for him, he blew cool air at your entrance causing you to clench around nothing. You body craved to be filled, senses overwhelmed of one thing: Steve, Steve, Steve!

“Just wanna warm you up, we have all the time in the world sweets. Wanna wreck this bed before leaving.” He was antagonizing you, teasing with his pretty words and slightly movements you couldn’t even respond him. He licked a line from your entrance to your clit, groaning at your taste. Hips colliding with the end of his bed to relieve pressure as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Rolling the bud with his tongue, your nail dug into his knuckles as you shook with ecstasy.

“ ‘S so good, Stevie. Don’t stop-” You were so pent up from earlier all it took was a few more rolls of his tongue against you and for you to fall apart. Concentrating on keeping your legs open for him, as he licked you clean. Nudging his nose against your sensitive clit, he let go of one of your hands tangling it in his hair.

“Hold it out of my face, baby. I want one more before I cum inside you.” He coated his fingers with your release, slowly sliding in one as his tongue still fucked into you. You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face when he added another finger inside you. Scissoring, stretching you and rubbing against your spongy spot. You tugged at his locks when he came back up to suck at your clit again, you didn’t even notice the heat break in your belly until you gushed and clenched around his fingers. You pushed at his forehead from sensitivity, barely able to catch your breath when you pulled him up to kiss you. lips and chins dripping of you. Trailing your nails down his soft tummy following the happy trail underneath his boxers, you met him halfway stroking his thick cock with your slick. Still coating his hand, pre-cum dripping from his tip making the sounds completely pornographic.

“ ‘m not gonna last baby, want you so bad.” He whispered against your lips, breathing heavy with a sheen of sweat layering you both in the smell of sex.

“Need you too, wanted you ages ago.” You sassed, making him laugh against your cheek as he stood. You wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock twitched when it brushed against the inside of your thigh.

“You gotta big mouth on you, sweet girl.”

“You better do something about it, Harrington.” With a roguish grin he ran his length over your clit once before pushing ever so slightly inside. Taking your breaths away, you were the girl and only girl who could take Steve’s fat cock completely. He just has to ease you into it, inch by inch until his hip bone grazed the back of your thighs. Steve stood tall and far enough away you couldn’t kiss him from where you were sprawled out under him. You pulled and squeezed at your breasts still contained by your bra. His cock glistening with your slick as he pulled his hips back, then pushing deeper inside his sack pressed tight against your ass. Steve nearly loss his balance when you clenched around him, putting his hands under your knees. Folding you in half made it feel like he was in your throat, he leaned over you the pressure of his body as he set a ruthless pace set flames in your abdomen. Pounding his cock into you over and over again moaning out praises as he bullied all the way to your cervix. Punching breaths out of you watching as your tits bounced, you had enough pulling him fully on top you. Hands indenting his shoulders as your hips met his, clit pulsing and with need. 

“You feel so good. Shit, shit- I’m cumming, cumming inside.” Steve’s core tighten as he ran two finger over your clit, heat erupted across your body. You milked Steve dry, his warm seed and your three orgasms dripping from each others groin. You pulled him on top of you, comforted by his weight on you as his cock softened inside you. 

“Do you really want too?” You asked in the post orgasm bliss, running a hair through his now tangled locks. “I don’t want to trap you with amazing sex and joy but it’s definitely a perk.” Steve rose onto his elbows, still seated inside you. Brushing the hair out of your face, with softness.

“I’m sure we can wreck this bed a lot more than just cum stains.” Pushing at his chest, he pulled out of you gently. Scurrying to his bathroom where you listened as he turned on the faucet in the shower. Sitting up, he came back with all his glory. Hand raised for you to take, the same olive branch you’d given him at Starcourt. All this time. “I can’t wait to spend Christmas in our home, together.”

You’d never been so excited to spend the holidays with anyone else.

Masterlist 

[annislittleshopofhorrors]

You know, I love your blog and your funny/shady comments about 🐟 unable to handle her husband getting the attention and not her.

But I’ll admit, I always laughed it off because we can say that but nobody really knows what’s happening.

Until yesterday. LMAO. I know, I’m sorry for not really listening to some of y’all… but she needs some serious help and for once, to put down her goddamn phone.

I also realized that I knew she was going to try and do something to put the attention back on her and nothing she does on IG is ever a coincidence. This is the actions of a very manipulative but also very stupid individual with narcissistic tendencies. To her five asskissers, look away.

She follows that light and dwell designer the day after people made fun of her for showing her PT apt (btw, now I wonder if she was hoping people would think it was the house her husband was allegedly building for her in PT like some blogs believe)

When that didn’t work, follow this designer lady back after months (funny how she does this quite often when she’s not getting the attention she wants).

Follows some random directors. She still wants a job. That custom ugly furniture ain’t gunna pay for itself!

Posts a random photo dump of suggestive photos to indicate nothing but also making sure the ones who care will try and figure out if she’s in MA, NY, NYC, Canada, Wherever the narrative of where she lives fits.

meanwhile, her husband is in NYC filming with his attractive female costar who is much more well known than her (even if it’s the nepo baby comments) and has two films of her own coming out this month and her Madame web movie is still doing pretty well on Netflix.

Their pap photos are much better received by the general public and have comments shipping them and wishing they were together instead. Yikes!! Also…they actually do look good together. They fit.

Btw, I don’t think 🐟 is jealous of Dakota because of Chris. TBH, I don’t think she’s into her “husband” at all. From her actions, she doesn’t care about him or his well being. She cares about what his name can do for her. That’s it. And right now his name is being lumped with Dakota and not hers and I think it’s pissing her off. She needs to get those cheap outfits comped one way or another and her Liberia film isn’t cutting it. Miumiu not calling her back and nobody wants to see her in a solo pap walk….so.

Sorry to all the team asslickers on here but even you have to admit yesterday was a hilarious show your ass moment.

Sidenote: I like to think CE is putting on a bigger effort to look like he likes Dakota because Celine song is directing this film and he wants to do well for her. And also, he seems to simply just like Dakota. She’s pretty hilarious in her own right when she’s not being a flat actress 🤣 and maybe…just maybe, he wants to show you all whose watching that he does know how to act like he’s in love with someone. He just didn’t want to the last time he was in that park.

😉❤️

Yep, she doesn't care about him (and I don't think he cares about her). It's all about using his name to be mentioned in some gossip magazines. Otherwise these magazines wouldn't talk about her. And even the Portuguese magazines have to mention him when they talk about her. The Portuguese people don't care about her. I'm not even sure if they know her name.

[rosesndan]

if the world was ending you'd come over, right?

Miles Morales Earth 42 × female reader

summary: He'd truly give his soul for you, he'd do it without doubting

if you could give me a reblog or a heart it'd make me really happy <3

Miles could yet feel your cold body in his arms, flashbacks filled with screams and blood flooding his mind, he came back to the tragedy trying to figure out what he did wrong, how did that knife end up on your body?

His throat was hurting because of the screams and all the crying.

- No me dejes mi vida por favor no te vayas no me puedes dejar así (Don’t leave me my love, please, you can’t leave me like this)

A coma? It was a joke, right? Your face reflected peace and tranquillity, it was hard to believe you wouldn't wake up again. You looked so fragile he didn’t even dare to touch you, you could break at any moment. He couldn’t eat, hadn't slept for a while, he never left your side, he ignored everything, and his mum was worried.

- Mijo eat something or buy a coffee, I'll take care of her I promise

He tried to find comfort in his jacket, he felt cold, his heart felt cold. He didn't know if the winter weather made him feel like that or the fact you weren't by his side hugging him

- You want her back?

He heard a voice next to him, an old man shorter than him was standing across the hall. Miles felt the atmosphere getting darker.

- What?

- You want her back?

He didn’t even thought twice

- I'd give my life for her

The atmosphere felt darker, what was happening?

- Be careful with your words boy, be sure, I won't accept regrets

- I... would give my whole existence for her

- Deal

- Mi amor I'm okay, I'm not hungry

- You have to eat ma just a little, please

- I'll eat I promise but you have to work and you're late

- I won't be long, my ma's arriving soon to take care of you

- Okayyyy

- Te amo hermosa, I'll be right back

- Te amo

When you miraculously left the hospital without a scratch Miles cared even more for you, he hated "going to work" but had to, the fact his mum took care of you made him feel better

- Be careful babe come back safe

- I would never do something stupid out there knowing you're waiting for me

He ain't lying, he quit his job with Uncle Aaron, he stopped working for Kingpin, he was still the prowler, and every night he had blood on his hands. His new boss, if he could call him that, didn't pay him like Aaron or the big guy. Miles won't just give his life for you, he'd give his soul and whole existence for you, he now had a debt to pay if he still wanted to come back to you every night, alive.

- Your soul for her soul, I won't receive any other thing in exchange, you now have a debt with me, don't try to trick me or she'll pay for your mistakes...again. I told you boy, no regrets

He'd truly give his soul for you, he'd do it without doubting

1. this is my first time writing in english (it's not my mother tongue) it's also my first time posting in tumblr

2. hi everyone i hope you liked it (^-^)/

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

That was it.

(a new post? it's been months, bro!)

What -- Daryl had a dream featuring You. It's thrown him a little, ngl.

When -- the first day Daryl is bedridden following his two falling trips down the ridge in the episode Chupacabra. In the Slowpoke Series, it's a few hours after Redemption Arcs, which takes place the morning after Thank you, angel...

Who's in this one? -- Daryl, You, Carl, Lori

Perspective -- POV 3rd person Daryl

Relationships -- slow burn, currently platonic-but-confused Daryl x equally oblivious Reader

Pronouns - she/her

TWs -- some language, and reference to Daryl's childhood neglect, and ghastly screenshots with poor editing XD

Masterlist -- Official one here and Chronological one here

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

Her knock was recognizable and he got a rush in his stomach when he knew she was there. Three or four knocks, a pause, then one or two more knocks with some kind of greeting. This time, is was: “Daryl, you up for visitors?”

Was he ‘up for visitors?’

Ain’t like he’s some old dude in a nursing home, why would—oh shit, did this mean they found Sophia? Was Sophia the visitor?? “What is it?”

“It’s Carl’s first field trip out of bed other than for the toilet.”

“Y/N,” came Carl’s groan through the shut door.

“Carl,” she teased back back in the same tone of voice. “Mr. Dixon’s in the same boat, nerd, no leavin’ bed excepting for the facilities.”

Speaking for himself, the kid finally said, “I wanted to go see you first, Mr. Dixon.”

“Just—come in already,” Daryl grunted. He'd already tugged his bedsheets as high as they'd go, he was ready as he could get.

The knob turned, and as the two of them slowly walked in. He made himself relax when the nerves hit him at seeing Y/N.

It's stupid. His dumb ass started getting nervous around her this morning. Nervous around Y/N, of all the people here!

Daryl noticed Lori hovering by the doorway while Y/N and Carl walked in. She explained, “We don’t want to crowd you like yesterday. And we won’t stay too long, Y/N, Maggie and I will be going out for another sweep of our grid.”

The boy had more color than he did the other day when Daryl went to see him, which was good.

"The head wrap stuff they gave you looks cool," the kid told him. "I'm glad you didn't get hurt worse than you were. I heard you got hurt pretty bad." Slowly, Carl made his way to Daryl’s bedside and seemed beat doing it. “I would go out to help search today if I could. I was the only one of us who—well, other than you—who hasn’t gone out looking today. Beth’s older sister and Jimmy and his mom went, too.”

“Well, Mags came with us,” Y/N filled in. “Jimmy looked around the property and its perimeter only, but that’s because he got in trouble yesterday for joinin’ without permission. His mama searched with him to keep the peace.”

As the news hovered, rolled over him, then sunk in, it felt to Daryl as if were making him sink deeper into the mattress where he lay bandaged, bruised, and not much use to anyone.

He’d nearly died trying to find that little girl yesterday, found her doll. And after just about everyone went out searching today, and all them people came back with zip.

Daryl hated feeling helpless, and now he felt helpless, annoyed and angry.

Really, they all went out searching, and somehow all came back with nothing?

Carl kept chatting to him, but to his credit, Daryl didn’t snarl at him to shut up.

“I would’ve wanted to go to target practice, too. Did you know Mr. Douglas knows how to use guns? He told me he was an instructor, he’d started learning way a long time ago after something bad happened to this guy named Ronny King.”

“Rodney,” his ma corrected softly.

“I want to learn how to use a gun. How old were you when you learned, Mr. Dixon?”

Lori and Y/N reacted to the question in their own ways.

Y/N peeked at Lori and it looked like she was shrinking into her neck like a turtle as she walked to the window to get the stool for Carl to sit on.

Lori saw, shook her head and took it from Y/N’s hands, citing, “Let me, honey.” She placed it behind her son, then told him sternly, “You were just shot. Now’s not the time to discuss you using a gun.”

“But Mo—”

“We can talk about that with Dad later, okay, bud?”

“Y/N started learning to shoot when she was 8.”

That made Daryl blink, and it distracted him from his annoyance. His square, chick friend learned about using guns when she was 8?

Y/N gave her nephew a warning stare. “I learned because my own mama in our own circumstances made a decision for me that she determined would help keep me safe, the same way your mama’s makin’ one for you.”

He jut out his chin a little. “I would be safer with one. And I thought Shane taught you?”

“S-Sometimes babysitting me meant us goin’ to the range,” she allowed, eyeing Lori for help.

“Carl,” his ma told him, and with a look firm enough to make a nun cower. “That’s enough interrogating your aunt. We will talk about this with Dad when you’re able to leave bed for more than a few yards.”

“Okay,” the kid apologized, head lowering. “Sorry Mom, sorry Y/N.”

There were about three seconds of silence, tops, when the boy next asked Daryl, “Do you still think Sophia’s alive?”

Y/N froze, Lori tilted her head and looked Daryl in the eye warily.

As for Carl himself, he at least seemed hopeful. “If you could stay okay for nine days when you were a kid, Sophia can stay okay for five.”

Y/N’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He'd told her the other day about it, then decided Carl should know to keep his spirits up.

Lori, who knew nothing about this, looked alarmed. “You went missing for nine days as a child, Daryl?” she repeated.

Daryl nodded, getting dizzy when he did. Wasn’t no big secret, just some dumb mistake he made when he was little. He'd figured that Carl staying hopeful and expecting people to find Sophia would keep the rest of the people here searching.

Y/N already knew about Daryl’s little nine-day accident, and Andrea; might as well let Lori in on it if it meant more people wouldn’t give up on Sophia.

“Yeah, nine days. Was perfectly fine, and that was with me bein’ nowhere near as sharp as Sophia, and without miles of farmhouses and shit around.” Daryl figured exaggerating might help Carl feel happy, so he added, “I was dumber than a post, and even I got away with only an itchy ass from using poison oak as toilet paper.”

It did make the kid smile, but then Carl whispered as if he was nervous, “Quarter.”

Y/N wasn’t nervous at all. “Two of ’em.”

Oh, right. Daryl had forgotten about the no-cuss-around-kids rule.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” is how Lori responded quietly to Daryl, then to his relief, she changed the subject back to asking Y/N how target practice went.

“Lore, did you know Teddy was good with guns?” Y/N shared. “I’d had zero idea.”

“He and Shane talked about being instructors on one of the first nights at the quarry.”

“Man, I missed that whole conversation.”

Lori smiled and began to fix the extra blanket that was crumpled on the side of Daryl’s bed.

Daryl almost missed what was being said because he was distracted by how casually nice that was. Damned thoughtful.

It was that moment when he noticed how he’d grown pretty okay with shooting the shit with these people. Wouldn’t seek it out, probably, but he wasn’t crawling out of his skin, neither. He really liked that the kid wanted to see him, too. It helped him feel like he wasn’t as big an asshole as he felt.

“You, Amy and Glenn were busy playing ‘I never’, if I’m remembering it.” Lori spread blanket out at the foot of the bed and folded it in an accordion-type way. “Either that night or the—no, sorry, it was the night everyone started talking about Bigfoot, the kids were sitting around you three. That was one of the first nights, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, right! We used up all the Tapatío, and this guy mentioned his chupacabra.” Y/N stuck the tip of her tongue out and lightly bit it, grinning big.

“Luis and me got so freaked out that night!” Carl joined in, suddenly as energetic as a little bunny-rabbit. “His older cousin told him all about Okefenokee Swamp, and, and the gators and the Pig Man and the Thing!”

“Your Aunt Evie and I camped with Grammy and Grandad at Okefenokee lots of times when I was a girl,” Lori told them both with a smile in her eyes. “Never saw the Pig Man or the Swamp Thing.”

“But they saw her,” Y/N mouthed to Carl. “Thank God we lived more upstate.”

That, Daryl could agree with, he even made a hum.

He was from way up north, close to the Tennessee border. But with this group that he’d stuck with for who-knows-why, to get to Fort Benning they’d driven far enough southwest that they was basically in Alabama.

“Yeah, you’re from further north, too, right?” Y/N sighed. “I’m so darn homesick, man. We’re just about on the fall line now, aren’t we? Driving to the city was one thing, close enough to home, but the roundabout, southwest mess we made trying to get to stupid Fort Benning was—w-we’re basically in Alabama!”

…His thoughts exactly.

“We’re further from Lake Lanier down here, though,” Carl said. Sounded like he was both trying to cheer her up and rib her. Inside joke most likely, Daryl guessed.

Y/N shivered at the name but couldn’t stop herself from breaking into a smirk, which made Carl crack up. After making a face at him, she looked at Daryl. “Dude, you’d have had a good time at practice.” Her smile grew and she leaned toward him. “As soon as it was time to try hittin’ the targets, Jimmy tried to shoot his pistol sideways.”

“What, all gangster?” he grunted back, glad that he wasn’t alone with her again. He liked didn’t mind being alone with her, but he obviously got smacked in the head a little too hard yesterday, seeing as he felt all nervous around her now. Really nervous. Like, so goddamned nervous, man, it’s good the boy and Lori are here, otherwise he’d be barely able to look her in the eyes.

Give it a day or two, he’d be fine.

“Teddy thinks Jimmy will have to undo Hollywood and video game gun stuff the next couple lessons.” She scrunched her nose, and wondered out loud, “Don’t know why that’s what they show in movies so often, that’s irresponsible firearm use. Oh! But the angled aim I guess is needed when one’s using a riot shield, right?”

His mouth lifted into a grin. Y/N could be such a square.

With that, she yawned and leaned on the side of the bed, causing it to dip down slightly. Daryl’s heart did a funny jolting type thing when she did, he inhaled too quickly as a result, which hurt his stiched side and bruised or broken ribs, so he then winced as a result of that.

“How long do we have ’til we head out again, Lore? I’m hittin’ my limit. Looks like Carl’s crashing, too, you doing okay, baby?”

The conversation that followed didn’t reach his head, Daryl was too distracted. The, um, the movement of the bed dipping as Y/N relaxed and reached back to massage her shoulder caused the memories from last night and the dream that followed to whoosh back to Daryl even harder.

His heartbeat did that funny thing again. And the helpless feeling he’d had, with its anger and annoyance, whittled away bit by bit.

A weird sensation replaced it.

He wasn’t sure that it was, but it felt like it was pressing him even further into the mattress.

So, the dream he had last night: Y/N was…laying down with him.

Nothing was going on, her arm was simply wrapped around him and he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. He remembers pressing his mouth to her head for a second, then she reached her hand to brush it across his temple or whatever, and they just laid there. That was it.

Really, that was it, the whole dream, nothing else went on. And he relieved but also...disappointed when he first woke up, saw the bed empty beside him, and figured out it was just a dream, ain’t that bullshit? Then he listened to Y/N's breathing where she lay on the air mattress and couldn't fall back asleep for what felt like a while.

He was all screwed up, wasn't he?

Granted, two days ago, her shirt had been soaked after they’d got caught in the storm and the outline of everything was clear as damn day. Like, sure, he’d turned his eyes away, but he’d still seen it and liked it! Then, yesterday during their argument when they’d suddenly been standing all close, he’d randomly imagined gripping her waist and crashing his mouth against hers before cupping her face so he could see if her cheeks were as soft as they looked, like what the in the balls was his deal? He ain’t mature enough to be friends with a chick or something? It’s never been a problem before, he used to barely even notice or care when he thought someone looked nice.

Her calling him all them pet names yesterday was enough, but, like, what was last night?

She literally massaged him. Who does that?

The massage had felt as if there were an angel, don’t get him wrong, he’d been in so much pain. But being touched so gently but so…close, and right on his bare skin, it made him feel something similar to scared.

It wasn’t ‘scary’ in that sense, that’s not it, it felt…weird. Again, he didn’t know how to phrase it.

Worse still was that he thinks he accidentally called Y/N “angel.”

Out loud.

He still ain’t sure, his sleep was too disjointed to tell if he was awake or not, but — she’d started massaging his feet, he knew that much! His feet had hurt so bad that he’d almost cried again when she’d started to rub them because it was just such relief.

Fast forwarding to this morning, when he’d made his managed to power his way all by himself out of bed (oh, it hurt like a bitch) and out of his room to find the pisser, of course the first thing he saw when he opened the door was Y/N, all sleepy-eyed, messy-haired, and wrapped in a blanket like he was.

And, of course, the first thing she did was help him walk by putting her good arm around his back. He could feel her warmth and heartbeat beside his chest again, and when he turned his head, his mouth collided with her head. Kinda hurt. And she smelled good.

But all that sent the dream he’d had, the one where she was laying next to him, crashing back all at once.

Plus the fear that she’d see him in his boxers again and/or notice how his morning wood (ain’t his fault, he’d only just woken up and he had to take a whiz real bad!) was the only thing pinging through his mind as she walked him to the toilet.

Then when her brother dropped off some of his stuff from his tent, he had a sneaking suspicion it was Y/N who’d been the one to gather it up. Mainly because she’d been the one who promised him someone would bring him some things, but also because nail clippers and a toothbrush were on top of the pile.

He then got the dumb idea in his head to be embarrassed at how his tent wasn’t real clean.

The past four days were batshit crazy; getting all nervous around a chick — probably the only person he truly feels okay with around here — is the stupidest damn thing. Still, he never had a person he felt so damn comfortable with other than Uncle Jesse, his little cousin, Merle, and his old lady neighbor from when he was a kid.

So much happened with Y/N the past few days. It was like they’d been stripped and beaten together, but got back home in one piece. He even hallucinated her talking to him when he’d fallen down the ridge. And that’s not even bringing up how he’d been chill with her seeing his scars yesterday, which was only after he okayed Dr. Farmer literally teaching her how do literal goddamn stitches on him!

Almost like yesterday, Daryl could imagine the way Merle would bust his balls. “I can’t tell if you’re actin’ like a little boy clinging to the kid who was nice to ’em on the jungle gym, or a clueless virgin nervous around the girl who’ll look him in the eyes long enough.”

Lucky for him, Carl wondered out loud: “Maybe Jimmy wanted to practice shooting sideways,” so Daryl was able to shut his mind up.

Next, Carl, who definitely looked ready to hit the sack, started miming holding a gun and aiming it to the side (as opposed to shooting it forward, just cocked to the side like Jimmy had, according to Y/N).

“No, ya nerd, like this,” Y/N snorted, and held out her good arm as if she were aiming a gun forward, then twisted her wrist sideways.

“Oh, the cool way to shoot!”

“Nooo.”

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

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

-> Masterlist link here <-

and our teeny tiny taglist :D

@spenciepoo338 @its-freaking-bats​​​​ @whistlesalot​​​​ @buffy-the-assbutt-slayer​​​​  @dreamingaboutthewonderland @kwazii-kat​ @darylsmavis​​​​​  @outlanderhornet22​​​​​ @battinsonrobs @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @multiifandomhoe @writingmybeloved @boomergirl123 @iheartathena0 @moonliight-luv @suniloli @supernaturalgirl02 @cnake-garden @daryldixmedown @sophehe @crashlyrose @virgo-sunflower920 @jennythe @theficbaker @vampireautism @rosetta196 @wifeof-barnes

(inbox is open if you would like on or off the taglist, slowpokes. Please don’t feel bad or nervous if you don’t want to be tagged anymore, just let me know in the inbox! We’re all friends here and your comfort level matters)