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vettelsvee · 1 month

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JUST LIKE YOU | Oscar Piastri Prologue

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warnings: curse words, my very much created version of the vettel family (seb is married to diana vettel, his former race engineer), claire's parents being trash. christmas time! english not being my first language so sorry in advance for any mistake <3

taglist: just tell me in the comments if you wanna be tagged in the following parts!

a/n: would you like me to post Sebastian and Diana's fanfiction, History?

2022 December 20th Switzerland

Claire

If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that there was no way in hell I should be here, on the other side of the world, getting off a plane after nearly 25 hours of flight and a layover, and just two days shy of turning twenty-one.

Or maybe there was.

I don't know.

My parents were not at all pleased that their only daughter preferred to go with a woman, a mother and married to my uncle's arch-rival for a decade now, to try to solve the little existential crisis I was having now that I had only about five months left of university.

My uncle's wife thought the same, but since I had never liked her, if my parents' opinion didn't matter to me at all, hers mattered even less.

Mark was the only one who encouraged me to go to Switzerland to see Sebastian and Diana Vettel. I'm sure that more than the conversation he had with the engineer, seeing me crying and with smudged makeup after the three and a half hours of video call with the woman, was what convinced him in the end. Obviously, we didn't achieve my goal either: figuring out what the hell to do with my life once I finished the damn studies.

Seb must be in the arrivals area. Emily wanted to go with him. I'm sorry I couldn't go, someone had to stay with Charlie and Matilda.

After seeing Diana's message and answering her not to worry about anything, I hurried out of Zurich Airport as quickly as I could in search of the father and daughter so as not to keep them waiting much longer, all while controlling my nerves about meeting them again.

We were in the midst of the Christmas season, and that was possibly the main reason why even the last nook of the airport was crowded. Also, why my fear for crowded spaces was growing.

I tried to stay calm, focusing on the noise my suitcase wheels and my sneakers made against the pavement. I breathed in and out several times until I felt the anxiety decreasing, while at the same time I had to force myself to keep moving among the crowd when I could barely pass through, ignoring the curious stares of those around me, and the occasional stupid comments about how today's youngsters didn't have manners.

Every time someone passed near me, I tried to recognize one of the two faces I was expecting to see, but it seemed that the mission of finding the Vettels was going to end up being much more difficult.

"Clare, Clare!"

A childish voice shouting my name made me stop in the middle of the road and turn in the direction of the sound, trying to figure out where it was coming from. In the distance, apart from the crowd, next to a pearly white Tesla and a girl with curly, completely blonde hair, I spotted a tall figure with long hair, a headband misplaced on the forehead, and sunglasses.

Sebastian had his hand raised in a greeting gesture, telling me to head towards them.

"Clare, it's great to see you again!"

The blonde wrapped me around his arms, and all I could do was laugh at the mere thought of telling my ten-year-old self that I would feel so comfortable with the person I once hated the most in the world.

"I would say the same, but I'm really tired and not in the mood to talk," I lied, although partly it was true. What I didn't want was to face that conversation, at least not yet. "I missed you. Well, I missed you all," I admitted.

"We've been apart for a month, Webber. Both you and I, and Di, and your uncle, thought it was going to be longer."

"Thank my mental breakdown for that then, and also that your wife is my personal Tony Stark," I laughed.

"Again with the Marvel references?" he raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I won't judge: Di is my particular MJ, or my Gwen except she isn't dead."

I didn't have time to answer or to calm my laughter because Emily, with the typical energy of an eight-year-old, approached me bouncing around. The eldest of the Vettels reached a little below my chin, and I realized she was no longer the baby that Seb and Di used to take to the paddock every race weekend and with whom I used to play. I assumed it was the same for Charlotte and Matilda.

"Look what I drew for you!" the blonde said proudly as she handed me a paper.

I took it and admired it tenderly, carefully observing the childlike strokes that seemed to represent her parents and her sisters, with me as a special guest, as if I were one more in the family. Obviously, there couldn't be missing a Christmas tree to our right, filled with presents.

"It's very beautiful, Emily! Thank you very much," I responded as cheerfully as I could given my weariness. "Do you want us to show it to Mark when we get home and I talk to mom?"

"Yes!"

The German looked at us after putting my belongings in the car's trunk and intervened again:

"Emily has been counting the days for your arrival," he revealed, leaving me a little surprised.

"And Charlie and Matilda too. Matilda speaks baby language, and we don't understand her, but she claps every time when we talk about you," the girl added. "Since mom told us you were coming to spend a few days with us at Christmas, we asked Santa in our letters to bring you a present."

"Well, Di and I were also looking forward to your arrival," the retired driver blushed, scratching his head shyly.

I didn't know what to say, and Vettel seemed to realize it. He tried to say something else, but he ended up just telling us to get into the car because there were still about forty-five minutes to go to the family house.

I sat in the back of the car at Emily's request, and as I chatted with her and her father about how the family was doing after retiring from Formula 1, how they felt about the upcoming filming of History, the documentary where they would talk about their lives and uncover things that hadn't been made public before, and especially about the topic that worried me the most, where I could do my internships for the last semester of university, I let the whirl of thoughts invade me gradually.

After all, it wasn't every day that you set aside your own family to spend the most family-oriented time of the year with another family member less, going to the other side of the world.

Unfortunately, I didn't think that the people who created me, especially my father, would say that all this confusion I had been carrying for longer than I'd like to admit, and that I had kept silent for so long, was just an excuse to continue living off the cuff or because, simply, I didn't feel like continuing to study.

"Are you okay, Claire?"

The concern in Sebastian's voice brought me back to earth. I saw his eyes staring at me through the rearview mirror, quickly diverting his gaze from the road.

"Yes, of course. I'm just tired from the trip, as I told you before," I lied. The forced smile and tension in my voice showed the opposite.

"Are you going to be with us for all Christmas holidays?"

The girl's question, so simple and innocent, made all my pent-up doubts increase. I knew there was a remote possibility that I hadn't made the right decision, and after hearing that, I was becoming more and more sure.

Diana reassured me more times than I'd like that they didn't mind having me there as part of the family because I already was. My parents told me to do whatever I wanted, that I was old enough to make my own decisions, and that if it wasn't now, it was only a matter of time before I left for any little thing.

The disdain and arrogance with which they gave me their response made me pack my bags and call Mark to pick me up as soon as he could.

"Yes, Emily. Claire will be with us for all Christmas holidays" the German replied for me.

"Why aren't you going to spend the holidays with your mom and dad?"

I felt the knot that was already in my throat tightening more and more. I looked at Seb, begging him to help me while I tried to find an answer to the innocence of the girl without being rude or revealing to her that maybe I didn't have as cool parents as hers.

"Emily, sweetheart, that's not something you ask," Sebastian immediately reprimanded his daughter as calmly as he could, stroking her leg from his seat.

"Sorry..." the little one said with a melodic voice. I thanked him with my eyes, to which he responded with a simple tilt of his head.

"It's okay!" I hastened to say to avoid saddening her, wrapping my left arm around her. "Sometimes, parents and kids... argue, but in the end, they always make up and recognize their mistakes. Does that happen to you with mom and dad?"

"Yes!" she responded immediately. "I also argue sometimes with my sisters over toys or food, and mom scolds us, although dad almost never gets mad at us."

The conversation continued without any further altercation or mention of anything I didn't want to hear. I greatly appreciated it because time ended up passing faster than I thought, and in the blink of an eye, I could already see the dark wooden structure with white tones where I assumed the family lived.

When I spotted Diana, with Matilda in her arms, greeting us as if her life depended on it, and Charlie playing with Clifford, the family dog, I knew I had arrived at one of my second homes.

"Home sweet home, girls!"

Before the blonde even had a chance to turn off the engine and say anything else, his daughter and I were already running down to go towards his wife.

Emily, without even greeting her mother beyond a slight wave, went to play with her middle sister and with the Great Pyrenees. Diana shook her head, laughing at her daughter's attitude. She put little Matilda on the ground and, to my surprise, she started running through the grass trying to catch up with her sisters and the dog.

"Has she learned to walk already?" I pointed to the little one while the redhead gave me a hug.

"I thought you were coming so we could talk about you and your future, not so you could see the not really important progress of my family in the month we've been apart."

"I can see you didn't have sex with Seb tonight, huh? What a mood," I whispered sarcastically in her ear. She burst out laughing and started hitting my arm.

"Don't be silly! Come on, let's go inside. It's cold and we have a lot to talk about. I don't want you to catch a cold."

Calling her daughters next, who initially resigned themselves to go back home, I finally headed inside with Diana. Seb approached us shyly, as if he didn't want to bother us. Seeing him out of the corner of my eye, and out of respect, I let him pass in front of me and slowed my pace a bit, falling a little behind the couple, but that didn't stop me from seeing how the German took his wife by the waist and gave her a short kiss on the lips, showing the affection and complicity that I already knew they both had.

I wish I had something like that in the future but, as my parents must have known, who would want me with my shitty attitude?

"Claire, sweetheart, make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

Diana disappeared, and her daughters and husband followed her. I decided to listen to her and sat on the couch, taking a blanket that was on it to wrap myself up. After a few minutes, I spotted her again, now approaching Seb to exchange a few words in a low voice while sharing quite a few caresses for my taste and, once again, another kiss.

In a matter of seconds, the engineer disappeared and reappeared with a tray in her hands that had a couple of glasses, several beverage cans, and a colorful variety of snacks that I didn't recognize.

However, some of them were typical Australian ones. The ones from my home. My home.

I hated that Diana Vettel was one of the most amazing and humble people I had ever met because each time she made me feel more like I wanted her to adopt me, regardless me being 21 already.

"Damn, it's like you bought the whole supermarket," I commented under my breath as a defense mechanism to avoid bursting into tears.

"For you whatever it takes, darling," she answered, sitting next to me and taking a bit of the blanket to wrap herself with it too.

I stayed silent, moved by her words. Since I didn't know how to start our conversation, nor did I know if it was the right time to have it, I just looked at Sebastian, who was now in some kind of greenhouse with his daughters, teaching them what seemed to be how to plant some kind of vegetable or who knows what.

"I know it was hard for him, but he's happy," the redhead suddenly spoke, pointing to her husband. "I tried to convince him not to retire yet, and he tried everything to get me to accept the offer to be Mick's engineer at Williams," she explained. Did Diana turn down the offer to be Schumacher's engineer this upcoming season? "But I guess it was time for us to be a normal family."

"You've always been a normal family in my eyes," in a strange way, yes. They had lived from Emily's birth in 2014 until just a month ago more in any other country in the world than in this house. I would swear that it would even feel strange for them to be here for so long. "And you, how are you?"

The woman seemed surprised by the question. I knew her well, but not as much as I would like, and I knew that this was one of her typical reactions. I also knew about some difficult things for her thanks to my uncle, and others because they became public, like the alleged leaked porn video starring her and Sebastian.

However, all the negativity didn't detract from the fact that my admiration for her was maximal since I met her in 2012.

"I know you're in charge of the F1 Academy with Susie," I continued, seeing that she was still in her trance, "but I guess it's not the same as being on the pit wall directing your husband and trying to make the sport a little more inclusive in all aspects."

"You said it, it's not the same. I miss and, at the same time, don't miss being in Formula 1," she finally confessed. "Feeling so undervalued when you're trying to give so much more than your maximum... it's tough. It's hard to feel like you're enough and that you're worth something, not to mention the constant thought of whether you really deserve what you've achieved."

"For me, and probably for Seb and many others, you're more than enough, Diana. I told you when I was ten, and I still think the same: I want to be like you when I grow up."

"And I told you that you don't have to be like me, but your own version," she added. "No matter what happens, you always have to be yourself, Claire, not trying to be someone you admire."

She lowered her head, shaking it, and then raised it again to look directly at me. I saw how the greenish tone of her eyes was covered by tears that, in a way, made me feel bad for her because it wasn't my intention to make her feel bad.

"You'll become like me if you want then, darling," she continued, her voice almost breaking. "I'm more than convinced, and I'll help you as much as I can to make it happen. After all, that's why you're here, right?"

Damn, the topic I just didn't want to talk about had finally come up, but I knew I had to address it.

I didn't know if I preferred to face my uncertain future or my partially dysfunctional family.

"Yeah. That my family sucks is another reason why I'm here," I grumbled.

"What happened, darling?" she took my hands and pulled me closer to her. I rested my head on her shoulder, and she started stroking my hair, as she had often seen herself do with her daughters. "We can leave the conversation about that extensive work world for another day, but not about your parents. I know it's affecting you no matter how much you try to show otherwise with that armor you put on."

The sigh that escaped my lips was heavy, as if I needed it to start slowly unloading the heavy burden I had on me.

"I don't know why my parents don't understand me," I started, my voice directly charged with frustration and, let's not say it, sadness. "I don't know what the hell to do with my life," I heard Diana scolding me for the curse word, but I didn't care, "and it bothers me that they can't put themselves in my shoes when, look, they've already been in my shoes."

"Claire..."

"Damn it, Diana, I'm their only daughter. If they don't want to support me, they could just refrain from giving it to me, not tell me that all this is an excuse to keep studying or... I don't know, not to start working or whatever bullshit they come up with."

The woman looked at me with compassion, nodding her head. She didn't know it, but something inside me was sure that she did understand me, and it hurt that it was just a person who hardly belonged in my life and not those who had given it to me.

"It's normal for you to feel this way, in the work field I mean," thanks for changing the subject, Mrs. Vettel. "I went through it in early 2011 when I saw that my graduation was getting closer and, therefore, the end of my contract as a trainee," she replied. I knew she wasn't the only one, I knew it. "If ninety percent of me sensed that they wouldn't renew me, the remaining ten percent thought I wouldn't even continue working in Formula 1. Obviously, with too much luck and thanks to a lot of Seb's influence, it was the opposite."

She took a sip of water, put a small Reese's in her mouth and, putting her hand in front of her mouth, continued:

"They say that choosing what you want to dedicate yourself to, supposedly, for the rest of your life is the worst part, but no one warns you that the end of the journey is the worst part of it," she said honestly. For God's sake, was this woman good at everything? "I know how hard it must be for you to feel this way, especially when you expect support and being understood from those who should give it to you the most. Luckily, you have your uncle and your aunt, just like I had my uncle and my aunt."

"Eloise is my uncle's wife, that doesn't make her my aunt. Not to mention the shitty behaviors she has towards me," I corrected her coldly.

"I've also been a victim of that snake, and I ended up blaming it on your uncle, so don't worry."

"The thing is, it's frustrating, you know?" I continued, ignoring the last thing she had said. "Knowing that you can't be honest and you have to constantly pretend to be the perfect daughter."

"Nobody's perfect, Claire, and as long as you're here, with us, these days, I won't allow you to be," the redhead assured me. "You can be honest about anything without fear of being judged by us, because it won't happen."

I looked up at her and was surprised. It was the first time someone, besides Mark, had taken my side and understood me.

"You're not going to take my parents' side?"

"I don't have to excuse them when I think they're not right," she revealed. "Being a parent is... difficult, and when you're all born, you don't come with a manual on how we should educate and raise you under your arm, and they don't give it to us later either, right? But there is something in which I understand your parents.

"In what?"

Diana Vettel directed her gaze towards where her daughters and husband still were. She chuckled softly and glanced back at me, giving my thigh a little tap.

"You'll understand someday if you ever become a mother, or care about someone so much that you always want them by your side."

Before I could even respond, she got up from the couch, swiftly tossing off the blanket, which ended up falling on my face. Her bare feet thudded heavily on the floor as she moved quickly, heading towards the stairs, forcing me to run to catch up with her.

"Where the hell are you going?" I shouted, breathless, gripping the staircase railing to catch my breath.

She didn't respond beyond telling me to watch my language, as the girls might hear us. I admired her as a mother, but sometimes she was so good at it that it exhausted me. The only consolation was knowing that Seb often let out curses in front of their daughters and prayed to whoever was with them not to tell Di, as he fondly called her.

"Diana, I would truly appreciate it if you could let me know in advance if you're planning any outings. I've been on a plane and in an airport all day, and there's nothing I want more right now than to crawl into bed and pray that jet lag doesn't hit me."

"Shush," she immediately responded as she sat down in front of the computer on the desk in what seemed to be her office. "I've been thinking about something for a few days now, and we need your uncle's help."

My uncle? How was Mark going to help me with my existential crisis, to shelter me in his house?

No way. I'd have to endure his wife, and I'd pay all the money in the world not to see his face.

"Mark isn't going to help us, I'm telling you," I replied, getting a bit annoyed by the uncertainty. "Who do you think he is, Cinderella's fairy godmother or something?"

"No," she said, scrolling through her FaceTime contacts until she found one labeled M. Webber, just below another one labeled Lara, followed by a bunch of heart emojis and weird faces, "but he might be able to help you land an internship."

"Mark already has a lot on his plate," I began to say as the redhead pressed the call button. "Dealing with Eloise, for example, takes a lot of work, and..."

"Hello, Mark!"

My uncle's smiling face and raised hand filled the screen. I knew his smile was a bit forced because he had heard the comment I made about his wife, but as always, he turned a deaf ear.

"Well, well, what's going on over there, ladies?"

"You must be kidding..." I muttered, earning a smack on the arm from Diana. "Fine, Mark, fine," I finished, shooting them both a disgruntled look.

"The thing is, putting aside formalities, after your niece more or less told me about the little problem she has with your brother and sister-in-law, and after I've been mulling over what we talked about the other day, I've come up with something," the engineer explained.

Mark furrowed his brow slightly, a bit confused and apparently a bit worried by the words of his former teammate's wife.

"Go ahead, it's all yours."

"Claire is a bit confused about what to do with her future," I stifled a laugh. I wished it was just a bit, and all this didn't feel like it was making me want to tear my hair out, "and she also has to do her final year internship. I thought that, if possible, we could help her do it in a Formula 1 team."

My eyes widened in surprise, and I shouted "what" louder than I had ever said anything in my life. My heart started pounding at the mere thought of me, Claire Webber, in a team of the sport I loved most in the world. I even started to feel dizzy with the idea.

"Are you kidding me, right?" was all I could say to Vettel.

"Do you want Claire to be Diana Vettel 2.0?" my uncle asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Are you planning to create a pilot project and then implement it with your daughters?"

"Neither one thing nor the other," the woman replied, quite agitated, crossing her arms. "Your niece doesn't need to be the second version of anyone. She's already her own version."

My uncle fell silent, realizing he had screwed up royally. Diana, on the other hand, tried not to make a big deal out of it, although she knew it might have affected him. She asked me to take the chair from what used to be Seb's desk and sit next to her, and so I did.

"According to the Teaching Plan of the University of Melbourne, Claire should start her internship period next January. The season doesn't start until March, but she could try to request some kind of leave," Diana explained in detail. I was pleasantly surprised that she had informed herself so much, and especially that she offered to help me.

"Don't worry, Diana. I can look for another place to..."

"As I told you before, I haven't forgotten that since we met in 2012, you've been telling me that you wanted to be like me," she interrupted. "Every time we've had the chance to spend time together, you've emphasized your dream of wanting to be part of this world, so if you not only have the chance but also the talent to make it happen, that's how I'm going to try to do it."

I nodded, accepting her proposal and everything that came with it. If this was my chance to pursue my biggest dream, and I could do it hand in hand with my own Tony Stark, then I had to make the most of it.

"So I should go starting from early March, right?" my uncle wanted to know, seemingly agreeing with everything.

"Yes, but I think it would be even better if she went to the preseason tests," the redhead asserted, getting closer and closer to the screen. "Maybe that way she can make herself seen and, perhaps, do something to get noticed by a team..."

I stopped paying attention to the conversation they were having because my eyes drifted to the back of the image emanating from my uncle. I saw as the door behind him slowly opened, revealing the figure of a guy I had never seen in my life.

His light brown hair fell slightly over his forehead. The color of his eyes was also brown, though a bit darker, and they stood out quite a bit against his fair skin. His shoulders slumped downwards, his gaze was almost downcast, and he seemed to move with such calmness that I didn't know if it was because he was tired or because he was just naturally laid-back.

"Mark," he began to say, "am I interrupting or...?"

"No, no, no worries! Come in and make yourself comfortable, Oscar!" my uncle replied. "I'm talking to Diana Vettel, who you surely already know," he greeted her with a wave and asked how she was, "and this is my niece, Claire."

"She's the one you've talked to me so much about, right? The one who's my age, studies Aerospace Engineering, and is almost as passionate about Formula 1 as I am."

Who the hell was Oscar, what the hell was he doing at my uncle's house at seven-thirty in the evening, and why did he know so much about my existence?

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ofstoriesandstardust · 10 months

Text

changes (j.h.s.)

a/n: this is the first part of my college!AU. not much happens yet, but things are only just beginning with these two! let me know you're thoughts so far!

part of second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

folks who wanted to be tagged: @memeorydotcom @djs8891

warnings: college!AU, javynat/icemav, swearing

word count: 2.7k

You slip into the classroom, smiling at Pete as he logs in to the computer. “Hey Pete.”

He glances up at you from the screen, returning your smile as you saddle up into the first row of seats in the lecture hall. “Hey kid, I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How was the last bit of your summer?”

You shrug, tugging your bag off into the chair next to you. “Pretty good. Quiet. How was your trip to Italy with Tom?”

“Pretty good. Nice to get away from the work and hustle-bustle of his job. Definitely don’t miss the paperwork, that’s for sure.” You both laugh lightly, as the door to the classroom open again, a few boys you recognize from the football team filtering in. “I was surprised to see you on my roster for this class. Didn’t you already fulfill the requirements for this?”

You shrug, pulling your laptop out as you finally sit down. “Yeah, but I need a couple more extra credits to stay a full-time student to keep my scholarship and you know I love taking your classes as it is. Might be one of my last chances to do so.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgement as the door opens again. “Remind me after class that I wanted to talk to you about what you’re planning for post-grad.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Why?”

He huffs out a laugh, collecting his papers. “I might have something for you.” The room has slowly begun to fill up as the two of you have chatted, meaning class is just about ready to start. Pete hangs by the front podium, letting everyone get settled.

Your eyes glance over your computer screen at the non-existent Canvas page, meaning Pete has yet to publish it. The papers in his hands are what you suspect are copies of the syllabus he probably finished over breakfast with Tom this morning. Typical.

“...dude, this is going to be such an easy credit, I’m telling you.” One of the men behind you says. “He’s just Bradshaw’s quirky godfather. You just gotta say something nice about the Navy and he’ll give you an A.”

You snort, shaking your head at Bradley feeding his athlete friends with lies about his godfather’s class. You had taken enough of Pete’s classes to know that retired decorated Naval aviator or not, Admiral husband or not, Pete welcomed critical and open discussion of the United States military’s global engagement. Encouraged it, even.

One of the men behind you sighs and you hear him lean back in his chair. “All I need is an easy A. Gonna skate through this class no problem.”

“Shit, I forgot my pen. Jake, do you have one?”

“Javy, I don’t even have a notebook. What makes you think I have a pen?”

“Reuben?”

“Sorry Javy, you’re straight shit outta luck. I only have one for myself.”

The man, Javy, groans. “Fuck me.”

“Pretty sure Natasha did just that last night based on the- ow.”

“Hey, psst. You, girl in the front.” You startle, turning around to face the boys. “You got a pen for my friend Javy here?” Reuben asks.

You nod, digging through your bag for your pencil case. “Pencil or pen?”

“Whatever you got’s fine, sugar. Right Javy?” The blond says, nudging his friend. You roll your eyes to yourself, unimpressed.

“Here.” You say, leaning up to hand the black pen to Javy.

“Thanks, I’ll give it back to you at the end of class.” Javy says with a warm smile as he takes it from you.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got plenty.” You say with a wave of your hand, already turning back around. Pete clear shis throat just as you do, catching the attention of the students in the room. He offers them a warm smile.

“Well, let’s get started shall we? I’m Pete. You can call me Pete or Mr. Mitchell, whatever suits you. I’m a retired Naval aviator, served for nearly twenty years. I’m an adjunct here at San Diego State, have been for about the last six or seven years. I teach international relations and military history classes mostly. If you’re here, you should be here for History 2060, Global Military Conflicts Post-1945. If that doesn’t sound correct, you’re most likely in the wrong classroom. Don’t blame you, I got lost this morning on my way in from the parking lot.” That earns Mav a laugh from the classroom as you shake your head. He’s told the same joke on the first day of every class you’ve ever had with him. “I’m going to go around and pass out the syllabus. We can read through it and discuss it. The biggest takeaway is that, unlike some of the other History courses on this campus, I care less about your memorization of dates and people on a test. I want you to take something meaningful away from this class and that’s going to come from the papers you write, the readings you do, and the discussions you’ll have in this class. Let’s begin.”

“Easy A, here we come.” Jake mutters behind you as the stack of syllabus gets plopped in front of you.

He’s in for a rude awkaening, you think to yourself as you take a syllabus, passing it back to the boys.

“Don’t forget. Your first response paper is due tonight at midnight. I want well-thought out papers, with clear arguments and evidence. Feel free to be critical of the text, but you must respond to it and the more you can incorporate the discussion we had in here over the past few classes, the better. Shows me you’re listening and engaged.” Pete calls out as the class packs up.

Two weeks into the semester and you had all just finished reading Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. Pete had said he’d chosen the book so you could all understand how these global conflicts could be captured in a fictional manner, asking you to focus on how it communicated a very real history of the event. The book had been supplemented by lectures and class discussion and you felt yourself falling in love with the class everytime you showed up.

“Have you started that paper?” Reuben asks, sliding his bag over his shoulder.

Jake snorts. “Hell no. It’s only what, three pages? I’m gonna start writing it after practice tonight.”

“Javy?”

“Finished it last night.”

“Fucking nerd.” Jake says as Pete calls out your name, motioning you up to the front of the room. It catches the boys attention as you walk around the front row, meeting Pete halfway. The boys are lingering and watching, something you’re painfully aware of.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but are you thinking about grad school?”

You nod. “Yeah, I am, but I think I’m going to take a year off first.”

“Have you thought about SDSU’s program at all?”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Kind of-”

“-Who willingly puts themselves through more school?”

You turn catching both Reuben and Javy nudging Jake. You sigh, uncrossing your arms, looking to the ground.

“We can talk more about this at a later date.” Pete says. “I’ll let you go, I know you have to get to work. Good job on the paper, by the way.”

“You read it already?”

He nods, walking back to the table at the front fo the room. “Thought I’d get a head start on grading the ones that got turned in early last night. You never fail to impress me, kid.”

You can't help the grin spreading across your face, even as Jake coughs words that sound oddly like teacher’s pet into his fist.

“Thanks Pete. See you on Friday.”

Jake swallows, staring the 12 out of 100 blinking back at him on the screen.

“Did you get your grade back for that response paper we wrote last week?” He hears himself, asking.

“Yeah, I got an 86. Why?”

“Dude, Pete graded those response papers harder than I thought he would. I scraped by with a 73.” Reuben says, sliding in the booth next to him. “How’d you do Jake?”

He shakes his head, unable to say anything as he stares at the screen.

Reuben leans over his shoulder, looking at the screen before letting out a low whistle. “Shit Jake.”

“What? What’d he get?” Javy asks, craning to see the screen. Jake turns the laptop to Javy, earning him a wince.

“Yikes dude.”

“What am I gonna do?” He mumbles.

He pauses, waving his friends on as you chat with Pete. He fiddles with his phone, trying not to look nervous as he hears you and Pete discuss research you’d done from this summer.

“...I really think you should try to get that published, kid.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know, do you think it could?”

“Oh absolutely. Here, why don’t you hang on for a second and let me talk to Jake and we can discuss it more?”

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You give him a nervous smile, stepping a little ways away to give them some privacy.

“What’s up Jake?”

He sighs. “Sir, I was wondering if you could maybe give me some insight to the grade I got on my paper.”

Pete frowns. “Did you not read the feedback I left on Canvas? I’m never sure if my comments save properly.”

“No, I did. I guess- I guess I’m just kind of confused as to why I got that grade.”

“Well, you lacked a clear argument and the paper was riddled with typos. The assignment was only three pages and you turned in a page and a half. You only used one quote, from the first chapter of the book, telling me you didn’t read any further. You didn’t incorporate any class discussion and you’ve only been here once since the semester started. Now, I know I said I didn’t have an attendance policy but if you aren’t here, you’re not participating in the group discussion and that’s a huge chunk of your grade, Jake.”

“Is there any way I could re-submit the paper for a higher grade? I’m on the football team and we have to maintain a 2.8 to stay. It’s my last season, Mr. Mitchell, and I’d really like to keep my starting position.”

Pete sighs. “Tell you what. I’ll let you re-submit the paper for a higher grade if you go to the Writing Center and work with one of their consultants on the feedback I left for you.”

“Sir-”

“Those are my conditions, Jake. For any one, not just you. I want to see that you’re actually working on improving.”

“Well, isn’t it just that… isn’t that place for all the bad writers?”

Pete’s frown deepens. “There’s no shame in asking for help if you need it, Jake. It’s important to me that you know that.”

Jake just shrugs.

“You know, she comes as a very highly rated consultant from some of your athlete friends.” Pete says with a nod of his head over to you. You’re looking at your phone, clearly trying to look busy.

“Yeah, yeah, I think Garcia worked with her last spring.”

Mickey Garcia was Reuben’s room mate, another athlete but on the baseball team. He’d raved about this girl he’d worked with at the Writing Center last spring, helping him get a 93 on a notoriously difficult final for an International Relations class.

“She’s one of the best students I’ve seen in my time at San Diego State. You don’t have to work with her, but it might be nice to have a familiar face and someone who knows the class material. If you do decide to re-submit the paper, just ask the tutor to let me know you were there, yeah? You’ve got a week to get the new one back to me.”

Jake pokes his head through the door, eyeing the room nervously. “This the Writing Center?” Your co-worker Mia pops her head up from the computer at the front desk, nodding.

“Yes, it is! How can I help you?”

Jake looks around nervously. “I have an appointment.”

“Okay…” Mia trails off. “Do you remember with who?”

You shut the room to the storage closet. “Hi Jake.” You say warmly, lugging the Costco-sized bag of candy out to the front table. “I’m just finish refilling the candy bowls if you wanna sit down at one of those tables over there?”

He nods, walking around the front desk to one of the tables, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

“Isn’t that Jake Seresin?” Mia whispers, eyes wide. “From the football team?”

You shrug. “I think so. He’s in one of my classes.”

She nods. “Want me to finish doing that?”

You sigh, handing her the bag. “That’d be great. Are you still leaving early tonight?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind locking up the Center.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem!”

You turn back to Jake, whose knee is bouncing as he takes in the space.

He’s nervous, you realize, a stark contrast from the cocky boy you’d known in class.

You grab your laptop, sitting down across from Jake. “Alright Jake, do you just wanna share the document with me so we can get started?”

He wipes his hands on his basketball shorts, nodding as he opens the computer screen before pausing.

“Can I ask how you did on the response paper for class?”

You duck your head, biting your lip. “It wasn’t my best one.”

“What’d did you get?”

“A 94. You?”

Jake swallows, eyes flitting around the Center.

“12.” He whispers.

Your eyes grow wide. “Wait, shit, are you serious?”

Jake nods. “‘S kinda why I’m here. Pete said if I came here, I could re-submit the paper for a higher grade.”

You nod. “Well, what do you want to focus on then?”

Jake shrugs.

“Well, what would be most helpful for you?”

“Could we start by just looking at his feedback and talking about it? I admittedly didn’t understand some of it.”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course.”

The next hour flies by as you work through Jake’s paper, identifying places for him to expand and ways he could utilize evidence. You both worked through Pete’s feedback as you worked to build a better argument based off of it.

Finally, you sit back and sigh. “Well, we’re just at about time. You got any last questions for me?”

Jake shakes his head, shutting his laptop. “Thanks for all your help on this.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s my job.”

“This… this all seems to come so naturally to you.”

You shrug, closing your own laptop. “Yeah, yeah, I mean I’m a senior so I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a lot harder when you’re first starting out.”

“I couldn’t imagine just writing all the time.”

You give Jake a bashful smile. “I’m writing a 30 page paper for my senior capstone.”

Jake cringes at your words. “I couldn’t do that.” He says, rubbing his forehead.

“Hey, you’re already improving. It just takes time to learn how to write in a style like this.”

“I much prefer my Business classes. At least there, it’s a cake-walk to scrap by with a B average.”

“Well, you’re already doing better than me there. I failed Math in high school.”

Jake chuckles, packing up his things. “Hey, uh, Pete told me I needed you guys to tell him I came here?”

You nod. “Yeah, we just send them an email with your appointment form, discussing what we did in the appointment.”

Jake sighs, shoulders slumping. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Feel free to make another appointment if you have any more questions.”

Jake gives an aborted nod, slipping his backpack over shoulder and standing up. “Thanks again.”

He blinks, looking at the grade in Canvas.

70/100

Javy leans over his shoulder at his phone as their coach talks. “Is that the revised grade?” He whispers, Jake nods, locking the phone and slipping it back into his pocket, trying not to think about the comment Pete had left just below the grade.

There was significant improvement here Jake. Please see my comments in the document and on the rubric for further feedback. I highly encourage you to continue visiting the Writing Center throughout the semester. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns.

“How you do that, Jakey?” Javy whispers.

He shrugs as Coach Simpson dismisses them. “Does it matter?”

Javy lets out an incredulous chuckle. “I mean, if you went from a 12 to a 70, I’d kinda think you sucked Mitchell’s dick or something.”

Jake middle finger doesn’t stop Javy’s chortle as he leaves the locker room.

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #second star to the right (and straight on ‘til morning)

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amaiaqt · 10 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤdream on, dreamerㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhow do they encourage you when you don't acknowledge ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyour own efforts ? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤxiao, diluc, wanderer, al haitham !

second post of my 200 special ! hope the difference in prompt for each part brings a good read to everyone !

@https-heizou @papiliotao @lovevivi444 @kazumist @ilyuu

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤalatus xiao ! ㅤ

xiao is not the most talented in expressing his affections, he's far from it, but he does try.

he tries to understand you, to understand what you find so special in something he so sees to be trivial, to understand how your mind processes the smallest instances or comments he makes as endearing to you, to understand your personal view in mortal life. he tries to see value in the small matters you see of importance. he doesn't understand you, but because of his unfortunately tangled heartstrings that tug on each other at the thought of you, he has to try at the very least. no, it's not has, he's not obligated to. really, he just wants to.

that was when he first met you, when your presence first piqued his interest.

now, now he does understand you. he understands the importance of small things to you, he understands that you may think differently in comparison to him, that you may value things he does not. he understands now after months of trying his best to even begin to comprehend your mind.

the only thing left that he doesn't understand about you, is your self-criticism.

he sees your efforts, he sees how serious you are about what you do, he sees how dedicated you are to your work, and he deems you worthy of acknowledgement for that. why is it that you don't ? why is it that you've come this far, and yet, you can't acknowledge yourself for that ?

if xiao's not the best in expressing his affections, you also can't expect him to be all that experienced in showing tender support, but he also tries ! he always, always tries. for you. he always tries, his absolute best, for you.

"why are you so..." he pauses, choosing his words as he thinks thoroughly about how to word what he wants to say. he gulps, hesitant, but the way your eyes met his with expectance, he shakes his head. "why are you always so harsh with yourself ?" he finally finishes, eyebrows knotting in seriousness. the way you looked at him, it urged him to elaborate further on what he meant — "you often criticize your own work, think lowly of them, even. also, don't think i don't notice that look of disapproval in your eyes when you're skimming through the words you just wrote in front of me, words that tell stories i would find myself comfort in." he takes your hand in both of his, cupping it up to his lips as he sits in front of you, opting to silence while waiting for your response. "xiao," you took a deep breathe and he looked up at you patiently, "it's just, i'm not that harsh on myself, i promise." you place your hand on top of his that still cupped your other to his lips.

"it's that i admire you, your work. i respect your dedication to it and how serious you are about it. that's why i don't like that you criticize yourself so often." "so you'd like me to stop ?" "i hope that you'd stop." your features relax as your smile goes soft to his direct response, and you kiss him on the forehead.

"thank you, my darling. i needed that." you leaned in closer to his face, melting at how softly his amber eyes looked into yours. "i figured you did."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤdiluc ! ㅤ

now diluc is not so reserved when it comes to his own opinions. if he thinks something is unimportant, he will say, out loud, that it isn't important. his words have no filter, that's why he's deemed a rude man by many, with the exception with a few that were used to it.

you were one of that few. constantly retaliating or paying no mind to his direct and straight-to-the-point comments about how it was pitiful to pay mind to 'senseless' matters. though, he did irk you when you first got acquainted, but with utmost patience, you grew to understand that he simply didn't get it and worded his sentiments with a far too direct tone.

really, despite his insensitive tone with wording things, he never means for them to be offensive or hurtful. especially not towards you, archons forbid he ever accidentally says something to hurt you. he wouldn't be able to forgive himself even if you already forgave him.

hence, he's noticeably careful with his statements when he watches you tug on your hair in frustration over the sentence you were currently writing just not making sense. he wants to be of assistance to you, of help, but how does one do so ? he doesn't ponder for too long and decides to sit closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist in an attempt to rub soothing circles into your sides. "don't pull your hair out like that, you're getting pent up." you let out a long sigh and cave in, propping up against his shoulder and leaning into him in hopes of rest.

but he can't shake off the thought that you weren't just tired.

"do you perhaps have something bottled up in your chest ? would you like to rant about it if so ?" the question comes out soft and slow, as if he was being careful. you didn't need to say anything for him to know your response, just the way you tried to hide your face in his arm and leaned closer told him that you did in fact have something bottled up.

"if you're comfortable to talk about it now, of course." he reassures you, pulling you in closer and slightly pushing away the table that you were furiously writing on earlier. your shoulders tensed but loosened as soon as he noticed. "it's just, none of my writing seems right, as of late." you started to speak, melting into his hold. "how do you say so ? i've been reading your work in progresses, and i'd say they're as beautiful as all your other projects." he queried, not fully understanding what you meant in right. "are you sure ? to me they're just not that worth finishing. not that good, basically."

he doesn't understand, not that good ? how could you say that about the papers you would stay up all night in your shared bedroom, writing away on your desk instead of curling up to his warmth in bed, leaving him almost lonely just to finish ? how could you say that about the short stories you spend hours on and put utmost effort into ? he's practically offended for you.

"don't ever say that." he kisses your temple and stays with his lips hovering over your skin. "you're likely in need of a rest for you to feel that spark for your work again, no ?" you hummed at his suggestion, "perhaps, yeah." he smiles at your response and kisses your temple again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤwanderer !ㅤ

kunikuzushi, scaramouche, wanderer, however you know him, is an honest man. he's intelligent with words as well, making sure every word rolls off with the exact impression he means it.

but he's no writer, he's more of a reader. he rather reads the pages neatly written out by some literature genius than write himself. so to watch you work, watch you write, oh he does admire it. and better you bet that he'll always want the manuscripts or unfinished projects you don't publicly release, which you figure he simply keeps up on a shelf, but far from that in reality. instead, he keeps the pieces he gets from you in the drawer by his nightstand, specifically for their safe storage. he loves how you write, he loves the words you use, everything you write is a gift to him, so he keeps them there for close attention.

with this, it doesn't go unnoticed when you start to lose heart in your writing. when you start to hesitate with each word you note on the paper, when you start to ponder more and longer with the next sentence, when you start throwing away more drafts than often — he realizes before you can come to terms with it.

what bothers him more is that you're less prideful in your finished works, when you used to show them off to him immediately, you would instead say they're not finished or you're gonna edit them more. only to stash them away in a folder and hide it at the bottom of your drawer. he knows why, you can't hide it from him even if you try, and you don't even dare to try.

he stops your hand as it moves to dip your pen in ink again, taking it from your fingers as he moves your chair to face him. "you can talk to me, you do know that, right ?" he starts, leaning close with both of his hands on each of the chair's arms, a sign for you to stay put. you looked up at him, puzzled by his actions, but he knew better than to assume you didn't know what he meant, you knew what he meant.

"talk to me," he pauses, "please. i know something's wrong when you're more frustrated than usual." he speaks carefully, softly. he's a man who knows how to use his words, who makes sure to speak them clearly yet carefully. "it bothers me when you don't want to talk about things, please ?"

he's a man who fears silence from himself, and from those whom he trusts dearly, silence brings worry to his nerves and waves him with a sense of discomfort. he hates when you're silent. he, really, really does.

to his relief, you finally let him hear that sigh of forfeit and his muscles loosen from their formerly tense state. "writing has just been difficult, recently, that's all to it." you were looking down as you spoke, and this left scaramouche unconvinced. "that's not all to it, don't think i haven't noticed." he shakes his head, staying in place to hear everything. he's not ending this conversation until he hears everything.

"for someone who insists he doesn't care, you notice nearly everything." he scoffs at your attempt to change the topic, "i don't care about most things, but i do care about you."

but this time, your silence in response to what he just said, it amuses him. "now, talk to me, tell me everything. i will listen, i promise you that." he pulls a stool over for him to sit right in front of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤal haitham !ㅤ

he's no better in showing his affections that a certain adeptus, and he takes no time in understanding. he can be rude, actually, sometimes he means it, sometimes he doesn't. al haitham is a hit or miss kind of man.

however, he does acknowledge others' work — he's not that bad. he acknowledges your work, he respects it even. he would oftentimes find himself assisting you as well, slipping in suggestions and short comments while you write. it's the least he could do now that you're together, after years in the akademiya merely tolerating his manner. though, he'll admit that his curiosity still dwells on why you didn't reject him that day.

he would even tuck away some of his ignored pride and compliment you, even asking you for literary recommendations from time to time. al haitham was a hit or miss kind of man, so you can say you hit the jackpot.

now, with his respect to your work, he will not accept any out of hand criticism without a glare, not even from you. as a matter of fact, whenever he hears a self-deprecating whisper from you, he cups your face with one hand and makes you take it back. not even you have the right to make negative comments about yourself or your work, he makes sure of that.

"this is all such, ugh !" al haitham perks up at the sound of you tossing multiple, maybe even a stack, of papers to the bin by your desk and curse yourself. the chair you sat on scrapes the wood floor as you push it back to get a new stack of blank papers from your drawer. he closes his book and soundlessly walks over and takes out the papers you had discarded and flips through the pages messily stapled together. "this is a waste, love, you are aware of that i hope." he pats off the stack of papers and tries to hand it back to you in hopes that you'd at least use it as a draft. "it's a waste of time, hayi. the plot of that one is messy and has too many loops." you groaned, lightly pushing his hand holding the papers away. "i swear i have it planned out already, but as i write it down it turns cliché, into garbage." the male's eye twitches when you finish your statement, and he sighs, setting the papers down on your desk. "you've spent nearly a week on this one, don't say that." he tries to convince you, and stops the hand that tries to push the papers back into the bin as you turn to him. "and it's garbage, hayi !"

he wipes his hands on his shirt first, then cups your face with both to force you to face him. "come on, you're being far too harsh with yourself." he speaks with the best sincerity he can muster, and he doesn't miss the way your muscles tensed before caving into his touch. "i'm just frustrated it's not going as good as i'd like." you admit, and al haitham pulls you in for a hug. "just because you're frustrated, doesn't mean you should be belittling something you still worked hard on." he retorts, and with the way you sighed and hid your face in his chest, he knew you had no further arguments anymore and his point was made correct.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© amaiaqt, 2023 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤdo not plagiarize !

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firsttimewriter92 · 9 months

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Everything Black Part 8

This is a Post Azkaban Sirius Black x fem! reader (Muggle) fic I came up with. This is the first time I´m writing something like this and posting it, so let me know if you have any suggestions as to how I can improve my writing. I am not a native speaker so please keep that in mind :) Please, please don´t copy my work.

Warnings: Minor DNI !!! Smut, cursing, angst, PiV, canon typical violence, panik, fluff. I couldn´t help myself. He didn´t deserve what he got, damnit!!

Word count: 6.503

Summary: After the innitial christmas bliss, something happens that shakes your whole existence. Something that has the power to changing everything

My lovely readers. I really need to apologise for making you wait so, so long for this chapter. I was not in the right headspace for Sirius at all and if I´d finished this fic in that state, none of us would have enjoyed it. Thankfully I found my way back to this fic which is so dear to my heart and I sincerely hope that I did it justice with this last chapter. THANK YOU ALL for reading and encouraging me to keep going.

There are some Sirius asks in my inbox so I´m not quite finished with this lovely chap ;) Please enjoy

He looked at you with glowing cheeks and said “My room is closer. Is that alright?” You nodded while a grin split your face. “Yes, absolutely” you said. He slowed down, suddenly pressing you to a door to your right. “Good,” he spoke in your ear. “We´re here.” Kissing you passionately he reached behind you and opened the door. He walked you through it without breaking the kiss, kicking the door close again behind him.

You didn´t even have much time to look around his room when your back hit the closed door again. Not being able to complain in the slightest, you enjoyed Sirius´ hands grabbing hard onto your hips, pressing his whole body into yours. Your hands lay on his chest and you could feel his erratic heartbeat even through all the layer of clothing. Clothing…annoying. With nimble movements your fingers fumbled with the golden buttons on his vest. His lips on yours stretched a little into a smirk. He pulled you off the door slightly and hummed delighted as he bit your lip slightly. “Eager, are we?” he whispered against them and slowly moved his hands from your hips up to encase your ribcage. You hummed with a smile.

“My love,” you said and pushed the vest over his shoulders and off. “This whole evening I couldn’t stop thinking about this right here.” Your hands slithered into the open collar or his dress-shirt, gently stroking your forefinger over the huge tattoo adorning his sternum. Sirius´ eyes were already black as night as he gazed down at you with fiery desire. As an answer to your statement, Sirius lifted his hands and lay them onto your shoulders. His head tilted slightly to the side as he moved the delicate silver straps that were holding up your dress to the side. Torturously slow you felt them slither over your skin until they fell over your arms. The dress fit you so perfectly that it didn’t fall immediately.

Impatience was raging in your veins as you pushed at Sirius´ chest and with a light laugh he tumbled backwards until his knees hit his bed. He sat down without breaking eye contact with you. His hands were at your waist in an instant as he looked up at you appreciatively. You grinned down at him and lightly touched his bearded cheek before taking a step back. For a moment he looked bewildered but then yours hands went to your dress and he quickly sat up straighter. His eyes didn’t seem to know where to look. They flitted from your collarbone to your chest, down to your waist and up to your face again.

Slowly your hands pushed the beautiful green and silver dress down, exposing the black lace he had requested and you were more than happy to have granted his wish. The way his whole body seemed to vibrate with life and desire the moment the dress hit the floor was everything you ever wanted to see. A low groan escaped his lips as you stood in front of him. “A vision” he said breathily. “C´mere” he stretched out a hand which you took with a grin. He bit his lip and tucked you forward. Without a second to spare his lips connected with the swell of your breasts as you wound your arms around his neck. Sirius´ tongue darted across your skin, tickling, tasting and exploring the expanse of your chest.

You closed your eyes and buried your fingers in his hair, effectively removing the hair tie and letting the bouncy, shiny mass of black curls flow freely between your fingers. Sirius groaned again, gently bit the lace material and tucked it out the way. Seemingly just as impatient as you his hands moved quickly to your back, fumbled for a second and smoothly pulled off your bra. “Who´s eager now?” you asked cheekily but were quickly sucking in a breath through your teeth when you felt his wet lips around your already pointy nipple. You got no answer from him.

Sirius´ mind was completely overcome by you, the taste of you, the essence of you and your presence. The way you melted into his touch, your subtle little noises of pleasure and just the over all fact that you were there with him. He carefully licked around your nipple just to hear your heavy intake of air through and open hanging mouth and he suddenly wished he had one more pair of eyes and hands. Letting go of your chest he looked up at your face and was met with a sight that he could only compare to a renaissance painting. Your head was thrown back ever so slightly, your chest was partially glistening from his saliva, your mouth open and eyes half closed and heavy.

When you couldn’t feel his lips on you anymore you were about to protest but soon felt his hands on your back move. One arm snaked around you waist while a wide palm roughly grabbed your ass and pulled you into his lap quite unceremoniously. When your eyes snapped to his however you saw the playful mischief in them and grinned right back. Wiggling in his lap to get comfortable he hissed slightly and shook his head. Adjusting you on his lap himself, Sirius´ palms made contact with the lace around the plump meat of your ass.

“You feel incredible, do you know that, little dove?” he asked lowly. You nodded your head gently. “You might have mentioned that fact” you said as you kissed his lips lightly. “Want to feel even better?” Sirius grinned. “___,” he said a little hesitant. “Do you really want to? I might be really shit at it, you know. Or it´s going to be over too fast…Can we even…? I mean I don´t have any…erm…preparations-“ “Sirius” you grabbed his face in both hands. “I want more than just your mouth on me. I want more than dry humping. I drank a potion. We´re fine.” You kissed his nose and felt his shoulders relax a little more. “If you´re up for it, I´ll take what you want to give. You won´t be shit, sweet boy.” Bless his unsure heart.

Sirius nodded his head and tried to get his doubts under control. “Was just making sure” he said lamely. You smiled again and leaned into him. Your mouth right next to his pieced ear you whispered “Enough with the doubts, Sirius. I want you. I want you more than anything else. Let me show you.” In a flurry of self confidence you reached for his hand, scooted back a bit on his lap and guided it gently downwards over your chest, over your stomach to the hem of your panties. You heard his breathing pick up. His long fingers curled into the fabric and moved it gently to the side. The moment his digits made contact with your already wet folds he let out a strangled moan. Not just because he felt how ready you were for him but because your own breath escaped right into his ear as you bit it gently.

You could feel his fingers rhythmically move over your folds, gathering wetness there and spreading you open slightly. Bumping your clit in the process you began to shake in his arms and pushed your hips into his hand. “Sweetheart” he panted into your neck and licked your pulse point. “You´re so wet for me.” It almost sounded like he couldn’t believe that he had this kind of affect on you. “Yes” you said as goosebumps erupted all over your back. “More” It came out as a breathless plea and he was more than happy to comply. Putting more pressure into his movements, his fingers found your hole and slowly inserted two of his fingers, groaning. “Fuck” you yelped and bucked your hips again. “That´s it, little one” Sirius growled. “Can I get you off like this? Bet I could, huh?” You could only nod as you felt your insides flutter around his fingers still moving gently but decisive.

It seemed like he was trying to gather all his still functioning thoughts and removed his hand from your panties. “No, no, no, no-“ you whispered and looked at him with unsatisfied eyes. Sirius´ face was flushed bright red and with an open, dry mouth you watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and without breaking eye contact he licked your wetness off his digits with a content sigh. His eyes fluttering close for a second he wasted no time. Baring his teeth he quickly stood and swung you around onto his mattress. His chest was heaving as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it over his shoulder. Leaning onto your elbows to see him better you watched with hungry eyes how his wide shoulders rolled momentarily. Lean muscle stretched under beautiful decorated pale skin. His tattoos were even more impressive than you´d thought. They scattered all across his chest, his ribs and his stomach. Most of them you couldn’t decipher and you made a small mental note to ask him about them later. Your mind however was gone again the moment he looked down and popped open the button on his pants, lowering them and stepping out.

The moment your eyes met again he was on you. Without thinking about it he made himself at home between your thighs. His hot and swollen dick nestled perfectly above your panties. The feeling was unlike anything you´d ever felt. It felt like being with someone who actually wanted to be there, who wasn´t trying to make this solely about himself. Sirius´ kisses to your neck, jaw and lips told a completely different story. One of dedication, passion and devotion. With shaking hands you help his face while kissing him and wrapping your legs around his narrow waist. “Sirius” you breathed against his mouth. “Please….make me yours.” Sirius´ stomach was doing summersaults at this point and with a gentle nod of his head his hand wandered over your ribs and to the last bit of fabric on your body. Untangling from him you watched him get on his knees and with a concentrated gaze pulled off your panties. Sensually his hands guided the garment over your thighs, calves and finally off your body.

He stared at you. How your chest heaved and shook with panting breaths. How your pussy glistened in the dim light of the gas lamps left and right of his bed. An awestruck gaze flashed through his silver irises and he gently shook his regal head as if to convince him that you were really there. Your own eyes however were trained on the bulge in his boxers. The one twitching when he noticed the hungry look in your eyes. “Ready, dove?” he asked gently and leaned further over you. You wet your lips and as your answer, reached out to his hips. Almost impatiently you tucked at his boxers and pushed them as far as you could down over his ass. He chuckled a bit and took care of the rest himself.

Seeing him in all his glory was almost too much for your poor brain. A beautiful face that told a story of pain, endurance and immense gentleness, wide shoulders, lean chest and a narrow waist. In the light of the room it almost looked like his tattoos were dancing across his skin. Not just on his chest, neck and hands but also on his thighs and calves. “You´re so darn beautiful” you said with a choked up voice. “Come here” you beckoned him to you with your hands. He came willingly and quickly, pressing his mouth to yours almost in a frenzy. His tongue in your mouth immediately.

The both of you didn’t need much more preparation than gentle words and hands. The moment your legs encased him again and he was in the perfect position, he was fighting with himself not to tell you that he loved you. Loved you with a fury that was unknown to him. Loved you in a way he knew would destroy him if mistreated. He couldn’t. Not yet. In this position it would feel situational. He needed you to know it the moment it came the most natural. But he also knew he couldn’t wait much longer.

When he pushed inside for the first time ever so carefully he almost collapsed on top of you. “Bloody fuckin´ hell” he rasped from behind his teeth as you gasped. “You ok?” he looked at you and saw that your eyes were again almost closed and you nodded. “Yeah,” you mumbled. “I´m fine, Sirius. Please, don´t stop” He smiled down at you and kissed your lips once more. “Whatever my lady wants.”

With these words he moved his hips again. Back and forth, inch by inch he groaned deep from within his chest.

You had trouble breathing by the time he was fully inside you and stopped moving for a moment. Never in your life had anything, anyone felt so good. Shaking fingers grabbed his biceps and squeezed when your eyes met. The blood was rushing in your ears and a light sheen of sweat already adorned both your bodies. “Thank you” you said with all the gentleness you could muster and watched as he pinched his eyebrows momentarily. “What for, darling?” he asked in a strained but curious voice. “For being you and not forcing anything.” You meant every word you said and felt your eyes become wet. Sirius looked at you a little bewildered and then with so much devotion, a tear actually fell down your cheek. He wiped it away and held your face in his hand. “___, I would never, in my life, force you to do anything you don´t want to do or don’t feel absolutely content with. And the thought that you feel the need to thank me for that makes me equal parts furious and worried.” He kissed your forehead. “Whatever it is, you need to tell me to stop and I will. I promise you that. Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head and smiled at him. “Absolutely not. Not for anything in the world.” To make it even more obvious to him and to push the mood into another direction you squeezed around him and watched his eyes roll back for a moment and a long whine escape his lips. “Little minx” he exhaled with a laugh. “Is that how it is?”

You grinned at him and wound your arms around his neck. His hair was tickling the tip of your nose a little as you nodded. “Well then” he growled and pulled out slightly. “Let´s see if you´re still cheeky when I do this.” And with the last word he pushed back in with a quick jab. A loud groan bubbled from your throat as you closed your eyes. “Again” you begged. Sirius listened and started a beautiful rhythm. Pulling out slowly and pushing back in stronger and quicker he soon began breathing heavily. Pressing your fingernails into his neck you felt your body buzzing, your heart pounding and a feeling of electricity crawl all over your skin. One of your hands made its way down over his strained back and covered the flesh of his ass, pushing him closer. “Good Godrick, baby” he moaned. His arms repositioned themselves for better support as his thrusts became quicker over all. “Oh fuck,___” he panted and glided his hand over your chest, lightly flicking your nipple before taking it in his mouth again.

“Ah” you gasped and arched into him almost painfully. “Sirius, yes. Oh hell, yes.” Immediately you felt your stomach tighten and a distinct pull right where his cock moved inside you. “Shit, what…?” you looked down at where you were joined and then back up at him with big eyes. He kissed you again, his tongue tangling with yours. “HmmHmm” he murmured against your lips. “Yes, darling. I can feel it. You feel good?”

“Yes” you panted. “Yes, so good. What´s happening? Oh fuck. Ah!” You heard him chuckle and hiss as you moved your hips with his. “My love” he said into your ear. “You´re about to come. Have you never…?” You shook your head. “Never during. Oh, there. There…Sirius!” He growled in satisfaction. His teeth sank into the soft flesh beneath your ear. The dominant part of him celebrating the fact that no other man had ever managed to do what he could do. Fucking selfish idiots, he thought.

“Right then, my beloved. Hold on tight” he said and you listened. Holding onto his shoulders he grabbed your hips and angled you slightly upwards. Your ass was now flush with his thighs as he began a different rhythm.

Stars exploded behind your eyes as you yelled out and grabbed his hair. The new angle allowed him to sink so deeply within you he almost fell over with the shock that punched through him. Your warmth, voice and scent all around him, he got completely lost in it all. One arm next to you allowed him some kind of leverage as he moved his hips, pushing into you over and over again. Seeing your breasts move in kind made him lose almost all self-control. He couldn’t remember the last time his body felt so hot, slick and his heart pounding with so much force. He was alive. He was alive because of you.

“Fuck, darling. Don’t hold back, don’t you dare. Come on” he begged you with a cracking voice. “S-Sirius…I-“ you hickuped as you blindly but with open eyes grabbed at his skin. “I know, sweetheart. I know. It´s all right, I´m right here. You can let go…oh fuck, yes…let it happen. I-I´ll catch you…argh” he pressed his eyes closed and again bared his teeth as he felt you squeezing him even more ferociously than before.

The pressure you felt deep within swelled and swelled until you had trouble taking in air, your vision of Sirius blurred and suddenly something white and hot crawled up your spine. With his name silent on your lips your back arched once again as the pressure snapped and you silently screamed into the void. An unbelievable feeling of euphoria convulsed through your body and you forgot where you were for a second. You felt your body shake and gentle hands on your side. Through the fog you heard him.

“Fucking perfect, baby. So beautiful. Shh, shh, it´s okey. ´M there too. With you…fuck, fuck, yes!___!” You could feel his thrusts becoming less and less frequent and through your haze you knew what you wanted most of all. With still shaking thighs you tightened them around him to keep him in place. “Please” you panted. “Please…I-In me.”

Your voice reached his ears and the next moment he fell over the edge with a snarl. His hands dug themselves deep into your flesh as the tidal wave of his orgasm nearly pushed him over. “Oh hell, darling. Yes, Yes, Yes…Oh fuck, so warm. Perfect. Argh!!” Hunched over he tried to regain his composure but it was impossible. “Baby” he said weakly as he, still spasming and still inside you, leaned over you and relaxed his body onto yours. You welcomed him with little pecks to his shoulder.

You could both feel the others thundering heart, how your skin slick with sweat felt like, how he steadily went limb inside of you. After what felt like hours Sirius groaned and rolled off of you only to position himself right next to you and pulling you close again. His nose nuzzled your cheek affectionately. You turned your head and looked into his eyes that steadily turned silver again. He reached out and stroked his forefinger over the bridge of your nose, lightly tapping the tip. You leaned in and kissed him long and slow. More content than you´d ever felt in your life. Again, both your hearts screamed the same words as your eyes did the talking.

“You´ve saved my sanity” he eventually whispered. His arms pulling you closer still. You smiled at him and licked your lips. “I can´t be the only one. What about Harry?” Sirius scrunched his nose and answered dryly.

“Can we not talk about my godson while my cum´s dripping out of you?”

“Oh, for fuck sake” you giggled and covered your eyes with your palm while Sirius just snickered.

“You´re right, you´re right” you said and looked at him again. “If I saved your sanity then you definitely saved my happiness.” Sirius leaned over you and kissed you contently.

“Speaking of cum” you said as he growled playfully and pinched your ass. You swatted his chest. “I´ve got to use the loo.” Sirius had a grumpy look on his face for a second before his eyes blitzed. “I think we need a shower, darling, don’t you?” Thinking about it he was of course right. So, you sat up and got up on wobbly legs. Sirius had no other choice than to let his chest swell with pride when he saw it. You leaned down and gave his forehead a kiss. “Give me two minutes alone, then you can come get me.” He grinned and nodded. “You bet your sweet arse I will.” Rolling your eyes a little bit you turned and naked as the day you were born walked over to his bathroom, never having felt so content or comfortable with your own nakedness. You knew because you felt it, Sirius´ eyes were following you until you closed the door.

Five minutes later you stood in Sirius´ arms under the shower. He insisted on washing your body and your hair, gliding his hands over you sensually but not sexually. Whispering sweet things into your ear while the steady stream of water washed over you.

Freshly showered, none of you bothered with clothes as you got into bed. Your thoughts consumed by yet unspoken words you whispered gently to each other until you both fell asleep. Your foreheads touching and legs tangled together, your last view the eye colour of the person you loved.

____________________________________________________________

The next few days were spent in Christmassy bliss. The young wizards were a much needed whirlwind in Sirius´ life and you felt each day just how much he loved having everyone around. That was until it was time for another order meeting and Snape entered the house. It was astounding to you sometimes how quickly Sirius could switch from cheeky and happy to serious and permanently on edge as soon as Snape entered the room. Since your last encounter with him Sirius was very protective of you. Holding you close, spewing acid from his eyes in Snape´s direction.

You felt how with every passing week, the kids had already left for Hogwarts again, he became increasingly tense. He tried not to show it in your presence but he wasn’t the only one you observed this behaviour in. Everyone seemed to grow more worried each day and it kind of scared you. Sirius told you a lot about what they discussed in the meetings but you were sure that he left a lot of it out as to not worry you. These days you cursed being a Muggle more and more. But there was nothing you could do.

And then one night while you slept blissfully in Sirius´ arms, three loud bangs to Sirius´ door let the both of you shoot up from the bed. “Sirius!” It was Remus on the other side of the door. Sirius jumped out of bed and hurried over to the door, ripping it open. Remus looked worried and dishevelled. “Albus is waiting down in the kitchen for us. Get dressed.” His tone was all Sirius needed to not ask unnecessary questions. He grabbed his jeans and an old shirt looking at you. “Come on, love. Get dressed. He didn’t say it was an order meeting.” Nodding quickly you threw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Hurrying silently downstairs into the kitchen the three of you didn’t exchange any words.

In the middle of the kitchen stood Albus Dumbledore. He was surrounded by Tonks, Moody, Arthur and Kingsley. Seeing almost all order members there you stopped immediately. An apology on your lips you felt Sirius gently grasping your arm, his dark gaze on Dumbledore. “What happened?” he demanded.

Albus looked at him directly and spoke. “You will not like what I´m about to ask of you, Sirius.” Sirius´ eyebrows pinched and you felt anger roll off of him. “Whatever will be discussed in the next minutes, you cannot leave Grimmauld place.”

“What. Happened?” Sirius seethed. Albus could see it was lost battle this time. It was like Sirius already knew. Panick flooded your insides and all you could think was that only one person could force Sirius to break his promise to Dumbledore. “It´s Harry and the others. They´ve been deceived and are currently in the department of Mysteries.”

The room felt cold, Sirius´ hand on your arm felt cold and hard. All sound vanished from the world and a ringing started in your ears. Sirius looked paler that he ever had and cold sweat started forming on his neck. “Why would he…?” Sirius began with a voice that you´ve never heard from him before. “Deceived…”

“I don’t know much more than you at this point” Dumbledore addressed the room. “But I´m sure I don’t need to explain that time is of the essence. Alastor” he directed his attention to Moody. He only nodded and squared his shoulders. “Tonks, Lupin, you are with me” he growled. “Kingsley and Arthur will meet up with Charlie at the ministry. Sirius” he growled and looked at the black haired man at your side who was shaking with anger. “You stay here.”

Sirius exploded, letting go of your arm. “What the fuck are you on about?! I´m not staying here while Harry is fighting for his life. You know who´ll probably be there!” His voice boomed through the kitchen. “That´s exactly the reason why you of all people need to stay here. We need level headed people in there!” Moody yelled back. “We can´t have you charging in there with tunnel vision. What do you think will happen when they get to you?! When she gets to you!”

Sirius was pacing and gripping his hair hard. You´ve never seen him so devastated but everything Moody just said made total sense. You could only hope that he´d see it the same way.

“I´ll kill her!” he said. His voice void of all emotion except pure hate. “Sirius” Arthur tried to make him see sense. “We´ll go get them. Stay here, it´s too risky.” You didn’t dare ask Sirius to stay although it was all you wanted in this moment. But it wasn’t your decision to make and not your godson in danger. Though thinking about all these young people that you grew to fond of and how they were in danger made your insides twist and you were sure your face was almost green with nausea.

Sirius looked at the people in front of him like they´d all collectively lost their minds. “Leave!” he bellowed and watched the next second how they all, except for Molly vanished from the kitchen. The silence that followed was deafening and you surely didn’t expect Sirius to actually stay. Molly didn’t seem to be convinced either as she shot him a warning glare. “Sirius” she said carefully but with emphasis. He was pacing again, ignoring her. He came to a stop in front of you and clasped your shoulders harder than he intended. Your head whipped up to him and the sight scared you more than anything.

He wouldn’t stay, you saw it in every line of his face and in every shade of apology and anger in his irises. You knew he would leave, heading head first into a situation that could cost him his life and you couldn’t do anything to convince him not to do it. He stared at you intently, willing you to understand, to forgive him for what he was about to do. Tears gathered in your eyes and he moved his hands to your face. “I…I can´t,___” he croaked with a voice full of regret as you shook your head pleadingly. “Forgive me.” Your knees almost buckled when he pressed his forehead against yours, kissed your lips hard and with another crack, the love for your life was gone. Molly reached you just the moment you screamed out your panic and devastation before your knees gave out and you sank to the ground in her arms.

“M-Molly” you trembled like a leaf as you gasped her name. Her arms around you shook almost as bad as yours when she tried to get you up from the ground. “I know, my sweet. I know. Come on, you need to stand up. You need to be strong now.” Molly´s voice shook and you heard the heaviness of tears in it. She guided your numb body to the table where you sat down and buried your head in your hands, sobbing. What if he didn’t come back. What if none of them came back?

The sound of a kettle in the background seemed so far away and dull as you stared at the spot where Sirius would usually sit. When Molly sat down a cup of tea in front of you, you didn’t even move. “I didn’t even get to tell him” you whispered. Molly followed your gaze to Sirius´ chair. Taking your hand in yours she said “He knows, darlin. He knows.” You shook you head no as more tears streamed down your face. “I didn’t tell him” you said and finally looked at her. Her eyes were swollen red and she looked ages older than she´d ever had. “Sometimes…sometimes words are not needed. Looking at the two of you and what you do for each other, none of us have any doubt that you are in love. So believe me,___. He knows it too.” Pleadingly you looked at her. “But he never heard it from me. What if he doesn’t-“

“Enough, darling!” Molly said suddenly with a fiery look in her eyes. “Enough” she said more gently. “Do not think like that. Please.” Her expression changed again and suddenly you felt like the worst person in the world. “Oh Molly” you breathed and took her hand in his. “I´m sorry, Molly. I didn’t think…your children. Arthur” Molly nodded and held your hand tighter. “You´re fine, sweetheart. I knew that this was a possibility but….when it actually comes…” Her eyes filled with tears again and you quickly wound your arms around her neck. You both cried in each other’s neck for a little while until Molly patted your back and leaned back. Taking your face in her hands she looked you deep in the eyes.

“If you truly love him and want to stay with him, it is time you get used to the possibility of this happening again. He´s a stubborn man and Harry´s the only family he has. Maybe that changed with you. But only so much. He loves that boy like a son and he will run to him whatever happens.” You nodded your head and took several deep breaths. “This is, after all…war.” Molly said calmly.

The hours trickled by so slowly, you were almost ready for your straight jacket. Pain and blinding worry was all you felt while sitting in the kitchen. One horrifying scenario running through your mind after another. Harry dead. Sirius dead. The Weasleys…dead.

Crack!

Yours and Molly´s heads snapped up and Molly let out a wail, staggering across the room and landing in her families arms. “Oh thank fuck!” You whispered and cried when you saw Ron, Ginny and Arthur all in a bundle of limbs with Molly. Behind them appeared Tonks and Remus. With shaking legs you tried to stand up and run to them but Tonks was quicker. She rounded the table with a haunted look in her eyes and hugged you before you could stand. Overwhelmed you clung to her.

“S-Sirius?” you gasped. “Harry?” With panicked eyes you tried to read her face. A moment later came your liberation.

Another crack almost drowned out a booming voice. “___! Where is she?!___!!”

He was there. Standing in the kitchen, his arm around a pale and shaking fifteen year old. Everything seemed to slow down as you felt an overpowering sense of relief. You watched as Sirius looked around the kitchen with desperate eyes while Molly took Harry from him and pulled him into her arms. When his silver eyes made contact with yours, you almost lost consciousness.

He staggered forward the same moment Tonks helped you to your feet. You swayed for a moment and reached out your arms. Before his palms could make contact with your face, he took a desperate breath and whisper-yelled “I love you!”

His lips slammed onto yours not even a second later and everything was drowned out. The only thing that mattered was his kiss, his presence, his warmth and his hands, touching every part of your face and neck as he kissed you stupid.

“I love you” he said again as he came up for air and slammed right back in. You felt your feet leave the ground as he hugged you around the waist and leaned back slightly. You cried. You cried and kissed him and clung to him like your life depended on it and somewhat that was the truth.

He sat you back down and covered your face and neck with kisses which gave you the momentum to take deep breaths and control your sobbing. It only lasted for a moment before you buried your face in his neck and began hiccupping. His hand stroked over your hair as he slowly rocked you from side to side. “It´s okey” you heard him say. “It´s okey my darling. I´m here. I´m so sorry, dove. I´m so fucking sorry.” You lifted your tear streaked face to look him in the eye and without hesitation answered.

“I love you.”

Tears fell from his eyes as your words penetrated his mind. “I love you with a force beyond measure, Sirius. I love you.” A strangled breath escaped him with a sob as he held you against him in a powerful hug. Only now you realised how badly he was trembling. Holding him as securely as your own limbs would allow you, you looked over his shoulder to search for Harry. You found him still in Molly´s arms. His black hair leaned against her shoulder, his own tense and unmoving. “Harry…” you weakly said into Sirius´ ear and slowly he came up from your neck. Still not letting you go he pressed you to his chest and kissed your temple.

“We´re fine, more or less. Somehow…” You didn’t prod further. This was not the time. All of them had been through an ordeal beyond anything your imagination would be able to conjure up. The only thing that was left was marvel in the fact that everyone was breathing. What exactly happened…it had time. “My sweet” Sirius whispered into your ear and you looked at him. One of his thumbs came up and stroked the apple of your cheek and his mouth twitched into a momentary smile. “You´re everything I´ve ever wanted and more than I deserve. I will make up for what I´ve put you through. I swear it. I love you so, so fucking much!”

You nodded with a weak sigh. “I love you too, Sirius” you said. “There´s nothing to make up for. Harry was in danger. Thank you for saving him.” You lay a featherlight kiss to his lips as you said it. Sirius exhaled through his nose heavily and very reluctantly loosened his death grip on you. “How are the others?” you asked him worriedly. “A few injuries here and there. Could have been much worse. We were incredibly lucky. If Albus hadn´t been there…” His voice broke and a haunted look befell his eyes as he stared ahead. “I saw him…Voldemort. He was right there…trying to get to Harry.” You inhaled sharply and suddenly knew just what kind of a miracle it was that the both of them were still alive. Your knuckles turned white as you clasped onto him.

“Where´s Albus now?” you asked quietly. The older wizard was nowhere to be seen.

“Straightening things out with the minister and…a few other things. I´d like to see Fudge deny Voldemort´s return now. Thank fuck I was still able to transform before that buffoon of a minister could see me.” Sirius again nuzzled your hair with his nose and took a deep breath. “Enough with the questions now” he breathed gently. “I just want to be in your arms.” You nodded. “Yeah.”

You spent the rest of the night with Sirius and Harry in the library. None of you able to sleep, talking about nothing and everything. In the early morning hours, Albus came to take Harry back to Hogwarts. You wanted to protest but suddenly Harry was in front of you and hugged you close. “I´ll be fine” he said. “Professor Dumbledore is at Hogwarts. My friends are at Hogwarts” he let go and looked at you with a serious face. “Please take care of Sirius.” Smiling at him you nodded. “Of course. Please look after yourself Harry and if you ever need anything-“ you stopped for a second as Sirius appeared next to you, an arm around your waist. “Let us know immediately.” The both of you looked at Harry with gentle seriousness and the young wizard suddenly had a very significant sheen in his eyes and nodded. “I will” he promised before he stepped forward and hugged the both of you one last time.

The house was quiet once again. Every person, hopefully, was where they were supposed to be. You knew you were. Looking up at Sirius you didn’t quite know what to say to him. It appeared neither did he. So he just took your hand in his, guided you back to his bedroom and for the next several hours made sure that your voice was giving out, your body was littered with bite- and lovemarks and you weren´t able to stand or walk for a while. He´d just finished cleaning you up for the third time as his tired body plopped down next to you and he pulled you onto his chest.

“When all of this is over,” he said and kissed your forehead. “And I promise you some day it will be… Let´s leave. Let´s build a small home somewhere else. Somewhere by a lake. Or the sea.” You nodded as you caressed his chest and arm. “I´d love nothing more.” You felt him take in a deep breath as if to steel himself before he continued. “And…when that day comes…I promise I´ll ask you to marry me.”

Your heart seized its beating. Slowly you lifted your head to look at him. His expression was sincere, true and without doubt. “If you want me to” he whispered. Reaching out you took a strand of his slightly greying hair and lifted to your lips. Looking him deep in the eyes you answered.

“Sirius Orion Black. When that day comes and you ask me to be your wife, know that my answer will always be yes.”

_____________________________________________________________

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a comment or like if you enjoyed it. Reblogs are also very welcome.

I am debating a bonus chapter (years later) if the general interesst is there, so let me know ;) <3

@twilightlover2007

@charidotesmelotes

@thinking-bucky

@clockworkherondale

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amethystina · 26 days

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Can I just say I legit dropped my tea cup when I saw the news about a new fic from you!!! I'm so very bumped for it you cannot imagine!!! Please is there something else you can tell us about it? This is better than anything for Easter and birthday and Christmas!

Be careful and don't burn yourself!

And, well, it's a 5+1 from Ga On's POV that spans across the drama with the concept "five times Ga On touched Yo Han without thinking and one time he did it intentionally." It started with me wondering what would happen if Ga On actually had reached out to touch Yo Han when he first showed Ga On the scar on his back, and then it evolved from there.

And by "evolved" I mean that the touches snowball and cause some slight changes to canon events and their developing relationship. Things escalate a bit quicker than the original, I guess you could say?

And then there will be a bonus chapter (or a +2, if you will) just because I realised I wanted to make the story come full circle with Ga On touching Yo Han's back again and that, in turn, devolved into a sex scene. And, like, the downside of me never having written one with this pairing before is that my brain just went "OH SHINY NEW TOY, GOTTA EXPLORE THIS." So the sex scene is getting really long even if that definitely wasn't my intention, because some part of me can't help but want to explore the dynamic and intricate details of these two having sex x'D

I'm really proud of myself for keeping the rest short, though! (She says about a fic that's 13k, unedited, not counting the, so far, 7k long bonus chapter) Like, you wouldn't believe how tricky it is when I'm used to exploring every tiny nuance and, in this one, I couldn't. There simply was no time. So I had to completely skip any discussions about Isaac, Elijah isn't even in it (which I'm sure is illegal), and a lot of the emotional development happens off-screen.

It's a much quicker, contained story told in a different format than my other fics, but will hopefully still be enjoyable? There will be lots of touching and A LOT of tension, if nothing else. Especially since this is during the time when Yo Han and Ga On are still getting to know each other and Yo Han has more of his Abyss tendencies. And Ga On is more bold since he doesn't have quite as much baggage. So closer to Gravitational Pull than Who Holds the Devil.

But yeah. The thought hit me and even if I "should" maybe be writing on Who Holds the Devil instead, I decided to let myself write this because the concept sounded really intriguing and I knew it would be pretty short (for being me). The bonus chapter isn't quite finished yet and I also have to edit all of it so I don't know when I'll be able to post it, though. But hopefully sometime soon?

And I hope you will enjoy it once I do! Thank you so much for sharing your enthusiasm — it's really encouraging. Like, I still can't believe that people are this excited about my writing. I'm very grateful 💜

#Amethystina Replies #Anonymous #Amethystina Writes #Each Touch (Brings Us One Step Closer)#Is what it's called #One step closer to what you ask?#Well #Read and find out ;)#For real though #I go HAM on the Dangerous Yo Han imagery #Because I admit that's a weakness of mine #I just love how dramatic I can be with him #It brings me so much joy #So look forward to that I guess?

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unexpectedstormy · 13 days

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Why Podfics are Important

A big part of why I like podfics so much is because to me it is an accessibility feature. There are times when I cannot look at a screen due to light sensitivity or I don't have spoons/brainpower to interact on Tumblr or or I'm too unfocused to read a fic but I still wanna be distracted and think about blorbos and podfics are perfect for that.

The problem is that there aren't very many of them.

When I first discovered them, I filtered for LU fics with no smut or MCD and there were only like 27 podfics. I listened to all of them in about 2 days. I was disappointed there weren't more, but the ones that were there were all excellent. So I asked myself why not try my hand at making them?

It took me about a week to figure out how to record audio, edit, where and how to host it, and how to link to AO3; and now that I know how to do it, I can record and post a fic in a couple of hours. You don't get alot of attention or fanfare for doing it--podfics are nowhere near as popular as ordinary fics, but it's a public service and its just plain fun. Actually its addicting. Every time I finish recording and posting a podfic my brain is like a sled dog pulling on a rope begging "More! Do more podfics!"

In an ideal world, I think every fic should have a podfic version. It would benefit everyone, not just disabled people. Not only are they good for low spoons time, they're also great for ordinary times when you're doing chores or riding the bus or something and you want something to listen to, just like you would listen to any other podcast. Not to mention the fact that by making podfics, you get to learn the valuable modern skill of recording audio and posting it.

I have a motto: "Try anything once," meaning, I'm game to try out learning any new thing and there's no commitment to do it long term or even do it more than that one time. Its just fun to learn and experiment. I've been trying a new thing every year for the past several years and have had fun gaining a bunch of oddball jack-of-all-trades skills like slacklining, longboarding, watercolor, digital art, and podfics.

I'd like to encourage everyone to try making a podfic and seeing how they like it (it does take a couple of podfics to really get your feet under you though). If you like it, or if you're willing and able to, making more podfics would be an invaluable service to provide for the fandom. And if you can't make podfics for whatever reason, why not just listen to a podfic and drop a kudos or comment or something to let the person doing them know that you appreciate it?

If anyone wants to know how to podfic, please feel free to reach out to me and I'll do what I can to help. Also, I'll be putting together a "how to make a podfic" post in the near future so keep an eye out for that.

#reposting this because something went wrong with the last time I posted it #podfic #fanfiction #linked universe

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scoundrels-in-love · 4 months

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30 Years Old Achievement Unlocked!

Usually, I had a Follow Forever post ready for my birthday, as a thank you for filling my dash and heart with blorbos and fun this year, but today I decided to have a bit more introspective one, looking over the last decade offline and almost same time that I've had on Tumblr. As a reminder for myself and maybe it can give some encouragement to others that are going through the slog of their twenties.

But first, yes, a thank you to people that have deeply shaped this decade, with their presence and sometimes, their absence. I can't ping the person I miss the most, it doesn't reach across the fog that clouds the way beyond the final goodbye, the parting that cannot be spoken, but I can ping the people who helped me stay on this side of the mist, in the aftermath. (In vague alphabetic order.) Thank you for everything, for being there for me through thick and thin, however you're capable, thank you for being you.

@aviss @bienchanter @binary5tar @carrot--cube @cup-ah-jho @deenakahara @fiovske @firesign23 @it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined @justdontevenknow @kdramaxoxo @lostindramas @mesoperi @sdwolfpup @spacepandar @tazzmanien @youholdthewater @zigackly

Also a special thank you, you are amazing and have done for me more than I can explain, to wonderful people of Trigun fandom. You made this year bearable, you pushed me to create more than I have in ages not with violence, but your love for what I had to share. And many of you have become friends I hope to keep for the forthcoming decade!

@aluvian @cosmixseerart @chickiefoo @dingusttmax @fionnrose @ladymaliwan @needle-noggins @noaafishfieldguide @kiaraalazulu @koontyme @madnessmadness @tardisready @zeearts @zillychu

I am definitely forgetting someone in these pings and I will blame it on my old age (just 3% of my entire lifespan, though!) and I am sending all the lovely people I talk with, who interact with my posts and so forth, people I follow, so much love (and Irish coffee cream cake).

Now, onto some loving achievements of the decade:

Survived and accepted my neurodivergence, began to start to accomodate for it and seek help for doing so.

Began participating in fandom.

Published over 170k words for various fandoms.

Learned to gif.

Realized I have checked the box 'No' on sexual & romantic attraction and gender starter package slip.

Conceptualized designs for my tattoos.

Dyed and bleached my hair for the first time. Figured out I like it short.

Continued to develop my style and grow more comfortable with my body and appearance.

Got Wolverine arm implants after I broke it badly.

Left my country and saw a band I love live.

Saw my internet friends in person for the first time.

Sailed on a boat and stood on the edge of sea at midnight, crying from happiness.

Finished education and kept job despite health issues.

Started playing DnD and even DMd a little.

Made my friends laugh so often I lost count.

Laughed often myself.

Took so many photos of things I love.

Learned so many cool animal facts.

Heard new favorite songs and continued to love old ones.

Read things that changed something in my very soul.

Wrote something that inspired a fanart and podfic.

And more and more and more. There is always more, more things that you and I can ever predict, more sorrows, yes, but more joys as well. And I think, looking back at 20 year old me, I'd say... It was worth sticking around for.

So, for the next life year and decade I want to say I'll try to:

Continue learning being kinder to myself, accept my limitations and accomodate them.

Write, write, write.

Take so much more photos.

Laugh until I cry more often.

Make people wheeze.

Travel more and especially to the seaside.

There always will be more to do, but I like these goals.

Thank you again, for everything, and here's to the next year, next decade and next lifetime.

#rainy rambles #rainy turns 30 #the 3% thing is a tumblr joke okay don't @ me

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ars-matron · 3 months

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The Tarot Sequence Reread

Nothing has given me brain rot in a long while like the Tarot Sequence by K D Edwards has. And since I just finished reading all the supplemental stuff right when my hold for The Last Sun came back up I thought I would do something I have only done once before-and in a much less flattering way for a book I hated-and live blog my reread.

There's just so much in this series I need to pay closer attention to. And usually I would go on here and read some metas, but there is literally nothing!! The only things in the tags for this series is people wishing there were more people reading it, a handful of very wonderful fanarts, and an account of the decline of a discord that evidently used to exist for it. So, maybe this will encourage some people to read the books too.

Because there are some heavy topics in this series anytime I talk about such topics I will tag for them, but if they don't come up in the chapters I'm reviewing, I won't. So if you have certain things back listed you might not see all my posts on it. Anyone who is reading along and is curious about it can DM me.

NOW! Predictions and things I want to pay attention to under the cut for spoiler reasons.

The Tower. At the end of the prologue of the first book my thoughts were, " So we trust NO ONE!!" Except Queenie, because why would Rune and Brand live with her if she was evil? Then the children showed up and I had to trust them, they were too young to be part of the, whole thing, plus they are so cute. You have to trust them. And then Addam came along, and of course we trust him, he's an Addam, he's a giant dancing teddy bear and I love him! So I read the whole series (that's out so far) expecting we would find out the Tower was an evil guy, that he had had something to do with the fall of the Sun Throne. Honestly by the end of the third book I didn't think that any longer, and I was starting to before that after finding out he was also Qunn's godfather because!!! There is no way Qunn wouldn't have seen if the Tower revealed he had been a part of all that. (I'm still asking myself HOW exactly he or Mayan wouldn't have noticed an astral projection listening device being installed in Rune's room at their freaking tower that is super locked down! But then it happened for two other locations that were supposed to be super warded and protected my other companions too. So maybe it isn't his fault. I do think he might blame himself, I do think that some of his stand-offishness might also be guilt for not being able to stop the attack on the Sun Throne to start with. We will see...) I'm going to go into this read through with the assumption he is just lonely and sad and not a bad guy.

QUEENIE!!!! Because, WHO THE FUCK IS QUEENIE!? I was already suspicious because every time someone asks Rune and Brand where she came from, or how long she's been with them, they say "She's been with us forever." Every time! It reeks of mind fuckery. Then Eidolon and the epilogue that wasn't came along. Current theory is that she is the Empress, and also that she's probably Rune's mother. I would be willing to bet she was the woman at the end of the third book who spoke up to the river after everyone else. Edwards did a good job of making her disappear in the background, but I'm gonna be hunting for every mention of her and how she acts around everyone.

Ciaran, just because I love him and at first also suspected him of evil deeds. But he's just your gay vodka uncle and he loves all his adopted family so much and I just want to keep a closer on him at the start of the series.

Kellum. We only see him once in the second book, but he's mentioned in Eidolon by the Fool (Or Queenie pretending to be the Fool, again I'm not sure, there's Queenie interference for sure) And he was in one of the supplemental novellas. I think he will be making a bigger appearance in the next book.

Quinn's prophecies. I'll probably make a list of those for a separate master post.

Tallas. The Atlantean soul mates. This is a MAJOR spoiler. Rune says that Brand and he formed a talla bond the night of the attack. That it was what brought Brand out of the geas and got them to safety. The bond was gone when he woke up in the hospital and he's spent this whole time thinking he's somehow broken their talla bond. Something definitely happened between him and Addam in the Westlands, and I don't think Addam was wrong in assuming it was the budding of a talla bond. Because something sort of bond-like is also there now after the Hourglass Throne, after he used his bond with Brand to get him and Addam back to their time. My theory here is that they might be each other tallas, all three of them. Together. We know that it doesn't have to be a sexual relationship, though I don't think Addam would mind that one bit. Everything is pointing to the three of them being tied together somehow, and my theory is mostly that, before they were together together, no one talla bond could form and take precedence over the other. Now that they are together all the time, going on missions, living together, they have more opportunities for a bond to fully form and take hold. Assuming it involves all three of them.

And with that, I'm going to go read!

#the tarot sequence #k d edwards #the last sun #rune saint john #brand saint john #max saint john #quinn saint nicholas #addam saint nicholas #the hanged man #the hourglass throne #the eidolon #booklr #ttsrr

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heavenlycloud · 1 year

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the veil~ ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ჻

two: oh that bitch GAY ‧₊˚ ⋅ ༘☆*.ﾟ

warnings: swearing

pairing: huh yunjin x aespa 5th member! fem reader

summary: yunjin learns more about y/n than she did before with the bullying encouragement of her friends. small things are revealed, and simple promises are made...all complemented by both yunjin and y/n being useless gays.

author notes: i will be including dancer, rapper, vocal claims in coming chapters for y/n. however, these are NOT face or body claims! they're simply for a visual reference to for reading the fic. additionally, i might have some more vocal claims for yunjin that AREN'T her just bc it fits the moment in story best. so please work with me if it doesn't exactly sound or look like her in whatever media i add in. this is a work of fiction after all! lastly, feedback, comments, reblogs, questions, literally anything but hateful speech is welcome and very much appreciated!

̟ ̇ ˖ಎ˚˖࿔ masterlist 𓂅୨⊹ ₊˚๑

the practice room was quiet as your members took a quick break from the day-long practice you all started in the early morning. you watched your reflection in the mirror as you danced with salty & sweet playing in your head. jimin wandered back to the middle of the floor near you catching your attention when her eyes landed on you. a smug grin tugged at the coner of your lips as you teasingly mocked her part, “run run run kitty kitty run run.” your leader rolled her eyes and leaned over to push you, “ugh you’re so annoying!” the two of you bickered back and forth before your other members came back and your choreographer had you all run through one more time for the night. final run throughs were definitely the most relieving part of group dance practices, and were often your favorite part. simply because you ended up staying an hour or two extra to dance alone as a way of destressing.

minjeong and jimin were the first to leave once everyone was dismissed with aeri following close behind them. however, judging by the way she was giggling at her phone before running off, she was probably about to go hookup with someone instead of actually going home. yizhuo decided she wanted to head down to another room to practice her vocals for a solo schedule she had coming up. that left you alone in the practice room to do whatever you wanted for the next hour before someone came and told you to head home for the night. it had been a while since you filmed a dance cover so once your playlist was on shuffle, you set up to record a few things. first on your playlist was Ay-Yo by NCT 127 which you’d learned weeks ago only hours after it came out. you danced to eight songs before yizhuo came back into the practice room just to see you dancing along to Left Right by XG. she watched from the back of the room until you were finished then asked, “why don’t you post more covers of you dancing?” you shrugged and responded, “i just like keeping some stuff to myself…but i’m ready to go let me just turn everything off.” yizhuo waited for you by the door and followed you out after making sure the door locked behind you.

a muffled ping sounded from your pocket followed by the vibration from an incoming phone notification. you glanced down at your phone and smiled dopily at the message notification as you opened The Veil. while you were responding to the message, yizhuo peered over your shoulder to sneak a peek at the conversation. she laughed and teasingly cooed, “aweeee look at you all giddy over a text message.” you snatched your phone away and wiped the smile from your face, “i am not, and stop reading my texts!” yizhuo pretended to believe you and pried, “so what’s going on with the two of you anyways? i’ve seen you giggling and texting all week but you haven’t given me anything to work with here.” there was a slight bit of disappointment in the small pout on yizhuo’s face because she was right. the two of you shared everything with each other but you’ve been tight lipped about you and your match since the first night.

you looked at your best friend who shot you her best attempt at puppy eyes before you caved, “fine, i’ll spill.” yizhuo linked her arm with yours as you all started the walk back to your dorm, “we just talk to each other when we’re both free. it’s honestly like the way you and i text each other. a bunch of tiktoks, some memes, and those random questions i ask that make jimin and minjeong block me because it ‘makes them think too hard at night’ or whatever.” yizhuo stared at you and clarified, “so you haven’t figured out who she is yet?” you shook your head and said, “nope, but i might figure it out this weekend because we’re watching movies together.”

those words alone made yizhuo stop dead in her tracks, “YOU’RE DOING WHAT?!” your best friend shouted, drawing attention from a few passerbyers on the street as you headed up to your housing unit. you unlocked the front door and kicked off your shoes as you explained, “it’s not that big a deal, ningie.” she mimicked your voice with rolled eyes, “iT’s NoT tHaT BiG a dEaL’ yes it is! this is practically a date- oh my god you have a date!” just then minjeong walked into the hallway, “who has a date?” yizhuo answered for you, “y/n has a date.” jimin called from the kitchen with pure shock in her voice, “Y/N HAS A DATE?!” she was followed by a voice from her phone where she was on facetime, “did you just say y/n and date in the same sentence?”

you let out a huff of annoyance and blurted out, “everyone hush! you-” a finger pointed at yizhuo as you continued, “stop reading into things.” you turned to your other two members, “no i don’t have a date because i don’t date, and more importantly i don’t even think she likes girls.” you added on after a second, “and ryujin get out of my business!” from jimin’s phone, ryujin laughed and cheekily replied, “whatever you know you love me okay.” yizhuo asked curiously, “well since it’s not a date why don’t you tell us more about this thing that’s totally not a date?” you shrugged and responded, “i’m just watching movies with the girl i matched with on the Veil. we’re just gonna stream them at the same time, i’m not even gonna see her face.” jimin asked, “well what movie are you two streaming?” you answered simply, “Harry Potter. she’s making me watch them with her because i’ve never seen them.” minjeong looked at yizhuo who looked at jimin who looked at her phone, then back at you, everyone agreed at once, “it’s a date.” you groaned and walked off to your room before heading to the bathroom to shower.

the warm water hit your skin and you closed your eyes as heat cascaded over your tired limbs and torso. small moments of peace and quiet like this were hard to find these days due to living with your four members, and the fast paced schedules that dictated your every move for months at a time. after you finished in the shower you changed into a pair of pajamas, specifically the mildly overpriced pair yizhuo gifted you because your mix matched ones ‘made her eyes hurt’. another notification appeared on your phone from the Veil app and you quickly slid up to respond to the question sent.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✭・彡♡・✫.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

yunjin stared at the laptop at her desk as she talked on voice call with a few of her best friends as they grilled her about her match. the blonde haired girl on the other end of the call asked, “wait- bro you said you haven’t figured out who she is yet?” yunjin shook her head and the blonde’s eyes lit up, “are you gonna reveal yourself? if you are let me know cause i have ideas!” the black haired girl shook her head, “no, som’ i’m not doing that. besides, the mystery keeps it fun.” somi scoffed playfully, “whatever you’re boring!” there was a few seconds of silence as the girls sent messages in the text chat before someone unmuted and turned their camera on. soobin asked curiously, “so, besides you two having a friend date thing this weekend to watch Harry Potter … has she sent you anything juicy?” somi wiggled her eyebrows and hummed while a few other people giggled into their mics which prompted the soobin to tack on, “I DON’T MEAN NUDES OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ARE SO IMMATURE!” the entire call erupted into a fit of laughter as somi defended herself, “i didn’t even say anything!” yunjin answered before the two could start bickering, “um… well i know she likes to read books when she’s not working, and she’s either the main dancer or lead dancer in her group. i haven’t figured out which, but she mentions dancing more than singing and rapping so that’s my guess. OH and- andddd she went to Hanlim but she didn’t say which class she graduated from.”

suddenly someone else turned their mic on, “girl we don’t care about high school- does she like GIRLS?” somi pointed to her camera, “thank you keeho.” yunjin stayed silent for a moment and unsurely mused, “ummm…” this time jisu spoke up and asked, “wait you didn’t ask?” somi and keeho started talking over one another, also asking how yunjin hadn’t tried to figure it out yet, while two other friends, beomhan and chaeyoung, typed in the chat asking the same thing. the entire conversation went silent as they moved from talking in the video call to typing in the chat instead.

two minutes passed before yunjin sent the screenshot for her friends to see your conversation.

somi unmuted herself and mused, “i wonder what kind of gay she is?” chloe asked with genuine curiosity in her voice, “do hey mamas gays read Harry Potter?” jisu snorted and said, “yes. ryujin is living proof of that.” the entire chat was just yunjin’s friends throwing out ideas of what you could be like based on the limited information they had received. yunjin just sat and listened, lost in thought as she tried to see if she agreed with anything they were saying based on your past conversations. she paid attention to her friend group until she got another notification from the Veil app with Jasmine 🌿 at the top of the banner. immediately she hung up on her friends and texted the chat to say why she left suddenly.

yunjin slouched into her seat as she put her full attention onto texting you before it was time for both of you to sleep. she grew fond of these late night conversations that for the past two days, bled into early morning hours. a stupid smile plastered on her face when she opened the chat between the two of you to see the typing bubbles as she waited for a reply.

wildside- jasmine.mov

yunjin stared at her phone as she watched the video of you dancing three times in a row before she could actually text you back. the control and sharpness you had on every move while still making it look effortless left yunjin in awe. she wondered what you looked like dancing when you were performing seriously. if this was you just ‘goofing off in front of a camera’ then what did it look like when you were in front of an audience. she watched the video over again and furrowed her brows, there was something so familiar about you but she couldn’t put her finger on it. there was a part of her that was grateful she didn’t immediately recognize you, but she couldn’t ignore the way her heart raced in anticipation at the thought of knowing you one day.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✭・彡♡・✫.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

here with me- lyra.mov

you laid in bed and waited for your body to finally give into the sleep you so desperately needed, but your mind was racing. mindlessly scrolling through videos and posts from your friends grew boring and you just wanted to rest. your thoughts returned back to trying to match the voice of your mystery girl to a face, and you found yourself back watching the video she sent you earlier.

honestly, you didn’t know what you were expecting to receive from her but it wasn’t what she sent. the soft ukulele chords with the gentle cadence of her voice made everything else on your mind go silent. all you could focus on was the comforting sound of her singing against your ears. for a split second you swore you’d heard the voice before, but just as quickly as you recognized her, it was gone. your eyes began to droop as your tensed body finally relaxed into your bed and pillows. you almost missed the way your heart skipped a beat when you thought about meeting her one day, and hearing her sing just like this to you instead of a camera.

‎♡‧₊˚˘͈ᵕ˘͈‎ 彡♡ ༘*.ﾟ .·:¨༺ ʚ♡ɞ༻¨*:·.﹢࿐ ☆

bonus: some tweets from both yunjin, y/n, and their moots (+ minji & hanni)

taglist: @https-f4iryjin @awkwardtoafault @seungspolaroid

authors notes: i was thinking of making a post that elaborates on the friend groups for both y/n and yunjin. there are a lot of side characters so let me know if that's something you'd like to see!

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satans-bf · 1 year

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NSFW Alphabet - Satan

Hey! This is a new OM! blog that I made to encourage myself to write more often, so I figured a good first post might be the NSFW alphabet I wrote for Satan last month. It shouldn't need to be said, but...

‼️MINORS DNI‼️

A: Aftercare (What are they like afterwards?)

He’s very sweet. He’ll praise you a lot and tell you how much he loves you, and he’s fairly affectionate afterwards. If he scratched or bit you or anything, he’ll look over you to make sure you’re okay and take care of anything that needs it, and he’ll help you get cleaned up. While not normally very cuddly compared to some of the other brothers, he wants after-sex cuddles.

B: Body (What’s their favourite body part or parts of their partner’s? What is their partner’s favourite body part or parts of theirs?)

He likes your hands! You can tell a lot about a person from their hands and the subtleties of them from person to person are individual and unique. He also loves to have your hands on him—he finds it similarly intimate. For the same reasons, he also likes your eyes; I know these are supposed to be sexual headcanons, but I imagine Satan is a very romantic kind of person and that sexuality is very tied to romance for him.

C: Cum (What do they do with it?)

He likes to cum inside you; it’s romantic to him. Whether it’s ass, pussy, or mouth doesn’t really matter. (Of course, that’s just what he likes, and he won’t if you don’t want him to; your stomach is his second favourite place, and that part goes both ways if it's you finishing on him.)

D: Dirty Secret (What’s their dirty secret, if they have one?)

I honestly can’t really think of a dirty secret he’d have... however! Consider this: he is absolutely not a piercings kind of guy. However, if you planted the idea, he might eventually be interested in the idea of getting a Prince Albert or something like that for you. Since it wouldn’t affect his outward appearance, and no one would know about it but you, if you brought up the idea, he would think about it every so often. It’d be very intimate to him knowing that not only do only the two of you know about it, it also heightens the pleasure you both get. But this is very much an, “if you brought up the idea, expressed interest, and gave him enough time to think about it” kind of thing. He wouldn't do it of his own accord; it just wouldn't interest him.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not very experienced, so you’d have to be patient with him. That said, if you’re willing to be patient with him, show him some things, and explore some stuff with him, once he’s comfortable with you he might surprise you with some of the things he’s into.

F: Favourite Position (What’s their favourite position?)

His favourite positions are where he can see your face while he takes you, so probably missionary or cowgirl. And yes, he’s a top—regardless of what you have, I can’t see him being comfortable with being penetrated—but he’s not necessarily dominant. He’s just as eager to be flat on his back panting and moaning while you ride him as he is to have you on your back with your legs wrapped around him. If you're not into being penetrated either, that's okay too—he really likes oral.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious or humorous during sex?)

He’s definitely more serious, but he can be pretty... playful? I wouldn’t call him goofy, but sex with him can feel like a game, in a good way. I feel like lighthearted and whimsical are probably better words to describe it than humorous is. I can see him laughing during sex, but between serious and goofy, I'd say serious is more accurate.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

Not that he grows much hair down there to begin with, but he keeps it very neat! It wouldn't match, but he shaves it anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

I: Intimacy (How romantic are they during the moment?)

Usually, it’s pretty romantic with him. He’s a hopeless romantic and that informs a lot of the way he tends to see sex; he’s the love-making sort of type. He’s the type to hold your hands, kiss you, nuzzle you, keep his arms around you during sex, etc. That said, he has a wilder side too, and can definitely get into less romantic and more physical moods.

J: Jack Off (How often do they jack off? Do they do it at all?)

He does, but he wouldn’t be able to admit to it if you asked. I wouldn’t say he does it infrequently either; his sex drive is higher than you’d expect it to be, and if anyone found out he’d probably die from embarrassment. Also, because of that, I imagine it’s as much for everyone else as it is for him—as the Avatar of Wrath, I don’t imagine a sexually frustrated Satan is anything that anyone wants to deal with, including him. Precautionary measures as it were.

K: Kink (How many kinks do they have?)

He’s got a few kinks; although he’s perfectly happy be pretty vanilla with you most of the time, if you’re willing and interested in trying some kinks, there’s some he’ll go wild for and would even make a regular part of your sex life if you wanted. Pet play is definitely one of them; he loves cat ears, tail anal plugs, those paw pad thigh high socks…and he’s into either of you wearing them. He’d love to see you in it, but he’d also love to be a pretty little kitty himself, and if you want to do it together? You’ll get to see his wilder side, it'll be one of the rare times he prefers to take you from behind, but watch out! He bites. ;) Besides pet play, in his less romantic moods, he can be pretty rough and risky. He’s both a little sadistic and a little masochistic, and if you’re into it you’re both going to be covered in scratches and bite marks, he’ll want to pull your hair and let you pull his, and he loves it when one of you is pinned while getting fucked—whether that’s you or him.

L: Location (What are their favourite locations?)

In his more romantic moods, he prefers your bed. Something about fucking you in your room gets to him; sure, all the brothers like to hang out in your room, but every time you get intimate with him in your room it feels particularly like laying claim to you. In his less romantic moods, he likes semi-public places where he’s pretty sure you won’t get caught but there’s still a slight chance that you could be. He doesn’t actually want to get caught, and he’s not sure what he’d do if he was, but the idea that it’s possible for someone to walk in on him buried in you or between your legs does something.

M: Motivation (What turns them on?)

A few different things will get his attention in particular—cat ears (of course), but also…confidence. He likes it when you’re forward towards him, whether it’s in a dominant or submissive sort of way, and finds it very difficult not to react to it. He’s the type who, if you act sort of bold or cheeky when he’s not expecting it, he will have to distract or excuse himself immediately. He also likes it when you sit on him, whether that’s on his face or his dick, and when you let him pin you down and/or be dominant with you—he can be very submissive, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like being dominant, too.

N: No (What are their turn-offs?)

Bottoming; if you look at his hole a little too long, he will look at you like you’re actively plotting to kill him. It’s very funny but also very tragic because he is so pretty and would look so pretty with a cock in his ass, but you’ll make him cry if you want him to. The only exception I can see him making is for the aforementioned tail plugs, but he’ll only let you play with his butthole if he knows it’s specifically for that, because the desire to be a cute little kitty is strong.

O: Oral (Do they prefer giving or receiving? How good are they at it?)

He prefers receiving, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like giving, too. He loves going down on you and making you squirm with his mouth and hands, but if you return the favour, he’ll barely be able to contain himself. He will whine and pull your hair—he’s very sensitive.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough or do they like it slower and more sensual?)

Depends entirely on his mood. His default is slow and sensual so that he can kiss you and hold you and love you properly, but if he’s in the mood he’ll absolutely fuck you senseless.

Q: Quickie (What do they think about quickies?)

In general, he’s not really a fan. He’d much rather take his time with you and really enjoy it, but if he’s particularly horny and/or you’re in a semi-public place it’s not out of the question for him to be up for it.

R: Risk (Do they like to experiment and take risks?)

Yes and no; sometimes he can feel pretty bold and risky and in the right mood he’ll be excited to experiment with you, but if he’s not in that mood he can be easily scared off by it.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

By demon standards, his stamina isn’t amazing, but by human standards he can last quite a while. You might be surprised that he’s still going after a few rounds, and wonder where it’s all coming from, but it’s one of the times you remember that not only is he a demon but a powerful one, too. He’ll be able to keep up with you until you’re thoroughly satisfied and if you can manage some sort of control over finishing, he’ll adore you if you cum at the same time. Either way, he’s pretty much always sweaty and winded when you’re done.

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them?)

He doesn’t before he meets you, but he’s not against trying them if you like them. He doesn’t really use them for himself, and doesn’t really feel like he needs to. If you like them though, he doesn’t mind, and if you want him to use them on you, he totally will. He’ll think it’s hot to watch you come undone without even being inside you; he’s like, “wow, do I really make you that horny?”

U: Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

He loves to tease; as mentioned in G: Goofy, sex with him can be pretty playful, and a lot of that is the two of you messing with each other and playing a sexy game of chicken, trying to see who can get a better/stronger/quicker reaction out of the other, how well you know each other’s likes and reactions, and how long you can stand to be teased before one of you gives in.

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

He’s pretty noisy. He’ll try (key word: try) to keep his composure at first, but it’s not difficult to make him moan and whine for you—especially if he’s dressed like a cute little kitty cat. He’s not terribly loud in volume, but he is often vocal. He’ll make the most delicious little whimpers and whines, although sometimes he’ll try really hard to stop them from coming out and you’ll get a strangled-sounding gasp out of him.

W: Wild Card (List a random hc here)

I have a difficult time (personally) imagining him as anything other than gay. I can’t put my finger on what it is about him, but imagining him with a woman or a feminine nonbinary person (AFAB or AMAB) feels strange and forced to me, like it doesn’t make sense, but imagining him with a man or a masculine nonbinary person (AMAB or AFAB) seems natural. In addition, I don’t think he’s lacking in sexual thoughts or feelings—I think it’s more likely that it’s repressed and he’s embarrassed about them.

X: X-Ray (What do they look like under their clothes?)

Pretty. Like all the brothers, he’s got decent muscle tone. Honestly, it’s probably just because he’s a demon; they’re just built different. That said he has more of a lithe and graceful figure than anything, and some moles here and there. As for his cock, it’s just as pretty as the rest of him, and big enough to hit pretty deep, but not terribly thick or anything. ;)

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s higher than you’d expect. He’s not open about it at all. It’s mostly reserved for actual partners, so you wouldn’t know, but it’s not low. He’s a little bit of a whore, but only for his partner. ❤️

Z: Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

It’ll take him a minute. He needs a bit to calm down afterwards—not too long or anything, but it’s not immediate.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me satan #satan obey me #obey me headcanons #satan x mc #satan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me brothers #obey me imagines #obey me hcs #om! satan #om! satan x reader #obey me satan smut

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bisexual-horror-fan · 10 months

Note

Ugh it’s really late at night where I am and I can’t sleep and it just popped into my mind that I’m low-key terrified and excited to see what you’re gonna do with the third part of your Mickey-Randy fic. Is Mickey gonna go through with killing him? How will reader react if he does? Will she find out it’s Mickey? WILL MICKEY GET WHAT HE WANTS?

You best believe the moment you post it I’m locking myself in a dark ass room and telling my boyfriend to leave me tf alone for 3-5 business days

Well! I had the past two days off and I finished up this! For those who haven’t read part one or two of this trilogy I would recc that you do! Seriously, I never thought I would love doing this so much but I did! Massive shout out to @applesontheground for going over this and betaing pre-posting! Now then, I don’t wanna waste much time, I just wanna dive in and get deep! The long awaited conclusion of this trilogy is here! Let’s get deep in the paint!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 6.5K. Mickey Altieri And Randy Meeks X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: So Much Context Needed. Threesomes. Sloppy Seconds. Cuckholding. Semi-Public Sex. Blow Job. Throat Fucking. Gagging. Stalking. Murder Plot. Murder. Blood. Gore. Angst. Hurt. Comfort. Death. Grief. Vaginal Sex. Kissing. Confessions Of Feelings. Manipulation.

—

You Need Me Like I Need You.

—

When did shit, namely, his life, get this fucking complicated?

He used to think that sex was pretty straight forward, that he had a good handle on himself, his interests and personal sexuality, even before he brought anyone else into the equation but now all the lines are blurred and muddy. He never knew that it could all be so varied, which seems fucking stupid now. The human experience has untold and truly vast depth, of course sex, something that has existed as long as people themselves have existed, has a million different ways to explore, play with and partake in and Randy had been confronted with all that, thrown headfirst into it with almost no preparation.

Randy has experienced impossibly high highs and some true lows, the emotional roller coaster of it all was a lot to handle but also, shamefully, addicting as hell.

He didn’t know that there could be so much sexual enjoyment derived from such typically and previously negatively associated feeling, particularly, humiliation. He had experienced plenty of humiliation over the years and it always, well, fucking sucked but for some reason, when it cropped up again from that tape and subsequent threesomes with Mickey, it made his heart race in a different way, a much better, albeit, confusing way.

When he first was confronted with that tape he was a mess, when you eventually pulled out what was wrong he was still a total mess, and during that first threesome, he was even more of one. Mickey was an almost intolerable asshole but he had to admit, the things he did to you, the view and picture you both provided him, undeniably hot, much better than any bargain basement dumpster porn tape he ever watched by far. He hated that every boundary he tried to lay down, like Mickey wearing a condom, was ignored. Even further, the disrespecting of said boundaries were usually encouraged by you, as you seemingly craved it too. The shared wants between you and Mickey took precedence over his comfort and boundaries, he certainly didn’t do much to dissuade you both when he let it keep happening, especially when the evidence of how hard it made him was clear as day.

And the rules Mickey did agree to? It turns out he was lying, placating Randy to gain consent and access to you to then do what he wanted in the end. The worst of the worst is that when Randy had you afterwards, totally messy and stuffed with cum, literally subjected to Mickey’s sloppy seconds. It felt so fucking good that he couldn’t bring himself to have a single negative thing to say, any complaints die on his tongue as he buries his face into your neck and himself inside you to the hilt.

Mickey said he would pull out, Mickey was apparently a fucking liar and when Randy was on his back afterwards, sweat slick and panting, still dizzy and high off the hardest orgasm he had in recent memory, he wanted to fucking thank the guy for making him do this and see how good it was. He would never actually thank him, Mickey’s ego was already approaching the size of a supernova from this situation as it was, he is sure if he thanked him for cumming in you when he asked him not to? He cannot imagine how much worse he would become. It doesn’t matter that true the experience was fucking great, the ignoring of his consent was screwed up, thanking him further sends the wrong message.

So Randy put up with Mickey’s comments and overall attitude, he says he puts up with, but really he enjoys it, mostly secretly, he downplays his enjoyment but that damn knowing smirk of Mickey’s makes him think he isn’t as good an actor as he wants to be.

This has been going on for a month.

A glorious, confusion littered, fuck centered, sweat soaked and embarrassment filled month. In the moment and with his dick in his hand it is easier to take, he gets swept up in how filthy it is, finds himself consumed with your new relationship dynamic constantly. In the quiet moments between doing other things his mind wanders to either your last hookup or what might potentially happen in the next one.

The last one he keeps on thinking about is a rather risky semi-public hookup, it was late, rushed, in the stairwell leading up to Randy’s apartment. The sight is burned into his mind, Mickey leaning against the wall, his fingers in your hair as he leads you while you are on your knees, blowing him, right in front of Randy. It is all so striking, so clear, as if it is still happening right in front of Randy when he thinks of it, the low light, the way Mickey’s head tips back and rests against the concrete wall. A bead of sweat rolls down the column of his throat, along with the bob of his Adam's apple from a heavy swallow he took after a harsh inhale of air. He hears the quiet moan, the curse that spills out as he rocks his hips to force himself deeper into your mouth, you gag, Mickey laughs breathlessly with that half sideways smirk and then, he looks at him. Mickey’s head no longer rests and instead brown eyes meet blue and that smile grows into an outright sadistic grin as he drives forward harder, more purposefully and the moan you let around the shaft invading your mouth makes Randy ache in his jeans.

Someone speaks to him, asks him a question and it pulls him out of his head, Christ, he wasn’t listening and he is far too hard over his walk down memory lane while stuck in class still. He needs to stop, he fucking hates himself for thinking and feeling like this so often. He especially hates himself for how he couldn’t wait and ended up cumming in that same stairwell a week previous during that hookup he was just pouring over, he has to fight back the urge to cringe thinking about whatever poor sap had to clean that up.

True, while he is caught up in his head and consumed with all of this often, filled to the brim with negativity more than he’d like to be, things with you had gotten infinitely better. Your sex life together had gotten downright incredible in his opinion, he relishes the time he can be alone just you and himself without Mickey around. It isn’t as dirty as the threesomes you have, it’s softer, sweeter, more intimate and not as intense but he thinks you both need that. He has taken Mickey’s advice to heart and his fingering and oral skills have improved leaps and bounds, he loves when he is able to pull a sound out of you that reminds him of one Mickey has made you gasp out previously.

He wasn’t sure how long this could or would go on for, it couldn’t last forever but this didn’t have to stop anytime soon, there wasn’t any reason to rush, right? Not when it felt so good and it seemed to be actively bettering and strengthening your relationship as opposed to harming it. So the worries are shoved aside, pushed to the back of his mind, a problem for future him.

Mickey is positively elated over how this has all panned out so far. He knew this stage would be fun, he just didn’t count on how much fun it could be. He got to not only fuck you, he got to humiliate Randy while he did it, being balls deep in you while you were moaning like a total whore and your pathetic cuck of a boyfriend was jerking off to it, making eye contact with the sad little redhead in that moment? Making him truly be confronted with the sight of what he could do to you? My lord, he is sure he will never need viagra when he is fifty plus, he can just recall that memory and be good to go.

You were just so intoxicating, he thought he had it bad for you before he got to fuck you that first night Randy pissed you off but he was so wrong, it only got worse when he got to know you in the biblical sense. Now that he knows how you sound when he has two fingers angled just right inside of you, or how you feel when you are cumming on him, his interest grew into a full on crush and became infinitely worse. He couldn’t get you out of his head, how could he push it out of his mind or forget such an experience?

You were a delight, a joy to be around, so funny, so filthy and ready, willing and open. You got him, understood him, the sexual compatibility was a massive plus of course but it was more than that. It was the hushed whispers during class of dumb jokes that make you stifle laughter, it was shared lunches, and those times where you and he would end up crashing together post threesome and wake up side by side before Randy did. He knew you felt more for him than you were saying, the moments you would hold his hand when Randy wasn’t around told him that, the way you looked at him, would brighten when seeing him, it all tattled on your true feelings. He was sure of how you felt.

Christ, he couldn’t wait until he could have you all to himself as opposed to having to carve out these small moments whenever Randy wasn’t hanging off you like he was doing his best impression of a koala bear.

It was so soon. Mickey could hardly contain himself. The last thing standing between you and him being together is your boyfriend that you were still holding onto for some reason. Clearly it was out of some sense of loyalty, he liked that quality about you. So it means that he has to get rid of him and then you will be able to get with him guilt free, it’s the only thing that makes sense. The single option.

You are more than worth him doing this, uprooting and changing his whole plan, Nancy had to go. She just did, no way would she understand or be on board, she was just a means to an end really, she bankrolled him sure but it isn’t like he was attached to her. He believed in his motive, in what he wanted but now that he had you, the idea of risking going to jail wasn’t high on his list of to-do’s. Maybe he could keep a low profile, maybe he would be satisfied being with you, having you and quietly killing people to satisfy those parts of himself from time to time. If he did go through with the original plan there is still a chance it might fail. Was he willing to risk even a slight chance of being separated from you?

He is sure that the high he would get if he could pull it off, kill and spill his guts, blame the violence of movies and not go to jail would be immense, but then that part of his life would be over, that chapter closed. No way he could keep killing. Or, maybe he could, if he could keep getting away with it after that it would be amazing, however if caught that same plea wouldn’t work twice.

Perhaps the real high could be in never, ever getting caught.

Between that and you, he might be just fine.

He should feel worse, shouldn’t he? The thought was on his mind as he was cleaning his knife in the sink after putting an end to Nancy, he should feel something, but he just didn’t. Honestly seeing the look of betrayal on her face was priceless, she never would have thought Mickey would do this to her. She sobbed and begged, going on about how could Mickey do this to her, she needed to avenge her “sweet baby boy-” and yeah, he wasn’t going to listen to her go on about that. He didn’t waste much time on her, didn’t linger or monologue or go on and on, he made it relatively painless and pretty quick.

The important thing is she was gone and now he could focus on killing Randy.

Unlike his previous and now dead partner, he wanted to make it hurt, he wanted to destroy Randy, make him unrecognisable, but he knew that might not be best. Logical thought doesn't usually win out in these situations however. He hated how Randy took you for granted, he hated how you looked at him, that you insisted on staying together, hated every time he watched you kiss or anything else, he wanted to stab the knife into his chest, pierce his heart and twist. Wanted to watch him gasp, struggle, and bleed.

He had a good handle on Randy’s schedule because of your arrangement, he is coming back from a late class, going back to his apartment while Mickey follows far enough behind to not alert him, yet.

Ol’ Randy was so oblivious, he was going to make this way too easy. Mickey felt his anticipation grow with every single step, every heavy footfall makes his mind run with possibility and pure excitement.

He wanted to rush him, tackle him to the ground, end it right here out in the open but that is stupid and way too risky, it still doesn’t stop how his hands itch, he craved to have his knife in his grip, to bury it in something. The urge to penetrate in a violent sense and in a sexual sense are not that different and Mickey finds it so hard to ignore either of those urges. Soon it is just right, soon Randy is unlocking the door to his apartment building and Mickey picks up the pace, he runs forward, he timed it just right, the door opens and he knocks into Randy, causing him to stumble into the building with a shocked, “Woah!”

With him totally off balance Mickey takes the opportunity, hand gripping the collar of his shirt behind his neck, he moves him, comes forward, hauling Randy along, he bursts into the stairwell door in the lobby, that same one that you all hooked up in. He is quickly throwing him with all of his strength against the stairs. It hurts his spine, knocks the wind out of him, he groans feeling slightly dazed and when his eyes open he sees the figure clad in that all too familiar black robe and white mask and his heart drops. Eyes widen and he curses, trying to scramble back on the stairs, “Shit, fuck-”

God he loved that look. Pure and unadulterated terror, totally horrified, there was only one way to make it better, Mickey pulled the knife out, the glint of the blade in the low light flashes over his face, it made Randy’s breath catch. He tried to bolt, tried to turn to launch himself up the stairs, towards the safety of his apartment, away from his would-be attacker and that wasn’t going to happen. Mickey was on him too fast, one hand threads in short red hair and he jerks his head back, making it slam on the concrete, the sound was sickening and it made his struggle so much weaker immediately. Mickey sat on his stomach, knees on either side of him, he took in the view below him. Randy was already bleeding from his head wound, scarlet starting to stain the concrete, holding his own head up weakly, his other hand reaching out, trying to push on Mickey’s torso feebly.

He enjoyed this immensely. He watches him for a moment before it starts, it’s like the calm before a storm, like in the summer when you can feel a thunderstorm brewing, something in the air telling you what is to come, as if you can feel the electricity threatening to crackle and break though.

He lingers for only a moment more, he knows he is pushing it, but fuck, he has wanted this for so long and when he started he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Finally the moment is just right, he raises the knife and there is zero hesitation, it comes down and comes down hard. It embeds into his shoulder first, the air is practically sucked out of Randy, eyes wide, his hand comes up to clutch near the blade but Mickey didn’t take too kindly to that. He twists it and a choked off whimper left Randy and then he yanks the knife up, pulling the blade out, the body below him moving with the force of it, back arching as the struggle to remove steel is won quickly.

Randy is still trying to hold the wound at his shoulder but the angle is awkward and the pain is blinding, he doesn’t think anything could snap him out of the agony, his mind is running a million miles a second, synapses are firing but not connecting to anything. The urge to flee is strong but how? How can he get out, how can he get away, he is stuck, he hurts so much, what is he going to do? He thought he left all this behind in Woodsboro, he should have been more careful, he knew the threat, the risks, he should have taken that tape more seriously and realised he was being watched probably this entire time since he got said tape.

It turns out there is one thing that can pull him out of his head and free him enough from the pain to speak, eyes come into focus as the hurt is numbed with what he is seeing. Ghostface is still seated on top of him and the fingers leave his hair, hand comes up and the mask is tugged off to reveal is pseudo sort of fuck buddy or more accurately, YOUR fuck buddy and the cucker to Randy’s cuckee’, Mickey fucking Altieri.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Randy wheezed out, a cough that sounded too wet coming out after the words left him, “Mickey?”

“Heya Randy.” He dropped the mask, gloved fingers ran through his own hair as he stared down at the body starting to struggle under him once more. It all comes to Randy at once, the cheating, the tape, the “coincidences”, the dark edges to him, the knowing looks, he is the killer, he is Ghostface. Of course he is.

“What the fuck? Why-AHH!” Randy yelped as the knife came back down, settling in the other shoulder, he left it there, holding the handle as he said, “Oh why? Meeks wants to know why-”

Mickey hums and grips the handle harder before starting to twist it slightly, back and forth, digging deeper. Randy is crying now, tears falling down and struggling for breath, “-lots and lots of reasons. I had this whole big motive, this crazy plan, Billy’s mom, you remember Billy’s mom, Nancy Loomis, had found me and brought me here, bankrolled my education while I was meant to do the dirty work-”

Randy could hardly believe what he was hearing over the burning and pulsing pain, Mickey kept talking, “-but thennn, you-”

Mickey pointed down at Randy with his free hand, “-fucked up. You took your girl for granted and I got to swoop in at that party and our whole whatever the fuck you want to call it started and I realized, I don’t want to share her. I don’t want to follow through on that original plan. I just want her. But she’s-”

He ripped the knife out and Randy half screamed, blood splatters over his robe and the wall and when Randy’s scream subsided he was still holding the knife while he made air quotes as he said “-all “in love with you” for some fucking reason.”

Mickey shakes his head, “She’s amazing, but man that shit I just do not understand. I mean look at you! No fight at all! Fuck, you are so pathetic. You find out I fucked your girlfriend and you come to my apartment begging me to do it again while you watch?! Who does that?”

He laughs with a shake of his head, “I know as long as you are around she wouldn’t dump you and I couldn’t ask her to, I would come off like a total dick and then she might push me away and end our fun. That can’t happen!”

The exclamation is loud, angry, and violent. The knife comes back down again, in the ribs and Randy’s body jerks, he coughs, blood paints his chin, he wheezes, he thinks his lung might be punctured. Mickey barks out, “Look at me, Meeks.”

Randy’s eyes open half way, he feels woozy, Mickey looks positively manic, he has leaned down closer, still holding that knife handle so tightly, “I’m doing this because it’s the only way I see that she can be all mine. I’m killing you to fix this little problem. I’m going to be there while she grieves, I’m going to be the one to help her pick up the pieces, she’s gonna cling to me and then I’m gonna have her all to myself.”

Mickey was grinning, “Our little thing was a good time I’ll admit that but I’m ready to move up to the next level, I don’t want to be her classmate, or her friend, I don’t want to be her fuck buddy, I want to be her boyfriend. Not you.”

Randy is shaking his head, his face is so wet, blood, sweat, drool, tears, he is mouthing something, too weak to talk, Mickey thinks it’s “No” but who cares really.

“Yeah. It’s gonna happen and there is nothing you can do to stop it.” Mickey said in a condensing tone as he nodded, “You’re going to die, and soon it seems like!”

Mickey rips the knife out again and Randy jerks once more, nowhere near as strong, “I cannot wait. Not anymore. You should see her when we are alone, the way she looks at me, talks to me, she isn’t yours and hasn’t been for a while. I’m just helping her see it, speeding along the inevitable. She’s mine.”

The silver blade stained red cuts through the air and hits home again, lower this time and a similar reaction is drawn, weaker still, before being pulled out and then it happens again and again. Chest, ribs once more, stomach, stab, cut, rip, tear while repeating that one word over and over again. A quiet chant breathed through gritted teeth on harsh exhales from the sheer amount of exertion and effort, “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Randy is dead.

He didn’t get proper last words but Mickey thinks he didn’t deserve them the same way that he didn’t deserve you. Mickey is sure it happened sometime between the seventh and the seventeenth stab but it doesn’t really matter. He stays there for a moment looking down at Randy, body slowly turning cold, bloodstained and eyes lifeless.

He sits until he is sick of looking at him and then he gets up, the robe and mask are rolled up and put into his bag. He leaves out the back way, the camera is broken on that side of the building so no one can possibly tie him to this. He left with a spring in his step and the bag under his arm and excited for the news to reach him naturally.

The phone ringing is what wakes him up, he is wiping sleep out of his eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen, he snatches it up off of the bar and brings it up to his ear, “Lo’?”

It’s you, the voice sounding wrecked, you barely get the words, “Randy’s dead-” before you are sobbing, he lets himself smile. You start trying to talk a mile a minute through your sobs and he listens to you go on for a minute before he cuts in asking you to take a breath before he is apologising, tell you how awful that sounds and as you are sniffing you ask quietly, “Ca-can you come over? I-I don’t wan-want to be alone.”

“I’ll be right there.” He assures and you tell him, “Hurry, please-”

He tells you he will be right there. He hangs up, he throws on clothes and finds himself humming on the way to your place. He shows up with coffee and breakfast, it’s stupid early and he isn’t sure when you last ate, he knocks and calls out, before he can get your name out the door is open and you are throwing your arms around his neck. He almost drops the coffee tray in one hand and the take out bag in the other but he keeps a grip on them. Your face is wet and buried in his shirt, body shaking and he says softly, “Oh hey, hey, I’m here.”

You stand in your doorway for minutes and he doesn’t rush you, he lets you cling to him and God this is already working out so well.

Once he manages to get you inside he sits with you, he makes sure you eat, he listens, holds the box of tissues while you lament, “I wasn’t allowed to see him but they say it was a massacre, they are talking murder Mickey-”

“Murder? Oh my God!”

If only you knew. But you never would.

He barely left your side. You kept asking him to stay, begging him to be close, you told him that he made you feel safe, made this easier to handle, you feared you’d fall apart without him and it made him feel so important. Your grief is intense but he loves how you are like this, how you rely on him even when things are difficult and hard to manage, he loves the desperation. He pokes, he has a small pattern, you are so raw that a small nudge makes your emotions go screwy and when you are in a deep spiral then he helps soothe you, pulls you out of it again and makes sure any positive emotion you feel during this time, no matter how small, is tied to him.

You are so needy, but he has never felt this needed and my God is it nice to feel needed.

No serious suspicion is thrown his way. He doesn’t kill anyone else, lets everything calm and die down and a funeral is planned and hosted for Randy over a month after he died. Everyone was just so scared that whoever it was might strike again beforehand. The fear it was Ghostface was present, kept Sidney and everyone else permanently on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop but it seemingly never does and they all have to start moving on sometime. Mickey had to fight hard to keep the act up, but inside there was such power and joy in doing the receiving line of Randy’s family, shaking hands and giving condolences, everyone unaware that he is the reason and cause of his death. He made the right call, abandoning the other plan for this was amazing. He listens as you cry your way through your turn speaking, he knows he is going to be comforting you hard after this and true, right after you finished you come over and he held your hand, giving you the pack of tissues he had in his pocket.

The casket buried, the wake over, he is with you back at his place. You’d been wanting to spend more and more time here, you hadn’t cleared out all the little pieces of Randy from your space yet and you felt like you couldn’t face them today. Your eyes are red from the crying, your nose raw from the tissues used, sitting on his couch, heels kicked off and in your funeral dress still. You aren’t quite as sombre now, he had seen to that, he got your favourite take out just before the place closed, it was near midnight and you actually ate, half empty boxes on the coffee table along with a few empty drink cans.

You were cradling your current drink in your hand, looking across the couch to him, you were both sitting on the same ends of the couch as before, a mirror of that night months previous that started all this. He was in the middle of telling some story that was making you laugh, the smile on your face was small but steadily growing. “She ended up not even having her wallet after all that.”

“Holy shit, no way! So then what?”

“What do you mean what? I sure as shit didn’t pay for her.” He laughed and you said around an amused exhale of your own, “Alright fair, especially after how she treated the cashier yeah fuck her.”

He takes another pull from his can and you did the same before setting aside with a sigh. You rested your head on the back of the couch as you said, “Thanks for this Mick.”

A questioning hum left him paired with raised eyebrows and you elaborate, “For being here for me. I know I’ve been like a mess, understandably so but a mess all the same. I know dealing with me hasn’t been easy but just…Without your support I dunno how I would have gotten through this.”

“Oh hey, no need to thank me. That is what a good guy does.” He said easily and you nod, “You really are, you’re so great.”

You reach out, a grabby hand gesture and he fills your need, taking your hand and you sigh. “I feel bad.”

“For a different reason other than the funeral?” He asked and you laughed a little, “Yeah. I just…I’ve been having these thoughts that make ME feel like I’m a horrible person.”

“What thoughts could you possibly be having to make you feel like that?”

“I dunno if I should say.” You grumbled and he said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but you know you can trust me. I won’t judge you and I sure as shit won’t tell anyone else.”

You are quiet for a moment before deciding that yes, he is right, you can trust him. You might even feel better getting it out, “I loved Randy. I mean I still love Randy but…All this time I have been spending with you and everything from before, how great you are I’ve been thinking about you more than I should. In ways I probably shouldn’t.”

He ignores the first half of your sentence, he is sure that would fade in time, he focuses on the second half, “Like how?”

You give a half shrug and look away, gaze averted and he says your name, stretching it out, he is leaning closer and you steal a glance back at him and say, “Like…”

The tension is thick, you’ve moved closer throughout the conversation yourself, not so much on the opposite ends of the couch now, almost on the same cushion in the middle of the couch you take a deep breath to steady yourself and you open up. You are already raw and vulnerable, why not go all in?

“I’ll be in a class I don’t have with you and I feel this huge hole where you should be. I don’t feel like I can do anything properly while away from you, I can’t eat or focus, the weight of everything else crushes me but when you are around I have, fuck, I have hope. I think I can do this, I feel stronger and better, you do that for me!”

He keeps doing what he has for more than a month, he listens, he squeezes your hand harder and he listens to you.

“I’ll be in bed alone and wish you were with me. My sleep schedule is wrecked but I think I could finally get some good rest with you because I swear to God, if there is one, I only feel safe around you lately.”

You are speaking so fast now, as if you can’t communicate your intense emotion fast enough until the words stop because your other hand that isn’t in his is on his face, tugging him close to you and kissing him. It starts off hot, deep, needy and he is stunned, it takes a moment to match the energy but he lets you lead it. Fuck he has missed this, missed feeling you against him, you start to slow, he keeps pace, from all consuming open mouthed to soft brushes with laboured breathing and you pull back, “That. I have been thinking the most about doing that.”

“And that…Makes you feel bad? Cuz it felt pretty good to me.” You laugh from the tone and his expression, the big smile that is so him, you admit, “No that did feel good but I feel bad because my boyfriend has been in the ground for less than twelve hours and I’m on your couch, kissing you and I’ve been thinking about doing it for weeks.”

You inhale in a way he has come to know far too intimately, that hitch that tattles on you that you are going to cry, you choke out, “How shitty of a person does that make me?”

He lets go of your hand, his hands are on your cheeks and then tracing down to your neck, thumbs stroke over the line of your jaw and he says, “It doesn’t, hey, you aren’t a shitty person. You’re my favourite person.”

Your hands are on his wrists and you shake your head, “I’m pretty sure I am, I-I don’t deserve you, I didn’t deserve Randy either-”

A sniff and he assures further, “No, stop that, you deserve so much. I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t.”

It is quiet for a moment, you are trying to breathe through it and stop yourself from seriously crying, he knows just the right thing to say, “I know I’m really stupid but I have good taste.”

You laugh. A nod as you admit, “Okay, you’re right, you do have good taste.”

“We’re gonna ignore you not disagreeing with me calling myself stupid-” You laugh again harder, “But see! So if I have good taste that means that everything I do for you isn't a mistake, it’s not wasted, you deserve this.”

You look into his eyes and ask a bit more seriously, one of the main worries weighing on you, “Isn’t it too soon?”

It’s his turn to laugh, “What? Do you seriously think Meeks would want you to recognize Victorian mourning customs and mope around in all black for a year?” Another laugh spills out of you at the image, “Why does the timing matter on this? If you want it now, then why not now? What is waiting a few more weeks or months going to do?”

He is right. Why does it matter?

The next thing you ask is, “Am I really your favourite person?”

“Easily. No contest.” You are still so close to each other, and you decided fuck it, why does it matter? You’ve been through so much, you are desperate and you deserve to feel good and so you give into what you have been craving.

You kiss him again on the couch.

Neither of you stay on the couch for very long.

It comes out while you are in his bed, your dress on the floor and you are under him, arms wrapped around his neck, you feel like you could cry but not for any of the feelings or reasons that you had previously over this past month. You don’t want to sob because you are sad or missing Randy or anything else, you cry because fucking hell you missed this, you needed this, it feels incredible but it’s more than that. You finally realised it a while ago, but now? You are unable to ignore it, can’t hold it inside, the admission is on your tongue and has been threatening to come out between moans for minutes. Rocking with him, feverish kisses placed over the side of his face as you gasp, Mickey’s hands are all over, like he cannot get enough of you, he is buried deep and he hits that spot that makes your whole body want to shudder and at long last it comes out in a rush, overwhelmed and feeling overflows you tell him-

“I love you.”

That makes him slow, not stop, but slow, rolls of his hips are purposeful, the change in angle is fantastic, the pressure and grinding on your clit makes you want to cry all over again. He has one arm under your neck, the other one runs up your side, there is this expression on his face that can only be described as a cross between joyful disbelief and pure affection, brown eyes are warm as he asks, “What did you just say?”

You repeat it, louder, voice more sure, “I said I love you.” A harder thrust, a shared and hushed moan, your nails biting into the skin on the back of his neck, you make yourself maintain eye contact, it’s difficult but it’s important so you manage, “I am tired of-of feeling it, fuck, and not saying it, I fucking love you.”

He couldn’t be happier, this was better than he ever could have planned or hoped, better than any dream possible, he leans down, kisses you deeply and you return it. Eyes closed you are close in sensation and the moment, in him. He pulls back, close enough his forehead is touching yours as he breathes back the same sentiment, “I love you too, so fucking much.”

A broken moan that could be read as the word “really” but he is picking up the pace, quicker, rougher and your hand falls back, a desperate plea of, “Mickey, fuck, don’t stop-”

As if he would ever.

He did manage to get away with it.

It’s been over a year since Randy’s murder, you are none the wiser and you barely mention Randy anymore. Sure his birthday, his death day and your old anniversary with Meeks was hard but that was understandable and tolerable.

The main and most important thing is that he had you, after the funeral you and he became official, you kept it on the down low, he insisted he wanted you to be spared the judgement, you were already going through so much and any added stress needed to be stomped out. You and he talked regularly about living together and man was he ever excited for when that could happen. Sure it would make his “hobby”, whenever he picked it back up again, more difficult but fuck it, he loved a good challenge. The itch for murder hasn’t been on his mind in so long, much too happy and concerned with you, wrapped up in your relationship but he was feeling that need wriggling in the back of his brain, he can ignore it for the time being. He got away with it and he has you, life is good.

#Mickey Altieri x reader #Ghostface x reader #slasher x reader #BHF asks #BHF writing #HOOOOOOO #ENJOY

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jeewrites · 3 months

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Hold Fast - Sneak Peek!

Rating: 18+ MDNI (no smut in sneak peak)

A/N: For my first Frankie Friday I'm posting a sneak peek to my first fan fic Hold Fast (a one-shot? part one? possibly more?). Thank you to @vyduan for being my beta and my write or die! Grateful to everyone who voted in my poll and @katareyoudrilling for encouraging me to post. Full piece coming Friday, Feb 16th!

Tags: no y/n, gymbff!Benny, reader is a powerlifting girlie described as short, Tom is alive unfortunately (we hate Tom), Tom owns a bar, Pope owns a gym, alcohol, brief body insecurity and Frankie being down on himself, swearing (I'm new to this so please lmk if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 591 of ~3.9k

Benny was surprised to see you walk into Pope's one night an hour before closing since you always trained in the mornings. You had given him a short head nod instead of your usual big smile before stalking to a platform and slamming your bag down.

"Yooooo, everything ok?" he asks as he walks over.

"Does it look like I'm okay," you huff, aggressively wrestling your knee sleeves on. Glancing at him, you immediately apologize when he hesitates and takes a step back.

"Sorry, Benny. I'll be a lot better after I pick up some heavy things and put them down."

"Might help if you want to talk about it?" he ventures leaning against the barbell.

You finish tying your squat shoes before looking at him again with dejected eyes and sighing.

"I just went on a crappy date with a guy from one of those dating apps," you sigh again. "He spent the whole time talking about himself and how much he works out. Then he had the fucking audacity to question me when he asked how much I could lift."

"Fucking asshole!" Benny feels himself getting steamed.

"He just stormed out of the restaurant and left me with the bill when I refused to change my answer," you shrug, but Benny sees your jaw tick. "Apparently, I squat and deadlift more than he does and he couldn't date someone who could do that." You roll your eyes and huff.

"WTF! What a total loser. You don't need a guy like that who doesn't appreciate you," Benny replies incensed. He sees your face fall for a moment, eyes downcast and tight.

"I just — I've been trying to put myself out there again and it sucks," you mumble, cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's also been kinda lonely since I moved here, and I guess I could just use more friends, too."

"I'M YOUR FRIEND!"

"Yeah, my gym friend! We don't do anything outside of this hot, sweaty box Benny," you remind him with a small smile and playful shove to get him off your barbell.

Benny decides this is completely unacceptable and immediately remedies this by inviting you to the next hangout with him and his ex-Delta Force friends at Redfly's, a local bar nearby. "You know Pope and Will already," he reassures, "Tom's the owner of the bar and he's an asshole, but he's our asshole. And there's Catfish — we call him Fish for short. We've been trying to get him to come work out here, but he's been busy with his new pilot job for the hospital. And he shares custody of his 3-year-old daughter with his ex."

He could see your brain turning over all the information he was throwing at you. You don't seem to react either way to the news that Fish has an ex and a daughter. As you adjust the bar height you respond, "You sure? Don't want to crash a regular thing that you have with your guys."

"Nah, it'll be great! They'll love you!" Benny's determined to get you to come.

You hand him your phone. "Well... okay. Text me the details?"

With your phone in hand, Benny puts his number in to text himself and then convinces you to show him your dating profile. Between sets of squats you both take turns swiping on possible matches, Benny teasing you on your picks. Ever observant, Benny notices your preference for profiles with tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed photos. As you work through your next set, Benny sneaks his phone out and immediately texts Fish.

#frankie morales x you #frankie x reader #frankie morales fanfic #triple frontier #frankie catfish morales #benny miller #happy frankie friday #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal characters

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sapphires-and-silver-linings · 9 months

Text

More | One-Shot

“I would never compliment you just to get something out of it.” “I’m not asking what you’d do, I’m asking what you want."

You and Leon have some time alone in a closet.

Pairing: DBD!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Blowjob (Giving), Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus (Receiving), P in V Sex

Notes: Hey guys! This one-shot was originally part of a collection, but I've decided to reupload it as a standalone. This is my first ever (posted) one-shot and smut piece! Enjoy!

Masterlist Collection

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

You wake up early that day, a plan forming in your head the moment you open your eyes.

You get dressed, something simple and comfortable, before you go about your morning routine.

After getting ready, you head towards the storage closet that holds all of the survivors’ extra clothes.

You’re going to get a new outfit today.

Hopefully something sexy, but easy to maneuver in. You aren’t sure if your little scheme would make much of a difference, but why not try?

You hear your name as you beeline towards your destination, the familiar voice pulling you from your thoughts.

When you turn, you find Leon standing beside you, clearly having to jog to catch up. “Hey, you look like a woman on a mission. Going somewhere?”

You laugh. “You could say that. I wanted to dig around in the storage closet. Hope to find something new to wear.”

“You mind if I join you? I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides, I could use a change myself.”

You’re a little surprised by the offer. You and Leon have started becoming friends over the last few months, but he usually keeps his distance unless you happen to be in the same space. You’re enthralled by it, however, as you’ve formed a massive crush on the young cop.

“Sure! Maybe I could even pick it out for you,” you say, that last part more of a joke.

“I can’t promise I’ll like it, but you can try,” he replies, chuckling lightly.

You reach the closet, locking the two of you inside with the hook latch that was installed, put there to prevent anyone walking in on those changing in the small room.

You ask Leon his sizes and make him turn around while you pick out clothes for him, informing him it has to be a surprise.

You finish, telling him to turn back towards you, shoving the pile into his hands. He looks skeptically at the items before glancing at you with a raised brow.

“Well, go ahead. Try them on,” you encourage.

“In front of you?”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, facing away from him as you reply, “I’m turning around, obviously.”

He takes a few minutes but lets you know as soon as he’s done.

You look over at him, taking in his appearance with a low whistle. It isn’t anything crazy, just an open flannel with the sleeves rolled up, hanging off a well-fitted t-shirt. There’s a pair of bootcut jeans that sit snugly on his bottom half.

“Looking good, Kennedy. I think this is a winner.”

“I like it,” he responds, appraising himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. “Though the pants are a little… tighter than I’m used to.”

“C’mon, with a butt that cute, you can’t keep it all to yourself,” you tell him, giving him a mischievous grin as you get an eyeful.

He scoffs. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Only rivals your face. In fact, you probably have the prettiest face in the realm.”

You can see a blush spreading across his cheeks, but he hides it with a small smile. “Not half as pretty as you.”

You quirk a brow at him. “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“I’m not lying,” he replies, defensive.

“So you’re not trying to butter me up for something?”

“No, I’m not. Are you usually this bad at taking a compliment?”

“Only when it’s from pretty boys like you.”

He rolls his eyes at that, exasperated. “Just my luck, then.”

You laugh. “I’m sorry, I was just messing with you. I appreciate the compliment. On a more serious note, I guess I’m not used to being flattered like that. Especially by someone—oh, I don’t know—more on the conventionally attractive side of the spectrum?”

“Really? I don’t get why. You’re gorgeous.”

“I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, maybe. But when I do get complimented by a guy, it’s usually because he wants something from me,” you explain, shrugging, before searching for your own outfit on the racks.

“Like what?”

You give a disbelieving laugh at his naivete. “Sex, Kennedy.”

“Oh… Well, I wasn’t trying to get into your pants or anything.”

You turn back to face him, a dress folded over your arm. “So you’re telling me you don’t want anything from me?”

“Of course not!” He seems appalled by your insinuation.

“Not even… a kiss?”

“I would never compliment you just to get something out of it.”

“I’m not asking what you’d do, I’m asking what you want.”

“I don’t want anything from you! I swear!”

“Hm. A shame. Turn around so I can change, please.”

Looking more than a little flustered, he does as you ask, though he can still see you in the mirror in front of him. He tries not to peek, but he finds it hard to avoid taking a quick glance at your backside, the soft curve of your ass making his fingers twitch.

“Did you… want me to kiss you?” he prods, folding his arms across his chest and feeling suddenly diffident.

“Well, I’d never deny you one,” you respond noncommittally, pulling the dress over your form. “You can turn around now.”

He follows your command and you see his eyes rake over you appreciatively. The dress is flowy, the billowing sleeves cinched at your wrists and the skirt reaching just below your knee.

What really catches his wandering gaze, though, is the tight bodice, which exposes an excessive amount of your cleavage.

His face is turning hot as he forces himself to peel away his stare. “Wow. What’s the occasion?”

You look at yourself in the mirror. “I thought maybe I could use this as a distraction for the killers in trials. Obviously, there are many that wouldn’t even care, but some of them still have… human urges… under all that monstrosity.”

Leon laughs. “My concern would be distracting us survivors instead. Or worse, garnering too much attention from a killer.”

“Hm,” you reply, swishing out the skirt. Regardless of its usefulness, you’re going to keep it. “I guess that would be a problem. Well, I’m going to change back.”

Leon nods, turning around yet again.

There’s a moment of silence between you and, against his better judgment, he says, “You know, I’ve thought about what it would be like.”

“To?”

“Kiss you.”

He meets your eye in the mirror as you spin on your heels, only in your underwear. He quickly looks away, ashamed that he was caught ogling you.

Unabashed, you stride up to him, grabbing his arm to turn him towards you. “Is that so?”

His breath is caught in his throat as he looks at you, now able to see your exposed front. You were in a bra and panties and he wanted nothing more than to touch you.

“All the time,” he admits further, trailing up his gaze to your own. Your eyes are blazing, but not in anger like he worried. No, the look is determined. Challenging.

Full of lust.

You get closer, trailing your hand up to rest on his cheek. He leans into the touch, entranced by how silky the skin of your palm is against his face.

“Well, would you like to make that a reality?” you ask, giving him an out.

He would never take it, not when all he’s wanted since meeting you is dangling in front of him like this. He thought about the conversation you just had moments ago and felt a twinge of guilt.

He’s a goddamn liar. He did want something from you.

No, not just something. Everything.

He doesn’t answer, instead surging forward and kissing you.

It’s gentle, his lips soft against yours, but there’s a desperation and eagerness in it that catches you off guard.

He grabs your face in his hands, your own bracing against his chest as you open your mouth to him. He wastes no time in dancing his tongue against yours, a sigh trapped in your throat.

After a while, you pull away and he looks down at you, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” you reply, a little breathless. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to take this further.”

His eyes widen, shocked that he would be getting anything more than the taste of your lips. He drops his hands to his sides and glances at the door apprehensively. “What if someone wants in here?”

You giggle. “Well, it’s locked, so we have time to get dressed. Besides, people rarely come into this room. And no one knows to look for us here.”

He swallows thickly, turning back to face you, “I’ll be honest, I’m not exactly… experienced.”

“Are you a virgin?” There’s no judgment in your tone, just curiosity.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m not, but it’s just been a while.”

“I’m shocked,” you say. “I figured someone like you would be getting tail left and right.”

He lets out a soft puff of laughter. “Sure, there have been girls interested in me, but I’ve always been kinda particular about who I get intimate with. I've only had one girlfriend, back in high school. We broke up when she went to a college out of state and I decided to join the police academy. It took me a while to get over her, and I never really clicked with anyone else.”

“Are you insinuating we click, Kennedy? I feel special,” you tease, gently traveling a hand to his neck and caressing the hairs at the nape of it with your fingers.

His eyes are warm as he regards you. “I guess that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“If that’s the case,” you respond with an impish smile, backing away from him and leaping to perch on the dresser set against the far wall, “then there’s no reason to stop now.”

He follows you—because he knows now he always will, forever—and situates himself between your open legs, leaning down to kiss you again, even more fervently than before.

His hands lay still on your waist and you whine into his mouth before pulling away, “Touch me, Leon.”

He exhales a nervous breath as he slowly trails his palms up to press against your still-covered breasts. Feeling impatient, you reach behind you and unclasp your bra, revealing your naked chest to him.

You let out a quiet, raspy moan as he touches you, looking at you with awe. He gently pinches your nipples to hear your noises again before replacing one hand with his mouth, sucking on the hardened peak.

You pull his face up to yours and kiss him again, vigorously, before asking, “What all have you done before?”

He doesn’t stop moving his hands against your breasts as he replies, “Fingering. I’ve gotten a handjob a few times. Sex itself, obviously. That’s about it.”

There’s a gleam in your eyes, “So you’ve never been sucked off before?”

He shakes his head, feeling embarrassed.

You slip off the dresser and he worries he’s lost your interest due to his inexperience before you turn him to lean against the piece of furniture, kneeling on the concrete floor in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

You look at him, trailing your hands up his clothed legs. “What do you think I’m doing, Leon?”

He shudders as you open both his belt and his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles before gliding your fingers across his already hardened length tucked behind the cloth of his underwear.

You waste no time in freeing his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs, sliding them down to rest atop his crumpled jeans.

It jumps to attention in front of you, the length and girth of it practically perfect in every way, just like the rest of him. His pubes—dark blonde like the hair that falls over his eyes as he stares down at you in anticipation—are trimmed and well-groomed, which you take a second to appreciate.

You grab his member in your hand and give him one long, languid stroke, looking directly at him. He gasps, those beautiful pink lips parting into a lovely “O” as he grips the edge of the dresser.

You continue to pump him in your hand for a few moments, using the pre-cum that beaded at the tip to slicken his shaft.

You lean forward, lips ghosting along the head of his cock. “You ready for this, Kennedy?”

He nods quickly, practically heaving from the suspense and teasing you’ve subjected him to.

You smile and open your mouth, taking him as far as you could down your throat in one swift motion.

He moans, the sound beautiful but far too loud in the small space.

You pull back for a moment. “If you’re so worried about getting caught, Leon, you should really be more quiet.”

He looks sheepish, but the expression is quickly replaced with one of ecstasy as you take him back into your mouth, sucking and licking as you slide up and down his length.

You fall into a nice rhythm, Leon’s knuckles turning white as he grips the wood of the dresser hard, trying to keep himself from bucking up into you or grabbing you by the hair and pushing you down further. What a gentleman.

After a few minutes, he does card a hand through your hair, gently. But instead of pushing you forward, he pulls you back. You release his member from your mouth and look up at him expectantly.

“I-I’m getting close,” he says, panting.

“You don’t want to finish in my mouth?”

He groans, clearly affected by your words, but shakes his head.

You stand up, palming his cock as you lean into him. “Use your words, Kennedy.”

He scoffs, but is clearly too invested to fight against your teasing, pulling you into a heated kiss before replying, “I want to feel you.”

“Good boy,” you respond, peeling your panties off of you before sitting back on the dresser and spreading your legs. “But you could at least warm me up first.”

His breath hitches as he looks at your cunt, now completely bare before him, bringing his hand between the two of you to slide a finger through your folds.

You whine as he teases you like that for a moment, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you as he rubs against your clit in a slow, careful circle.

He dives his finger into you, curving it at a delicious angle as he pumps it in and out. He adds another finger, the slight stretch only barely scratching the itch you so desperately needed. Regardless, you can feel yourself reaching your peak and you had no plan of denying yourself that.

To your dismay, he pulls those lovely, lithe fingers completely from your now-drenched core. You’re about to complain until you see the way he looks at the mess on his fingers, his expression curious as he brings them to his lips. He sucks them clean as you watch him, eyes lidded.

“I want to taste more of you,” he whispers, waiting for your approval.

“Please do.”

That’s all he needs as he falls to his knees in front of you, pulling your legs to rest over his shoulders. He kisses up the inside of your thigh as he reaches your aching center, desperate for his touch.

Your eyes meet and he swipes his tongue through your folds experimentally. Your mouth falls open as you look down at him, the expression enough encouragement for him to keep going.

He tongue-fucks you for a while as he traces a finger over your clit, the motions getting you near the edge, but not quite enough to push you over.

“More, Leon. Please,” you beg in a hushed voice.

He switches up his movements, opting to return to using his fingers to massage inside of you as he sucks your clit between his lips.

You start rocking your hips forward against him, desperate for release, not realizing your moans were getting louder with every passing second.

He pulls back and you cry out in frustration, his free hand pressing firmly against your hip to stop you from squirming, his tone snarky as he says, “Who needs to be quiet now?”

You dig your fingers into his hair and tug his face harshly towards your dripping sex, a gasp escaping him at the rough action, warning, “Watch it, Kennedy.”

You feel him smirk against you, but he doesn’t push his luck, falling back into his previous ministrations. You keep your hand in his hair, your other one formed into a fist and pressed into your mouth, biting down on the flesh there to keep yourself from getting any louder.

Finally, you reach your climax, moaning against the skin of your knuckle as you offer a muffled, “I’m cumming, Leon!”

A wave of euphoria washes over you, your back arching as you grind yourself against his face to ride out the high.

He pulls back, fingers still moving inside of you for a few more moments until your legs stop shaking against his shoulders. He looks smug as he stands and wipes your juices from his face, your legs dropping to dangle in front of the dresser once more.

“That was really good,” you tell him, grinning as he pulls off the flannel and t-shirt, ogling the lean muscles of his body that are now fully exposed to you. “Hard to believe you never did that before.”

“Well, I had to make up for the way your mouth worked me over earlier,” he replies, pressing his lips against your neck, softly nibbling on the skin there.

“Ah, equivalent exchange. How civil of you.”

He pulls back, his hand now laying against your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip as he smiles down at you. “I’m a public servant after all, ma’am.”

You laugh and he chuckles lightly before pulling you into a deep kiss, hushing you. He wraps his arms around you and draws you closer to him. You do the same, your bare chests pushed against each other as you both squeeze tightly, your bodies and lips molding together perfectly.

You pull from the kiss and he chases your mouth, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it.

“You still want more?” you ask lowly, running a finger along his spine.

You feel him shiver under your touch as he responds, “Yes. I need it. I need you.”

You kiss him again before letting him go, leaning back on the dresser, supporting yourself on your bent arms. He sighs wantonly as he runs his hands down your sides to your legs, pulling them over his shoulders once more.

He grabs his cock with a single hand, the fingers of his other digging into one of your thighs to keep them apart. He slides the head through your folds before pressing against your entrance, not yet moving forward.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he questions, those beautiful cerulean eyes trained on yours, waiting for your signal.

You nod, desperate for this. “Please just fuck me, Leon.”

He hisses as he pushes slowly into you. You let out a whimper at the stretch, burning so good it makes you close your eyes, your head falling back against the wall.

“Fuck, this feels amazing,” he laments, pulling his hips back before snapping them forward again.

You start with soft gasps, but he picks up the pace, the sound of his moans triggering your own to spill from your mouth.

He seems to realize he lost himself for a moment, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you forward to kiss you so passionately, it makes your head spin, your legs moving to hook around his waist.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he tells you, but you already knew he was close by the way he shudders against you.

“Cum for me, Leon. I want you to cum inside of me,” you reply breathlessly, dragging your nails down his back, hard enough to leave marks.

He tangles the hand at the back of your neck into your hair, making you look at him, his eyes dark.

His other hand braces against your lower back as his thrusts become sloppy, pushing you farther onto him—his cock as deep as it can possibly go—as he cums with a groan.

You kiss him as you cry out at the feeling, the two of you swallowing each other’s bliss.

He stills and breaks the kiss, panting as he looks down at you. He seems to come back to himself and searches your face for any sign of discomfort. “Are you okay?”

Heavy breaths beginning to calm, you laugh, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “Just peachy.”

He smiles lazily, pulling you back into a kiss. There’s less desperation in it, the movement of his lips slow and soft, but you can feel the sense of want that radiates from him. It’s so sweet and romantic, it almost brings tears to your eyes.

Eventually—begrudgingly—he releases you from the kiss.

He’s about to pull out of you, but you stop him, not wanting to make a mess. “Could you grab that scarf over there?”

He looks over at the accessory, hanging close to the two of you from the left-hand rack, before grabbing it.

You thank him and you both hiss as he gently pulls out of you. He quickly brings the scarf between your legs, catching the cum that leaked from your now sore sex. He wipes you clean, for which you’re grateful, and then tosses the scarf to the floor, the two of you changing back into the clothes you walked into the closet with in the first place.

He gathers up his new outfit—the one he just fucked you in, to his disbelief—in his arms, watching you as you grab the dress you tried on and the scarf from the ground.

He looks at you questioningly and you say, “Would be pretty rude to leave it in here for someone to find, don’t you think?”

“Fair.”

“Besides, I could always use another scarf. It’s so damn chilly here.”

“You’re actually going to wear it?”

“I mean, after I wash it, yeah.”

He flushes a bit at that, realizing that every time he would see you in the accessory, he’d be reminded of what transpired between you.

He wonders with a sudden fear if this was all you wanted to do with him. Would this be the only occasion he would get to share this intimacy with you?

You head towards the door to unlock it when he grabs your wrist. “Hey, was this just a one-time thing?”

“Did you want it to be?”

He’s shocked by the question. Of course he doesn’t. He’s wanted you for months, and if you asked him to marry you tomorrow, he would in a heartbeat, no matter how stupid that would be.

He doesn’t understand this feeling, how visceral it is. He loved his ex, he knows he did, but whatever exists between you and him is denser than a black hole and burns brighter than any supernova.

“No, I want…” How could he even word it? Could he ever explain this desire? This endless yearning that only seemed to grow in intensity now that he had the chance to be with you?

He can imagine what a life with you looked like, even despite the grim reality of the world you both were trapped in. Daydreamed about it often when he was alone in his room at night.

He already did his best to protect you in trials, and you often healed him as thanks for taking a hit for you. But if you were his, he could see you fussing over him as you worked on whatever injury he would sustain, and he’d steal a kiss as you admonish him for not being more careful.

He can see himself waking up to you in his rickety old bed, those lovely eyes of yours half-lidded as you look up at him. He can envision the way they’d crinkle at the edges as he tickles you, making you laugh that wonderful, musical little giggle he can’t seem to get enough of.

All of it was laid out so plainly before him, but how could he manage to make you see it too? You’d probably think he was crazy if he even tried.

“More?” you offer, smiling at him in a way that makes his stomach flip.

Maybe you understood after all.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

You walk up to him, eyes bright, and pull him into one last, searing kiss.

It tastes like a promise.

“I think I’d like that, Leon.”

And with that, you were out the door.

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

Masterlist Collection

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #dead by daylight #resident evil #dbd #re2 #more

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passerkirbius · 1 year

Text

Rusty Quill Saga - 24 Hour Follow Up

Hi everyone! I appreciate all the new follows! Might actually get me posting more about stuff!

So, it's been about a day since I posted my response to the Rusty Quill article, and reading some of the tag comments I wanted to respond to a couple, again in the interests of helping those who aren't within the audio fiction community get a little context that you might not otherwise have had.

But I also wanted to put my cards on the table - why should you listen to me? Hi! My name is Lee Davis-Thalbourne, I'm Australian, and I'm one half of the Fiction Podcast Production team Passer Vulpes Productions. We're the creators of a number of fiction podcasts, including Love and Luck and Supernatural Sexuality with Dr. Seabrooke. I also have a reasonable resume of small VA roles with a lot of different podcast production teams, I have a history of theorycrafting around podcast production, and I'm currently engaged in some part-time independent research around fiction podcast production that, if people are interested, I might actually get around to finishing one day. Myself and my partner Erin were the founders of AusFicPodMakers, which was/is an informal group supporting audio fiction producers in Australia, and as part of that support, I currently curate a list of Australian Fiction Podcasts (which I encourage you to take a look at!). In terms of affiliations, PVP is not associated with any podcasting network (though a few have knocked on our door), and I'm not currently producing audio fiction right now - I have no projects on the boil, so to speak.

So, I think I can say, with some evidence, that I'm a part of the audio fiction production scene, that I care about audio fiction in general, that I might have some thoughts worth listening to about it, and that I'm a mostly disinterested party regarding this - I have no particular stake in Rusty Quill's fortunes one way or the other.

Tag Responses

Okay, so I wanted to quickly respond to a few of the tag comments that have popped up in response to yesterday's post, mainly because I feel like it's worth expanding on some of them:

#i also feel bad because i was always kinda wary on tma2#now it feels even more like a cash grab

Look - as a podcast producer, I can respect a cash grab. If you can grab that cash, I'm a strong believer in doing so, because making audio fiction without cash is kinda sucky. It's like any other big endeavour - when you get nothing out of it, it eats away at you. That's part of the reason why PVP isn't producing at the moment - We tried to scale up to multiple productions and it damn near killed us. We weren't really getting the income we needed to do more than just barely break even - we, as producers, weren't making a dime off of our podcasts, even with Patreon and crowdfunding. Rusty Quill is actually an extreme outlier regarding their ability to get cash from their audiences. How extreme? Well, before the TMA2 kickstarter, the most successful Audio Fiction crowdfunding campaign was Unseen, from the producers of Wolf 359, one of the seminal audio fiction shows of the modern audio fiction renaissance, and it hit a little over US$40,000. Which, just to note, was significantly higher than any other audio fiction crowdfund project before it - very few audio fiction crowdfund campaigns get more than around US$5,000-10,000.

So, sure, it's a cash grab. It might still be good anyway though! Don't disregard it just because they're making financially-dominated decisions.

#Adding onto this while the evidence isn't conclusive (because as many people have said it is conjecture and opinions and stuff)#and also the author's credibility is...in question

So, first things first, Newt Schottelkotte is an extremely credible journalist in the Audio Fiction space - they've broken a number of big stories, and written a lot in support of the audio fiction production scene. Wil Williams, who helped edit the piece, is also a highly respected critic and journalist within the space, while Tal Minear is a very prolific audio fiction producer of good repute. Personally, I have absolutely no concerns about their integrity or credibility - they've all done incredible work.

But it is worth noting that Audio fiction is kinda odd, in that journalists, critics and producers all pretty much come from the same group of people. The honest fact is that Audio Fiction, as a beat, has pretty much no prestige, there are (currently) no publications that are dedicated to audio fiction coverage, and the whole sector is mostly considered an afterthought to the real podcast industry. So, the few people who do create audio fiction meta-content, even if they begin as separated from the industry, don't stay separated for long - they will start making contacts with producers, they may start finding people offering cameo roles in shows, and eventually, they'll consider moving into podcast production. If your requirement for a "credible" voice within audio fiction journalism is one that has absolutely no connections with any actual production, I'm sorry but that ain't happening - the scene is too small, and people move between production and commentary so often, that "true independence" isn't a thing.

With that said, these journalists do a lot to make their affiliations visible up front, which is the other way to manage conflicts of interest within the scene - by declaring them. I'd be a lot more suspicious of a journalist that doesn't put their affiliations up front, honestly.

The Rusty Quill Response

So, I wrote yesterday that I wasn't expecting a response from Rusty Quill for a good three days - they are a group, it takes time to coordinate a response, I figured I could relax for a bit. However, Rusty Quill has already produced a response, and that alone says something - it says that a single person has dictated this response. Considering the record speed, I also doubt that it has been looked over by anyone else. Knowing these things, I find it very likely that this is Alex Newall's response specifically, speaking for Rusty Quill, rather than one that that the leadership at Rusty Quill has worked on together.

I'm not going to go through the whole thing point by point - I don't have the time, and this post is already too long for most Tumblrites to consider going through it. But on a more general level, I find it interesting that the response contains not a single link, not a single pointer towards contrary evidence. Almost certainly this is due to the timeframe - were I in RQ's position, I would be going through our paperwork to find some boilerplate contracts to provide some counter-evidence to the article, or providing some financial details to show where the money is going, but finding, redacting, and publishing these things takes time. RQ has done none of this, and this isn't necessarily a point against them, but it does mean that Rusty Quill hasn't done much more than shout "Am not!" into the audience.

To talk about one specific point, I also find it interesting that, having been attacked on the subject of crew pay rates, they talk about how their cast have very good pay rates. This might be true, I don't have the resources to fact check that, and I hope it is - actors do deserve pay. But it is worth noting that actors are on a production for very little of the time - it's the editors, sound designers, musicians, transcribers, etc who put the most time on to a production. In general, you'd expect that the crew would be getting more money than the cast, because the crew is going to be putting in more time (although, fair's fair, the vast majority of audio fiction out there doesn't do this, because the only "crew" is the producer, who is usually financing the production out of their own pocket).

Questions?

So, I figure that if I'm putting myself out there, I might as well offer the opportunity for people to pick my brain. Have a question about Audio fiction production? Want to hear my explicit comments about something someone has said? My asks are open, I'll do my best to come back and answer any asks that come my way.

#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #rusty quill #rq #industry explainer #audio fiction

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