#but he can tell she’s actually loving it
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being a wag is hard | oscar piastri
pairing: oscar piastri x rock star!reader
summary: oscar spends a week as the most hated ‘wag.’ he thinks he can handle it. he can’t.
notes: beware!!! oscar hate ahead 😞 pls send in request!!
ynupdates: y/n was seen at the monaco grand prix today! she was said to be in the mclaren garage, hanging out with the two drivers, lando norris and oscar piastri.
view comments below!
user1: NO Y/N STAY AWAY FROM THOSE MUSTY MEN
user2: oh y/n no…
user3: those m-men 🤮🤮 better not lay a HAND on queen y/n
user4: why did i just see a photo of y/n and that oscar kid making out on my timeline…
user5: WHAT
user6: YOURE FUCKING KIDIDNG ME
user7: pls tell me your lying before i actually hurl up my lunch
user8: NOOOO
user9: i just fell to my knees in h-mart
user10: maybe she’s just there to watch the race?? 😰😰
user11: literally praying that’s all it is 😞
ynupdates: i am heartbroken to say that it seems like y/n is going out with f1 driver oscar piastri. these were sent in last night.
view comments below!
user12: NOOOOOO
user13: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ????
user14: NOOOOOOOOOOOO
user15: this can the real
user16: n-no no way
user17: A MAN ????? HURL HURL HURL
user18: GAG
user19: no this can’t be right it can’t be
user20: i’m killing myself
user21: this can’t be true
user22: honestly i’m just happy it isn’t that twig ‘lando’
— y/n has posted new photos!
liked by, landonorris, and 723,928 others!
yourusername: monaco, i love you 🎸
view comments below!
user23: UGH YOU LOOK SO GOOD
user24: GIRL YOU ARE STUNNING
user25: pls come to africa next 💙💙
user26: I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AT THAT FUCKKNG CONCERT!! BUT THE TICKETS GOT SOULD OUT TO FAST 😡😡
user27: holy shit i just combusted
user28: why isn’t her b-boyfriend 🤮 in her likes OR comments ??
user29: oscar what ever his last name is can’t HANDLE ALL THAT
user30: leave him for me baby 👀
user31: i can’t believe she’s dating an musty f1 man 🤢
user32: you could SO MUCH BETTER BABY 😒
— oscar piastri has posted new photos!
liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 973,928 others!
oscarpiastri: Feeling the Monégasque love this weekend 💛
view comments below!
user32: you’re not good enough for her
user33: free y/n 😔
user34: who do you think you are stealing my gf like that ??
yourusername: who is that sexy sexy man
user35: NO Y/N LOOK AWAY
user36: NO THIS ISNT RIGHT YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO FALL IN LOVE WITH ME AND WE GET MARRIED AND HAVE THREE KIDS
user37: leave y/n alone or i will gut you like a fish
user38: stop smiling. nothings funny.
— three days later!
liked by, oscar piastri, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 972,724 others!
yourusername: okay, stop hating on oscar now.
view comments below!
user39: okay!
user40: whatever you say queen 😁
user41: we just had to make sure he was right for you!!
user42: now that i’m taking a good look…he’s kinda cute?
user43: whatever you say 😍
landonorris: the switch up ???
user44: who do you think you are
user45: get out of here
user46: oscar was just a tease, we will run you to the ground ugly ass
user47: who’s talking to you
landonorris: OMG IM SORRY ???
user48: if he ever hurts her istg
user49: we will stop hating on oscar now 😵💫
#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri social media au#oscar piastri smau#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 social media au#f1 smau
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LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME LOVER—JJK MEN.
✎. jjk men showing you how much they love you. | wc. 2k+
tags. fem!reader, window sex, possessive behavior, mirror sex, oral sex, public sex, pregnancy, fingering, praise kink, size kink
featuring. gojo, nanami, geto
masterlist
↬ GOJO
He doesn’t think you’ve looked more breath-taking than you do right then, humming softly to the music on the radio while painting your toenails, the last stretch of daylight kissing your exposed knees through the window. You’re so lost in your own little world that you don’t notice him watching you.
The important emails on his phone go unanswered, saved for another day when you’re not there to distract him. You stretch your smooth legs to inspect your work and glance across the living room to give him one of those soft smiles that sends warmth through his middle.
“What do you think?” you ask, little sunflower yellow toes flexing on the coffee table.
“They’re pretty, baby.”
Another smile stretches across your face, that full lower lip caught between your teeth. “You think so?”
“Positive.” His phone lies forgotten on the cushion beside him, and he leans back to make room for you. “Come here.”
His eyes make a lazy trail up from your delicate ankle bone to the soft slope of your collarbone that peeks out from one of his t-shirts as you walk towards him, getting his fill until his fingers itch to touch and retrace the invisible path.
Gojo can’t help it. He’s struck by the sight of you.
He wishes he could trap the shocked and delighted sound you make when he pulls you into his lap, keep it tucked away in the untainted nooks and crannies for him to return to later. A little melody on repeat for the days he feels undeserving of such sweet things, how he treads the fine line of corrupting that wide-eyed innocence you have of the world.
Still. Still, the truth is, he’s a little greedy, and he doesn’t really care how bad of a person that makes him.
Everyone looks up to him in some way. Nobody ever called him a saint.
Gojo works out more of those soft sounds—pressing you against the chilly, tall windows in the living room, fist in your hair, and his mouth attached to the long column of your throat—that make his mouth go dry. Your back arches to ease the way he fucks up into you, tits brushing up against the glass, and he loves how the distant city lights below shimmer around you like a halo.
A high-pitched whimper, sharp breaths fogging over the window. “‘Toru people can see.”
He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of how your soft and silky little cunt sucks him in—wrapped up all warm and wet around his cock—cursing under his breath when he tells you he doesn’t care. You’re his, anyway.
“Let them see,” he grunts into your neck, teeth catching along your skin before licking at the vulnerable spot above your pulse. “Let them see how I fuck you because they can’t have you.”
Gojo can barely control himself at the mere idea that anyone would ever think they could. He’ll be the last and only one to know how you turn into a fucking vice when he hits particularly deep—how you shake like a leaf, legs coltish, after he makes you cum hard.
↬ GETO
It feels like the epitome of terrible days: from the tomato stain on your skirt to your boss forcing deadlines down your throat and surprising Suguru at work only to find a pretty, willowy brunette sitting on the corner of his desk, her hand resting on a stack of graded papers, and fluttering her long lashes at him.
The final nail in the coffin (a stupid nail, but a hammered-down nail nonetheless) is how she laughs and touches his arm, and Suguru doesn’t brush her off. He actually laughs back, all perfectly straight teeth on display and eyes crinkling at the corners. One of those heart-stopping smiles stretching across his face that you foolishly thought were all yours.
Suddenly, you wonder if it was out of obligation that made him compliment you that morning in your dress—look at you, a kiss to your cheek, I’m going to fucking ruin you—a perfunctory greeting after being together so long (like making coffee or picking out paint), to make you feel better, or if he meant it—
A tap with sticky fingers to your cheek. “C’mon, watch.”
You feel like you’re looking from the outside in, a spectator with a front-row seat that has your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his spit-slick chin and cheeks resting against the crease where thigh meets hip. He gives you a syrupy grin that tightens something in your stomach like a screw.
“Not me,” he says, words laced with amusement.
Hesitantly, your gaze trails up from his to the floor-length mirror perched in front of the bed, and what you see has your fingers sinking into the sheets.
You can hardly pull your eyes away from how your leg looks draped across his broad, muscular back, making you look so small even though you sit above him. And it’s like Suguru knows what you’re seeing because his grin grows wider.
“See, look how perfect you are. That woman in the mirror is so fucking pretty, I can’t believe I get to tell everyone she’s mine.” His thumb parts you open for his mouth. “Why would you think you look otherwise, huh?”
“I…don’t know,” you whisper, head a fuzzy mess of weak excuses that evaporate before they even have a chance to make it onto your tongue.
“Hm, that’s not a good enough answer.”
Your hips twitch when he noses at your clit.
“Awe, I bet that feels good, huh? I’m gonna show you what happens when you talk bad about my pretty baby,” then he sucks it into his mouth, making you squeal.
He can’t blame you for squeezing your eyes shut at the slick, hot pressure dragging through your folds—shaky fingers tightening in Suguru’s long, dark hair. It feels equally like everything and not nearly enough until he suddenly pulls away, taking that jittery feeling in your belly with him.
“Why’d you—”
“If you look away, I stop.” He chuckles lightly at the little pout you give him before his lips suck at the tender spot near the crease of your thigh, “so watch.”
↬ NANAMI
After lunch, he drags you across the street where there’s a park for him to set up a picnic blanket under a tree. Kento rests his head on your lap, slipping an arm around your waist and rubbing the sore spot in your lower back from being on your feet for too long.
It’s all very innocent: him kissing your round pregnant belly, you running your fingers through his soft hair and talking about the latest work gossip.
You hum when you feel his fingers crawl up your thigh, slowly at first and with no destination, just soft, aimless circles here and there, until the calloused pad of his thumb skirts over the front of your underwear, making you jerk with a small squeak.
“Kento,” you giggle, fingers tightening in his hair.
He smiles at the scandalized look spreading across your face and leans forward to press another kiss against your stomach.
"Do you trust me?" he asks, hand pushing up your dress.
You glance around the park to see if anyone is paying attention to the two of you—an elderly couple feeding the ducks frozen peas by the pond, a mother and father playing with their giggling daughter in the grass, college kids throwing a frisbee, all far enough away to be out of earshot (but that’s not the real problem here)—before you look back at your husband.
“W-what?” you sputter, wide-eyed realization taking over.
He presses another open-mouthed kiss to your thigh. “Do you trust me?”
A soft whine slips past your teeth, the hand not in his hair curling into the blanket. “But everyone will notice because I’m—I’m—”
(A beached whale. An air balloon. A carnival-sized melon. You get the gist.)
“Gorgeous.” He smooths a hand over your bump, open-fondness radiating across his features, the subtle hint of possessiveness there making you shiver. “You look so fucking gorgeous with my baby growing inside you. Let me take care of you.”
“B-but—”
Everything else melts away to the pulsing heat between your legs and your husband groaning from the wetness he finds there. Your shaky thighs fall open wider when his fingers hook under the edge of your underwear (unflattering things worn for comfort over sexual appeal), pulling them aside to run his fingers through your slick seam.
Pregnancy brain clouds your judgment, and before you can think twice about your actions, how you definitely shouldn’t let Kento eat you out in the middle of a public park, you nod your head.
His lips ghost over the tender flesh of your upper thigh. "I need to hear you say it."
It’s a low and shaky yes that has his fingers finally sinking into you to the third knuckle, steadily pumping in and out of you. You buck down onto his hand, trying to bite back the moan threatening to alert everyone in the park of the head under your skirt.
“You’re going to cum for me, just like this,” Kento tells you, voice muffled by a layer of powder blue cotton. “Alright, darling?”
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#geto x you#geto smut#geto x reader#nanami x you#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#.things i write
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my campaign hiatus has gone on for too long so to cope ive combined my interests at their maximum potency and had some dnd-strawhats thoughts
thoughts in depth under read more... :)!
this is SO self indulgent. their designs literally did not change. but i am a firm believer that dnd doesnt have to be european high fantasy. and also one piece literally IS fantasy. no changes are necessary to fit into dnd. ive already imagined plenty of campaign/oneshot ideas inspired by one piece. so this was basically just an exercise of trying to replicate their canon abilities in dnd 5e as much as possible without totally homebrewing everything. well. aside from luffy. you just cant take away or change his stretching.
LUFFY: (human monk. drunken master subclass. outlander)
the only plain human of the crew to balance out with the fact that he still has rubber powers. obviously a monk. but drunken master subclass specifically because i think the flavor(not the fact that its about being a drunkard) and abilities both fit him really well. this line in the subclass' flavortext especially fits him: "A drunken master often enjoys playing the fool to bring gladness to the despondent or to demonstrate humility to the arrogant, but when battle is joined, the drunken master can be a maddening, masterful foe."
ZORO: (tiefling fighter. samurai subclass. bounty hunter)
a fighter with the samurai subclass is so very incredibly obvious... but i actually had a lot of fun geeking out while comparing the abilities to what he can do in canon; Fighting Spirit, Rapid Strike, and Strength Before Death especially! tiefling is also pretty on the nose for his demon pirate hunter shtick and asura form, but i thought he'd be really human-passing for a tiefling and theorized about his tail getting cut off at some point or another before joining the strawhats. initially wasnt gonna give him a feat, but i gave sanji a feat so i thought itd be unfair to not give him one as well, so sentinel fits the bill pretty well i think!
NAMI: (tabaxi rogue. arcane trickster subclass. criminal)
cat burglar -> full grown literal humanoid cat. this one is INCREDIBLY self indulgent... i love... cats... theres nothing deeper to this and no other reasoning. i took cat burglar and ran with it. can you tell that i love izutsumi dungeon meshi? rogue for the aforementioned burglar-ing as well, and the arcane trickster subclass for when she picks up climatact! the mage hand will be very useful for her pickpocketing. in the future as she levels up with timeskip, i can totally see her multiclassing into wizard as well! weather wizard!
USOPP: (lightfoot halfling artificer. artillerist subclass. urchin)
I HAD SO MUCH FUN THINKING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER SHEET. halfling's Naturally Stealthy ability lets him hide behind his crewmates since theyre (almost) all bigger than him, so its perfect for hiding behind zoro or sanji all the time. Lucky is also perfect for him, and I think Brave fits pretty well too when he puts on the sogeking mask. artillerist artificer is also very fun! tinkering and making magic items for his crew, and i think Eldritch Canon or Arcane Firearm could both be easily reflavored as kabuto or any of his inventions. for emphasizing his sniper-ness, the spell sniper feat was also necessary. i think hes my favorite of all the concepts. big ears and long nose combo is so cute to me.
SANJI: (half-elf monk. drunken master subclass. guild artisan (cook!))
race was mostly based on vibes i wont lie. squints. and that vinsmoke balogna or whatever too ig. but mostly vibes. along with the idea that i think a dwarf zeff raising him would be really funny and cute. monk is also obvious, and same subclass as luffy for mostly the same reasons. though the flavor fits him much less, i think the abilities still fit him perfectly, and this blurb specifically; "Your martial arts technique mixes combat training with the precision of a dancer." i really wanted to give him a different subclass from luffy, but i dislike all the other monk subclasses a lot and i found none of them fit him as well anyways, so to try and give them SOME differences, i gave him the crusher feat.
CHOPPER: (awakened deer(shifter statblock) cleric. life subclass. hermit)
this ones definitely a mouthful im sorry. awakened deer for obvious reasons, but due to magic instead of devil fruit stuff. when i was struggling with his race, i looked a lot at shifter because of his forms, but it occurred to me that itd be super cool if he could shift between all of the different shifter options instead of being stuck with just one to replicate his rumble balls. something like heavy point/guard point=beasthide, horn point/arm point(?maybe?)=longtooth, walk point/jumping point=swiftstride, and brain point=wildhunt. hed definitely need some kind of nerf though to balance out that homebrew... and cleric for class. duh.
ROBIN: (high elf wizard. order of scribes subclass. criminal)
robin is definitely the one i struggled the most with just because of her class. elf came pretty easily- shes very elegant and i think shed look cute with super long ears- and i landed on high elf instead of wood elf for the int-based abilities. i was really on the fence between sorcerer and wizard for her because i knew shed be a full spellcaster, but i didnt feel that any of the subclasses really fit her. i ended up going with wizard for order of the scribes since it focuses on texts and knowing everything. but also because robin with a flying talking sentient book would be crazy cool. it could also be similar to how she spawns mouths and eyes places to talk to or watch people. my "fuck it, why not. this would be rad. its my house" mindset kicked in with her i will admit. also the One with the Word ability made me cackle out loud when i read it. thats the funniest ability ever. anyways, i cant really think of a way to replicate her powers, but maybe we could just reflavor a bunch of spells to be her limbs or clutch; hold person, maximillian's earthen grasp, or evard's black tentacles. thatd probably work okay, and theres a handful of spells to replicate her ability to spawn eyes or mouths. unrelated, but i imagine nico olvia to be a drow. why? her hair is white. i am a simple man!
#had a full on fixation explosion with this one Dont even look at me im posting this at 4am for a reason.#I HAD FUN THATS ALL THAT MATTERS. I MISS DND SO BAD. CAMPAIGN HIATUS OVER SOON. I MUST LIVE#not really like an au or redesign or whatever but i wanted to draw a lineup anyways to show just. very miniscule differences#i guess. mostly an excuse just to draw a lineup of the strawhats. i fucknig guess#will probably do a part 2 cause i have more thoughts; franky+brook+ace+vivi are on the menu boys#its bothering me so much that usopp and nami are both orange in the read more. but there is no yellow text-fill on tumblr. sad#also just fist fought this post in the drafts for an hour bc i dont understand the character limit#so if i fucked this up im moving to the mountains#wtf... art#one piece fanart#dnd#dnd 5e#mugiwara crew#straw hat pirates#monkey d luffy#luffy#roronoa zoro#zoro#cat burglar nami#nami#usopp#black leg sanji#sanji#tony tony chopper#nico robin
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would love your opinion of the newest episode of DW, if you get the chance.
HAHAHAHA YES I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS
Alright okay so
I only have one complaint, which is that that wasn't a faerie ring. You could still have the shamble, no problem, but it should have been over the top of an actual faerie ring, which should be a mushroom (or, at a push, stone) circle. Not some cotton that would blow clean off the cliff edge in three minutes.
HOWEVER
This is the first time I've seen Doctor Who do a time travel story using, not Doctor Who time travel lore and rules, but Welsh faerie rules. (First time I've seen anything do it, in fact.) In Welsh myth, people who enter faerie rings or get entranced by the music become suspended in time, out of sync with the real world. They think they danced for a night, but when they return it's been 100 years, and they crumble to dust as soon as they eat/drink/step on land/etc.
In this case, this is what I think happened to Ruby. She spent that time in Annwfn, seeing what would happen if the binding on the ring was broken. When she 'dies', she returns to the spot and lasts long enough to give her younger self the warning, then crumbles to dust.
But, a time travelling Ruby is not the woman who follows her throughout the episode. That, in fact, is a gwyll.
The gwyllion were hag faeries, usually of mountain tops (though Pembrokeshire's liminal cliffs are 100% from Welsh mythology - it was said that if you found a faerie ring on one but only put one foot in, you could see the faerie islands in the sea. And that faeries used to visit the human markets in Pembrokeshire and Ceredigion. So while gwyllion are unusual there, it's not an impossible relocation.) They were malicious and sometimes vicious faeries who delighted in making people lose their way, could strike an uncontrollable and ungodly terror into travellers, and who feature in more that one myth as an old woman that someone tried to approach, but they always appeared at the same distance away, impossible to catch up.
CAN YOU SEE THE PARALLELS
And the best part!! Is that this is why she defeats UNIT!!!
Kate tells Ruby that her agents have necklaces of silver and salt to keep out the supernatural, but that's just generic fairytale shit. That doesn't work on gwyllion. Salt drawn in a line would provide a barrier, but the UNIT soldiers aren't trying to trap or block the gwyll; they're trying to capture her. What works, very specifically, is a knife. Iron or steel for preference of course, but it needs to be a knife.
But UNIT has no Welsh employees and the soldiers have guns, not knives. And so they all become entranced.
(This is also what I think the gwyll 'says' to everyone to turn them against Ruby. She doesn't say anything - she sings.)
This is also the first time I've ever encountered any mainstream media doing Welsh faeries and understanding the tone to strike, which is 'unknowable, unstoppable and fucking terrifying'. I think I've only ever read it in Catharine Fisher books, and she's a Welsh author so... yeah, obviously. But I basically vibrated with delight and excitement for the entire episode.
Oh my god, hang on, Roger ap Gwilliam! Okay, I have two theories about him.
My weaker theory and the one I don't like is the kind of boring and obvious one, which is that he is himself not human. A lot of Welsh folklore features the devil, and I get that vibe from his role in the story. But, I'm not keen, because I can't see the link to the gwyll.
But my strongest theory, and the one I have chosen to believe, is that he's a human who made a deal with the Fae for power, and then reneged. There's a Metric Fuckton of stories about humans fucking up Fae gifts in some way, and the punishment is usually something ironic but always results in the loss of the gift. It could be a faerie harp that makes everyone dance, and the Fae tell the giftee not to abuse it, but they cruelly force everyone to dance so long and so hard that the faerie returns, takes back the harp, and then takes the human's ability to ever make music again, so example (by taking fingers or eyes or tongues as well, often.)
So I think Mad Jack strikes a bargain for power - but, then tries to abuse that power (nuclear war). But part of the bargain is that the Fae cannot approach him directly ever again. In the real world, they therefore tempt him into the faerie ring and bind his soul there, problem solved - until the Doctor accidentally lets him out, and gets his own soul stuck. Ruby, therefore, becomes the instrument through which they manage to take that power away once again - and then, her final Fae gift for her service is that they use the temporal anomaly of the faerie ring to send her back, at the end of her life, and give her a second chance. This time, with Mad Jack's soul left bound in Annwfn.
The fun part is, RTD is a writer who understands the power of not explaining everything and leaving some things up to the viewer's imagination, so none of this is ever going to be explained lol. But yeah, that is a gwyll. The moment she appeared, I said out loud "Oh holy fuck, gwyllion." That was a gwyll.
As a final observation, I loved seeing Siân Phillips, and I choose to believe they filmed those scenes in a pub because they could only get Siân if they agreed to just come to her local. The woman is a queen.
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What if it was Eddie who needed reader to be his fake wife?👀♥️♥️
Hiiii babes!!! Ohh love this!! Hope you enjoy this!!💖
“Hey sorry to bother you.” You raise your eyebrow as you feel a hand on your back as a voice pulls your attention away from the drink that’s in your hand. “But could you be my wife for just a few minutes?” You turn around making the hand fall from your back as you take a sip of the drink in your hand. You take the opportunity to look at the man standing in front of you and you can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness as a look of panic takes over his face causing his brown eyes to go wide as he looks over his shoulder quickly before looking back at you.
Before you can say anything you hear a loud laugh coming from the pool tables that are directly behind the nameless man who is standing in front of you. You watch his shoulders slump and his eyes close as he lets out what you can only assume is a sigh of defeat as the laughter gets closer to the two of you. The man stands up straight and puts on what you can clearly tell is a fake smile as he turns around and faces the owner of the laugh.
“Eddie? Oh my god how are you?” You roll your eyes at the how fake the girl’s voice sounds as you watch her open up her arms as if she’s about to lean in for a hug. You quickly finish off your drink and turn and place it on the bar before you step forward and wrap your arm around the middle of the man who you now know is named Eddie making him jump a bit at your touch but when he looks down at you all you have to do is give him a smile and he is quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side.
“Baby can we go play a game of pool?” You ask as you place your free hand on his chest while you look up at him and you can feel the girl’s eyes on you so you slowly look away from Eddie and over to the girl. “Oh I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.” You feel the grip on your shoulders tighten as you give the girl a small smile. “How do you know my husband?” You don’t miss the way her eyes go wide at the word husband, you feel Eddie lean down place a closed mouth kiss to the top of your head.
“Uh we uhm-”
“Oh sweetheart this is Chrissy.” You look up at Eddie as he speaks and when he looks down at you all you can do is smile causing his cheeks to turn a light shade of pink as he looks back over to Chrissy. “We dated in high school.” You just nod as you look over at Chrissy who is just awkwardly smiling at the two of you and if you weren’t two drinks in you’d probably feel a little guilty for making her feel so uncomfortable but you didn’t get asked to be her fake wife you got asked to be Eddie’s so you’re going to be the best fake wife you can be.
“Was he this cute in high school?” You hear Eddie laugh as you look back up at him and take your hand off his chest and run in through his hair. “I’ve seen photos of him from back then but I need you to be honest with me….was his hair this nice?” Eddie bites back a laugh as you look over at Chrissy as you play with the ends of Eddie’s hair, twirling it around your fingers.
“Uh-”
“Actually don’t tell me it’ll just make me jealous.” You explain as you remove your hand from his hair and place it back on his chest giving it a pat as Eddie pulls you closer into his side so he can hide his laughter in the crook of your neck making shivers go down your spine as his breath hits your skin.
“Well uh it was nice seeing you again Eddie.” Chrissy’s voice is sweet and her smile is genuine as she looks at Eddie. You watch her smile fade when she realizes he’s not going to drop his hold on you to give her a hug and that’s how you figure out that this girl must’ve either been the one that got away or the one that broke his heart because even though the only thing you know about Eddie is his name you can tell he’s a nice guy. “It was uhm good to uh meet you-”
“Sorry to cut this short but the pool table is free and you know the saying about a happy wife and all that right?” You look behind Chrissy and see a group of men leaving the pool table as Eddie drops his arm from your shoulders as you drop yours from his middle so he can grab your hand.
“Have a nice night.” Is all you say as you look over your shoulder as Eddie leads you to the pool tables leaving Chrissy standing there alone by the bar.
“Holy shit.” Eddie lets out a sigh of relief as he lets go of your hand once he sees Chrissy head off towards her group of friends. “Thank you for that you-”
“We aren’t done yet.” You look Eddie in his eyes and then look over your shoulder so he can see Chrissy standing there with a group of girls as they not so casually look over at the two of you.
“Oh fuck.” You just laugh at his look of annoyance as you take a step closer to him so you can tuck some of his hair behind his ear. “You’re good at this.” He whispers as he places a hand on your hip making you smile.
“I know I’m your wife and everything but what’s our last name?” You ask ignoring his previous statement, Eddie laughs as you place both of your hands on his chest and run them upwards until your arms are loosely wrapped around his neck.
“Munson.” You just nod as Eddie’s other hand also finds its way to your hip giving it a little squeeze.
“Not bad as far as last names go.” You tease making Eddie roll his eyes as he looks over your shoulder to see if Chrissy or any of her friends are looking at the two of you. “Are we good?” You ask as Eddie looks back at you and you raise your eyebrow as he gives you a little smirk.
“Oh we’re more than good sweetheart.” He answers as he leans down and places a kiss to your cheek. “They left.” He adds making you just nod your head as his hands leave your hips.
“This was fun.” Eddie just laughs and nods as you unwrap your arms from around his neck and give his chest a playful pat. “We should do it again sometime.” You reach into your back pocket and pull out your phone, Eddie holds his hand out ready to take it but you hold it to your chest making him raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Who was she? And don’t lie because I was your wife for like five minutes so I can tell when you’re lying.” Eddie just lets out a sigh as you let him take your phone out of your hand.
“She was my girlfriend in high school and she dumped me for someone else and she just kinda broke my heart in the process.” He explains as he types his number into your phone so he doesn’t have to see the sad expression on your face, it’s one he’s used to seeing anytime he tells the story of how he and Chrissy ended things years ago. “But it was a long time ago.” You just nod as he looks at you as he hands you your phone back.
“Well her loss.” Eddie smiles as you slide your phone back into your pocket. “Because now we get to go on a date and maybe one day a few months down the line I won’t have to be the fake Mrs. Munson anymore.” You watch the same smirk he had on his face earlier reappear as you shoot him a little wink before leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek.
“It would only take a few months?” He questions as you pull away from him and you just shrug playfully before turning around and heading towards the entrance of the bar. “See you tomorrow Mrs. Munson!” You just laugh as you hear his voice shouting at you as you reach the door.
#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson au#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#Eddie Munson x you fluff#Eddie Munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x female reader#Eddie Munson#stranger things au#stranger things fanfiction#my little dungeon master baby
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Cafe Drama
Gojo x reader
Genre: Fluff
Synopsis: Gojo loves drama when he’s not the center of it
Masterlist
"BABE, YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED!"
You almost dropped your phone. Not a hello, not even a 'Hey, how are you?' Just Gojo, screaming into the phone, voice filled with eagerness.
"Satoru, what—"
"So I was on this mission, right?" he interrupts, not bothering to wait for you response. "And I decided to take a break at this cute little cafe. You know the type, rustic charm, overpriced lattes, the works."
"Uh-huh," You reply, already grinning because you know this is going to be good.
"Okay, so I’m sitting there, minding my own business, trying to decide between a macchiato and a cappuccino—very important stuff, obviously—when suddenly, BAM! The couple at the table next to me starts arguing."
You can almost see his eyes sparkling with glee as he recounts this. Gojo loves drama when he’s not the center of it.
"So, naturally, I tune in. It’s like my own private soap opera. The guy’s all like, 'I can’t believe you did that!' and she’s like, 'Well, maybe if you paid more attention to me instead of your stupid phone!' Classic stuff. Anyway, they’re getting louder and louder, and I’m just sitting there, sipping my coffee, trying not to laugh."
"Of course you were," You chuckle, shaking your head. "You love a good train wreck."
"Exactly! But it gets better. The guy stands up, and I think he’s going to storm out, but no. He leans in, gets all serious, and says, 'You’re being irrational.' Which, by the way, never helps. She stands up too, and I’m like, 'Oh boy, here we go.' She picks up her glass of juice—orange, if you’re wondering—and I’m thinking, 'No, she wouldn’t.' But she did. SHE DID, BABE!"
"She threw the juice?"
"Right in his face! Full-on, slow-motion movie style. It was beautiful. Juice everywhere. The guy’s just standing there, dripping, looking like a soggy, defeated puppy. And the whole cafe goes silent."
You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, picturing the scene in your head. "Did anyone say anything?"
"Oh, the barista tried to act professional, but you could tell she was dying inside. Everyone’s just staring, and the guy, poor guy, he wipes his face and says, 'You know what? I don’t need this.' And then he slips on the juice! He didn’t fall, but it was close. Very close. He regained his dignity just enough to leave the cafe without actually hitting the floor."
You're laughing so hard now, with tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "Did you do anything? Or just watch?"
"Me? Oh, I applauded."
"No you didn’t!"
"I did! How could I not? It was a stellar performance. I gave her a standing ovation. I think she appreciated it, too. She bowed before storming out. Quite the exit. Ten out of ten."
You could barely breathe. "Only you, Gojo, would turn someone’s breakup into your own personal entertainment."
"Hey, I’m just here to enjoy the show life puts on for me. And to share it with you, of course. How’s your day going? Any juice-throwing incidents I should know about?"
"Sadly, no. My day has been quite boring compared to yours. Just paperwork and a slightly burnt grilled cheese."
"Tragic. I’ll have to take you to that cafe sometime. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see round two."
"As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll pass on the drama. But thank you for the update, babe. You always know how to make my day."
"Anything for you, babe. Now, tell me more about this grilled cheese situation. Burnt, you say? Sounds like a crisis."
You giggled, settling back into the couch, feeling the warmth of his ridiculous story still lingering. "Well, it started with the toaster oven malfunctioning..."
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#gojo#satoru gojo#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#jjk gojo x reader#jjk satoru#gojo fluff#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo fluff#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru fanfic#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader
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Road Trip
It was, it was always just a fight but the last one had been Jason and Bruce had been one of their worst and things only escalated after he accused Jason of having something to do with the Joker's disappearance.
It was another thing to hold against him. Another excuse to keep the Red Hood at arms length but Barbara knows Jason wasn't anywhere near Gotham when the clown went missing. Bruce checked. Tim double checked, but she knows because it wasn't like Jason was even trying to hide from any of them.
He was just traveling.
At first it was with the rest of the Outlaws for a bit and on and after for a while afterwards with the rest of his team joining up at different points along his trip across the country.
Weeks spent on the road from New York to Pennsylvania, a detour down to Atlanta and through Kentucky. A weekend spent traveling between Michigan and Toronto and a surprising sighting in Kansas which was one of the only stops she still didn't understand since he'd have to be traveling all night just to get to that small town he'd been spotted in and Jason didn't seem to be in any hurry.
A part of her had been tempted to call Kara and see if she'd look into the matter for her but cases kept piling up and they got busy. If it wasn't the usual villain of the day causing trouble then it was the power vacuum left behind by the still missing Joker or one the guys getting into trouble. So she left it alone.
Jason didn't seem like he was in any trouble. He'd come back sooner or later. He always came back. Except he didn't. Weeks turned into months, then a full year passed them by as sightings of the Red Hood grew less and less frequent and it was only a preemptive notification she sat up so long ago that reminded her of Jason's absence as she stares down at the computer monitor playing a few seconds of footage displaying a small crowd of people, the Outlaws, some of Young Justice and the Titans along with a few other people who were cheering him on as he slipped a ring on some red haired woman's finger. The context was clear enough but she didn't find out more about the what and why until later that night when Roy sent out an update to the rest of the Titans claiming dibs on being the best man.
The above is just something that I cobbled together after reading a few Jason leaves Gotham fics and the thought of Jazz killing the Joker for (insert reasons) so my mind kind of jumped to Jason living out his best Cinderella moment, chasing after, flirting (along with getting threatened by a pair of overprotective parents) and road tripping with his team while trying to find the woman who lost her bloody baseball bat. After they meet he's just doubling down on everything with the intent of marrying her, Jazz getting her own little road trip, telling Jason where they're going next or even making a game out of if he can find her at the next stop on the Fenton family supernatural hunting/cataloging road trip cause I know they love talking about ghost but the image of Jack and Maddie fighting Bigfoot is amazing.
And the Fentons are happy for the two of them. At least he wasn't another Johnny. They had Tucker check just to be sure while everyone else just kind of assumes the rest of the bat family already knew when it was actually a mix of (we're super busy right now) and (maybe things will be a little peaceful if we give Jason some space) leaving Bruce trying to play catch up and depending on if he's reformed having to outdo Vlad who is already paying for everything.
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McLaren Orange
*based off the song “tennessee orange” by megan moroney*
lando norris x fem!reader
warnings: fluff *first person pov*
summary: y/n was raised in a ferrari family, but a special driver in the papaya car gets her to wear the mclaren orange.
I felt as if I was going to throw up. My hand hovered over my mothers contact, shaking from the knots in my stomach. I knew I shouldn't be nervous, but knowing the way my family is I couldn't help it. Finally after convincing myself to tap the icon, my phone began to ring. The ring went on an awful long time, making me feel even more terrified.
"Hi Mama," I say into the phone once she picked up.
"Hey darling," Her sweet voice echos into my ear. How am I supposed to tell her this?
"I've got some news for you," My voice cracks.
"Is everything alright? You're not in trouble are you?" Her tone becomes serious, I could tell she had her eyebrow raised looking towards my father.
"I'm not in trouble, Mama" I laugh slightly, "But, don't tell dad about this, please."
There was silence on the other side of the phone. I knew she was debating listening to my request, but also on not. I heard her shuffle around a bit. Maybe she headed into a different room for privacy.
"I know you guys raised me to know right from wrong, and I know you're thinking I did something wrong, but don't worry everything is okay." I sigh, "It's just, I've never really felt this way. I don't know where to start."
"You can tell me anything, sweetheart." She reassures me, my heartbeat already calming down.
"I met this guy," I mentally smack my head in embarrassment.
"Oh, I was expecting something totally different." She laughs loudly.
"He's got these gorgeous blue eyes." I feel my cheeks grow warm just thinking about the way his eyes look into mine. "He even opens the door for me. I don't think he's made me cry once."
I had met Lando after the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix. A couple of my friends and I decided to go out for the night, we needed some freedom. Just that morning we were all wearing our red gear, cheering for the Ferrari's as they raced. Lando just happened to be at the club we decided to go to. He was with a couple of his friends, hanging around the dj booth in the back. I must have felt risky that day because I walked up to him, congratulating him on his race. Yes, I congratulated the enemy. We ended up talking a little longer. A little longer was the rest of the night.
"He's not from where we're from." I explained, "But, he feels like home somehow."
"Where's he from?" She qustions.
"The United Kingdom, Bristol actually." I tell her.
"He sounds like a very lovely guy," She compliments him. This makes my heart warm. Hopefully the rest of the story wont make her too upset.
"I've done things I've never done before with him, Mama." She could probably hear my wide smile through the phone. "He took me to this beautiful restaurant the other night. Oh, and we went cliff diving too!"
Talking about just a few of the adventures we had been on together already made my stomach burst with butterflies. Thinking back to when our hands were holding tight to each other as we jumped off the tall cliff, waiting for our fall to be caught by the blue water. When he gave me his jacket after our dinner because it was raining.
"There is one thing though," I hesitate.
"What is it?"
"Mama, he's a driver." I try to lead up to the fact that he's a big racing star, but not for our big team.
"He's a driver? Like a racer?" Her voice fills with excitement. "Are you dating Charles Leclerc?"
"No Mama, not him." I laugh, "He's not on Ferrari."
Yet again there was a silence on the other end of the phone.
"Mama, he drives for McLaren." I whisper, a weight being lifted off my shoulders as I did so. "Lando Norris."
I heard the door open from the phone, she was walking up to my father.
"He took me to Spain with him, that's why I was gone for a little while. He gave me the hat he had sitting on his dash when we got to the airport." I try to distract her from telling any information to my father. As long as he's a good guy why should it matter? "Mama, can you forgive me? Don't tell dad, please. I like him a lot."
"Honey, I'm not mad at you. I can't change the fact you like this boy. As long as he doesn't make you forget you look better in red." She sighs, the phone now on speaker mode.
"I don't know, his smile makes me forget sometimes." I fiddle with the rings on my finger.
"Hi daddy," I say quietly, knowing hes listening into the conversation. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."
"Your mother and I are so happy for you, Y/n. I could never be mad at you for chasing your heart."
"I still am rooting for Ferrari, don't worry." I laugh, feeling relieved by their acceptance. "But if you every see me wearing McLaren. Just know I'm wearing the orange for him."
#lando x reader#lando norris#charles leclerc#formula one#formula 1#ferrari#mclaren#f1#f1 x reader#mclaren f1#ferrari f1
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More security guard!simon thoughts.
He has to wear formal wear at work now. Which he hates- the man always feels constricted by a suit and tie in a way that will never be satiated no matter how much he adjusts his cuffs and the line of poor silk wrapped around his neck.
"For the love of Christ can you stop fidgeting? You're like a fucking child in church clothes." You peer over your laptop with narrowed eyes, letting your gaze focus on the way the fabric stretches over his muscles, buttons almost straining over his chest.
He says nothing. As usual.
"Maybe you wouldn't be so twitchy if you actually wore clothes that fit. You get paid enough to be able to afford a proper tailor.”
His eyes snap up to your own and you can feel his scowl underneath that stupid mask and can’t find the smile that it brings to your face. Annoying your obliged shadow has become one of the few joys in your day.
“Don’t need new clothes.”
“Yeah sure, tell that to the button that’s fighting for its life right now. If that thing flies off and takes my eye out, I’ll sue.”
“I’m sure you have a lawyer on retainer.”
“Several actually. Along with a very talented tailor who has done beautiful work for the past three weddings I’ve had to attend.”
“All for your father?”
“And each blushing bride-that-was-once-to-be that still feels the need to send me a christmas card.”
Simon feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his slacks. Before he has a chance to reach for it- you confirm his curiosity.
“You have a meeting with him Saturday morning, he’ll do your measurements and then have your clothes ready for you on monday. I’ve sent the address to you and I expect the next time you come into my office, you’ll look like a normal human being and not a weightlifter stuffed into his old communion suit.”
The chair creaks under his weight as he leans forward, eyes narrowing into slits as yours don’t bother looking up from your computer screen as you continue to read whatever fucking proposal you’ve been glued to all morning.
“You know-” He rasps. “I work for your father. Not for you, don’t forget that.”
Your gaze flicks up to find his own and he’s taken aback by the thin smile that stretches over your face and the smug twinkle in your eye that makes him realize perhaps the two are one in the same.
“The appointment is 9 a.m, Riley. I’m sure your time in the military has made you quite the early riser.”
Simon has learned you have an interesting way of always getting what you want, even if you end up hating it in the end.
Which is how he finds himself standing before a wrinkled old man taking his inseam at 9:30 in the fucking morning- telling him that he should stick to muted colors for his ties from now on. Something like burgundy and dark greens because “she says it’s a complementary color for your eyes and I’m inclined to agree.”
#tj talks#more security guard simon teehee#ngl he gets a lil bricked up the day he comes back to work and sees you eyeing him in that suit#but then all you say is 'maybe someday youll lose the mask and look like a normal person instead of a terrorist'#and the moment is gone#security guard!simon#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#random word blurbs as i keep myself entertained on my day off teehee
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Fresh Out The Slammer
pairing: oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; talks about carlos sainz x norris reader (past relationship)
series: the tortured poets department
synopsis: 'fresh out the slammer,' slammer meaning jail. y/n looks back at her old relationship with carlos sainz as if it was like being in prison. she's finally escaped and found love with oscar piastri.
warnings: ptsd; the media being horrible
author's note: I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS!!! hope y'all like it 🥺
Another summer taking cover, rolling thunder
He don't understand me
Splintered back in winter, silent dinners, bitter
He was with her in dreams
You wake up distraught and sweaty in the middle of a hot Australian summer night. It was because of a dream you had about Carlos with the whores you would see him with.
"Are you okay honey?" Oscar mumbles. He notices the state that you were in, it was like you were struck by thunder. "Let me get you water."
Oscar turns on the lamp by his bedside to then go to the kitchen you get you a glass of water. Once Oscar comes back to give you the water, he gives you a minute before asking the question. "What's wrong honey?"
"I ... had a dream about Carlos," you take a deep breath and continue talking. "It felt so real. I felt like I was back with Carlos and seeing him with whores while I was alone splintered back in winter. I remember I would eat my dinners in silence and be bitter that Carlos was with girls while I was alone."
Oscar can tell it was still hard for you to talk about your past relationship with Carlos, you did spend 3 years with him. "I don't think I will fully understand or feel what you went through with your relationship with Carlos. My past relationships have been short term. But I will always be here to listen and comfort you." He hugs you so that you two can cuddle back in bed.
"Thank you for always being there even when you don't understand." You lightly kiss him and fall back to sleep. Slowly you were breaking free from the slammer of the trauma you had with your past relationship and healing with the love of your life.
Years of labor, locks and ceilings
In the shade of how he was feeling
But it's gonna be alright, I did my time
The 2024 season started back up at the beginning of March at the Bahrain Grand Prix. You were excited to be back in paddock to support your brother and your boyfriend. They had both left early in the morning to start practicing for qualifying.
Once you got into the paddock, you see the Ferrari garage and remember the years of labor, locks, and ceilings you went through with Carlos and Ferrari. It was always in the shade of how Carlos was feeling, Ferrari red.
As you walk past the Ferrari garage to get to McLaren garage, you hear a voice that was familiar to you. "Y/N!" It was Alexandra.
"Oh my god! Hi, Alex." You both hug. One of the things you actually miss from Ferrari was your friendship with Alex.
"How are you? It's been so long!" She exclaimed. "The last time we saw each other, it was a bad time." Last time you saw Alex was at your failed wedding with Carlos.
"I've genuinely been doing good." You smile sympathetic to Alex. "I'm happier than the last time we saw each other. How are you and Charles?"
"We're doing amazing!" She says happily. "We're having a baby boy soon."
Your eyes widen at what Alex had spilled. "You're having a baby!"
"Oh not an actual baby," she giggles. "We're getting our baby dachshund in a few weeks."
"Oh my god! That's so exciting! You need to post pictures of him as soon as you get him." You exclaim to Alex about the puppy her and Charles were getting soon.
Speaking about Charles, he comes up and Alex with none other than Carlos with him. This will be the first time seeing each other physically. "Hi, Y/N. How are you?" Charles asks.
"I'm doing very well. Alex was telling me you guys are getting baby dachshund in a few weeks." You notice that Carlos was staring at you while you were talking to Charles. You just ignore him and pay attention to your conversation with Alex and Charles.
Alex tells Charles about what she said about the baby dachshund. "We're excited about starting our family by adding Leo." Charles smiles while talking about his baby dachshund. "But one day, we'll start our own human family."
'I'm happy for you guys for starting a family." You smile at them. "I've always wanted to start a family of my own. Right Carlos?" You ask him since he was listen to the conversation as well. He was too stunned to speak.
While you were waiting for Carlos to respond, two drivers wearing papaya colored race suits join the conversation. "What are we talking about?" Lando asks.
"We were talking about Charles and Alexandra starting a family by them getting a dog." Carlos says completely ignoring your question. He notices Oscar back hugging you while you're listening to the conversation.
"I'm getting a nephew! I thought Y/N would give me on before you Charles." Lando says jokingly to the group. Everyone except for Carlos laughs at Lando's joke.
"One day we'll give you a nephew or niece mate." Oscar says to the group then looks at you. "Let me put a ring on her finger and get tied to her first before that." You smile at what Oscar says.
Even though you did your time, it was going to be alright for you. You found the one.
Camera flashes, welcome bashes
Get the matches, toss the ashes off the ledge
As I said in my letters, now that I know better
I will never lose my baby again
Tonight was the race of Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. News got out that Carlos would not be racing since he had to get his appendix removed. You and the rest of the McLaren team sent your sympathies to the Sainz family by sending them flowers and letters wishing him to get better.
As you scan your vip paddock pass through the gates, a bunch of cameras flashed at you with reporters asking you questions. "Y/N is it true that you were happy that Carlos wouldn't be able to race tonight? That he was finally getting his karma for the way he treated you."
"That's a ridiculous and disgusting question ma'am." You says to her in disgust as she points the mic to you. "What type of person would wish evil on a person? Even though Mr. Sainz and I aren't in a relationship, I would never wish evil on him. Earlier today, the McLaren team members and I wrote letters and sent flowers wishing Mr. Sainz and his family to have a smooth and speedy recovery. Get your facts straight next time and have a good rest of your night ma'am." You say your final thoughts and leave to go to the McLaren garage.
You see Oscar waiting for you, "You were really strong out there honey. You spoke nothing but the truth." He says and kisses your temple.
"You're not mad at me for speaking about him, baby?" You ask him.
"No because I know who you are and what your intentions are. That's what I love about you." He smiles at you and you both go into the garage so he can get ready for the night race.
If you were in your previous relationship, he would've got mad at you for speaking to the media. But now you know that you'll never lose your baby again.
****
f1news Carlos Sainz’s ex fiancé, Y/N Norris, speaks out to a interviewer about her feelings towards Sainz getting his appendix removed. Norris, silencing the rumors that she's happy her ex fiancé isn't racing at the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, states "Even though Mr. Sainz and I aren't in a relationship, I would never wish evil on him. Earlier today, the McLaren team members and I wrote letters and sent flowers wishing Mr. Sainz and his family to have a smooth and speedy recovery."
Oscar Piastri, Norris' current boyfriend and brother's McLaren teammate, states in an interview after receiving 4th place at the race, "Y/N is the strongest and most compassionate woman I've ever known. It's disgusting that the media asked her if she was happy Carlos was in the hospital. She would never wish evil on him even though she went through the slammer in her relationship with him."
user1 @yourinstagram is so classy. i would’ve wished evil for the man who put me through hell
user2 THE AUDACITY THE INTERVIEWER HAD TO ASK Y/N THAT QUESTION
user3 @oscarpiastri is a keeper @yourinstagram 🥹
user4 @oscarpiastri speaks so highly of @yourinstagram HE’S SO IN LOVE 😭🥺
****
Now, pretty baby, I'm running
To the house where you still wait up, and that porch light gleams
To the one who says I'm the girl of his American dreams
After the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, you and Oscar decided to take a small vacation at Oscar's family home the week before his home race. From there you finally got to meet his parents and his three sisters.
You guys were outside on the porch with the light gleams roasting marshmallows at the camp fire. "Oscar, you need to stop hanging out with Logan because his American traditions are rubbing off on you." One of Oscar's sisters jokingly says in front of the family.
"Well isn't this what American families do? Roast marshmallows in the summer on the pouch. It's a plus that I have the girl of my American dreams." Oscar looks at you smiling.
"You're not even American baby." You laugh at what Oscar said in front of everyone.
And no matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway
Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up now that I know what's at stake
Here, at the park where we used to sit on children's swings
Wearing imaginary rings
But it's gonna be alright, I did my time
Once the rest of Oscar's family went inside the house, Oscar decided to take you to the park near his house. You guys sit down on children's swings talking about the past and future.
"Thank you baby for loving me." You say grateful that you found love again. "Even if I went through a lot."
"Loving you is easy honey. I know you've been through a lot but what matters now is us and our future." He gets off of his swing and drops one knee down in front of you. Your eyes start tearing up. "Y/N these past few months have been nothing but bliss. There's no way I'm screwing up now that I know what's at stake. You have my whole heart."
"Y/N will you marry me?"
You stand up and say happily, "Yes baby. Forever and always."
After years of going through the slammer, you were going to be alright at the end.
Now, pretty baby, I'm running back home to you
Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to
(Fresh out the slammer, oh)
yourinstagram now, pretty baby, i'm running back home to you @oscarpiastri 💍🩵
oscarpiastri i'll always be by your side no matter what 🩶
liked by author
landonorris THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! MY FAVS ARE GETTING MARRIED!!!
liked by author and oscarpiastri
oscarpiastri you're stuck with me forever @landonorris
landonorris i like that
yourinstagram excuse me @landonorris he's my FIANCÉ not yours 😒
mclaren congrats @yourinstagram and @oscarpiastri happy for you guys 🥹🧡
liked by author and oscarpiastri
yourinstagram papaya by blood, now papaya through marriage 💍🧡
liked by mclaren
*comments have been limited*
f1news FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER: Oscar Piastri and Y/N Norris arrive at the Australian Grand Prix after announcing engagement on social media. Congratulations @yourinstagram and @oscarpiastri
user1 I BET CARLOS IS CRYING IN HIS ROOM RN
user2 I'm so happy for my parents 🥹
user3 After years of Y/N being unhappy in her relationship with Carlos, she's finally out of the slammer. She's thriving and now engaged with Oscar!!! 😆
user4 thank you carlos for breaking my girl's heart so that she can be happier without you
tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb @c-losur3
#f1#lando norris x reader#carlos sainz x reader#taylor swift#the tortured poets department#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#lando norris#carlos sainz#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader
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I am actually so emotionally destroyed by Crystal’s arc in this season. She comes in with no memories but she’s still angry, impatient, and rude sometimes—nothing like how she used to be, but her brain definitely remembers her habits even if she doesn’t remember the context.
And then Charles doesn’t get angry when she insults him, and Edwin matches her snappiness perfectly but still grows to value her. Her parents were so neglectful she probably became an asshole as part of a way to protect herself (causing an “any attention is good attention, including negative attention” mindset). So with the boys, she is faced with people who will actually engage with her when she intentionally challenges them, instead of just yelling at her or ignoring her. And it begins to change her immediately.
She goes from making someone walk into traffic to “I just want to help.” To “I have friends, I’m helping people, what more do I need?” She immediately volunteers to help Becky Aspen. She stops using her powers on random people. She takes Charles’ words to heart when he tells her she needs to let them in. She learns how to work with Edwin when Charles is in trouble.
And even though she has no memory of her parents, she still desperately wants to be reunited with them, even though if she had remembered them, she probably wouldn’t have bothered. “My parents won’t even care”, she says flippantly on the phone. And then when she does call them, they don’t care. But without her memory, at her core, Crystal wants her parents to care. She wanted them to care even when she would hide it behind recklessness and cruelty. This is common in kids with neglectful parents. She had so much hope when it was the anglerfish, and she had so much hope even after she began to remember her old life.
Old Crystal never would’ve tried to talk Esther Finch down by telling her about how toxic anger is and how important it is to choose to do good. And New Crystal wouldn’t have done that either if she didn’t truly believe it.
And at the end, when she gets her memories back, she is horrified by what she sees, by the kind of person she used to be.
Michael from The Good Place says: People improve when they get external love and support. How can we hold it against them when they don’t?
Crystal is a perfect representation of this statement and I will not sit here and let people talk bad about her.
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🌼☕` Hugging Them `☕🌼
Gen / fluff
Includes / Alastor , Lucifer , Husk , Charlie , Vox , Velvette , Carmilla
| ALASTOR |
Won't initiate but will allow it if you're interested, never in public however
Recovering from a fight doesn't necessarily warrant him initiating touch, it's the opposite actually
Fighting makes him feel gross, when feelings are running hot he couldn't imagine anything worse than being touched, so given the courtesy you've given his aversion to touch he does the same for you
If, eventually you tell him you WOULD like to be touched and held after a fight or when upset he'll indulge
He likes to hold you while sat and comfortable, in bed or on the lounge, head resting comfortably in your shoulder, hand running up and down your back, gentle, fleeting, loving touches
| LUCIFER |
Adores hugging, he's very physically affectionate and wrapping you up in his arms, wings and tail is the closest to heaven he could get
His cool to the touch, unnaturally so, so he's learned it's best to give you a little warning before hand
Sometimes he doesn't though, just to give you a little spook
Have fun pulling him off of you, sometimes likes to just drape over you to cause problems
Got to get up early? Have fun pulling that octopus off of you
| HUSK |
He's neutral towards it, he's not a hugger but he doesn't hate it either
Usually after a fight, once you've mare up of course
Will just give you one if you ask though, only if you sweeten the pot though
"You want to- what you want a hug? What are you willing to give for it?"
Purrs the whole time though, tail swaying
Sometimes in the early morning he'll even wrap it around you, ears airplaned as he just takes you in
| CHARLIE |
HUGE hugger
Coming home, hug, leaving the hotel, hug, want a kiss, hug first, happy, hug, sad, hug
She read an article that said that humans need a certain amount of hugs a day to function and she's hitting that marker every day
She's a nuzzler too, against your face, your cheek, neck or shoulder
Think like when a cat rubs against your legs, but the cat has you in a crushing grasp
| VOX |
He's doing the work of like, three nine to fives, the only time he's really affectionate is in public outings for publicity, TV, or in bed before he gets up at some ungodly hour
He denies he likes snuggling but he always migrates to your side of the bed, somehow, every night, certainly some sort of coincidence
Cuddling is awkward cause of his head, if he wants to initiate he and you have to do some finagling to slot you two together, it's worth the work though, he never does anything that isn't worth it
| VELVETTE |
Is the most affectionate in front of a camera or in the public eye
Whenever you get a surprise hug, or kiss or she takes your hand in hers you can just assume that there's a camera near by
Posts lots of photos of the two of you cuddling, power couple shit
The only time you can say she hugged you, unencouraged by a camera, is when her first runway walk sold out
It's, weird to be nostalgic for something that only happened once but, you are
| CARMILLA CARMINE |
Usually gives you hugs when she senses you're upset
It's not that she doesn't like being affectionate, it's just not something that comes naturally to her
Is awkward, at first, but over time it becomes like second nature and holding you is a joy she could never lose
Hugs you around your neck, or from behind, just so she can mold herself to you and selfishly take you all in
#hazbin hotel x reader#just chatting#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#lucifer imagine#lucifer x reader#lucifer x y/n#husk x you#husk x y/n#husk x reader#husk imagine#charlie x you#charlie x y/n#charlie x reader#charlie morningstar x reader#vox headcanons#vox x reader#vox x you#velvette headcanons#velvette x reader#velvette x you#carmilla carmine x reader#carmilla headcannons#carmilla x reader#carmilla x you
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Hot take: Laios wouldn't actually mind an arranged marriage.
Obviously "reluctant royal being pressured into marriage" is very fun for shipping purposes. But I have harlequin blood, so bear with me. Join me on this journey of character theorizing/shipping nonsense that makes it abundantly clear I have a Scrivener document I'm neglecting.
Laios was promised to someone from a young age. He and Falin both were; it's probably how their parents ended up together. They both broke it off by leaving their village, but it didn't seem to be a factor in Laios's own decision. And when Marcille, presumably, asks about his hypothetical love life (bicorn chapter), he not only brings it up readily, but actually seems kind of flattered? lmao
I love when smug Laios comes out. Underrated factor of Laios's personality for me is how much he enjoys being seen as cool. I think you'd expect Laios to be embarrassed or uneasy over this line of questioning, and the fact that he isn't is fun to me.
So when Yaad and his other old advisors bring up his need for a wife, Laios is ready to go along with it. Not necessarily thrilled by the prospect, but he was raised to think of marriage as a business arrangement you do because it's beneficial for your household/bloodline (as was often the case historically). He's already made the big step to claim a throne, and the idea of becoming village chief after his father seemed to have been vaguely in the back of his head all his life. Besides, if he has to do it anyway, I think he'd take comfort that there was a formalized process for an otherwise socially messy undertaking.
This dovetails neatly with my personal headcanon that Laios is gay but unaware of it. He comes from kind of a repressed culture- or at least I can imagine he does based on context clues- and has spent most of his life being ostracized in one way or another, feeling like he's on the outside of humanity. So he doesn't realize that his lack of attraction to women is unusual- he assumes that nobody really enjoys romance that much. It's not like his own parents married for love. It's just something people play up for stories, right?
It's all tangled up with his fraught desire for human connection and platonic companionship anyway. Meanwhile he's blithely unaware that the things he says about Toshiro are not normal bro things. Oh you'd totally marry Toshiro, Laios? Tell me more.
I see this in Marcille too. Firstly due to her unstable development, which has only recently allowed her to reach maturity (I headcanon her as somewhere between 20-22) and secondly due to her being a half-elf (infertile+a too-long lifespan), I think she has the expectation that she's simply not destined for love. The half-elf character she relates to in her favorite books says as much. So she, too, confuses a genuine lack of heterosexual attraction with the belief that this is just because of her half-elf status distancing her from it. Plus, she spent over a decade as a student/researcher in a nice little sheltered academic bubble, at an all-girls academy populated by adolescents. She's the most sheltered of all the characters: she's only spent the past year in the "real world", and she still focuses all her romantic attention on living vicariously through her favorite characters or her friends (except for Falin, conveniently!).
And Marcille would absolutely want to live vicariously through Laios and his future wife. She would not want him to go through a dispassionate formalized process: she wants her bestie to have a fairytale romance! What is the point of being a heroic king in a mythic castle if you can't even get a love story for the ages out of it?
This would result in a lot of Laios meeting with eligible bachelorettes at Marcille's urging, looking to Kabru for help the entire time and being grilled by Marcille afterwards about what he liked best about each girl. "She had nice, um, teeth?" They're both so close to getting it.
Kabru, meanwhile, is agitating for Yaad and the other advisors not lock the country into a hereditary monarchy, they have the chance to do something radical here, to break away from the systems that the elves and dwarves uphold. At the very least, let Laios marry for love, or formally adopt an heir and name them his successor if he wants, he's already sacrificed enough for the sake of Melini. Don't make him jump through these circus hoops for the chance of some trade agreements, we can get those without a royal marriage. And even if Laios was willing to go along with it, he does look at Kabru like he's his hero for sticking up for him.
The vague unhappiness Kabru feels at the idea of Laios being married off is easy for him to ignore. Kabru didn't actually get better at honoring or even recognizing his own wants just because he's moved past the dungeon. And Laios hasn't gotten the hint about his crush on Toshiro and is still 50/50 on saying casually shocking things, so when he remarks that he doesn't need a wife anyway when he has Kabru, he has no idea why that gets him the looks it does. After all, where he's from, men marry women to run their households, but Laios has castle staff for that, and Kabru is handling the rest?
That comment alone ticks one month off their collective gay awakening countdown.
Anyway. How many repressed gays in their twenties does it take to run a country?
Answer: Yaad can tell you.
#dungeonposting#DUNGEON MESHI SPOILERS#I always have to use that tag for the dumbest reasons. because of my harlequin blood.#Labru#you get that tag because that was the point of my post it just took awhile to get there#also pretend I made some kind of joke with a pun about screwing at the end. believe in me.#Golden Country trio#^tag for ME. rotating scenarios with them in my head is a personal treat.#I haven't figured out where Kabru falls yet#he's very bad at introspection and very good at denying himself#but god knows what a guy like Kabru who moves through society the way he does experiences#several possibilities present themselves and I haven't yet decided which one is most plausible. or funniest.#pairing: to be human
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A Doe in Fall (part 7)
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦
Part 2 - Liar smut💦
Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦
Part 4 - Enough
Part 5 - Too Much
Part 6 - Learning smut💦
Part 7 - Recognition smut💦
Part 7 Recognition
It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.
「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」
I think I fixed the broken tag list!
....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross.
thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link>
unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?
Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗
A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.
But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.
No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.
Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.
But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.
The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.
But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.
So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.
Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.
“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.
“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.
“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”
He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”
Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)
Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.
“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”
The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”
“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”
“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”
“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.
“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.
“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”
Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.
Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.
But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?
He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.
Or the wrong person.
Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.
Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.
A record Brady could claim.
When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”
Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”
“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”
“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”
“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”
With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”
“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”
That’d be ideal.
A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.
Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”
“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.
He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”
“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”
The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”
Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“I never said sorry.”
You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.
“For what?”
He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”
You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.
Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?
“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”
Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.
You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.
But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”
Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”
His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”
You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”
“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”
You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”
Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.
When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.
A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.
Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.
Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.
You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.
“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”
His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.
The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.
“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”
Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”
Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.
You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.
Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.
And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.
It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.
But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.
When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.
“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”
He asked her why she couldn’t have both.
“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”
He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”
It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?
He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.
“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.
Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.
“Do you know who I am?”
Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”
Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.
“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.
He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.
Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.
Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.
“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.
“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”
When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.
Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?
What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?
You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.
He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”
“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.
He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.
“Hush.” You cooed.
You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.
As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.
He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”
Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”
His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.
Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.
“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.
You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.
“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”
Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.
“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.
He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.
“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.
“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”
When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.
His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.
Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.
For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.
So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.
He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?
“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.
An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.
You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.
“Something like that, yeah.”
His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.
You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.
And you liked him
You appreciated him.
He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.
Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.
Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.
When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.
You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.
“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.
“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.
Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.
“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.
Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.
He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.
When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.
When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.
He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.
You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.
He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.
“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.
“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.
“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.
A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.
Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.
Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.
Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.
The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.
Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.
When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.
And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.
Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.
But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.
Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?
When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.
He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.
As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.
You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”
Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.
He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.
You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”
“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”
His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”
Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”
A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”
You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.
While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.
“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”
But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.
A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”
With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.
Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.
He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.
As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.
Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”
Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”
“Tsk, wrong.”
Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.
Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.
“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.
Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.
“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”
You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.
“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.
It clicked, “Absolutely.”
You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.
As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.
He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.
But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.
“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”
“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”
A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.
You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”
He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”
A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.
Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.
Life changing decisions.
Decisions that filled empty homes.
Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?
When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.
When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”
He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”
Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”
“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)
“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”
He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”
“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)
Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.
Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.
A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.
When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.
You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.
Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.
No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.
Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)
When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.
Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)
Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.
“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”
She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”
“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.
“Is she in some kinda trouble?”
“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”
Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”
He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”
Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)
He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.
“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”
Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”
Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)
“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”
She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)
As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.
Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.
Enough games.
When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.
Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.
James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.
When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.
Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.
“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)
˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖
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I binged your Lilia with a baby daughter and I couldn't get enough. Can you imagine if General Lilia gets yeeted into that timeline and he finds out that not only did his future self marry a human but also actually have a child with her. If current timeline Half Faces are already kinda rare so imagine from his time where he's at war with them. Also how Lilia's little girl interacting with her Papa (who isn't really her Papa but also isn't lmao) Also, MC who he is married to. I just wanna see his Tsun Tsun ass be flustered but confused lmao. Ok, thank youuu!
[referring to these posts: 1, 2, and 3]
Hello Anonie 🌺🌷🌻
I'm happy that you enjoyed them anonie! I had a blast writing them. 🌟💚
Ohhhh Anonie you guys know how to hit my weak spots 😂💕💜 Babies, General Lilia, time travel shenanigans oh my 🤣💚 You and me 🤝 wants to see General Lilia tsun tsun butt be flustered mwah chef kiss.
General Lilia being sent to the future is a curse and a blessing...depending on who you ask 😂 jkjk
Just thinking about it and I just?? Love the thought of General Vanrouge meeting a new born baby or up to a 1 year old. Something about him just holding her with these awkward hands just has me so soft 😩🥹
But then I also think our Lilia might be possessive and go ‘My Baby’ on him, even though that’s literally himself 🤣
I have so many thoughts sooo many on how General Vanrouge’s reaction to Malleus and Silver could go, and even Sebek. But more so on Malleus and Silver. Also his reaction to his future self too, you know??
In reverse, our Lilia’s reaction to his past self. It can go many ways as well. Depending on how General Vanrouge reacts. Papa instincts ✨
But we’ll skip that because this ask is about baby and General Vanrouge ✨✨
A part of me thinks that our Lilia is going to just yeet the baby at his past self. Deja vu right?? Don’t worry, he knows himself and knows the General will catch the little one.
After flicking Lilia on the forehead for his actions and letting Mal and Sil deal with him, you go to the General who’s frozen. He caught her of course, but he seems stumped on what to do.
You can’t blame him really. After being in war and seeing and dealing with what he has. This peace and quiet must be new, not to mention being in the future.
So you go to him and as gently as possible, making sure to not frighten him, move his hands so he’s more comfortably holding the baby.
Unknown to him, but his eyes softened as the little one curled into him while making cooing noises. You know your Lilia is taking a bunch of pictures.
“See? You’re a natural.”
He looks at you in disbelief but you can see the amazement in them too.
You tell him how he has no choice but to hold the baby now because she will cry if you move her from her new favorite spot. He flusters a bit at that.
Time goes on, General Vanrouge wears casual clothing and hangs up his armor temporarily after Lilia had a talk with him. His weapon is with him, you all understand why. His need to protect what’s his is engraved even though he doesn’t see it yet.
[Sometimes you see your Lilia looking at the armor. His eyes mixed with emotions. You simply lay your head on his shoulder; he kisses your hand]
The General gets attached to your daughter. She babbles at him and pulls at his hair. He tries not to flinch. For someone who was against raising kids, the General doesn’t say anything when your daughter stuffs his hair into her mouth or drools on him as she sleeps.
Lilia’s proud, “that’s my girl!” is often heard.
At one point, you take pity on him. You take a hairbrush, running it carefully through his hair before tying it in a high bun. You fondly roll your eyes at the pout your Lilia has before taking your daughter to feed. For the General’s sake, you chose not to comment on his flustered expression.
Our Lilia is repeatedly saying “spoilers” which irritates the General whenever he asks a question. You get why it’s frustrating but the scene is rather funny and your baby girl’s laughter agrees with you.
“I won’t have you ruining my future! I’ll have you know I wouldn’t change anything for the happiness I have now, so you have to be patient.”
Malleus and Silver both have the sweetest smile. They know exactly what he means.
The General watches how his future self acts. You can see the slight scowl and twitch of his eyebrow. He’s questioning his whole existence.
What surprises you is his question to you.
“Are you sure you want to be married to that?”
“Hey!”
You laugh softly, tenderly tucking a stray strand behind his ear, “Yes. He’s you, isn’t he?”
The smile you give him then has him falling deeper unbeknownst to him.
Anabskdkds okay, but why am I the one flustered now?? Qbskwjwjejr 😂💞🥰
Ahhhhh this was longer than I expected but I had so many ideas and I wanted to especially include that last one 🥹💞
Thank you for sending this in Anonie 😭💚 Currently screaming into a pillow and rolling in bed. Ahhhhh 💞💞💞💚💚
#answered#Anonie ask#lilia vanrouge#malleus draconia#twst silver#diasomnia#general lilia vanrouge#general lilia vanrouge x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#general Vanrouge x reader#general vanrouge#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twst fluff#no major twst book 7 spoilers#mallleus draconia and twst silver mention
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nine — whatcha reading?
mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader
⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to.
when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 2.2k
content. profanity, mentions of injury, descriptions of sex, horny thoughts
Satoru is the perfect boyfriend. He’s romantic and sappy in all the best ways. He’ll show up for surprise dates and wait outside classrooms to hand you a cup of coffee. He’ll give you flowers “just because,” boxes of donuts, teddy bears, bracelets—”just because.” He’ll stay up to keep you company while you work on your papers. He’ll be there for you, anytime, anywhere, just for you.
Satoru is the perfect boyfriend. He’s also ridiculously good at lying about it.
“She’s not here.”
Satoru starts as Kimi’s voice drifts in behind him. He turns to look at her with that quintessentially perfect smile.
“What are you talking about?” he asks innocently.
Kimi just looks at him, unperturbed. “She’s not here,” she repeats. “She’s out for a week. Got injured in the middle of her last game.”
Satoru furrows his brows at her, like he has no idea what she’s talking about. “Who?”
She says your name. He pretends to be shocked by the news.
“I know you were there,” she tells him before he can fake a reaction. “Michiko went to watch her girlfriend. She saw you.”
If there’s one thing Kimi is not, it’s a fool. She’s well-aware that Satoru is in fact not over you. She’s under no illusion that he’s in love with her. The only reason why she’s in this situation in the first place is because her friends wouldn’t stop hounding her about being single for too long and Satoru asked her out at just the right time.
This isn’t a relationship built on love. It’s just a way for them both to pass the time.
Satoru scratches the back of his head in guilt. “I wasn’t hiding it or anything,” he tells her. “I just—”
She raises her hand. “It’s fine,” she says. “I don’t really care.”
She turns to walk away, but Satoru catches her shoulder. He slides an arm around her and nuzzles into her neck.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
Kimi just hums, handing him her bag as they walk away from the tennis court to the parking lot, and Satoru starts to list all the things he wants to do with her this week. She looks at him, his eyes all bright as he talks about this new coffee shop that Naoya told him about, and she wonders if he’s just pretending like her—or if he’s actually convinced that he’s selling this whole act.
That he wholeheartedly believes he’s somehow tricked her into believing this.
He turns to her when they get in the car. He tilts his head to the side and flashes her a grin.
“I love you,” he says without an ounce of hesitation.
And all at once Kimi realizes that he’s not trying to trick her.
He’s trying to trick himself.
“Can you get the remote?”
“Sure.”
“Can you charge my phone?”
“Sure.”
“Can you make popcorn?”
“Sure.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Sure—what?”
You, Nobara, and Maki burst into laughter as Sukuna gawks at you from the kitchen where he has dutifully started opening the box of popcorn packets you keep on the top shelf (supposedly to limit your access to it and prevent you from eating too much). He drops the box on the counter and proceeds to sulk.
“It’s funny,” you say like you’re trying to convince him. “You know, you don’t have to baby me. It’s just a sprain.”
He quirks a brow at you. “You say that as if you don’t like being babied.”
“Ew,” Nobara says, grimacing. “You’re such a cheesy fake couple.”
“She loves it,” Sukuna says, picking up the popcorn and reading the instructions on the back of the box. “Right, tiger?”
You toss a sock in his general direction. “I’m gonna kick you out.”
He nods, popping the packet into the microwave. “Sure, sure.”
The three of them are in your apartment against your wishes. After your game a few days ago ended with a doctor telling you that you had a sprained ankle—nothing bad, something you could get over in a week or so—they took it upon themselves to act as your primary caretakers. Sukuna has driven you practically everywhere, Nobara has all but carried you to your classes, and Maki has seen to getting you all the food, painkillers, and ice packs that your heart desires.
It’s annoying, having them hover all the time and treat you like an infant, but you have to admit that it hasn’t been all that bad. You don’t think your apartment has seemed this bright since the breakup. So it’s not all bad. Not at all.
“You have to study,” you remind Maki as she leans back into the armchair she and Nobara are sharing. “You should really head back to your dorm. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
She shakes her head. “You need me.”
“I don’t.”
“How are you gonna pee?”
“Oh, I dunno, maybe I’ll do this thing called walking?”
Maki glares at you and shoves Nobara as the other girl attempts to take over more space on the chair. “You have to rest,” she tells you. “The doctor said so.”
“She actually said that it’s good for me to walk a little,” you say, frowning as your friend attempts to become one with the chair. “Please. I’d feel terrible if you started flunking your classes because of me.”
“I can study here,” she says stubbornly.
“You’ve done enough,” you say. You look at Nobara. “You need to do your laundry. You can’t keep wearing the same jeans forever.”
She sticks her tongue out at you. “You can’t make me leave, bitch.”
Sukuna walks into the room now with a bowl of popcorn. He offers some to your friends, allowing them to take handfuls, before he settles on the floor beside the couch you’re on. He holds the bowl out to give you easy access.
“I can stay with her for the night,” he tells your friends. “And she’s right. The doctor did say moving around would be good for her.”
“Thank you.” You sigh in relief at someone actually listening to you for once. You turn back to your friends. “Don’t make me beg.”
Nobara looks over at Sukuna with the same scrutinizing gaze she always looks at him with. She has to admit that she doesn’t wholly hate the guy as much anymore, not with how helpful he’s been these past few days. Despite their differences, they do have a common ground: You.
“You won’t abandon her for a booty call?” she asks.
Sukuna nods. He picks up a piece of popcorn that you dropped on the floor and sets it aside to throw out later. “I got this,” he reassures her. “You guys should go rest.”
Nobara turns to Maki. They share a look that you can only describe as uncertain but relenting. She looks back at Sukuna. “Fine.”
After much stalling, the two girls eventually find their way out of your apartment, calling their goodbyes and promising to see you the next day behind them before Sukuna waves a final time and closes the door. He leans on the wall and slides down to his knees as he exhales loudly, keeping his eyes on you.
“Why do they love you so much?” he asks. “What kind of spell have you placed on them?”
You chuckle. “I’d give my heart to either of them if they needed it.”
Sukuna rolls his head to the side and smirks. “What if I needed it?”
You pretend to mull over the question, chewing at a bit of popcorn as you do. “I dunno,” you say. “Depends on the situation.”
“You’re so mean to me,” he whines. “I’ve known you longer than they have.”
“Tough luck, bud,” you tell him. “It’s girl code.”
He gets up and walks over to you to flick your forehead. “Mean,” he says, smiling down at you. “Do you need anything else?”
You look over at the pool of supplies that Maki has gathered on the coffee table beside you. “A pile of cash, if you have it.”
“Sorry, I’m all out.”
“That’s too bad.”
Sukuna nods and ruffles your hair. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he tells you. Then, with a warning, “Don’t get up while I’m not here.”
“Bossy,” you say teasingly.
He wags a finger at you. “I’m serious. Be good.”
You flash him a self-satisfied grin. “Yes, daddy.”
“Ew.” He pretends to gag as he walks away. “I’m telling your mom that her daughter is a freak.”
You watch as he disappears into the bathroom. When the door closes behind him, you stretch out on the couch and reach for one of the books Nobara left you. It’s one of those trashy romance novels that she insists she only reads for entertainment but manages to go on a whole rant about when you ask her about them.
This particular book has been tame for the most part, a few chaste kisses from the lead characters, but nothing as wild as the ones Nobara often tells you about. You’ve only just started to believe that maybe it isn’t that kind of book when one character starts to undress another. Then they’re touching. Then the guy slips his hand between the girl’s legs. Then there’s a squelch, a moan, a cock.
Before you know it, you’re reading an absolutely filthy sex scene, complete with sighs, with groans, with thrusting. At some point, there’s a shift into a position you haven’t even considered humanly possible, and yet here it is, all written out for you to read as you feel your face heat up at the obscenity of it all.
You’re so engrossed in the book that you don’t realize Sukuna’s already stepped out of the bathroom and that he’s been watching you flip through pages with the most focused expression on your face for the past few minutes.
“Whatcha reading?”
You practically hurl the book across the room. “Holy shit!” you exclaim, clutching a hand to your chest. “Announce yourself next time!”
He cackles as you will your heart to stop beating so fast. “You’re too easy to startle.”
You open your mouth, about to shoot back some kind of annoyed response, but the words die in your mouth when your eyes finally focus on Sukuna.
He’s leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile on his lips. Nothing out of the ordinary—except for the fact that the only thing he has on is the thin towel wrapped around his waist.
From your place on the couch, you take in his entire appearance. Wet hair and bare skin. His shoulders bulge, thick muscles still slightly damp with water. The tattoos that run across his arms and chest are dark against his fair skin, the patterns curling over his naked torso. His abs are firm, protruding on his stomach like they’re made of stone. And then there’s the trail of hair tracing from his navel down to—
“Like what you see?”
You quickly pull your gaze back up to his face. You swallow.
“Fuck you,” you is all you can say before your best friend bursts into laughter again and heads into your bedroom.
You sit with yourself for a moment, trying to understand what just happened. All you can think is, Was he always this fucking hot?
Sukuna reemerges from your bedroom. He’s dressed now, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He dries his hair and walks towards you.
You do your best to avoid his eyes.
“Wanna go to bed?” he asks, clearly oblivious to the internal crisis you’re having right now.
You toy with the hem of your shirt and clear your throat in an attempt to ground you back in reality. You can’t start thinking that your best friend is hot right now. That’s just wrong.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” you say, swinging your legs off the side of the couch. You’re about to get up when Sukuna crouches down to slide his arm beneath yours. You jerk away from his touch.
He frowns, pulling back at your sudden reaction. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Does your ankle hurt?”
You don’t even get to answer before he’s kneeling down in front of you, his hand going to inspect your ankle. You swear your skin is going to melt at just how hot his touch feels.
“I’m fine,” you tell him, slightly panicked as you shift your leg out of his grasp. “I can—I can walk by myself.”
He looks up at you and you think your heart might just explode.
There he is, kneeling between your legs, looking at you with concern, unaware of the fact that there’s a steady warmth growing between your thighs.
“Are you sure?” he asks, but you’re already getting up on wobbly legs and shuffling over to your bedroom. He catches up to you, because of course he does, and holds his arm out for you to hold. Exasperated, he says, “Just let me help you, tiger.”
Relenting, you grab onto him and let him lead you to the room. When you get to the door, you grab it, holding onto it for support as you use it to slowly push him out. “Okay, I can do it from here,” you tell him through the crack between the door and the frame. You offer him an easy smile. “Goodnight.”
Sukuna looks more than puzzled, but he just nods and waves. “Night.”
He watches as you firmly close the bedroom door, leaving him to stand in front of it, wondering, What the fuck just happened?
notes. reader reading smut is me like sometimes i just don’t know what to do with myself but i also can’t stop reading 😩 how are we feeling after this chapter sukuna girlies??
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