#to the bay... but i also know it would never be the same!

[unmanageably]

whats the tea on kd leaving the warriors? i was a casual fan at the time it happened so i don't know the situation

well... let me be brief (1/278)

lmao jk but.... well a lot! and most of it is speculation, etcetc ofc we'll never truly know until 20 years later when the last dance-esque documentary comes out about the warriors in the steph curry era lmao-- but the story goes like this:

kevin durant was the superstar of okc thunder and was steadily building up the franchise over the years to become serious contenders for a championship. they were always close, but had never quite made it. but with a good FO/org behind him, westbrook by his side, they were always really close— but again, as we all know, it was never enough (made the finals in 2012. lost. would make the playoffs but always got defeated). in 2016, they once again get really close at the western conference finals where they led the series 3-1 against the warriors. despite that they lose. a mere month later, he joins the warriors: a team that's obviously at the beginning of a dynasty— they won a championship in 2015 and made it into the finals in 2016. but more importantly, the team that beat kevin durant and okc thunder at the conference finals.

there were layers to this "betrayal" and to this day people still think this one decision "ruined the sport" (lol). people saw it as a betrayal on KD's part and it took an incredible hit to his reputation. you almost make it to the finals, you have an incredible teammate in westbrook by your side, an org that supports you and is willing to uplift you to your highest star potential, and you leave? to join the team that BEAT you? to the team that has steph curry, klay thompson, draymond green, andre iguodala?

already a hugely successful team without KD, but with him, it was undeniable. a superteam. yeah, a lot of team has duos or trios. lebron and kyrie, lebron and dwade, harden and cp3, etcetc. but this team was different levels. a whole team full. the team was 73-9 without KD. massively talented already. but now? steph, KD, klay as offensive threats. draymond and andre as defensive threats. insanely good roleplayers like shaun livingston.

everyone was livid. not just OKC fans. everyone in the league! the warriors, and KD's name specifically was tarnished. how disrespectful for the warriors to even think about creating a team like this. how disrespectful for KD to leave an org that's done so much for him. sports media was tearing into them, fans were tearing into them, they were quite literally, the most hated north american sports team. fans were burning jerseys, making videos threatening KD, etc.

we all know how KD with the warriors went. winning fixes all, right? arguably the most dominant team in nba history (2017 warriors vs 1996 bulls a common debate to this day), the warriors absolutely dominated the nba, and went on to win the 2017 and 2018 championships. KD finally gets his two rings and a FMVP. and the warriors still stay the most hated team in the league. you either loved the warriors or hated them! no in between. the narrative is that KD's rings were called into question because he "had a superteam" so they weren't "valid".

2018-2019 is when it all kinda starts falling apart. the warriors are plagued with injuries, and it's just clear they don't have the synergy and chemistry that they did before. it was most clear during a game against the clippers where draymond and kd visibly fought after a bad play at the end where draymond refused to pass to kd. draymond had allegedly yelled at kd and told him to just leave the warriors, and that they didn't need him (kd's contract was up that year as well). KD has said in later years that that argument was kind of like the ~last straw for him and the nail in the coffin for him leaving. he had already been having feelings of being "the odd man out"— though they were winning together and had good synergy on court, the core3 plus the other players were already a tight knit family long before he had arrived. after the incident with draymond, the team never really sat down and talked about it: just brushed it under the rug (dray was suspended for one game but nothing was talked about). KD felt like it was a slap in the face, all this stuff about how gsw is known for good team chemistry and good culture but they just wanted to brush that very public incident under the rug? after that he started playing more selfishly— less like how they would play as a team and more in isolation. KD gets injured during the finals, and as we know, klay gets injured as well: we lose the finals. we don't get the sought after three-peat. KD signs with the brooklyn nets and the rest is history.

i talked a lot about the beginning of KD signing on to the warriors because i feel like that was really the root of why he left. he became one of the most hated players in north american sports. his own fans tore into him. sports media all tore into him. calling him mentally weak, pathetic, etc. and does winning fix all? i feel like KD with the warriors was proof that... it doesn't. KD gets two rings that he basically sold his soul to the devil for AND two FMVPs and people still don't respect him. on top of that he wins it with the warriors: which has always been and will always be Steph Curry's Team. yeah he was integral to those wins, but you can't compete with how steph has built the dynasty, yk? what steph has given to the warriors.

so at the end of the day, the story goes like this: KD "betrays" okc by going to the team who beat him in the conference finals, creates the first real "superteam" in the nba (the superteam discourse is a whole other thing smh like teams aren't trying to do that now but i digress). the whole sports world is going in on him, he's basically sold his soul for these rings. he gets his rings, he gets his FMVP. but his legacy and reputation is still called into question: he's integral but still won his rings and his FMVPs on STEPH CURRYs team, not his. Steph's. on top of all the outside noise, internally he's not happy either. he doesn't feel protected within the team. he has beef with draymond, and steph/klay + the franchise will clearly always have their loyalty to draymond. he doesn't buy into the team culture anymore, and he feels like the odd one out. the only thing that could make him stay would be to keep winning more rings. but the two rings he has didn't fix anything. so why stay? what does he have going for him?

(he goes on to bounce between different teams, tries to build his own superteams but never comes as close as he did. meanwhile steph klay and draymond go through a tough two years, considerably the lowest two years in the steph/core3 era, and come out on top: they win the '22 finals, against a celtics team that had an 84% chance of winning the finals. they save their dynasty, their legacy. steph proves that he won a chip BEFORE KD, during KD, and AFTER KD as well.)

[icewindandboringhorror]

still have no idea what “icymi” stands for and refuse to just look it up, I simply read it a different way every time I see it  (”I can you me I”, “It cant young men inside”, “I could you mine I”, “I can your more information”, “I count your man in”, “Icy Me”, “If can you my eyes”, “International conference yearly (???)”, “I consider you most important”, “I call you me if”, etc) and move on, at peace with the fact that my brain will always interpret it as silly gibberish 

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I promised you some lions! Let's talk about manes, males, and management.

This is Tandie, the current male lion at the Woodland Park Zoo.

Notice anything odd about him? He's got one of those hilarious awkward teenager manes. Except... this cat is nine years old.

I was, of course, immediately curious.

Manes serve a lot of purposes for male lions, including being an indicator of health and fitness - it's actually a sexually selected trait and a social signal. Mane texture / hair quality / length is dependent on nutrition and the body having energy to grow (and carry around!) that much hair! The color is also a signal: males with darker manes have been found to have higher testosterone levels.

In one research report, wild males were much more likely to avoid a lion decoy when it had a longer or darker mane - but the girls really loved a dark mane. It's thought this is because a long, dark mane is an indicator of mate quality. Males with longer, darker manes have higher testosterone and were pretty healthy: meaning they had more energy for fighting, had a better chance of recovering if they got injured, and generally had a higher rate of offspring survival. Manes matter!

So, back to Tandie. He was actually born at the Woodland Park Zoo in 2014 alongside two brothers, to dad Xerxes and mother Adia.

This was Xerxes (rip).

Obviously, a very large, dark, lush mane on Xerxes here. So where did these blond muttonchops come from on his son?

I asked the zoo docents and got an answer that didn't make a lot of sense. They told me that after the three cubs grew into adolescents, they were moved to the Oakland Zoo together. But living together suppressed his testosterone, and he never grew a mane.

Hmmmm.

Here's a photo from 2016, when the brothers debuted at Oakland. They're a year and a half old in this photo.

(Photo Credit: Oakland Zoo)

And here's from an announcement for their third birthday.

(Photo credit: Oakland Zoo)

Okay, so these dudes obviously all were growing manes as of 2017. I think Tandie is the one on the left in the first photo, and laying down in the middle on the second. What happened?

I was just in the Bay Area for a zoo road trip, of course I went to Oakland and tracked down a docent to ask some questions.

It turns out that shortly after the brothers turned three, they started acting like adult male lions: they started scuffling regularly. It's a normal social thing for male lions to live in groups, called coalitions, but according to my lion experts there's generally a baseline level of some social jostling within them. It wasn't quite clear from what the docent said if they couldn't manage the boys together, or if they just wanted to avoid the scratches and small wounds that result from normal lion behavior. Regardless, they put all three of the boys on testosterone blockers in order to be able to keep them together as a social group.

Now, I don't know a lot about the use of hormone alteration as a form of captive animal management, except in the case of birth control. I don't think it's something that's unethical - there was just a webinar on it that I saw go by - but I don't think it's commonly done with big cats. Lions have kind of complicated reproductive cycles, and for instance, we've been learning that female lions can take much longer to come into estrus again than expected after coming off hormonal birth control.

In males, testosterone blockers (or being neutered) means they lose their manes. This is why a lot of rescues will do a vasectomy on their males instead of a neuter - it allows them to keep their mane and the social signals that accompany it.

Tandie returned home to Woodland Park Zoo after Xerxes passed in early 2022, and the docent told me all of the lions had been off their blockers "for while." I'd guess those things happened around the same time, since bringing the trio down to a duo at Oakland would reduce some of the social tensions.

Hormones are such interesting things, though. One of Tandie's brothers has a full mane again, and the other is still totally mane-less.

As for Tandie, his mane is growing back in, and it looks like he might rival his dad for length and coloration.

He started here, in February:

Yesterday:

What a difference four months (and maybe proximity to a girl) makes!

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”

[pedroshotwifey]

Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?” 

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure. 

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily. 

You’re both lying in his bed, completely bare. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him. 

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes? 

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be. 

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now. 

“Joel?” 

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore. 

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right. 

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes. 

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself. 

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes. 

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year. 

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself. 

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you. 

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.” 

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you? 

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts. 

“You feel so good,” you whine. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure. 

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him. 

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—” 

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—” 

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face. 

You love him. You said it. And he believes you. 

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters. 

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin. 

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back. 

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back. 

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm. 

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time. 

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now. 

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat. 

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained. 

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria. 

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts. 

*****

Want to read more requests or submit your own? Try this link!

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[slutforln4]

TWO PRIZES

🖇️ lando norris x f1 journalist!reader

🖇️ in which you realise lando wasn’t just the driver you interviewed

🖇️ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol

🖇️ author’s note: the bits in italic are her memories :)

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.

The amount of people trying to push past you made you anxious, but you knew it was all part of the experience. Everyone was bunching up to watch one of the greatest events of all time— the Monaco GrandPrix.

Once you make it through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders of people much taller and energetic than you, the entrance that you need comes into view.

You weren’t just excited for the interviews you were going to watch up close, but also the entire concept of the race. The hustle of engineers in all these garages, working their hardest to get the drivers in and out of the pits with minimal time to waste. Not to mention the drivers themselves, having to sit in the cars for multiple hours over the race weekend with no complaints— they chose to do this, they deal with the consequences.

That’s exactly what excited you. The reasoning for their choice to do this, you wanted to ask each and every one of them why they wanted to do this, what was so interesting?

You guessed their answer would be the same as yours if you were asked why you became a sports journalist.

Keeping your amazement at bay, you observed the race, focused on everything going on even though it was a lot to keep up with. But that’s exactly what you were there for.

You were sitting in the grandstands, intently watching the cars fly past you, when your phone rang. The caller ID said it was your coworker who had also been at the race but disappeared about ten minutes ago.

“Hello?”

She sounded distressed when you heard her voice. “Hey, love. I was wondering if you could take over the post-race interviews?”

Today was supposed to be a sort of intern day for you, meaning you were just going to watch your colleague interview the drivers and better understand what the etiquette is for it. You hadn’t expected to have your first interview today.

“Uh, why?” You asked, in a whisper. “You know I’ve never interviewed anyone before, right?”

“So?” She seemed much more confident in you than you were in yourself. “You’ve studied journalism for a few years now, yeah? I don’t think you’d have taken an internship at SkySports for nothing.”

“I mean, I guess?” You shrug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to speak to actual drivers, though. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t if you remember that they’re just people doing their jobs, and you’re doing your job by asking them questions.” She makes a good point and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Send over the information you’ve written.”

“Sorry.” You hear her slightly laugh. “You gotta fend for yourself with that one, hun. It’s a cruel world we live in. Cheers.”

With that, the call ended and you were left with nothing but anxiety weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the race seemed to fly by in mere minutes, your mind too focused on the pressure of your first ever interview.

Well, not first ever.

You imagined the day would come sooner or later, so you’d practise a conversation with one of the drivers by speaking to yourself in the mirror. That, and watching multiple interviews through the years, soaking up every bit of information you could about the process of it.

Before you knew it, you were standing in a sea of people with their cameras, waiting for the drivers to make their way to you.

It wasn’t that nerve wracking when you actually started talking to them, and by the time you got to Daniel, you had lost all feelings of anxiety, instead laughing along to his jokes.

You thought so, at least. A feeling of intimidation crawled up your spine when your eyes locked with Lando Norris, a driver for Mclaren. You noticed the piercing look from across the room as he spoke to a different interviewer, his green pupils tracking your every move as you spoke to Oscar.

The interview with Oscar wraps up and he begins turning away from you. “Good luck on your next race!”

Oscar smiled at you as he walked off to somewhere you could only guess.

If you had been anxious before, you were probably five times as anxious now, because Oscar Piastri leaving the spot in front of you meant that Lando Norris would be replacing him. And, for whatever reason, he was making you incredibly nervous.

You looked down at the ground as Lando approached you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t bear looking up at him, knowing he’s already staring at you. But it was part of your job and you had to stay professional.

“Hello, Lando.” You said, cheerily.

“Hi,” he grinned at you, sweaty and all, his dimples appearing for a split second. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks, how was the race?” You asked with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he smiled at you again.

Lando’s green eyes studied your face, soaking up each detail he missed since the last time he had seen you. He knows you don’t remember him and he doesn’t need you to, it’s kind of nice to feel something without reciprocation from the other.

After a long while, Lando shrugged. “Yeah, uh, the race was pretty good, I mean, I got first place, so I’d say it’s good. Y’know, aside from Oscar’s incident, but that’s not something we can predict, it just happens.”

You watched intently as he explained the race, your eyes oddly drawn to his lips. The pattern at which they move, and the tempting way he pokes his tongue out to tap the corners of his lips, makes you weak.

This was horribly unprofessional of you, and you knew that, but the charms of this young british racer had worked their magic on you, and you weren’t strong enough to resist it.

You felt like it was just the two of you in the room and both of you were trying your damn best not to break, one for more reasons than the other.

“Yeah, it seems like it was a lucky race for you, the pace of your car was incredible to watch.” You pointed out, looking down at the race data on your clipboard. “The RedBull’s were a bit slower this race, do you think that gave you an advantage?”

“Well, they already win races left, right and centre. They have to be bad sometimes.” Lando stifled a laugh. “But, uh, I don’t know. I think it all came down to the car and my ability to control it. The pace was insane, honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be faster than a RedBull.”

The joke made you giggle and you quickly hid your face by looking away for a mere moment, in an attempt to recollect yourself. Thankfully, none of the cameras were on your face.

“Or it’s just pure talent, I’d say.” You look back up at him, his eyes never once leaving your face. He’s so smiley and it’s contagious, so you can’t help but smile at him, too. “Any plans for the celebration? You must be feeling ecstatic about your first win, so I assume the celebration must be as big as this.”

Lando puts the tube of his water bottle to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes still glued to you. He wasn’t even blinking, far too focused on the shape of your lips and how good they felt that night. That one night you can’t seem to remember.

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest.” He shrugs, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, biting back the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “I still have to call my mum and siblings.”

“I’m sure they’re incredibly proud of you,” you smile, politely. He’s still intently looking at you, cheeks now burning red at your comment accompanied by his massive grin.

It was time to wrap up your chat with Lando, but, in all honesty, you really didn’t want to. You felt something brewing in your chest at the mere feeling of his eyes burning into you, and it excited you.

Still, you ignore it. You had to stay professional, even if it was all too much to handle. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lando. Congratulations and good luck next race.”

“Will you be interviewing me next time, too?” Lando asks, making no move to walk away just yet. His eyes narrowed onto yours when you looked back at him, an adorably surprised look on your face.

“Uh,” you look away for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe.” He gave you another cocky smirk and nodded his head as a farewell, leaving you nothing but a blushing mess in the media pen.

After a plethora of interviews back to back, you were tired beyond words. Your feet were sore, your back hurt, you felt your eyelids close if you stood still for longer than two seconds. The image of your soft hotel bed made you motivated to keep moving through the building and find your way out.

“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N, was it?”

Your eyes find their way to the person behind you and you’re happy to see that it’s Daniel. “Daniel! Hi, nice to see you again.” You extended a hand to shake and he smiled as he squeezed it.

“Was lovely talking to you earlier. You asked such great questions, honestly, it made me really think about my answers, y’know?” You hadn’t noticed how both of you started walking again and he kept up with your pace. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, interviewing?” You ask and he nods eagerly, with the energy of a little boy.“This was my first official day of interviewing, actually. I had to step in for my colleague.”

“No way.” He muses, jaw slack and eyes glimmering with interest. “The way you interacted with me had me thinking you were carrying a load of experience.”

You stifle a laugh and watch the path ahead. “Yeah, well. I practised a lot in my room. You have race sims, I have a mirror and a hairbrush for a microphone.”

Daniel’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty area around you. “You’re funny, too.” He muses once again, shocked by how much fun you can be. “Listen, I know it’s not professional to ask this, but are you free tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” you look up at him and hesitate. “I’m not interested in-“

“No, no,” Daniel waves his hands in the air as if to stop the words spilling from your mouth. “God, no. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to the club later, all of the drivers are gonna be there to celebrate Lando’s win. It could be fun.”

You paused in your steps, brows furrowing as you felt a beam of energy climb up your spine. All of a sudden, your bed didn’t seem like the comfiest thing in the world and you were willing to exchange it for a pair of heels and a dress.

“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled at Daniel and he reciprocated the gesture.

He gives you a card with his number on it and you gladly pluck it from his fingers. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride to the club. Cheers.”

And with that, he disappeared into the car park, the only remainder of his friendly presence being his lingering smell in the air and the scribbled number on the back of a grocery store coupon.

“Thanks, mate.”

Lando’s hand felt heavy as he shook it with someone he barely knew, congratulating him on the win. He’s been stuck in this large group of people for way too long, desperately looking for an escape. And, eventually, he found it�� you.

His eyes have been stuck to you for the past fifteen minutes, patiently waiting for the people to finish congratulating him so he could finally talk to you.

When the perfect moment arose, Lando swiftly shimmied between the dancing bodies and made his way to the bar. You were still sitting there, looking as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but now you were right in front of him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lando’s voice startles you when he plops down in a bar stool beside you.

You smile at him, feeling the same anxiety crawl up your spine as the last time you saw him. “I’d say the same, but this feels like the perfect place for a race winner.”

“I honestly hated it before,” he shrugged, looking out into the crowd. “I used to party after a podium, second place being the best I’ve ever had.”

“But now you’re here as a winner.” You’re still looking at him when he turns back around. There’s something so nostalgic about the way he looks at you, almost as if you’ve already been there and seen him before. “Victory looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” He flashes a grin your way, raising a brow. “I’ll try to win more then. Maybe I’ll get to see you again that way.”

“I’m free whenever you want to see me,” you blurt. Lando’s eyebrows raise with surprise when you say that and he bursts into a small laugh when you start flailing your hands around in the air. “Sorry, that’s so unprofessional, I didn’t mean to–“

“It’s fine,” he assures you. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here. But that’s so unprofessional of me.”

“Mr. Norris!” You exclaim with a faux gasp. Lando watches with an amused grin on his face as you smile back at him. “I’d like that very much.”

It didn’t take long for both of you to swivel your way past the drunk people in the club and find yourselves in a cab. Lando’s hand made a home on your thigh and you didn’t mind. It felt warm, secure and turned you on when he inched it closer to the hem of your dress.

Time flew fast in the company of a race winner, especially one as charming and attractive as Lando. You didn’t realise how many hours had passed after you had left the club and, frankly, you didn’t really care.

The moments spent with him felt somehow nostalgic, as if you had felt this way before. But you’re sure you just dreamt it. There’s no way you’ve met Lando before and didn’t remember it.

It felt silly to think that, so you just ignored that thought and continued watching the intoxicating way his lips moved as he spoke. He’s been talking about something for the past five minutes and you didn’t hear a word of it, being far too focused on the pattern of his freckles, the dip of his nose and the gentleness of his eyes when he looked at you.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, voice gentle and cautious.

You bit back a smile, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “You.”

The nostalgic feeling snuck its way into the back of your mind when he kissed you, his lips and hands feeling like a long lost home. You somehow already knew the melody of his breathing and the pattern of his hair, the familiarity of his kiss starting a fire in your chest. You felt the warmth of his lust spread through your torso, creeping up your neck, softly toying with the giggle in your throat.

Stars spackled on the inside of your eyelids and the harmonious sounds leaving your lips finally drew you back to that night.

Warm hands. Gentle strokes and soft kisses. Careful fingertips trailing their way down your hips. Lando’s tongue danced on your aching bud and you felt the whole world fade away. The mere touch of his fingers on your hips to keep you still reminded you of the last time.

“Mmh, fuck.” Lando hummed against you, the vibrations sending bolts of lightning through your veins. “So good. So fucking good for me, y/n.”

His tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge. The alcohol in your system mixed with the pleasure coursing through your body was a lethal combination. Your legs shook as you felt your walls close around nothing, Lando’s mouth attached to you as if he was a starved man and you were the first thing he could get his mouth on.

“I’m- I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before making a mess all over his goatee. He licked up every last bit of you, the sweet taste of you making a perfect combination with the aftertaste of whiskey in the back of his throat.

You stayed lying there, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, deep breaths inflating your chest. Lando watched you, green eyes soaking in every inch of you— he wasn’t sure if you’d remember him this time, so he made the most of every moment spent with you.

After a while of him watching you, you felt Lando get up and come back in a few minutes, a damp towel in his hands. He touched your most sensitive parts with the weight of nothing, carefulness sewn into every movement he made. At that point, you were drifting in and out of consciousness, not fully knowing when the bed dipped under Lando’s weight again.

You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you in, the warmth of his bare skin heating your cheek. You were hesitant to speak, cautious as to not say something wrong. So, instead of speaking, you lifted your head and connected your lips with his again, the minty taste of his lips making you smile.

“It’s you.”

Lando hummed into the kiss, as if to acknowledge that it was him, but also to ask what you meant.

You pulled away, fingers immediately making home in his curls. “That night.” A familiar look painted itself across Lando’s face. “I tried so hard to remember whose lips felt like home, and only the weight of yours reminded me.”

“You were thinking about me?” Lando inquired, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

You nodded. “Every day since that night.”

Lando smiled before kissing you again. “You never left my mind. I kept reminiscing that night, waiting for fate to magically bring us back to one another.” He whispered against your hairline, lips pressing soft, love-filled kisses against your skin. “Didn’t expect to win two prizes in one day.”

A small laugh slipped past your lips. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Norris.”

“The luckiest.” He hummed. “Because I finally have you.”

[retroaria]

SOMEONES JEALOUS!

summary: (Sakura, Suō, Kaji) when they’re jealous seeing you with another guy!

WIND BREAKER M.LIST | enjoy 🥀 -aria

ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

Sakuras jealousy is a recurring issue. Once you’re his and he’s accepted that fact, he hates when anyone else gets more attention from you than he does. It makes him question everything, feels like he’s having a mid life crisis.

He sometimes get jealous of the way you interact with the other Bofurin boys as well. Is afraid you might think one of them is nicer than him, or that they could protect you better than he could. you constantly have to reassure him, which makes him feel even worse.

If he sees someone actively flirting with you right in front of him, he goes into fight or flight mode

Acts like you’re about to be murdered and his only way to save you is obnoxiously interjecting himself in the convo. “hahaha right MY PARTNER is soooo cool! you guys friends? Never heard of you before hahaha strange.” “Hey BABE, you seem to be having a lot of fun over here…WITHOUT ME.” The guy would just awkwardly walk away lol

Once he’s gone Sakura goes back to normal and tries to act like what he just did wasn’t borderline insane. “What do you mean? I was just talking to you how I always do.” Yeah suuuuure.

Just make sure he knows you love him and no one else. Appreciates when you include him in convos with strangers while you two are out, hates being left out of the loop.

Ren definitely feels like you are the light of his life, his sunshine on a cloudy day, the only pure thing about him, keeping him sane and at bay. Deep down he’s terrified that you’ll find someone more gentle than he is, someone less angry and tense all the time. So when something threatens to take you away, he gets rather aggressive

He prefers if you don’t see him that way. So anytime someone seems to be a little too flirty, or trying to get a little too close to you, he stalks his pray and waits it out. Once the interaction is over (you obviously rejected them), he’ll wait until you leave, head off to the bathroom, or just aren’t paying attention to shoot them the most devious glance imaginable.

Eyes of a killer as he bites down hard, cracking the candy in his mouth. sending them a signal of what might happen to them if they don’t back off. If you aren’t around, “you shouldn’t go for someone so far out of your league” “back off”.

Suo doesn’t tend to get jealous. He’s got you whipped (just as much as you have him) and he knows it. A confident king.

On the rare occasion he does feel threatened by another man, it’s usually by someone of his same stature, coy and nonchalant. It almost makes his blood boil to see someone teasing you the way he does just to see that cute flustered face.

Thinks its disrespectful for other men to bother you when they should already see how fruitless it is. In his head, someone like you is surely taken. (Though he still finds it hard to believe that he was the one who was able to take you)

He’s likes to let it go on for a little, wanting to see what tactics the guy might employ. He also wants to see the look on this persons face when they are inevitably rejected by you.

If they keep pestering you even after you’ve declined their advances, Suo will step in. “Hey darling, do you need my help here?” “How bold of you to assume you’d have a chance.” (He’s saying all of this with the most devious smile on his face, probably giggling too. Cheeky bastard.)

[bettyfrommars]

A little something inspired by this edit by @somnambulic-thing of what I imagine as a version of a mechanic!Eddie, but he's also biker!Eddie to me, or anything you want.

mechanic!Eddie x Reader

18+Only, secret work crush, gender neutral reader, just some yearning fluff with mention of weed and alcohol, bit of slut shaming, some sage advice from Wayne.

word count: 1.7k

Eddie had been staring at the door to the office and zoning out for a while when you opened it to step into the bay, and his unblinking gaze accidentally lingered at your midsection.

“What’s wrong?” You glanced down at your outfit, thinking maybe your zipper was open or something worse. There were three other mechanics besides Eddie there that day, each of them knee deep in the hustle and bustle of the busy season.  A boombox on one of the tall, red cubbies blasted hard rock while an electric drill buzzed.  

His attention snapped back to the bolt he was crouched down to tighten on the rim of a Ford Bronco.  

“Nothing,” he grunted, cranking the ratchet so that the muscles on his tattooed bicep bulged. He had on his signature summer uniform of black coveralls with the sleeves ripped off.  His hair was tied back in a pony with a navy-blue bandana on his head, making it easier to slip his welding helmet on and off.  “I didn’t know you were working today.”

Now, that was a big fat lie.  Spotting your car in the parking lot when he came in every morning was one of those things that set his day right.  You’d taken Thursday off the week before, and he’d moped around in a bad mood for the entire shift.  

Almost four months you’d been working in the office, and he still hadn’t summoned the nerve to ask you out.  Instead, he drank too much after a show at the Hideout one night and ended up letting some random chick crawl all over him.  The next day, the guys he worked with would make it sound more serious than it actually was.

“Soooo Munson, I heard you got lucky with Deep Throat Dana last night. They say she can suck an orange out of a tailpipe!” 

And then the entire shop broke out into wheezing laughter like a bunch of hyenas, as if something funny was said.

It made him cringe, and he cast a side glance to see if you were within earshot.  “Nothing happened with that girl,” he wanted to say to you.  “We kissed, but I just couldn’t…ya know?”

But also, why did he feel the need to explain himself to you? It was as if he was being faithful to a dream.  You’d never give him the time of day out in the real world.  Sure, you knew just how he liked his coffee, and you asked him questions about DnD and his band as if you were interested.  But, you were just being nice—he could tell.  At first he thought he was special, but quickly realized that you treated everyone the same.  You were, in fact, a thoughtful, likable person.  Surely your only interest in him was as co-workers, nothing more.  

Also, he could hear Wayne’s voice in his head: “Don’t shit where you eat, son.” 

It was his uncle's long-standing advice to never get involved with a coworker, and Eddie just happened to agree.  If he was ever lucky enough to take you on a few dates and then you dumped him or broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he could work at the garage anymore.  On the bright side, he also had a CDL to operate heavy equipment, so maybe that would be his cue to become a long-haul trucker.  

Deep breath Munson, you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

You hesitated in the doorway for a beat with Mrs. Chadwick’s paperwork for the Oldsmobile sedan in your hand, wanting to ask Eddie how his day was going.  But then he sank down onto the creeper and rolled under the vehicle as if to avoid you in a hurry.  

You really didn’t know what to make of him. 

One second, you’d be certain he was flirting, but then later that day, he’d huff out the door without even so much as a wave. He’d tease you about things, like your collection of random motel pens or the music you liked, and then you’d give the energy right back and wait for that gremlin smile to spread across his face. 

The other day, he’d left your favorite candy bar on the desk for you to find.  You knew it was him because he was the only one in Hawkins you’d told.  How the topic of sweets came up, you weren’t sure, but you’d never forget the curious narrowing of his eyes when he asked which one you liked best.

You had this strange feeling that he was secretly studying you.

The other night you were sitting across from your friend Tina, having burgers and beers at The Hideaway, when Eddie just happened to breeze in.

Your heart stuttered, whatever you’d been saying dying on your lips, completely losing your train of thought. The vinyl in the booth squeaked as you craned your neck to watch him. That was the first time you’d ever seen him in street clothes without coveralls on, and it was raining, so his long hair was soaked.  He greeted the woman at the cash register, and you were too far away to hear, but apparently he was there to pay and pick up his takeout order in a big brown sack with greasy handprints on it.  You thought about waving him down to ask if he wanted to join the two of you, but he did his business in a hurry and didn’t seem to want to be noticed.

“What’s going on?” Tina asked, gaze darting from you to the Dio patch on Eddie’s back as he exited the building.  She munched a french fry before wiping ketchup off her lip.  “Did something happen between you and Eddie?”

You snapped a look at her.  “You know him?”

“Well, not intimately,” she ate another fry.  “But I went to school with him, and bought weed from him a few times.”

“He sells weed?” You cocked an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s been like, a while, but maybe he still does.  How do you know him?”

“We work together,” you brought the half-eaten burger up for a bite and paused there.  “I think he hates me.”

“I highly doubt that.” And then she stared pointedly at you when she said, “he’s cute,” with a knowing smirk. 

“Ha,” you adjusted the napkin on your lap. “Well, as you know, I plan to stay single for the rest of my life.”

“Sure, sure.”

When it got closer to 6 that day, you scrambled to get off the phone with a customer, worried Eddie might slip out again and you wouldn’t see him for the entire weekend. After hiding in the supply closet for a full minute to avoid Phil—one of the other mechanics who liked to talk your ear off—you finally made it to the break room, panting as if you’d just run a marathon.

Eddie was there, bent over to snatch a Pepsi out of the vending machine.  Freezing in place, you suddenly forgot how to form words.

Eddie felt like an idiot, like for sure you’d caught on to the fact that he’d been finding shit to do for the past half hour just so he could be there to have some private time with you.  He didn’t like the idea of you closing up the shop by yourself, especially now that it was getting darker sooner. 

And then fucking Phil wouldn’t leave. His wife had relatives visiting, and he was shuffling around like a sad puppy trying to avoid going home.  Eddie had to pretend he needed to take a shit just to get rid of him, and was halfway surprised the dude didn’t follow him into the bathroom.

He usually brought his own lunch, but the snack and soda machines were always tempting.  He knew how to open the damn things up and thought about doing some last minute grocery shopping to make up for his crappy wage.  

You cleared your throat.  “So, what are you up to this weekend?  Any fun plans?”

Eddie pulled his shoulders back and spun around at the sound of your voice, fisting the can in one hand and running the other through his hair.  He’d been growing his bangs out, and they were just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  The length was so fucking annoying at times that he’d often considered chopping them to nubs.    

You were smiling at him, eyes bright and sincere, and it made him feel all fuzzy inside like his brain was made of cotton candy.

“My day was good. You?” That was what came out of his mouth, and then he let out a silent, internal scream that made his ears ring. 

But he recovered quickly. “I mean, I don’t have any plans.  I don’t usually have…I mean, my buddy Jeff and I might go see a movie, but not like major plans.”  He didn’t want to tell you he was taking a trip out to Rick’s on Sunday to beef up his supply for weekly customers.  He sure as hell couldn’t restore the van on the chump change he made at the garage. 

You stared at him intently, softening when you realized he was nervous.  

How could that be?  Did you make him nervous?

You pulled a folded piece of paper out of your back pocket and held it up.  “I found this at the laundromat.  It says your band is playing at The Hideout on Tuesday.  Is that still happening?”

Pinched between your thumb and forefinger was one of the handmade fliers Gareth had helped him make.  

“Well we…yes-–” he cracked open the lid of the soda and it fizzed everywhere, dripping down his arm and onto the linoleum floor. “Shit, I’ll clean that up, don’t worry.”

He didn’t want you to get stuck having to get the mop out to clean again, so he put the leaking can down on the lunch table and went over to grab something to wipe it up.  

He busied himself with sopping up the mess, albeit poorly, while you inched closer.

“I think I might stop by and check you guys out,” you saw that his face was red when he stood, chocolate orbs lit up in anticipation.  “Maybe we could have a beer or something after?”

His cotton candy brain tried to filter his next thought, but it was too late.  “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight?” You blinked a few times.  “Is your band playing somewhere tonight too?”

“No, but I—” the tip of his tongue slipped side to side between his lips.  “If you’re not busy tonight maybe we could go somewhere to eat or drink or hang out or something.”

“Or something,” a grin quivered in the corner of your mouth. 

And then the two of you were just standing there, close enough for your breathing to fall into sync. Gathering up a nice helping of nerve, you reached an arm out and ran the back of your knuckles down the front of his shirt.

Eddie was vibrating.

Don’t shit where you eat, son.

No disrespect Uncle, but fuck the job.

“Anything," he said softly, hope blossoming in his chest like those wildly palpitating hearts in cartoons.  “Anything you want.”

[estrella-etoile]

Hua Cheng's Very Different Loves

There is often a fundamental misunderstanding of Hua Cheng's love for Xie Lian. The biggest of them was Mu Qing and Feng Xin's assumption at seeing the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods.

They see Hua Cheng as obsessive, dangerous. And given the history with Bai Wuxian, yeah, not entirely in the wrong for that assumption.

It's hard to understand that Hua Cheng is one who has truly separated his devotion from his romantic love for Xie Lian. Because devotion/worship of a god and love of a person are different.

At least until now, the devout and obsessive level of worship that Hua Cheng exhibits is the first type. The type of a religious devotee. And that cave, that's what we see. Hua Cheng did not make the sculptures and the paintings for Xie Lian exactly, he didn't do it with a plan to bring Xie Lian there and ask for praise, he did it because Xie Lian was his totem, the very thing that could center him even at times of extreme suffering to pull through. Religious love is not something that expects reciprocation, it's not something that requires anything of the subject of worship except their existence. And the Hua Cheng of the past 800 years poured his obsessive love into this type of love, the love that he does not have any expectations for.

We know that Hua Cheng also felt the other type of love. His sexual awakening was downright traumatic. Seriously, imagine being fourteen, and having to defend your beloved god from sex demons who are forcing you to realize that your devotion to your god has an edge of desire, all while said god is stabbing himself to keep from acting on the extreme discomfort of sexual urges forced on him by those same damn sex demons. No wonder Hua Cheng is so absolutely freaked out and a little disgusted about harboring that type of love for Xie Lian.

When Hua Cheng finally finds Xie Lian again after 800 years, I fundamentally believe that Hua Cheng would have been content with an existence of watching over and protecting his god from the sidelines. His devotion mattering more than that sliver of self-loathing desire that would never be erased.

The story we got to read though, the one that makes TGCF so special is the way that the other love grows between Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. They enjoy each other's company, enjoy teasing and talking, enjoy the little touches that they share. When Hua Cheng talks about his beloved, he speaks of his romantic love and winning over that person. He speaks of it shyly, because he knows it is something that has to be shared and has to grow naturally. It's what makes their love story so very human, because Hua Cheng treated his religious love and his desirous love as completely separate from each other. And the best part? Xie Lian knows this, understands this, has no doubt about this.

It means that the scene in the cave, where both Feng Xin and Mu Qing mistook Hua Cheng's obsessive devotion for obsessive desire, Xie Lian recognizes correctly.

And Xie Lian reciprocates those romantic feelings.

I like to picture those days that Xie Lian wakes up and finds the other side of his bed empty, then wanders to the Thousand Lights Temple to see Hua Cheng there changing the single white flower in his god's hands, then bowing his head and saying a prayer. Xie Lian rolls his eyes, because well, he's right there, but it's Hua Cheng's ritual, and whether they are husbands, whether they had rough and enjoyable sex the night before, Hua Cheng won't slack on his religious love just because he gets to share romantic love with his husband and god.

[adrienneleclerc]

just read The Happy Throuple and I love it so much, i would love to see more of them whenever you have time, like maybe the internet's reactions and / or the drivers. meeting the parents, baby showers, the bay being born, etc. I just think it's a great fic with lots of potential.

YES!!!!!!! I’m thinking the internet’s reaction is the first half and then the drivers’ reaction, meeting the parents, baby shower/gender reveal, and the baby’s birth will be separate, all of them will be in my Masterlist in the same bullet as “The Happy Throuple”

Nobody Everybody Knows

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux

Summary: posting their relationship for everyone to see means that now everyone gets to comment about something they know nothing about

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: Y/N faceclaim will ALWAYS be Becky G for social media posts just because I love her. There will be MULTIPLE “chapters” of the happy throuple’s story. For all intents and purposes, all the drivers who live in Monaco hang out outside the paddock except for “adults” like hulkenberg and Bottas. I also changed how Y/N and Alexandra know each other so they met at a party when Alexandra was 19 and Y/N was 18, okay? Okay

Since Charles posted on Instagram that he has another girlfriend and that he’s expecting a child, everyone has opinions. What’s great about Charles is that he disabled the comments, but that doesn’t stop other accounts from talking about their relationship.

Liked by user67 and 926,639 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc reveals that he was been in a polyamorous relationship with Alexandra Saint Mleux and her best friend, Y/N L/N. Not only that, but Y/N is carrying his child. How do you feel about the news?

View all 582,305 comments

charlosfan Charles got tired of white girls and started dating Latinas 😂. Alexandra is half Mexican and Y/N is _____, he really does have a type. Y/N seems sweet though

user92 Y/N baby trapped him for sure, like what does she even do?

queenalex Charles and Alex seem so happy with Y/N,

user19 Y/N is only with them for money

xoxolando doesn’t anyone find it weird that Y/N started dating them AFTER Charles and Alex got together? Like “oh he’s dating my best friend, I want to date him too”

user23 yes!! What is up with that?

heartf1 Y/N seems super messy imo

Liked by 1,029,483 users

f1wags Y/N M/N L/N was born in 2002, making her younger than Alexandra. Y/N is actually a singer signed with RCA Records

user59 say what you want about Y/N but that outfit ATE

kikafan25 she must not be a successful singer because I have never heard any of her songs.

user54 you’ve heard her songs. All those dilf edits to “a mi me gustan mayores”, that’s Y/N’s song

y/nbae she is so pretty! I love her music and now she’s going to be a mom, I’m happy for her

2 days after Charles posted, Y/N was washing dishes when she received a phone call from her mom.

“Hola mami, qué pasó?” Y/N asked.

“Como que ‘que pasó’, tu papá y yo nos enteramos por Despierta America que estás de novia con el piloto ese de fórmula uno y la otra niña, y encima de eso, estás embarazada. La relación va en serio? Sabes que ese muchacho cambia de novia cada 3 años, por dios. Y el bebé? Sigues siendo muy niña para criar a un bebé, por qué no usaste protección? No te eduqué para que salieras embarazada antes del matrimonio. Ni siquiera conozco esos dos, y te va a pedir matrimonio el Chuck ese?” Her mom lectured her. What do you mean ‘what happened’, your dad and I found out on Wake Up America that you are dating that F1 driver and the other girl, and on top of that, you’re pregnant. Is this relationship serious? You know that boy gets a new girlfriend every three year, for god’s sake. And the baby? You are too young to raise a baby, why didn’t you use production? I did not raise you to get pregnant before marriage. I don’t even know those two and is this Chuck guy going to propose?

“Mami, no quería que esto pasara, tuvimos cuidado, te lo juro.” Y/N said. “Estas cosas pasan, lo siento mucho, de verdad.” I didn’t want this to happen, we were careful, I swear. These things just happen, I’m sorry, really

“Bueno, está bien, pero habla con tu papá que él está más enojado que yo, te hablo luego, bye,” Y/N’s mom hung up, Y/N sighed and continued to wash dishes until she felt someone hug her from behind, placing a kiss on her shoulder. Okay, it’s fine, but talk to your dad, he’s angrier than I am, I’ll talk to you later

“Mi reina, of you keep doing that, I’m not going to finish the dishes,” Y/N said. Alexandra turned her around and kissed her lips.

“Then rest, ma papillon, you’re pregnant, you shouldn’t be doing dishes.” Alexandra said, leading her to the couch.

“Have you seen Instagram lately? Everyone’s been talking about me.” Y/N said,

“Yeah, everyone was talking about me too when I first dated Charles. It comes with the territory I guess. We should go shopping!” Alexandra said.

“For what? We won’t know the baby’s gender until it’s 4 or 5 months old. Wait, google it to make sure.” Y/N said. Alexandra pulled out her phone,

“It says 18 to 22 weeks.” Alexandra said.

“Eh, I was close. So what are we going to shop for?” Y/N asked.

“For you! Now that people know we are dating, you get to come with us to events! So we need fancy maternity clothes, cocktail dresses, shoes, purses, this is going to be perfect.” Alexandra said,

On the other hand, Charles was getting calls from other drivers left and right so he decided to have Max, Lando, George, Lewis, Daniel and Alex over at his apartment.

“I ordered pizza, there are drinks in the fridge, I will answer all the questions you have about my relationship.” Charles states, putting Leo on the ground so he could roam around

“So Y/N and Alexandra are together?” Lando asked.

Yes.” Charles answered.

“But you are also together with them?” Lando followed up,

“Yes, that is how a polyamorous relationship works, mate.” Charles said.

“How did you decide to have Y/N join?” Max asked.

“Alexandra and I were dating for a while, sometimes Alexandra would invite Y/N if we were shopping or going out to eat. Sometimes I would be left alone with Y/N and we would hit it off so well, I felt the same thing for her as I felt for Alexandra. One night Alexandra told me the reason why she kept inviting Y/N was because she had a crush on her and I confessed the same to Alexandra. So one day all three of us went to the movies, we told Y/N our feelings, Y/N took time to think about it, and when she said she had feelings for us too, we started taking it slow.” Charles said.

“So the relationship is all about love and not wanting to spice up the relationship?” Daniel asked.

“Nope, all love.” Charles answered.

“Do you even know Y/N’s parents?” Alex asked.

“I do not, they love back in New York.” Charles said.

“Do you think you’re going to marry Y/N and Alexandra and have a polyamorous marriage?” George asked,

“I would like to in the future, I love both of them so much, I have never felt so strongly about anyone.” Charles said.

“For ultrasound appointments, will both of you go with her?” Lewis asked.

“Yes, both of us will go with Y/N, it is more likely that Alexandra goes if the appointment falls on a Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday during race week.” Charles answered.

“So if Alexandra is doing something, and it’s only you and Y/N, that’s okay?” Lando asked.

“Yes, it’s okay if I’m just with Y/N. It’s okay if I’m just with Alexandra, and it’s okay if it’s just Alexandra and Y/N, it’s alright. Since Alexandra is still studying art history, Y/N is a singer, she is able to with me a lot more and now she Can because our relationship is public.” Charles said.

“Until she hits the 3rd trimester.” Max stated.

“Anyway, our relationship is healthy, we love each other very much.” Charles said, the doorbell rang. “Must be the pizza.”

Charles was glad that his colleagues understood his relationship and didn’t make any crude remarks. He would have to talk to Pierre whenever he goes to Maranello. For the most part, the internet’s reaction was more positive than negative and that makes Charles more than happy.

The End

Hope y’all liked this installment, I am also working on more installments of Meet and Greet if you wanted more of Charles, Y/N, and Vidia

[missmimii]

𖤐 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 - 𝐌 ~ 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which Matt convinces his girlfriend to film a video in a haunted house, the fearful events taking a turn for the better once he gives her the perfect distraction to keep her fright at bay.

✰-

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, dom!matt, fem!reader, smut, f!oral receiving (Matt the munch forever), language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, light, light degradation, pet names, teasing, light fluff

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!

♡︎－ 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ * This is probably the first time I’ve written detailed smut, so let me know how I did/how I can improve! Ily guys so much, and I appreciate the recent support. It’s surreal ❤︎︎

୨ৎ － 𝐰𝐜 - 𝟕.𝟒𝐤

Starting on the current day going forward, Y/n made a promise to herself to never agree to be in a video with Matt ever again. Granted- she should’ve known he was up to no good when he offered his affection as a payment, but it was Matt.

The same Matt whose bribe seemed oddly similar to the many occasions he’d want to cling onto the girls side, press his face in the crook of her neck as he whispered all of the sinful things he thought of the beautiful girl. So when he said he’d fuck her till she saw stars, purely just for her appearance in a video, she thought nothing of it.

Because he loved his girlfriend.

Y/n was used to being in the triplets content regularly, which was given, seeing as she was the triplet’s girlfriend. Other than the odd occasions where she’d take a beat to focus on her own life as well as her personal career.

Said videos usually consisted of the four doing small activities that they knew the girl enjoyed. Q&A’s, because as much as she denied the accusations (she was fond of saying silly little facts about herself). Or something as simple as vlogging themselves shopping at thrift stores, a side hobby of the girls, that may have been a slight problem.

Just something to show off his gratitude and love for his girlfriend, showed the people watching that the angel was in fact, a very important piece in the scrambled puzzle of his life.

And though he loved his brothers, he couldn’t deny that one of the main reasons her got up every day, and stayed consistent with filming content, was because of the girl. He wanted to make her proud of his work, his job being the third on his lists of his best accomplishments.

𝟏－Nick & Chris

𝟐－Y/n (and how he managed to bag such a perfect, beautiful girl)

𝟑－His career

But because their content was usual tame and collected, random vlogs, that always consisted of activities that never were considered strange, Y/n immediately agreed to make an appearance in there latest video. Matt, on the other hand, inwardly cringed to himself at her lack of hesitation.

Was he lying to her? Not exactly. But was he avoiding telling her the full truth? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Small tea lights surrounded the group, as well as the blue rope that was laid out on the unstable floorboards beneath. Y/n felt her heart skip a beat whenever she heard a creak, forgetting that it was the century old flooring.

I can’t believe he talked me into this.

Because the girl was away for work for days on end, weeks- even, she didn’t hear everything about what happened back in LA in her absence. Of course they’d FaceTime as much as possible, but he as always to damn distracted, watching her.

Matt would watch her plump lips speak at a perfect pace through the camera, biting on the edge of his thumb as he wondered how amazing they’d feel against his own lips. She’s so fucking beautiful. Miss’ her so much. I wonder how it’d feel to be inside her right in this very moment.

And in result of his overwhelming thoughts of her, the reoccurring subject during these late night calls would also be her. Matt always missed her. Missed her touch, her voice, her perfect nails that would lightly scratch against his back as she lulled him to sleep at night, his head gently placed between her plush breasts.

Apparently (according to the man himself) Matt found himself missing the girl so much, that as he babbled on and on about how much he needed her, wanted her, and could practically feeling his cock being squeezed by the walls of her pussy, he might’ve forgot to mention that Nick had set up a collab with the two ghost hunters.

Y/n stared down at the illuminated rope that was weaved around the large group, flashes of blue and red intermittently sparking along the rope. An EMF cord. She was quite literally, being surrounded by hundreds of entities.

Lord please help me.

The girl flinched a bit as she felt a hand being pressed on the small of her back, immediately thinking ghost. “Woah.” Matt chuckled, looking down at the distressed girl as she blew out a soft gasp. “You alright?” The triplet tilted his head, running his hand comfortingly down her back.

Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, silently shaking her head while simultaneously reaching out for his hand. Matt’s eyebrows drew together with worry, but didn’t hesitate before taking in her smaller, trembling one into his large hand. “Say the word and the video is scrapped.” She immediately shook her head.

“No- you’ve been looking forward for this for a while now.” Matt felt his stomach swoop with guilt, watching his beautiful girl run a distressed hand through the tendrils of her hair. “And Nick.” He rose a brow at the mention of triplet. “He hasn’t shut up about the stupid- ETES test, for weeks.” She stressed out.

Matt softly chuckled, sliding the hand that rest on her back to gently grip her waist. “I don’t care what Nick wants. The kids spoiled.” Y/n rolled her eyes at the childish remark, but felt her lips tip upward at the corners. “I care that you’re okay, baby.” His other hand cupped her cheek, soothingly running the pad of his thumb over the scar nearing the corner of her eye.

Matt watched in adoration as the girls eyelashes fluttered against her pink cheeks, batting them unintentionally as she peered up at him with that expression he could never get enough of. “I’ll be okay. I’m just being a big baby.” Y/n grumbled the last part in a soft voice, not even wanting the words to leave her mouth.

His lips fell into a smirk as he hummed, the thumb that rest against her cheek sliding down the dewy skin of her jaw and seductively smoothing over the plumpness of her bottom lip. “That’s because you are one.” Y/n’s frown deepened, as well as a redness illuminating against her cheeks.

Matt grunted at the sight, watching a stain of pink smudge against his thumb while it slid from her lips. “Cut it out.” He murmured, running his tongue along his bottom lip as he leered down at the girl with a dark expression. Y/n lifted an eyebrow, maybe with a slight attitude. “The pout.” Matt added.

Oh. The girl couldn’t help herself, a grin beaming across her pink lips as she cocked her head up at him. “And why’s that?” Y/n inquired, the false innocence apparent to the triplet, being fully aware of her games.

Matt felt his tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he looked down at the nymph, feeling himself aching below through carpenter jeans he wore regularly. “Why?” He repeated, giving the girl a final chance to correct whatever little attitude she was about to cop.

Y/n hummed, zero hesitation as she placed a hand on his chest and drug the sharp ends of her nails along the thin fabric of his graphic tee. “Mhm..” His breath got caught in his throat as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, before forcing them into a small pout. “Is it because you don’t like to see me sad?” Fuck it.

The girl immediately yelped as she was being tugged forward, the hand of his that once rested gently against her waist, now used as leverage to bring her closer. “Sad, huh?” Chills went up at her arms, Matt’s breath feathering against the shell of her ear as he brought her into the warmth of his body. “If you keep up that little look, you’ll see just how fuckin’ hard you being ‘sad’ gets me.” He gritted against her ear.

All the girl could do was stand there, mouth gaping as she took in his words. Swallowing the lump she felt in her throat, she flicked her gaze away. “Looking forward to it.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes.

The remark wasn’t intended for his ears, fully. A sick part in the girl wanted him to hear the snarky tone, but the other, sane half, knew it was possibly the worst time to rile the man up. And if there was one thing that Y/n knew for sure, it was that Matt wouldn’t respond positively.

And he didn’t.

She got exactly one step away from him before she felt a hand gripping her wrist, chills going up her arms at the contact. “Repeat that.” Y/n felt the racing of the triplets heart as he tugged her closer, the girls back brushing against his chest.

The girl opened and closed her mouth, scrambling for a reply, or rather a lie. “I-” She practically whined as he hummed against her neck, knowing that it was a warning. “You didn’t let me finish my sentence!” The girl rushed out, spinning around to face the boy.

He lifted a brow, urging her to continue as she fiddled with the hem of his T-shirt. “I said.. looking’ forward to doing the ETES test.” She rushed out, sending him a sheepish smile.

Matt looked at her for a solid seven seconds, before his lips broke out into a smile. He just couldn’t help it. She looked as angelic as always, the flyaway hairs framing her adorable expressionisms perfectly. Matt found himself amused by her bratty approach, and though his hand did itch to slap that beautiful ass of hers, he knew to tread lightly when she was sensitive in situations like now.

“Mhm.” He shook his head a bit, rolling his eyes as he forced the smile from his lips. “Careful, kid.” Y/n, being unable to help herself, reached up and pinched his one cheek with a soft giggle. “Saw that. You aren’t slick, buddy.” The girl teased on, still giggling at his past reaction to her brattiness.

Men were too easy.

“Stop flirting with each other and get the fuck over here, you two!”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, the momentary distraction Matt had offered her now long vanished at the sound of the youngest triplets shout. A searing light blared into the couples eye as they turned back to the group. “Jesus, Chris.” Matt hissed, using his one hand to cover his own eyes, the reaching out to guard the girls. “Put the fucking flashlight down, dummy.”

Chris being Chris, pointed at his brother and laughed, simultaneously waving the light in front of his face. “Chris,” Another voice chimed in, the black light being snatched from his hand. Nick glared as he stood aside the younger triplet, using the handle end of the flashlight to poke his side. “Stop be a fucking child.” He hissed.

Chris yelped, jumping away from the contact. “Ouchh.” All three of them, Y/n Matt and Nick, watched as the childish male hunched over while holding his side. “I’m actually burning all of your shit, Nick.” He continued to overexaggerate his pain, before abruptly reaching out to slap the eldest twin.

Matt rolled his eyes, already seeing the fight that was to break out before it even began. Wrapping two arms around her from behind, he tugged Y/n back into his chest while taking a step back from the two. Y/n stumbled backward, lips parting as she fell into the warmth of his chest with a small umph.

Her arms were comfortingly trapped beneath the boy’s tattooed ones as he leaned his head down to her ear. “You staying’ at my house tonight?” He mumbled against her jaw, the bridge of his nose brushing along her cheek as he placed a soft peck just below her ear.

She giggled at the contact, shifting a bit in his hold. “I don’t think I could even fathom sleeping alone after this.” He hummed, placing another light kiss on the area.

“After what? This, or the ghosts?” Chills went up her arms as he whispered the words against her face, the warmth of his breath grazing the curve of her jaw sensually. “Would you be shifting in bed, chills like this,” He ran his thumb along her arm, making a whimper emit from her lips. “-all up every inch of your body, because of how much you needed me? Or will it be the nightmares?” He murmured.

Y/n was basically panting as he finally ended his sentence, a bead of sweat slowly sliding down the span of her back, just between her trapezius. “… maybe a little bit of both.” She whispered softly, the words hitting Matthew’s ears like a velvety melody.

As if there were a record player in the man’s head, the vinyl that was Y/n’s voice played on repeat in his mind, resulting in the desperate aching sensation he felt growing in his jeans. “Fuck.” Matt cursed himself, momentarily looking heavenward.

“Who’s ready for the test?”

All heads turn at the sound of a voice that may have been a touch too enthusiastic for the current events. The two friends, Sam and Colby standing side by side, both grinning ear to ear. Y/n shook her head incredulously. Who was I to judge their weird little hobbies.

Nicks hand flew up, making the girl giggle softly. “I’m so fucking ready.” Chris nodded in agreement, both boys having already decided they’d go first for the test. Matt was hesitant at the beginning, not because he was scared, but because he didn’t want to say anything that may have freaked the girl out.

His upmost priority was keeping her calm, and so far his attempts hadn’t failed. “What about you two?” Colby pointed his index fringe in between the couple, lifting a brow. Matt slowly looked down, seeing the girls face absolutely terrified.

She was quite literally froze with fear, gaping at the dark haired male with wide eyes. “Like-now?” Y/n stumbled with her words, hands wringing together anxiously.

Colby nodded nonchalantly. “After these two, yeah.” He mumbled, fumbling with the camera before flicking his gaze back to the girl. “Only if you feel comfortable with it.” The male added quickly, noticing the slight warning look Matt was throwing his way.

The girl averted her gaze downward, her breathing having picked up rapidly in pace. She couldn’t- she wouldn’t. Matt suddenly adjusted the gentle hold he had on her, nudging around so she faced him. “Hey,” She shook her head. “Look at me.” Matt reached out, tipping her chin upward.

Y/n blinked up at the blue eyed boy, fighting back the tears of frustration as she gazed up at him. “I really don’t want to.” He immediately nodded, using his thumb to effortlessly brush away the one lone tear that had fallen. “And you don’t have to, yeah?” She sniffed a bit, shutting her eyes for a brief pause.

She was that friend.

She felt like one of those kids who dipped their feet in the pool instead of swimming because they couldn’t. “… I’ll do it if you do it with me.” She blurted out, her hands balling into fists.

Matt’s eyes widened at his girlfriend’s sudden change in attitude. “You want to do it?” She nodded, making the triplets face churn with even more confusion. “You- you want to do the ETES test? Talk to ghosts-” The more he went on, the more frightened she became, but he couldn’t help it.

What the fuck had gotten into his girlfriend?

Y/n groaned and softly shoved his chest. “Stop talking about it!” She whispered hissed, making him immediately halt his ranting. Matt blew out a breath, scratching the back of his head as he looked down at the girl. “Okay.” He nodded.

Her eyebrows flew up. “Just ‘okay’? Not, ‘okay I’ll do it with you’ or oka-” She was cut off from her rambling as set of lips were placed against hers, immediately resulting in her emitting a soft. She felt her entire body drop as the weight fell from her shoulders, Matt’s perfectly soft lips moulding against hers passionately.

The triplet let his eyes lull shut as he pressed himself closer into the girls body, both hands cupping her flushed cheeks as he smiled into the kiss. “Yes,” The boy muttered into between kisses. “I’ll do it with you, baby.” He chuckled, placing soft pecks around her mouth and jaw.

The girls nose scrunched at the ticklish sensation, giggling as she pushed her hands against the triplet’s chests. “Matt!” She exclaimed in an undertone, still laughing as she attempted to shove him away. “Cut it out.” The male shook his head, lightly nipping at her cheek.

“Can’t help it.” His speech came out slurred with his lips pressed against the soft skin of her cheek. “You look so fucking good with in this jacket- and that fuckin’ top.” Matt practically whined against her jaw, thumbing over the opening of her cropped shirt.

Maybe ghosts weren’t too scary …

✰-

“Holy fuck, man.”

Chris practically trampled through the closest door, slamming the door on Nicks face as he tore the merlot fabric from his eyes. “Those ghosts almost talk more than Nick.” He snickered, wincing as Nick pinched his side. “Kidding.” He grumbled.

Y/n watched as the door creaked open, the dusty sofa sitting inside awaiting the couple. I can’t believe I was doing this. Matt held both pieces of red fabric, feeling himself even slightly uneasy as he looked in the meekly lit room.

Dread. The girl was dreading the second her bottom landed on the leather sofa, and she was just about prepared to do anything to prolong it. Y/n felt her palms dampen with sweat, her hand twitching at the urge to reach out and grip Matt’s sleeve.

He’s right beside me- I’ll be fine.

The triplet beat her to it though, seeing her overwhelmed state as she shrunk into her own body, prompting him to reach out and grab her trembling hand. Her head snapped in his direction, finding the males eyes already on hers. “Good?” He asked, raising a brow.

Butterflies pressed against her stomach as her dilated pupils gazed into his blue eyes, feeling the world around her spin at the look that illuminated from his eyes. How could one look hold so much … love?

She blinked twice, shaking herself from whatever trance she was in. “Yes- yeah.” The girl uttered, looking down at their intertwined hands as she fiddled with the ring woven around his index finger. “Are you?” She murmured.

The corners of Matt’s mouth turned up at the inquiry. “Yeah.. m’fine doll.” Seeing her meek nod, he softly chuckled. “Are you sure?”

Y/n nipped at her bottom lip, flicking her eyes back up to the triplet’s. “Mhm.” At her nod, Matt offered one of his own.

It was on the tip of her tongue, she just had to say the word and he’d happily lift the girl into his arms, and walk out of the dump of house. The content mine as well have been nothing to him if his girl wasn’t okay the entire time.

“Here,” The male mumbled, the girl freezing with confusion. “Turn around for me sweetheart.” Her lips formed an ‘O’, and she turned her back to him. Matt carefully brushed away the few strands of hair that framed her face, making sure that none of them got caught as he gently tied the red fabric over her eyes.

Y/n sucked in a breath, her vision going black as she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms. “Atta’ girl.” She heard him murmur by her ear, before her nose crinkled as he pressed a harsh kiss on the side of her head.

“Matt.” She hushed, chuckling as she dodged his wandering touch. The tips of his fingers thumbed against the fabric, double checking that she in fact, could not see.

Something sinister ignited in the triplet as soon as her ability of seeing was enabled, a smirk cursing his lips. Touch would be so … sensational. She’d never know where his hand would glide off to next. Feeling her breath get caught in her throat, Y/n froze as she felt Matt brush his hand against bare skin of her abdomen. “Matt?” She whispered softly.

…

The girl was met with silence, resulting in a wave of confusion rolling over her body. Along with a spark set off in her core as she felt that same hand began to toy with the button of her jean shorts. A breath was sucked in as headphones were placed atop her head, the muffled sound of her own heart becoming the only thing she could hear.

Boom boom boom

The muffled sound of people talking was drowned out as the girls heart beat through her ears, Matthew’s feathering touch grazing her lower stomach. The boy bit down on his bottom lip as he watched his own fingers just barley pop the button her shorts open, the heat igniting within his body killing him.

God I need her.

Anger consumed his mood as he managed to pry his touch from the girls soft skin, knowing that the group was waiting for him to get on with the damn test. Jaw clenching as he snuggly knotted the fabric over his eyes, now unable to see the unworldly woman right in front of him.

“You guys all set?” Sam exclaimed, his voice coming off far too enthusiastic. Matt nodded stiffly, as did the girl.

Matt guided his hand lower, gently wrapping his larger one around the girls. “Feel for the door, hm?” He breathed against her ear, keeping his body close to hers as they walk forward. Y/n sucked in a breath, feeling the obvious hardness that pressed into her backside. “Kay’.” She murmured.

The triplet felt his lips tip up, rubbing the pad of this thumb against her wrist as they continued to move close to the door. Both of their steps came to a halt as Y/n’s hand brushed the corner of the door, using her hand to shove it open so they could enter. “Good luck you two!” Colby yelled, chuckling as he said something to the camera afterwards.

Good luck indeed.

A cold chill ran up the girls back, blowing out a breath as kept the urge to wrap her arms around herself. “It’s so cold.” She mumbled, her own voice muffled to the triplets ears. The room was pitch black other than the few tea candles, not that either parties would know due to the bonding around their eyes.

Unexpectedly, the feeling of dread that she assumed would stem from hearing ghosts, wasn’t what had her shaking. It was the overwhelming presence of her boyfriend, she could practically feel him breathing down her neck from several steps away.

But how could he help it? Matt leaned back against the wall, heart pattering painfully as he reached down to palm the raging erection that was now prominent through his pants. Fuck- how was I supposed to focus on ghosts when I was this fucked up? His head tipped against the hard brick wall, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he resisted the urge to fist his cock.

The room was freezing, sending the hairs on his arms straight up as he fought his inner turmoil. Fuck it. Within seconds he was ripping the headset from his head, the thin fabric covering his eyes flowing to the floor immediately after.

Y/n stood in the same place as before, nipping at the skin around her thumb as she awaited .. anything. A whisper, a random breeze, words, anything that indicated something paranormal. Minutes after minutes went by, before she sucked in an abrupt breath.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt a gust of air graze from behind her, before vanishing within mere seconds. It was as if a spider had crawled past her, the fight or flight instincts fully in activation. That was before a low voice was spoken through the speaker of the headphones, making her flinch.

Behind you.

Y/n froze in fear, shaking violently as she fought back tears. “Matt?” Her voice came out wobbly, cracking nearing the end of her sentence. Even if he had replied, she wouldn’t have been able to hear due to the headphones.

Matt watched as the girl froze, lips curving into a smirk as he stalked forward. His poor baby, he cooed to himself, finally using his one hand to girl the side of her waist from behind. “Shh..” He quieted the timid girl as she lurched forward, obviously not expecting the touch.

Y/n felt her shoulders tense, her blood running cold as a hand squeezed her waist. It was Matt- it had to be. The sane part of her knew it was him, but the other told her it was an entity. This fear only multiplied by ten as another hand reached out from behind her, slim fingers dragging across her trachea.

Matt bit down on his lip as he felt the girls body shake against his, his fingers fiddling with the locket around her neck. He couldn’t help but reminisce the memories of the night he’d gifted to her, the events feeling oddly recent. It was their two year anniversary, and also the week before her birthday.

He wanted the girl to feel special, for her to know that she was everything he could ever dream for. It was a small butterfly locket that embroidered her birthstone right in the middle, the jewel glimmering against her untainted skin during any given moment of the day.

He quickly came to realize his love the necklace that same night. As the girl straddled his lap in the seat of his car, the small charm dangling down against his neck as she tightened herself around his cock, riding him like her life depended on it.

She practically went limp in his lap, her chest falling against his as she breathlessly moaned next to his ear. He locked away the lewd sounds in the back of his brain, seeing as it was odd that she was overly expressive in bed. He always knew she felt good as her hands gripped the sheets, or went he felt his dick being practically suffocated by the walls of her pussy as she clamped around him.

Matt let the thoughts cloud his mind, the desperation of needing her becoming overwhelming. “Fuck.” He whispered to himself, the hand that brushed against her neck flattening against the surface, entrapping the sides of her neck in his strong hand.

Almost immediately after, a whimper came from the girls lips. “Matt?” Yes. He wanted to say it so fucking bad. Hold the girl to his chest as he assured her it was him who had gotten ahold of her. But something.. portentous came over him.

The triplet felt the girls pulse thrum in his hold, a sadistic feeling setting in his heart. Something told him to slam her against the side of the wall, to fill her up so good with his cock, proving that he was the only person capable of making her feel so good, her eyes rolling back into her skull as she realized it was him.

He blew out a breath, shakily removing the headphones from atop her head, tossing them off to the couch. “Baby..” Y/n’s shoulders fell with relief, breathing out a deep sigh as she recognized the voice to be her boyfriends. Though, at the exact moment of relief, her stomach tightened at the tone of voice she knew all too well.

The same husky octave his voice dropped to whenever he got himself worked up, slowly drifting off into a whiny one as he begged to be inside her. “Stop fucking with me, Matt.” The girl finally managed to hiss out, shifting in his hold.

He groaned as her ass dug into the tent in his jeans, still fighting against his hold. “Cut it out.” He snapped, squeezing the outside of her neck lightly, the gesture a clear warning. Y/n rolled her eyes, anger consuming her.

“You scared the hell out of me.” Matt chuckled a bit, hearing the whine in her voice as she spoke. “You know I’m not good with all of this, be gentle.” She murmured.

His heart swooped a bit as he hummed, placing a peck on the back of her head. “Gentle, hm?” The girl bobbed her head, still experiencing the aftershocks of the momentary fear she’d experienced. “I’ll be so fuckin’ gentle with you, doll.” He whispered against the shell of her ears, making her shiver.

Her hand instinctively reached around to unbind the tie around her eyes, the motion being halted as a larger one caught her hand. “Leave it.” Matt muttered, the girl slowly lowering her hand to her side as she hearted the warning in his tone.

What the fuck had gotten into him?

The hand that was on her waist slowly trailed down her side, sensually grazing her hip dip before his fingers began to toy with her shorts button. “These are adorable, baby.” Matt murmured as he looked down at his own movements, feeling lost in his own thoughts.

He’d been thinking it all night. The girl looked too fuckable. Even if it wasn’t purposeful, her every move had the triplet leaning on a wall as he begged his body to not react the ways it begged for. Sam had even stopped him at one point during the night, placing a hand in his shoulders as he gave his friend a look of concern.

“You alright man?” He’d inquiry.

Matt could only offer a dry nod as he leaned off of the wall, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he did his best to adjust his raging hard on without the rest of the group noticing.

Y/n’s breath hitched as the ends of two of the males fingers slowly dipped down the hem of her shorts, the material scraping against her thighs that were painfully clamped together, her body now reaching to much more sensitively with his touch. “Matt,” The girl whispered. “Your brothers are literally right outside.” She hissed.

He hummed, chuckling as he heard the girl whimper when she felt his fingers scrape along the lace of her undergarment. “Guess you’ll have to be quiet then, huh?” Much to her dismay, Matt’s hand withdrew itself from her small shorts.

A sense of relief filled her simultaneously, knowing that she wouldn’t have to force herself to stay silent if he really had decided to go further, but with that came the frustration end. Matt had been fucking with her all night, nothing short of grabbing her ass whenever she bent over to arranged the EMF cord, or whispering sinful things into her ear.

Shocked, a yelp escaped her mouth as she was suddenly being lifted from her feet, two hands snuggly wrapped around her lower waist from behind. “What-” She cut herself off, jaw going ajar as Matt spun her around, the two hands slipping down and cupping the undersides of her thighs. “What’re doing?!” She whispered.

The look of absolute horror on her face made Matt’s eyes twinkle with love, being completely immersed in her every expression. “Giving the ghosts a show.” He whispered, a smile creeping on his lips as he watched her pupils dilate.

She felt her back press against the cold stone wall, her oversized leather jacket scraping against the rock as he adjusted her body against the surface. The girls legs instinctively wrapped themselves around the males sides, her bottom landing on his thigh as he pressed knee against the wall as a makeshift seat.

“Like’ my pretty little trophy.” She felt the blindfold feather down from her eyes, gazing down at him with a heavy stare as he inhaled deeply, chest heaving. Both of his hands rested on her hips, molding around the area as he guided her lower half closer.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, fighting back the moan that threatened to bubble up as her core ignited with a burst of arousal, the hardness of his thigh pressing into her heat. “Fuck- Matt.” She gasped out, sending him a glare.

His blue eyes flicked up to hers, a smirk crossing his plump, a small pop sound registering in the girls ear as she looked down. Matt effortlessly undid the button of her shorts, following the action with tugging the denim down her smooth thighs. “Say the word.” Matt’s tongue twinge the inside of his cheek as he pulled the shorts down her thighs, stopping mid way to look up into her eyes.

He waited, and waited, just for her to tell him to stop. But he was met with silence. That was until two hands were gripping the neckline of the triplets shirt, pulling him closer into the warmth of her body. “Just- do something.” She finally managed out, a whine drawing out at the end of her plea.

Matthew immediately began to slip her bottoms off, chuckling huskily as he shook his head. “Such a little brat.” She leaned her weight on the surface of his muscular thigh, lifting her hips for easier access as Matt tugged the denim the rest of the way down, the shorts slipping down and hooking around her one ankle.

The male didn’t move with haste, taking his sweet time to lower himself to his knees, carefully lifting and placing the girls legs around his broad shoulders. Matt’s hands softly pry her thighs apart, littering small pecks to the inside of the dewy skin as he made his way through her two plush thighs.

One touch, one little graze of his lips against the lace of her faded pink underwear was all it took for her thighs to clamp around his head. With hooded eyes, he flicked his gaze up to the unknowing girl. “Baby,” Her head snapped down as she heard him tut, catching the look of his face. “Open your damn legs.” He muttered, hardening his gaze.

He didn’t have ask twice. “Atta’ girl.” He praised as her thighs parted, leaving the perfect amount of space for his head to slip between. Y/n assumed that the demand was finally going to result in her being touched. But much to her dismay, he continued to taunt her.

Whimpering as he nipped at her thigh, right next to where she needed him, she reached down and threaded a hand through his tousled hair. “Don’t give me that half assed shit.’ She whined, gritting her teeth a bit as the sexual frustration grew.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, his fingertips teasing the hem lace of her underwear.

He leisurely slid the itchy material down her thighs, biting down on his bottom lip as he caught sight of her glistening core. “All for me. huh, baby?” Y/n nodded with a small hum, chest heaving as she peered down at him, Matt’s perfect lips pursing as he blew a cold stream of air onto the sensitive skin of her pussy.

“Matt.” His one hand that gripped the underside of her thigh lightly squeezed the area. “I know baby, I know.” He murmured. Within seconds the frustration she felt had passed, as Matt’s lips began moving against her lower ones. “Fuck.” She moaned breathily, her head falling back against the wall.

His tongue slipped between her slick folds, harshly lapping at her core as if he was savouring every inch of her. “So fuckin’ good.” He moaned softly against her.

Her eyes that had lulled shut with pleasure, slowly pulled open at the sound of Matt’s small whisper. “Huh?” She reached her hand down, running her fingers through his brunette hair before gently tugging his head up.

“What’d you say?” Y/n patted his cheek lightly, trying to snap him out of whatever hazy high he’d put himself in. As more wetness trickled down the insides of her thighs, Matt’s eyes had visibly blurred over, pupils dilated as he looked up at his girlfriend with need. “S’just so good.” The boy panted out.

Eyebrows knitting together, and lips parting as she went to reply. “Jesus!” It was replaced with a choked moan, her head thrown back in pleasure while Matt’s tongue reconnected with her heat, dragging a long stripe up her core. He felt her pulse against his tastebuds, locking the sounds she made every time he’d nudge her clit.

The triplet’s mind was utterly corrupted by the girl. Y/n this, Y/n that, god Y/n tasted so good, I wonder what Y/n would feel like- his thought process was entirely fucked. Leading to the current, the tip of his nose grazing her clit as he buried his face into her throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” He moaned with a slight slur, both hands down gripping each sides of her thighs.

Y/n’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth ajar as she wondered what had gotten into her once tame and collected boyfriend. “Matt,” She’d whimper out every few seconds, the light melodic rhythm of her voice going completely deaf to the man’s ears, as he desperately lapped at her sopping heat.

It was only until he felt the girls thighs begin to clamp around his head that he was brought from his foggy mindset, hooded eyes dragging up to the breathless girl while removing his mouth from her pulsing core. “sweetheart,” he panted, running his ring clad hand down his jaw. “Don’t get me wrong, I fuckin’ love it,” He chuckled, making her roll her eyes with a small whimper.

“But I can’t really fuck you with my tongue, if you’re doing that.” She blew out a small sound of confusion, before spotting the pink area or skin behind his both ears, his diamond studs having pressed down against the skin whenever she’d clamp her thighs around his ears. “Can I?” He mumbled, lifting a brow.

She nodded pitifully, gripping his hair in her small hand ushering his face back to her drenched core. “Mhm.” Matt huffed out a sound of amusement, but like the gentleman he was, continued to guide the girl to her release. “Yess.” The hand in his hair gripped the tendrils harshly, pulling him closer into her as he swirled his tongue around the bundle of need.

He couldn’t help but glide his own hand downward, lightly palming over the obvious tent in his jeans. Matt neglected his aching cock for the extended period of time, ever since he saw her in that sexy little get up. Or when she’d accidentally brush her ass against his dick when she flailed backward into his body when frightened.

It wasn’t because he hadn’t felt the need to though. Not at all. In fact, he’d fought and resisted the temptation of slipping his hand into his jeans, fisting the aching hard on he sported just by the mere sight of Y/n. Or to grab the girl, nudge her into a random haunted room, and to slam his cock into her the second he tugged the denim shorts down her thighs.

Then there was her.

Matt was simply content with mind-fucking the girl, taunting and teasing her throughout the sinister night. Her every tantalizing move alluring him further, making his eyes gleam with a darkness that begged to be released with a quick fuck.

And because it was an escape, a distraction, she didn’t mind. “Gonna’ cum.” Y/n gasped out, feeling his lips pepper wet pecks all around her beating heat, groaning as he placed a final one directly over her dripping core.

The girls hips moved against his working lips as she felt the ball in her abdomen begin to unravel, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth opened in a silent moan. Matt’s eyes slid up to her as she came, lips quirking up as he watched her shatter in his hands.

Back arching as she pushed her dripping pussy closer to his lips as he lapped up her release, the familiar taste touching his tongue with an addictive undertone. He couldn’t get enough, fighting the urge of his eyes rolling back as his hands roamed every inch of her soft skin.

Y/n whimpered softly, watching the magnifying boy place two last kisses on the inside of either thigh’s. “sorry.” She whispered, making Matt’s eyebrows raise with surprise. “Sorry? Sorry for what, baby?” He laughed a bit, running the back of his hand across his damp lips.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, turning her head away. “I don’t even know- it’s just embarrassing.” Matt scoffed, dragging her underwear and shorts up her thighs while raising from his haunches.

“Nothing you could ever say or do, would be ‘embarrassing’.” He said firmly, pulling her shorts over her supple ass. “always’ my perfect girl.” He murmured, pressing his index and middle finger into her cheek, tilting her hed his way again.

The girl blushed, nipping at her bottom lip as she shifted foot to foot. “Do you want me to..” she trailed off, nodding toward the tent in his pants. Matt rolled his eyes, running the hand down her hair as he pulled her closer. “So bad it fuckin’ aches for you.” He grunted.

She immediately reached down to tug at the button, her hand being caught by a larger one. “hey,” Matt chuckled, making her flick her gaze up to his. “I thought-” She squealed, taken aback as his lips pressed onto hers.

The hand atop her soft hair drifted down to cup the side of her neck, Matthew’s thumb rubbing back and forth across her steadily beating pulse. “but,” He whispered. “I would much rather have this little mouth,” He muttered in between kisses. “on my cock after I’ve gotten you all warm. Bathed, fed, and in some comfortable clothes.” he chuckled, his other thumb running along the underside of her bottom lip.

There noses brushed each others even after they pulled away, Matt looking to be pondering as he looked off. “Hm..” She rose a brow, a grin spreading cross her raw lips. “Preferably something of mine.” He said, flicking his gaze back to hers.

Y/n’s eyebrows rose, tilting her head aside as he smiled up at her boyfriend. “Yours, huh?” She mused, her grin growing at his firm nod. “What about that white fresh love-” She yelped as a hand collided with the skin of her thigh, winching as he rubbed over the now pink skin.

“Always a brat.” He murmured, a smirk growing on his lips as he watched her thighs squeeze together at the action. Little masochist. “Maybe the bath and change of clothes can wait..” Her eyes lit up, opening her mouth to retort brattily.

Bang!

“Holy fuck!” Y/n cried, gripping onto her boyfriend’s arm as a ringing noise echoed through the void room. Matt went still, but managed to breathily laugh while patting the girls head. “Kid- you’re fine-” He attempted to assure, but flinched and cursed himself when he heard glass shatter. “Jesus.” He muttered, eyes wide as he snapped his head behind him.

The door flew open, the silhouette of four men standing in the door way. “I’m dead- I’m dying tonight-” she rambled, shaking her head rapidly as she gripped onto Matt’s muscular forearm. Matt laughed through the fright, faltering from his stance above her. “No you’re not, doll.” He chuckled.

“Ouch!”

Matt winced, pulling his forearm away from the girl. “You pinched me.” He sounded betrayed, cradling his tattooed arm to his chest as he looked down at his fearful girlfriend.

“It’s because I love you.” She whined, a small cry at the end of her sentence as she heard a door creak. “And I’m sorry I never got to go down-”

“Boo!”

The couple screamed, Y/n throwing herself into Matt’s arms. Sam and Colby stood side by side, the blonde grinning ear to ear as he held up the medium sized camera. He looked enthralled, whereas the two looked petrified. “How’d it go?!” Nick, who stood not behind joyed.

Y/n’s shoulders fell seeing the friend she knew and trusted, but ran a hand down her face as it fell back on the wall. “Oh my god.” Matt threw his brothers a glare, hands trembling ever so slightly. “You scared the shit out of me, guys.” Y/n laughed.

Sam and Colby brought the camera a little closer, the couple squinting from the light. “How was it? Hear anything ghostly.” Colby mused, laughing a bit.

Matt and Y/n looked at each other, eyes wide. “Uh..” The girl snapped her head in the direction of the friends, rushing to find some kind of excuse- or lie. “Glass!” She exclaimed, making the group of four all look toward each other in confusion.

Matt felt himself confused as well. “Ow!” Y/n sent him a warning glance, slapping his shoulder. “Oh fuck- yeah, that.” Matt looked back at Colby. “Glass.. broke?” He said, looking back at his girlfriend for reassurance. She nodded in alliance. “Yep. Loud.” Matt nodded along.

Suddenly the couples current position registered to each other, as well as their friends. “So..” Y/n mumbled, lips drawing into a line as she slid down the wall and out from her boyfriend’s body. “Yep, it was very spooky.” Patting his chest once, Matt looked down at his girlfriend with a toothy smile.

God she was cute.

Nick made an expression of realization, face scrunching up as he faux gagged. “Geez, guys.” He groaned, rolling his eyes as he saw the discarded headsets and blindfolds. “That was me.” Matt and Y/n looked at each other, before looking back at the eldest triplet.

“.. I tripped over a lantern, okay?!” He confessed, a blush spreading across his cheeks from both embarrassed and having been exposed to whatever rendezvous his brother and girlfriend were having. “And I heard screaming, that definitely wasn’t out of fear- longgg before I did that-” He attempted to deflect.

Chris immediately cut him off. “Nick-nick. Shut the fuck up.” He hissed, nudging his side.

“Okay!” Sam interrupted, cheeks slightly red as he looked around at the group. “We’ve been filming for over two hours, which is more than enough. Anyone wanna’ catch dinner?” He put his hands together, grinning sheepishly.

Me and Matt stayed silent, Chris’s and Nick’s hands flying up simultaneously. “Me.” They both say, voice overlapping each others.

“Great!” Sam exclaimed, sending a quick smile our way.

As the group dispersed the room, Matt slowly let his head fall against Y/n’s chest, letting out a small whine. “Holy shit.” His voice came out muffled, lips mushed against her goosebump-ridden chest.

She patted his head a few times. “I know. I know.” Oh god, did she know.

୨ৎ 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 －

@tvdelrey @luverboychris

[cryptidghostgirl]

Lovely (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Description: Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

Warnings: Same angst, new target.

Word Count: 1,631

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N This fic is inspired by Spud Cannon's song Lovely. Also don't mind me and my silly little Latin obsessed brain (Lucifer translates to light bringer and is a combination of the latin verb ferre, to bring, and lux, light. I fuck around with that in this.)

That was what had drawn her to him first: the elegance. Lucifer was a graceful man, a beautiful man, a terribly sad person. In retrospect, that should have been Y/n's sign to take a step back but, it is always so difficult to find the right path in the moment. He had seemed so utterly heartbroken, because, as she now knew, he was so utterly heartbroken, and Y/n had thought: maybe I can help?

Her motivations had just been that at first, helping. It wasn't her fault that he was charming and funny and did things that made her want to be more than friends with him with such alarming regularity that it felt like her life was the worst rollercoaster at an amusement park. The one with eight billion sharp turns and uncomfortable seats that left rider's tailbones bruised. It was almost too much to bear.

Lucifer had heard rumors of the demon who had been gifted with the ability to alter people's memories. It had never been gossip that had interested him much until Lilith had left. Suddenly, his mind had felt like a curse. In the throws of despair, he had looked for her, hunted her down. It hadn't take long, he was Lucifer after all. When he was the one asking the questions, few dared to defy.

The shop was a hole in the wall, drenched in the smell of incense and covered in crystals and other odd objects of curiosity. Lucifer could've sworn he recognized the imp horns on the wall but, ignored it. He was there for a reason and asking questions like that were not the path to his end goal.

The demon herself, the famed mystery, was statuesque. She had sat her table in the back of the shop, draped in jewelry made of bones and gold. She had gifted him the first session free of charge.

In order to keep the pain at bay, Lucifer had been required to come to her shop at least once a month. Y/n was a comfort to him, he associated her with the feeling of relief. The two became fast friends.

"Light bringer." she would beckon him in with a smile, "Still counting those forget-me-nots?"

She spoke to him in Latin, in his first eternal language. She weaved images in the air with the smoke from her fires. She was amazing, a miracle worker. Lucifer was grateful for her, for her skill.

Y/n knew the truth behind it. She tried to ignore it, tried to still her raging heart. She knew it was doomed, had seen with her own eyes the way he was still so in love with someone else. Still, when he had asked her on that first date, a year into them knowing one another, she hadn't been able to bring herself to refuse. He had been so sweet, so earnest, so cheesy. He had asked her to be his and she had told him the truth: she already was.

It was a constant state of denial, one big, overwhelming lie she convinced herself was true. In the beginning, Lucifer had been a doting partner. He surprised her with flowers, he always tried to make her smile. It had all stopped the day she had told him she couldn't use her gift on him anymore.

"Why not?" he has asked, alarmed.

"Because, Ferende Lucem (man bringing light), it's not healthy. I can't make things go away forever, just hide them. You still need to deal with them eventually."

Y/n had thought it was time, had figured that two years of dating and three years of knowing one another would be enough. She had been wrong. Lucifer had ceased in his affections in all but name. No longer was she whisked away to the palace, no longer did she wake to one of his creations on her bedside table.

After about a month, she had decided to take things into her own hands. She refused to recede into the gaps he was creating, refused to just let this all go. Y/n loved him, truly. She wouldn't let the love die without a fight.

The palace guards knew her well, had let her in without question. After some searching, Y/n had found Lucifer locked away in his office. The place smelled of despair. He didn't turn from his empty desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Light Bringer." Y/n hummed softly, rapping a knuckle on the already open door, "Counting your forget-me-not's?"

She hadn't asked him that in years, not since before they had gotten together. He lifted his head from his hands, looking over his shoulder just the slightest bit.

"Malefica (witch)." he replied, his voice low and hollow.

Y/n smiled softly at the pet name and entered the room, letting the door stand open in her wake. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his tired shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Please." Lucifer's voice cracked, "Please take them from me. It's too much, they're too heavy."

Y/n didn't reply, simply nestling her chin into his hair.

"Y/n, please."

"You know I can't do that." she sighed, "It's not healthy."

"This is what is not healthy."

Y/n let go of him and turned his chair so they faced one another. She kneeled down on the ground before him, clasping his hands in her own. His eyes were ringed with red. In that moment, they weren't a fallen angel and a demon, they were just two people. Two people in love and two people housing broken hearts they lied to themselves to stitch back together.

"Lucifer." her eyes searched his face.

It was rare she called him by his true name. The gravity of the moment clung to their skin.

"Lucifer, what am I to you?"

He looked away. Y/n sighed, her heart cracking straight down the middle within the confines of her chest.

"Can I..." she cleared her throat, steeling her nerves, "Am I ever going to be what you're looking for?"

Lucifer's eyes snapped back to Y/n.

"You are what I'm looking for." he insisted, taking his trembling hands from hers and cupping them gently around her face, "You, Y/n, are my sweet little magician, my salve."

"My magic is, you mean."

Lucifer had always been a terrible liar. It was one of the things Y/n loved about him, the way the truth bubbled to the surface of his being. Right now, she wished he could be the best liar on the planet, the best in all of Hell. Right now, she wished she could've been born blind.

Y/n got to her feet, Lucifer's hands hanging in the air where they had held her last. There was no more running, no more hiding from the truth. This was the precipice, the breaking point, the fall.

"You're my salve." he repeated again, his voice soft and sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact as much as he was trying to get through to her.

"Don't lie to me." Y/n demanded, tears pressing behind her eyes, "Don't. Just... just don't."

Oh how she wished she could turn back time, set the clocks to zero.

"You never loved me, did you?"

The question hung unanswered in the air. Y/n had known it for a long time, had known it since the beginning to be perfectly honest but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She was dazed, spinning, out of control.

"You don't love me."

"I wish I could. I'm..."

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and holding back tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll see myself out, I guess."

She hoped he'd call out for her, run after her into the hallway, ask if they could try again could start over. Of course Lucifer did no such thing.

For all the things she had helped her clients forget over the years, Y/n understood them even more now than she ever had before. It was complicated. Now she was going to have to reshape her life. If she ever saw him in the street, it would be her duty to pretend she didn't know him. The memories spawned the terror of potential futures, dreams where things worked out, where everything was okay. They sent her mind reeling.

She had known, all along she had feared the worst and feared confirmation of her knowledge. That was the worst part, it hadn't even been a surprise. It had simply been just that, a confirmation of the truth.

The world caved in around her as she walked home, houses and shops and people all blurring together into something undistinguished and undefinable.

Lovely, that's what he was. In all his misfortune, in all his despair, in all his grace. Lovely but oh god, oh god he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted him to. Not the way she loved him.

Y/n pulled the curtains shut to her little shop, moving methodically and without thought. She sat down at the table in the back, before the pot of incense. She lit it.

Not once in all her years had she ever tried to do use her magic on herself. It seemed like a line in the sand, something utterly forbidden. Y/n shut her eyes.

When she reopened them, the world felt different. Time had passed, she could tell it had but her mind refused to give shape to the years.

"So this is what it must feel like." she mumbled aloud, noticing the remnants of her ritual spread out on the table before her, "I wonder what happened."

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Fish are friends (?). You are not food.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

The Siren wasn’t leaving.

Which a part of you had been expecting. Because surely if there had been a snowball’s chance in Hell of him making it out into the open ocean alive before you’d cut through the ropes, he would have taken it and left you stranded without a second thought. And his odds weren’t that much better now—his fins were still a mangled mess and the wounds all along his scales and dainty featherings were still raw and oozing. It only made sense that he’d take at least a few days to try and recover.

But… But still.

Did he have to make it so obvious that he was sticking around?

The glint of the light off his tail was a constant distraction—always bright and eye-catching even at the cloudiest points of the day. Always flashing just out of the corner of your eye as a perpetual reminder that there was something in the water that would very happily gobble you up if you bothered making a swim for safety.

He’d also taken to sunning himself. Like some kind of overgrown mer-cat. Stretched out languidly on a flat rock with the tips of his violet fins hanging over the edge—just enough for the gauzy edges to play along the surf and avoid drying out entirely. His pale hair splayed out in a halo around him as he snoozed softly in the heat of the afternoon.

Which! No fair! This wasn’t a vacation! This was a stranding! An SOS! A Rose Queen Procedural Rule Four-Hundred-and-Four! And him taking up the whole of the cove to, I don’t know, tan, felt like another intentional slap in the face. The sun rose over the bay, which meant this stretch of shore was facing East. Which was the direction your vessel had been coming from. Which meant that this was the place on the little islet where you needed to be. Subsection Three of Procedural Four-O’-Four. ‘In the case of Crew Overboard, we will always travel the same route as planned. In order to give the Strandee a chance to map out a reconnection point.’ Riddle always had been so smart about these kinds of things.

‘It’s just until he’s better,’ you reassured yourself for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘Then he’ll leave and I can get rescued or die here alone and in peace.’

A fin flicked up from the shallows to spray you with saltwater splatters and you spluttered indignantly when it ran down into your eyes. You glared at the Siren’s retreating back, musing bitterly about how you’d never thought it was possible for someone to make the tuck of their shoulders look smug.

‘Alone and in peace,’ you repeated hopefully. And it sounded like such far off dream.

.

.

On the second day post-rope-removal, the Siren waved you down with a sharp flick of his wrist.

You approached the waterline hesitantly, still mostly waiting for him to turn on you and make toothpicks out of your bones. But instead of murdering you and getting crafty with your corpse, he just pointed to some scribbles in the sand. You squinted at the loop-de-loops suspiciously. It almost looked like an illustration of dancing bubbles—the lot of them curling and popping along the ground in a line like a limerick. 

“Uhm, very nice,” you tried, and the fins flattened pissilly all along the side of his head.

He jabbed his claw towards the mess again. Then firmly at your eyes (hopefully not as a threat that he’d be happy to take them right out of your head if you continued to be obtuse). And then back again. He made a point to move the tip of his sharp nail from one swirl to the next in a little hop-hop-hop. It reminded you a bit deliriously of Riddle trying to teach some of the more socially bereft members of the crew their letters, and—

“You want me to read that?” you gaped, staring at the elegant curls of nonsense in the sand.

The Siren crossed his arms across his lean chest with a scoff that puffed past his lips hard enough to fluff out some of the paler, purple-tipped, hair hanging by his chin. He rolled his eyes at you and muttered something thin and spicy under his breath that you just knew had to be some sort of insult.

“I can read!” you defended, because it felt like it needed defending.

He leveled you with an entirely unimpressed ‘Oh, I’m sure you can’ sneer and you dropped to your knees, incensed. You dug your fingers into the sand and started sculpting out your own very cheery message into the muck.

When you were done, you waved a hand towards your proclamation and watched his brows pull together at the center into a teeny, pinched sort of expression. He let himself roll forward with the seafoam to lay more fully on the shore, and stared down at the mess you’d made like it was some strange code. Even reaching out to poke softly at the straight edge of a ‘T’ with one of his knife-sharp talons.

After a long moment of contemplation, he looked back up at you with an arched brow that was so unintentionally poised and not full of spite that it almost took your breath away. Who knew how pretty an already stunning face could become when it wasn’t twisted up in absolute vitriol? You shook away that absolutely damning thought in horror. That’s exactly what he’d want you to think. Siren, and all. Using his hotness to lure people onto his dinner table. Not you, baby. Because you were smart. And so gross from being stranded under island sunshine for a week that surely you’d taste like some absolutely rancid jerky at this point.

“Oh no,” you droned, and immediately that subtle curiosity of his ticked right back into irritation. “Two creatures from entirely different species and ecosystems have somehow managed to develop unique alphabets. What a completely unpredictable complication.”

The Siren puffed up like an angry lionfish and turned with a snarl to dive back into the shallows—making sure to whip his tail in your face and slam into the water with a huge splash as he went. The salt spray pelted down like rain and you snickered as it sloughed off your cheeks in rivulets, content to sit merrily in the wet sand beside your hastily scribbled: ‘Mermen Are Vicious Bitches. Hit Me if You Agree :)’

.

.

The next morning, there were more fish on the shoreline. Though these ones looked a bit less like they’d been dragged up by their souls and left to writhe in the wake of Siren-Screaming-Agony and more just like the unfortunate victims of a pair of too sharp claws.

You frowned down at a brown, sad-looking flounder that had clearly found itself at the very wrong end of a certain merman still swanning about in the bay not fifty feet away. It was mostly intact, and pleasantly plump for a flat, pancake-looking blob of muck. Your stomach gurgled and the thought of a nice, coal-charred, fillet really seemed quite nice. You chanced another peek at your resident Asshole, debating if it was worth swiping his snack. Another ominous rumble from your abdomen and you reached down to steal your prize and scuttle off deeper inland like a troll returning to its layer.

It didn’t take very long to get a small fire going, and within the hour you’d been fed and were more than ready for a cozy, full-bellied nap in the soft sand.

By the time you began to make your way back to the cove, the sun was high in the sky and you were already dreading sitting beneath its weighted rays for another afternoon. So you slowed your pace to a near snail crawl, dragging your feet as you went.

The little octopus from earlier was still swaying contentedly around the tide pool you’d shoved it into. It probably needed to be carried back out to the bay at some point so that it could swim back into the depths of the ocean, but the poor thing was just so small and round. Surely it’d get devoured by the first sharp-toothed thing that caught sight of it. Especially with your merman apparently being out for the blood of whatever other scaly things were swimming about in his temporary home. So for now you slipped it some small bits of leftover fish instead. You sat, crouched at the pool’s edge, and watched raptly as it grabbed the shredded bits of pale meat with its chubby tentacles to shove towards an eager beak.

“You’re the only friend I have left in the whole world,” you told the octopus miserably, wiping the greasy remnants of your lunch off your chin with a sigh.

The traitor hurriedly moved to snatch up the treat you’d offered it and hide itself away between some rocky crevices. You sighed louder. Rejected. What a time to be alive. 

.

.

The next morning, the Siren was singing again.

That familiar prickle danced its way up your arms, leaving pinpricks of goosebumps in its wake. Some pirates told tales of storms leaving their mark in such a way—that seasoned sailors could feel the tickle of thunder against their skin long before they could spot dark clouds on the horizon. You’d have to amend that little legend whenever you found your way back to The Rose Queen. Siren Sense was a lot cooler, anyways. Any idiot with arthritis could tell you when rain was due.

But either way, Mister Merman was back to idly circling the bay and calling into the distance. At least it wasn’t as miserable as it had been the other day—more of a leisurely pacing than the frantic, near-feral caterwauling that had soured your gut so terribly.

There was another fat fish on the shore. A bright, red snapper so brilliantly crimson that it was almost impossible to make out the garish wounds in its side. Almost. And even if it hadn’t been, the drooping, rust colored, rivulets dug into the sand would have been enough of a clue.

Why the Siren was bothering to leave his clawed-up kills at your feet like some overgrown cat dragging in mice, you had no idea. Maybe he was poisoning them, and subsequently you. Maybe he was bored and it was some sort of fishy enrichment. Maybe he just didn’t want to bother leaving dead things around to contaminate his favorite sunning spots, and tossing his leftovers in your vicinity was as close to a reliable dumpster as he could find on a remote island. Who’s to say.

Either way, you dutifully ignored the magical tingles racing up your shoulders and brought the newest fish back to your makeshift firepit. You grilled the snapper in silence, debating. Then you fed your octopus friend and returned to the beach, cooked fillets in tow.

You waited in awkward silence for a few moments, fish burning your palms, before raising your fingers to your lips and whistling loud enough to make your teeth ache. The mystical static faded from the air and you watched in pleasant (?) surprise as the Siren made his way back to where you’d set up camp. He rolled in with the tide, cresting on a gentle bit of surf and coming to rest neatly in the shallows—fins splayed out beneath him like a lord lying amidst his many silken robes. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with an arched brow and slanted frown.

You awkwardly extended a hand—roasted snapper still resting in your open palm and burning the absolute fuck out of your fingers.

“Uhm,” you said, feeling a bit too much like the local idiot trying to feed one of the rabid, wandering, strays around town. “Food?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you.

“Do you want food?” you tried.

The other brow joined the first, nearly rising all the way into his hairline. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of surprise.

“It’s better cooked?” you coaxed in the face of his outright constipated scowl. Be fed and full, you thought hopefully. Maybe then you won’t fucking look at me like I’m a boxed lunch.

He jabbed a sharpened, black talon in your direction, and then pointedly again angled up towards your mouth. Then back to the fish still roasting your poor cuticles straight off your fingers.

You blinked, a bit thrown.

“What? It’s supposed to be for me?”

He nodded, throwing in another one of those bombastically snarky eyerolls for good measure. ‘Obviously,’ that sneer said.

“Well,” you huffed, plopping down to sit cross-legged in the sand and offering up one of the fillets. “There’s plenty for both of us.” When he stared at you like you were attempting to serve him up a choice pile of literal dog shit, you wiggled your hand and entreated, “Please just take it before my skin melts off.”

The Siren huffed and reached out, plucking up the fish with the tips of his claws. He observed your meager meal as one might a particularly unappealing cockroach, and after a long moment, his nose scrunched (cute, you thought absently before immediately suffocating every wayward braincell that would dare call your murderous shore-neighbor anything of the sort) and he leaned forward to nip at a crisped, pink corner with the barest edge of one canine.

When your culinary creation didn’t immediately strike him dead on the spot, he took another, equally dainty bite. And then another. The tight pucker of his mouth eased as he chewed, and you watched as the harsh cut of his purple irises warmed with that same intrigue as they had when you’d first scribbled your foreign letters into the sand.

He readjusted his grip on the fish between his claws to get a better angle and took a proper bite, chewing thoughtfully. Before you knew it, you were watching him nip at the pads of his fingers, his gaze going a bit round and shocked when he realized that he’d devoured the entirety of it.

“See?” you hummed, tucking into your own portion with gusto. “Not all things humans come up with are terrible.” He harumphed and turned to glare back out over the bay, slouching into the surf with an expression that was most certainly not a pout. “But maybe you’d know that if you bothered to do anything other than murder and devour us on sight,” you chirped.

To which you were immediately doused with an armful of water for your troubles. The Siren glowered petulantly from where he’d just wave-bombed you, and then dove back into the deeper waters of the sandbar. He immediately started up his stupid singing all over again—pointedly keeping his chin high above the surface and splashing brine into your face anytime he looped close enough to shore.

“I don’t know why I bother,” you huffed, and ate your sopping snapper in grumpy silence.

.

.

There was a ship wrecked off the coast.

Nothing overly cool, and definitely only a small chunk of what had probably at one point been a rather impressive vessel. But it was something. The first change in pace you’d had in days and oozing with possibilities.

The only problem was that the great, rotting, hull of the thing was dug up into a jagged skerry about a hundred yards off the shore—wedged into the pointed rocks with no chance of any wave or breeze sending it adrift. You could swim perfectly well. I mean, living your life on a ship surrounded by tumultuous, depthless, ocean would have been a hugely stupid career move otherwise. The issue, naturally, was the thing currently making its home in these waters. Sharks and barracudas, blablabla. They were just animals, no matter how many teeth they had. The Siren had a grudge. And just as many teeth.

Right now, said spiky pain in your ass was lounging in the shallows like the froth was an elegant daybed made just for him—shredded fins swaying in the soft tides and his hair floating about him that same, white-gold halo that made him look far too peaceful for anyone’s good sense. He wasn’t singing today, which was great for the local wildlife population but terrible for your Siren Sense. Once you waded into the waves, you’d have no real way to keep track of him. Hope, maybe, that he didn’t think fucking with you was worth messing up whatever tan-line he had going on. But nothing concrete that you’d be willing to bet the safety of your limbs on.

You wiggled your toes in the sand and stared longingly out at the stupid, wrecked ship that was so stupidly close. If you swam your fastest you could probably make it there in under two minutes—less than that, even. But that was still more than enough time for the Siren to rake those dark claws of his across your throat and drag you down into the depths to drown.

Riddle’s angry, red face swam through your thoughts, and you could practically see him shoving that beloved law tome of his under your nose for the umpteenth time.

‘Rule 32, never make dangerous bets that you’re certain you won’t win, particularly if you are betting against a Blue Nosed Beetle.’

‘Rule 15, do not needlessly sacrifice your life in the name of curiosity, excluding—of course—if you hail from Cheshire or are a Cat.’

‘It’s only a dumb shipwreck,’ you thought miserably, if rationally. ‘It’s probably not even that cool.’

Your captain would be so proud.

.

.

The next morning you were rolling up the cuffs on your pants and wading into the cool shallows, silently lighting a candle in your heart for your beloved, steam-faced leader and promising that you would at the very least cover the costs of your own funeral so as not to inconvenience him further.

The waves lapped against your ankles and the waters themselves were shockingly clear and blue. You could practically see each grain of sand beneath your heels—make out each pointy rock and the little, red crabs that scuttled away from your tromping like civilians fleeing from the shadow of a leviathan. The Siren was back to singing today. Perhaps his poor, overworked throat simply needed a break every now and again. But either way, your Merman Magic Missive was working in full force. The hairs on your arms stood at full attention and you liked to imagine you could see them twitching in circles to follow his long, looping arcs through the bay.  

You made it up to your knees and waited, eyes scanning the open water and nose twitching like maybe you could smell the fucker. There was nothing but a familiar prickle along your shoulders and that deep sense of ‘tug tug tug’ with no answer, so you took a deep breath and pushed further, the water sloshing up to your hips, your chest, and finally you were floating—paddling slow and cautious towards the wreckage.

It really was insanely close. Even moving at your most cautious, sneakiest crawl, you’d made it nearly three-quarters of the way there within perhaps five minutes. And no signs of a vengeful, hungry Siren circling the waters beneath you either. More rules that perhaps that you’d have to tell Riddle might need some amending  once you finally made it back home to your crew. ‘Dangerous bets,’ who? ‘Needless sacrifice,’ what? You might as well have outsmarted the whole ocean.

As you moved closer, you could make out a strange coat of arms on the side of the hull that you didn’t recognize. Twining, silver songbirds soaring against the sparkly backdrop of an otherwise plain faced crest, which honestly looked far too delicate to be heading the broken remains of what was no doubt at one point an absolute monster of a vessel. You reached out to brush your fingers against the shining plaque and then you were underwater.

You fought the immediate impulse to gasp in surprise, because expediting the process of your inevitable drowning just seemed stupid even by your standards. There was a clawed hand wrapped around your calf yanking you down, and you squinted through a stream of panicked bubbles to see your terrible, horrible, completely thankless co-strandee snarling up at you with sharp teeth and a sharper flail of his delicate gills. Thankfully the water wasn’t all that deep, so by the time you’d been dragged to the bottom you were maybe only ten feet under. But still. It was the goddamn principle! And besides, you’d heard about enough drunks drowning in puddles to know that this was more than enough Liquid Death to put you in an early grave.

The Siren looped around you in tight circles, and you could feel the brush of his tattered fins against your skin like the ghostly fingers of a reaper trailing down your spine. You’d known he was big—giant, even. Long, and impressive, and built to rule the very depths he’d dragged you into. Large enough to wrestle with sharks and capsize lifeboats. Big enough, no doubt, to eat you whole and still be hungry enough for seconds.

The salt stung your eyes and you blinked hard to keep his vibrant, amethyst tail in focus. Would he strike from the back, where you couldn’t see? Or would he go right for your throat—a direct, full frontal, ‘fuck you, human’ if there ever was one. And honestly, what were you expecting? That a good deed and a few pieces of cooked fish would sway him from devouring you whole? Maybe the island sun had fried whatever remained of your rattled brain.  

He stopped in front of you and hissed—a stream of tight, tiny, bubbles jetting past his canines. You glared in petulant confusion, absolutely refusing to give your would-be murderer whatever reaction he was hoping for. His brow pinched into a tight, angry, v and he snarled again. You snarled back, and with that, the last breath in your lungs swooped out of you in a tight squeak. You choked, and struggled, and kicked at the claws holding you down. The Siren reared back, eyes widening in something that looked insultingly like genuine surprise, and you used his moment of hesitation to propel yourself off the sandbar and back to the choppy surface.

You gasped in a hasty breath, expecting to immediately be dragged back under. But when you weren’t pulled back down to your watery grave, you took in another and another. Gasping, and hacking, and spitting up seafoam. The Siren’s head crested the surface beside you and you flailed away, nearly pushing yourself under all over again. You paddled frantically, trying to keep your nose above the tide, and then suddenly there was something under you. You squawked and kicked it on instinct. The Siren snapped his pointy teeth in your face and you realized with a start that oh. That was him, wasn’t it? The long, winding, scaled muscles of his tail curled beneath your toes in what almost seemed like an attempt to keep you upright.

He stared at you with those unnervingly bright eyes of his—blonde hair curling softly at the edges where it plastered elegantly along his finned ears, and those too-long lashes dripping with small, sparkly, drops of salt water.

“What the hell is this bullshit?” you choked, coughing up more bubbly froth. “You don’t get to look so—so put together after trying to murder me!”  

The Siren huffed out something that the delusional, still half-drowned, part of you wanted to classify as a laugh. And then he organized that bemused expression back into its usual, haughty, iciness and began to carefully make his way back towards the shore—towing you along like a poor, little, lost buoy with nowhere else to go.

You let him drag you up into the sand and only flopped around a little. He flicked his tail at you and your dramatics and you turned on him with a fierce, waterlogged scowl—a bit more confident now that he didn’t have the home field advantage.

“What was that for! I just wanted to look at the ship! I wasn’t even doing anything to you!” you wailed. “I haven’t done anything to you at all! Ever! Why do you keep—" you collapsed back into the sand with a miserable whine that rattled all the teeth in your head, and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes until you saw stars.

After a long moment of nothing, you felt a gentle tap at your shoulder.

You looked back up with a start to see Mister Merman looking nearly sheepish.Or as much of an equivalent that his aloof mask of a face was capable of pulling off. The clawed finger resting at your collarbone dropped to the sand by your hip, and he carefully began to draw more of those squiggles. No, scratch that. Not the dancing, popping, ones from the other day. These actually looked sort of like the silver songbirds from that shipwreck. More jagged, certainly. But similar enough that you felt something a bit too coldly cautious to be confusion seep through your guts.

Once he was finished, he looked up and met your gaze—sharp, pointed. And then he reached back out and smeared the birds into nothing and shook his head, firm. His red lips moved slowly, exaggerated, again and again. And you could make out the vague shape of words you’d had shouted at you a hundred times over.

‘Not safe.’

That same, shivery, nervous feeling bit at your limbs.

“…okay,” you said after a moment. And then leaned forward to dig your own fingers into the sand, dutifully ignoring how your elbows knocked against his own.

‘Not safe,’ you wrote, and watched his eyes trace each letter like a treasure map.

There was another tap at your shoulder. And then he pointed to the words in the muck, then to himself.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes. You’re not safe either.”

He sighed dramatically enough to ruffle the ends of your still soaked hair. And then pointed to the words again, tapping at the ‘N’ with the curved tip of a claw.

“Nnnn?” you mouthed, confused.

He moved to the ‘o’ next and it clicked.

“You want me to teach you how to read my letters?” you asked, flabbergasted. Another sigh, like you’d dropped the weight of all the world on his pale shoulders. Or perhaps that your idiocy was enough to put that hearty mass to shame. You decided that you were still feeling a bit too much like you’d only just barely escaped a brush with death, dismemberment, and dinner plans to push your luck with sassing him back too harshly, and just blinked owlishly in dazed surprise. “But why?”

His purple eyes trailed in the direction of the shipwreck and something cutting and poisonous clouded his expression. He pointed to the words again.

‘Not safe.’

“Alright,” you said, looking out over the water with a strange sort of sinking feeling in your gut. You leaned forward and began to draw the alphabet at your feet. His tail twitched by your fingers and you ignored the soft brush of his still-healing fins. “This one’s an ‘A’, like in ‘Asshole’—"

Whomp went the tail as he cracked it across your knuckles like a school matron with a ruler. And you couldn’t help the startled burst of genuine, tinkling laughter that bubbled past your lips for the first time since you’d been dragged overboard.

.

.

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

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[lavendertales]

Hi hi hi 🥰🥰🥰 any thoughts on writing a fox on reader and Joel Miller where they have an age gap (obvs) maybe reader is a friend of Tommy’s and Joel is a bit protective over her but they end up fucking and the whole time he’s trying to shut her up from the clickers by covering her mouth, choking her but at the same time talking dirty etc etc I’ll let you live out your thotty imagination with this one xoxo

Hiii love, thank you for the request! Well this one was... phew 🥵 hope you enjoy!

Where you belong || Joel Miller x f!reader**

summary: who would've thought one of Tommy's good friends would have such an impact on Joel?

word count: 2k

WARNINGS: this is FILTH. age gap mention, teasing, some dirty talk, mutual pining, male & female masturbation, choking, unprotected piv, vaginal fingering.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @pajamasecrets

Stubborn and harsh as he may be, Joel Miller knows how to appreciate some of the finer things in life.

A good song, a fine illustration, a movie that sticks with him for a while… and then there’s you.

Tommy’s made it clear that you were a close friend of his and Maria’s, and Joel respected that. He stayed within the limits of respect, never crossing the border. But he did enjoy the occasional sneak peek at you, always when you weren’t looking.

He’s not sure why. It just always felt… easier. Just watching you from afar and keeping things cordial between the two of you was always the easy and safe option, as opposed to actually caring too much.

Caring meant loss. And Joel had enough of that. He just needed something nice for a change. Something good, something that wouldn’t be tainted by the threat of harm.

Perhaps that’s why he’d grown so fond and so protective of you. Being significantly older than you was certainly another reason why he preferred to keep his infatuation for you at bay, but it also gave him a reason to be your unspoken protector. You didn’t ask for it, yet he simply provided it. For that, you were beyond grateful.

And frustrated, too.

Particularly on this hot summer evening in Jacksonville, when you were out checking the perimeter for raiders or infected, and you used every excuse imaginable to establish physical contact with Joel: a light grip on his arm when you faked a potential fall, soft giggles at his dry jokes that no one else seemed to get, and being face to face with him with every single opportunity you got. Five, in total. You gazed at him, searching his face for confirmation that he understood why you were doing all that, why you were craving his touch so dearly, and still you failed to see that. Joel remained as hardened as ever, and it only grew your frustration more.

So when you got back into town, throwing your gun on the rocking chair in the corner of your living room, you were surprised to see Joel behind you, footsteps heavy, as if he was angry about something.

“What’s wrong with you?” his thick voice asks.

You turn to him, utterly dumbfounded, almost insulted at the question he just posed. Maybe you misinterpret it, too, but hell if you give a shit right now.

It’s been months since Joel’s caught your eye, months of sneaky glances and wishful thinking, and closing onto three years without the intimate touch of another human being.

It’s too much. In this moment, all feels overwhelming.

“What is wrong with me?” you emphasize the pronoun. “What is wrong with you?! Have you not noticed me around you for the past, I don’t know, two hours?”

“Sure I have, how can I not?”

You scoff, hands on your hips and licking your lips in frustration. Gesture which does not go unnoticed by Joel, who licks his own in return, awfully tempted in this moment.

“I don’t know, Joel,” you reply sarcastically. “For someone with such great hunting and surviving skills, you sure lack some basic observation skills.”

He frowns, approaching you. “What are you talking about?”

You grow even more dumbfounded, curious whether he’s playing the fool intentionally or if he’s simply playing with you.

“How long have we known each other?” you ask.

“Six, seven months.”

“Seven months. Seven months since you’ve known me, and you still don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“What don’t I know?”

You approach him too, your lips parted to make room for words that refuse to come out. Instead, you breathe through your mouth, your body nearly quivering at the simple, yet overpowering sensation of being so close to him, yet so far.

“What I like and don’t like,” you say in a near-whisper manner. “I don’t like being fooled. I don’t like being played or led astray, and I don’t like guessing. I hate guessing games. I was never any good at them.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

You nod several times, puckering your lips. “Clearly.”

“And what do you like?”

The way he says it, so rich with gruffness and tempting, it’s causing your knees to buckle and your heart to race faster. It’s the first time tonight you think he’s actually teasing you, and you feel heat spreading throughout your body, settling in your nether area.

“A lot of things, actually,” you reply, unable to look away from his full lips.

“Mhm. Like what? Tell me. Use your words.”

Yeah, he’s definitely fucking with you. But it’s all the more enticing.

You don’t tell him, though; you simply reach to press your lips onto his, only for a split second, and then you pull away. You watch his face closely, checking if you have his approval. When he wraps a faintly hesitant hand around your waist and pulls you in to kiss you properly, you melt into his arms, and realize that you do have all the approval in the goddamn world.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen. In a matter of seconds, you find yourself writhing beneath him on the bed, splayed shamelessly by his calloused hands. Under normal circumstances, he’d be a perfect gentleman and ask you out, spend as much time with you as possible, but for the past two decades, Joel lived on the edge, strictly in survival mode. Which means that some relief is all he can allow himself to have.

Your hands hastily undress him, messy just like the kiss you are sharing with him, and your breaths get ragged, as fast and irregular as your heart.

“You don’t know—how many goddamn times I’ve—wanted this…”

Joel’s voice is trembling despite its huskiness, and it causes you to shiver with excitement. The thought of him wanting you this much, this desperately, is getting you wetter with each passing second.

“Never allowed myself to—to want you” he confesses, peppering wet kisses along your jaw while you worked against his belt and zipper.

“Why not?”

“Tommy might kill me.”

“Or Maria.”

He chuckles briefly, prompting the same reaction out of you. You help him out of his jeans and his boxers, your mouth watering upon seeing how hard he is already. It’s beyond flattering, and you’re not sure how much longer you can stay apart from him.

“Thought about you too,” you confess, spreading your legs further so that you are on full display for him.

Joel stares at you in a delirious haze. In the sunset’s gold and red light, he can see the glistening of your pussy, and he swallows harshly. He doubts he’s ever felt this parched in his whole life, the waiting tearing him apart.

“You did?” he asks cheekily, cupping your sex while you gasp in surprise.

“Yes. Oh yes…”

He’s palming you gently, eyes locked on your face and nowhere else. He’s practically working on muscle memory, but it serves him correctly it seems.

“What did you think about?” he demands, drawing circles around your clit.

“Just you… touching me.”

“Like I’m doing now?”

“Yes—I thought about you… while I was touching myself.”

Joel can’t help the grunt that escapes his lips. That sole confession awakens something primal inside of him, something big, roaring in his chest. He pushes with two fingers past your folds now that he feels you wet enough to grant him easy access, and starts pumping in and out while you whine.

“Shh,” he coos you gently. “Easy, baby girl.”

“F-Fuck—“

“From this moment forward, you’re being silent. Not quiet. Silent. Is that clear?”

You bite on your lower lip and frantically nod your head while you palm your own breasts. It feels so good just to feel his fingers inside you, you can’t even imagine more. It’s definitely been a long time for you—presumably for him too—so you are awfully sensitive and needy, but just knowing that this is Joel Miller doing this to you, causing your body to react this way, to arch under his touch and whine from his words, it’s making you hotter and wetter than anything you could’ve ever imagined.

“Be a good girl for me and shut up, will you?”

He asks too softly for you not to obey, and again you nod frantically, unable to utter any words.

Joel’s fingers keep pumping in and out of you, faster and faster, and you do everything in your willpower to not scream. You barely let out a few whimpers, but it seems they get Joel going: you catch a glimpse of him stroking his cock in the process, the sight lewd as fuck. You focus on that while you reach in between your legs to furiously rub your clit while Joel’s fingers fuck into you, and his own hand is curled around his cock. Breaths ragged and in tandem, you work on each other to climb the ladder of ecstasy.

“Fuuuuuck—“you mutter, mouth in the perfect O shape as you feel your orgasm fast approaching.

“Keep your mouth shut, baby girl,” Joel reminds you, abruptly pulling out his fingers, now sticky as he takes them to your mouth, and you instantly suck on them, having a taste of yourself.

You don’t hide the disappointment on your face upon feeling empty, especially when you see that he’s not even jerking off anymore.

“There could be clickers around,” he seemingly justifies his command.

“We checked the area. There are none.”

“There are plenty of reasons for you to keep your mouth shut, darlin’. Or do you need me to find another use for it?”

You smirk. “If you want to.”

He doesn’t, though. That’s not for tonight, he thinks. Not when you’re both so worked up and needy. He wraps his hand around his weeping cock, almost ready to explode at how hard he is, and guides himself to your entrance. Muttered cuss words fill the room from both of you, said like a chant on repeat with the first roll of his hips against yours. Your pussy swallows him whole, and he watches mesmerized as you take all of his cock in, coating the hair at the base with your juices. He doesn’t waver with the pace: it’s fast and hard from the second thrust. He slams his hips into you, your wanton cries musically pleasing to his ears.

It’s only then that he wraps his hand around your throat, putting an end to any words you might’ve wanted to say. You only moan at him as he’s fucking you speedily, needy, with a fury you’ve only seen him use in combat.

“Do you fuckin’ know—what you do to me?” he grunts, the impending sensation of his release overcoming him. “Do you, hm? Look how full you are… stuffed with my cock… good girl, just like that…”

With a bit more pressure applied to the grip over your throat, you moan as you come, coating his cock with your arousal. The sensation of your walls trapping him inside you is the final click for Joel when he comes too, pulling out and painting the filthiest painting over your swollen pussy and thighs. His warm seed is all over your lower area, and there’s so much of it, you wonder how long exactly it has been for him since he’s last felt relief.

Breathless, you reach for him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him tenderly, a stark comparison to the rough way you were being handled just a few seconds before.

“Do you know what you are doing to me, Joel Miller?” you cheekily ask after a while.

“Think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

You both chuckle, the sound shared only between the two of you, in your bed.

It’s the first time in months Joel gets a good night’s sleep. And the first time in months since he’s laughed. All because of you.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Can you give examples of Aang showing Empathy? Oh wait, you can't.

Actually, I can - because unlike you, I base my opinion of the characters on the actual stuff that happened in the story, not the bad faith takes dumb people on the internet come up with.

Zuko literally only survived past book 1 because Aang was the ONLY person amongst the heroes that gave a single fuck about his well-being. Aang offered to be FRIENDS with him as early as episode 13, even though this dude is trying to kidnap him.

In the first damn episode we see him realize and try to remedy Katara's struggle with no longer being able to act like a kid and have fun. He wants to travel with her so SHE gets to learn waterbending. He willingly lets Zuko take him into his ship because he understood that a conflict could lead to the people of the water tribe getting hurt or killed.

In Warriors of Kyoshi he apologizes to Katara for letting all the praise and admiration go to this head. He makes sure to put out the fires Zuko and his crew started in Suki's village.

He tries to help remedy the Hei-Bai situation, even though he is unsure of himself and even scared, because he knows he is the only one that has any chance of helping - and the thing that allows him to connect with Hei-Bai is the fact that he is ALSO upset about the destruction the Fire Nation has caused AND hopeful that the world would eventually heal.

He thinks Jet is awesome because he wants to help people that are being oppressed by the Fire Nation - and then is horrified when he finds out his intension is to "free" them by killing everyone

He wants to help the two rival groups not only safely cross the Great Divide, but also stop hating each other.

He confesses that he hid the map to Hakoda because Bato, Katara and Sokka are showing how much they appreciate and trust him and he feels unworthy of it after what he did because he knows it'd hurt him if the roles were reversed.

He is so devastated by the fact that he ACCIDENTALLY hurt Katara that he swears to never firebend again. He is also able to recognize the same principle behind his mistake in Zhao's fighting style, allowing him to win the battle against the bastard.

He accepts the fact that the Northern Air Temple is now occupied by people who not only don't belong to his culture but also don't understand it and unknowingly destroyed something sacred to him (and that one of them had been forced to make weapons for the Fire Nation) because these people have nowhere else to go and he doesn't want them to suffer.

He is furious at Pakku for refusing to teach Katara waterbending, because he knows how much it'd mean to her and how unfair it is that she can't learn it just because of her gender.

He is so devastated by the death of the Moon Spirit that the Ocean Spirit latches onto him to avenge it and save the day - and the leve of destruction it causes haunts Aang, even though the violence was against his enemies. And still, he tries to go into the Avatar state again because people are dying and he can't accept that.

After the fall of Omashu, he wants to rescue Bumi, not because he needs a teacher, but because they're friends.

He felt empathy for Toph when she was explaining to her parents how lonely and unappriacted their over-protection made her feel.

He and Katara both feel bad for snapping at Toph during "The Chase" and wanted to apologize for not understanding that being part of a group was a radical change to her, even though she had refused to even try. He also didn't have a problem with fighting alongside Zuko and Iroh against Azula, AND he looked concerned when Iroh was injured.

After Katara comments on the fact he called Toph Sifu but not her, he calls her Sifu while bowing, to show that he respects her both as his master and friend.

The hopelessness and downright depression he was feeling after Appa was stolen only starts healing because he saw a couple being happy with their newborn baby - the same couple he decided to help cross the Serpent's Pass, even though he and his friends had just been allowed to take a much safer route to Ba Sing Se.

His understanding and sympathy towards Jet, even after everything the guy did, was so strong that it freed him from literal brainwashing.

He doesn't want to push his love for Katara aside to gain power because he cares about her too much - and then does it anyway because, even though not making her his main focus 24/7 offers the risk of her being hurt, him neglecting his mission guarantees she'll get hurt.

He is devastated to learn that the world thinks he is dead because he knows he was everyone's last hope - and yet in the end he still accepts the burden of failure because he understood that, at that moment, everyone would be safer if no one else knew he was still alive.

He goes to a Fire Nation school and bonds with the kids, wanting to give them a taste of freedom and joy, as well as trying to understand what the war is like from their perspective. The same episode also has him pull Katara for a dance because he noticed she was feeling left out.

The boy felt empathy for, and understood the mistakes of, both Ruko and Sozin. SOZIN. Aang could see the humanity in the monster that is responsible for him losing his entire culture and everyone he loved.

When Zuko spoke about wanting to control his impulses so he wouldn't accidentally hurt anyone, Aang explicitly connected with that struggle and saw them being teacher and student as fate, and Zuko agreed because that's how deep their connection was.

Aang is not happy about Katara wanting to murder a man, but he still lets her take Appa on her mission and is not disapproving when she ultimately spares the guy but does not forgive him and makes it clear she never will.

He feels empathy for freaking Ozai, to the point that refuses to kill the guy - even as he has the balls to say that Aang's family, his people, deserved to die. He spared that guy - but only after he had a way to do that without it meaning the death of more innocents. Aang, the pacifist, was going to turn his back on everything he believed in just to avoid more human suffering.

So yeah, miss me with your bullshit and don't come back until your brain is developed enough to understand a cartoon aimed at kindergarterners.