#'if youre poor the least you could do is not making it worse by doing art'

[quarterlifekitty]

Video Girl!AU

this is dumb as hell but i had to get it out there because i am so so so ill for ghoap

Soap did not remember this video store. He’s passed by this street hundreds of times— surely… he would’ve seen it. Then again, maybe heartbreak makes you see the world differently. The clerk hands him a member card with a smile, and a promise that they’d have what he needed.

Yeah, he was doubting that. He didn’t recognize any of these titles. But something catches his eye– a girl on the cover of a VHS. One that’s just his type– a cute face, a gorgeous body, and a teasing little smile.

He turns the lights off in his room, slotting the tape into the VCR. It makes a kinda clunky, scary noise but eventually loads up the movie. It’s got a production logo like it’s softcore porn, which it very well could be– that’s what you get for picking by the cover without reading the back. Not that he’d mind if it was.

The girl from the cover appears on the screen, just as radiant. Maybe more, now that she’s in motion. Her laugh sounds like bells– gentle, sweet, innocent.

“Thank you. Thank you for choosing my video! Oh, why do you look so sad?” What was this, some sort of girlfriend experience type of thing?

 “Oh, I see, unrequited love is it? Don’t let it get you down though, okay? They just don’t understand you. You’ve got a lot to offer another person. I know I’m not much, but. How would you feel about letting me be the one to cheer you up?”

Video girl’s got him right pegged. Though he supposes it's not an uncommon reason to rent a flick with a hot girl on the cover. He sighs. Her expression softens even more in sympathy, her eyebrows drawn in as she pouts on his behalf.

“ I see...it’s that bad huh...? Poor guy, there’s no way just a video is gonna help you…” Ain’t that the truth? Terrible way to get him to rent more tapes, though. An epiphany seems to strike the girl, and a smile spreads over her face.

“That’s it! I’ll stay with you for as long as it takes!”

Imagine being the girl from a video Soap rented while wallowing in his feelings. Rejected by Simon, for reasons he doesn’t understand. They got along so well– different from the other guys. But then again, judging from how Simon looks at Price whenever he steps into the room… Maybe he does know why he was rejected.

When you come from the screen, Johnny’s surprised none of his neighbors call the cops, because he screams bloody murder.

You vow to help him… to help him be less lonely. To help him get the guy he wants. For the one month that his rental lasts, at least.

When you meet the guys, Soap is able to put together some lie about you being a friend of his sister who’s staying with him while you’re in town.

It’s just your luck that Ghost has a sixth sense. Man knows there’s something strange about you. The otherworldly knows the otherworldly.

And to make matters worse… You’re supposed to be a world-class lover. A teasing, minxy girl who knows just how to make a man fall over himself and beg for more without breaking a sweat. Or, you would be– if you hadn’t been played on a broken VCR.

Now you’re so damned timid. Incredibly sensitive, shy, stuttering whenever you make eye contact with any guy that isn’t Soap. And to Ghost, it’s like smelling blood in the water.

He’s constantly cornering you, chatting you up, trying to fluster you. He hardly knows he’s doing it, sniffing you out and trying to get you to crack. Quite frankly, you’re doing a terrible job of getting the two of them together.

And when Soap sees this all happening… He feels like he’s supposed to be jealous of you. He is–but it isn’t just that. He’s jealous of both of you… and at the same time, seeing you together seems so natural-- and it turns him the fuck on.

[kkayyerr]

OBX characters taking care of Little!reader with anxiety.

Warnings: Age regression; anxiety disorder; slight dark!Rafe.

Author’s note: I’m gonna keep on writing headcanons about little!reader with mental struggles and characters reactions to that.

John B:

- He would be just as anxious as you when it came to something that scared you. His worst fear would be not being there for you at the moment, no matter if you’re regressed or not (but especially when you’re little). 

- He won’t ever blame you for your fears or your tantrums; that would happen if you got way too overwhelmed. He would just be there for you, probably trying to console you or just giving you time and space to let out your emotions. 

- John B would probably mentally note all your triggers and things that get your anxiety worse, so he and the Pogues would avoid those themes. 

- He would help you fall asleep, holding you in his arms and feeling how your heartbeat was slowing down and your breathing was not so shaky anymore. 

- He would probably also ask Sarah to share some tips with him about how to calm you down when things get really bad, because somehow she knows more about those things. 

- Sometimes he would just call her, and she would show up immediately, helping you out. 

- He would definitely learn some techniques to help you, or at least help himself stay calm because somehow your anxiety is sharing like a disease. 

- John B would work on himself to help you as much as he could, and I believe after not so long a period of time it would work. 

JJ:

- That boy knows how it might feel, trying to hide your anxiety so it won’t bother people around you, and it’s hurting him seeing your shaky hands and teary eyes.

- He would make sure that you'd understand that you didn’t have to hide your true feelings and emotions, at least not around him. 

- Whenever he would see you getting at least a little bit anxious, he would immediately stop what he was doing and go take care of you, no matter if you wanted him to see you in that state or not. 

- He doesn’t know how to deal with his anxiety, but he would make sure to learn how to help you deal with yours, even if that would increase his own struggles. 

- Even though the boy is poor, he would still buy you everything that he thought might help you. Stuffies, pacifiers, coloring books, etc. He would buy absolutely anything just to make sure his little girl was happy and calm. 

- He would deal with your tears and tantrums, just staying there and letting you yell, cry, and throw toys at him. It’s not like a little teddy bear is going to hurt him. 

- No matter how bad he’s feeling, he would be there, trying to help or at least communicate to see what’s wrong and what exactly he could do to help you relax. 

- For you, he would turn into a big teddy bear that you can hug and cuddle whenever you feel like it. 

- He would always remind you that no matter what, he’s there for you. And he won’t ever break his words.

Rafe:

- It would be hard for Rafe to understand why exactly you’re getting so anxious sometimes, and maybe he would even blame himself for not being there for you enough. 

- But when you finally explain your struggles to him, he’ll understand. Maybe he’s not the best at dealing with mental issues, but for you, he would try. 

- The hardest part for him is to control his temper. It would take time, but he would learn how to not raise his voice around you after a couple of times when he would have to spoil you the whole day after a small yelling. 

- He would buy anything, ANYTHING, to help you with your anxiety. No matter what that is, if that thing is helping you, then it’s going to be bought. 

- Sometimes, when the panic attack would get bad, he would go as far as giving you drugs, calling it „medicine.“. He would make sure it’s the most safe ones, though. 

- He would gently slap your mouth every time you would apologize to him, when there’s nothing to apologize for. And of course you would also apologize after the slap too. 

- If someone had triggered you or just talked to you in the wrong way, they’re dead. Like actually dead. 

- He would also learn not to tease you too much, just so you won’t fill your pretty little head with some stupid thoughts and insecurities. 

- Even though his business is very established, Rafe would make sure to always, and I mean ALWAYS answer your calls. No matter if that’s a serious one or you just want to hear his voice and tell him about the drama between your stuffies. 

- Rafe would protect his little one at all costs, even if that meant crossing the lines sometimes. 

Pope:

- He would learn how to treat you right sooo fast. 

- No matter what had happened, Pope would know what exactly you needed to hear in that situation or how to help you regulate your emotions. 

- He would almost immediately recognize when you’re feeling anxious, and he would try his best to make those episodes easier for you, even if your fears might sound „stupid.”.

- He would be very good at communication. If you need to talk with him about something that’s bothering you for an hour, then he would sit there and listen to you for an hour. 

- Probably he would be the only one who knows how to console you when you throw tantrums, just holding you in his arms or constantly repeating that your feelings are valid and it’s okay to cry. 

- It would work, and a couple of minutes later you would be sitting on his lap or maybe even sleeping, hiding your puffy face in his neck. 

- The one tug on his clothes would be enough for him to understand that you need his attention right now, and it would immediately become his number one priority. 

- Honestly, he would be the best at taking care of his little one, no matter what they’re struggling with. 

[dreamsy990]

Out of the characters you know which one of them do you think their situation is the most fucked up

ohhh this one is hard hm. i think roxas specifically in kh2 is a good candidate though. it has to be the kh2 stuff though because thats where like 80% of his existential dread is.

[corset]

Really feeling that experience of being an autistic person in an environment that's terrible for me where I'm basically trying to figure out really hard how to not be an emotionally unstable wreck all the time who throws "childish tantrums" over "dumb shit" because I hate feeling like my family always expects me to just snap whenever anything happens and whether or not I do just depends on how much Repression Juice I've got left in the tank or how Unshitty the circumstances have been for the last week or even few days

[prapuna]

.

[samuraisharkie]

just finished watching Uncle Vanya for the first time. I think Doctor Astrov and the Professor should kill themselves

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❝SWEET!❞

►— pairings. various genshin men x fem! reader

►— warnings. smut, cursing, dirty talk, just smutty. implied reader has somewhat thick thighs, 18+ fingering, MDNI

►— synopsis. an alternative title, how do they eat pussy?

►— a/n. been having these thoughts for a bit now i need to jot them down before my obsession grows worse.

►— wordcount. 2.3k

they eat that pussy like it's a religion, his head buried in between your legs, his hands gripping onto your thighs tightly, using his strength to keep your thighs still and from closing in. his eyes are focused solely on your face as he languidly drags his tongue into a line on your wet pussy.

he's addicted, to say the least. the smell, the taste, the lewd and dirty sounds you were making, he loved it all, and all the while as his mouth latches onto your poor abused cunt he whispers the sweetest things in your ear, dirty words as well. he switches between both. on the rare occasions that he does tease you he will whisper the most vile and dirty things you've ever heard, but most of the time he's just craving you, he just can't wait, once you give him the word that he could go down on you he wastes no time and before you know it he's sandwiched between your thighs and giving you an orgasm.

every time he eats you out he reminds you of a starving animal (if you didn't know any better), every time he eats you out you are a mess, and your pussy is a mess. your juices, sweat and saliva combined created a nasty sight it made him achingly hard but even so he prioritizes your pleasure first as he grinds his bulge on the bed. your moans and praises as you grip his hair and push his head deeper in were all he needed while jerking your hips at the same time.

his nose rested on your clit, the air hitting your clit as his tongue relentlessly flicked up and down your folds, he sucks and kisses your clit before adding a finger in. yes, although he does love to eat you out he also loves fingering you as well, the sweet moans and screams you let out just get him so hard it motivates him to eat you out even more. not that he plans on stopping. he barely teases you, he doesn't like the idea of stripping you of the chance to cum because truth be told he really really wants you to cum on his face (and sometimes he unintentionally overstimulates you).

— XIAO, CHILDE, kaveh, CYNO, WRIOTHESLEY, thoma, lyney, VENTI, itto, gorou

teases you while eating you out and teases you before eating you out, he knew what you wanted but continued to tease you, savouring every moment when you squirm and whine for him to go down on you. he's mean, he doesn't stick to one pace and instead chooses to go slow and fast, it's just how your face contorts when he buries his face against your pussy and begins to lick and slurp your folds and just when you're about to cum (he has been teasing your poor pussy for so long the second he begins to actually eat you out you're too sensitive, that's him to blame) he slows down his pace, a frustrated cry leaving your lips as tears brim your eyes, you just wanted him to do it properly.

he doesn't mind fingering you as he licks your clit but he finds it satisfyingly when he knows only he can make you cum with his tongue, when he feels nice he'll finger you with one or two fingers, pumping in and out of your mushy walls as his tongue rolls over your sensitive bud, his tactic never fails to get you cumming in no time.

he won't lie, he loves seeing you in tears as he continues to tease your bud and clit with his tongue, he isn't even giving it his all, his cheeks aren't even pressed against your inner thighs and here you are, let out cries for him to please eat you out, it's adorable. and when he thinks you're ready and he had enough teasing you already he's already lapping at your folds and humming, the vibrations and hums on your sensitive skin make it all the more pleasurable. he isn't that bad though, when he feels bad for you or feels like you've endured enough teasing he'll make sure to make it up by eating you out good (not saying he never does).

that doesn't mean he's not done being mean to you though, he's heavy on eye contact. he loves making eye contact with you as he brutally violates your clit, and he lives to see the faces you make as he inserts one finger in your soaking pussy, juices spilling out of your greedy hole, he loves seeing how you gasp when he swiftly slips in another finger, teasing you as he says how wet you were that he could easily fit in a third finger.

but he hates when you look away in embarrassment, he'll stop doing what he's doing—he'll stop his fingers from bottoming in and out of your pussy, and he'll stop his sucking and licking at your clit when you look away from embarrassment, "getting shy now are we? guess that means i'll have to stop.." you whine and quickly look back at him, looking down and meeting his eyes, his gaze was hot and intense, mouth and cheeks wet with your juices and his saliva, it was dirty.

"keep looking at me as i fuck you with my tongue, you understand? i want to see your face as you cum, i want you to watch me as i make you cum, got that?"

— ALHAITHAM, AYATO, WANDERER, pierro, PANTALONE, TIGHNARI, HEIZOU, DOTTORE, capitano

gentle and soft yet never fails to make you orgasm hard, he relishes in watching your dripping entrance as you wait for him to go down on you. he takes things slow and is very passionate, he considers himself a lucky man every time he eats you out because he knows only he is allowed to be in this position, no one else. he is sort of possessive when in the act when he really thinks about it, no one has eaten your pussy out this good, your moans and cries are only for him to hear.

despite him taking it slowly he is a god at eating pussy (you can't change my mind), he plants soft and tender kisses on your thighs before slowly reaching your inner thighs, you whine and beg for him to hurry up but he only shushes you and reminds you to be patient. "ah, remember to be patient love, i want to savour this moment.." you let out a soft moan and bring your head backwards when he finally kissed your clit.

his hands are tightly yet tenderly holding your legs apart, his hands grabbing a hold of the soft plush of your thighs. he leans in closer to your pussy, his thumb prying your wet pussy slightly open, he stares at it in awe before softly blowing on it, the cold air hitting your sensitive folds. your back arches as a shaky sigh escapes your lips, he looks up from his position and smirks before latching his mouth onto your pussy, it was all so sudden it caught you off-guard but within a couple of seconds the pleasure had taken over your body, your mind was clouded with nothing but pleasure.

he loves it when you yank and grip his hair, pulling him in closer to your pussy just to create more friction. you were so greedy it was cute so he always allowed it, he hummed and moaned softly as he ate you out, the vibrating sensation never failed you made your legs tremble and he knew it. he nips and softly (just barely) bites at your folds before covering them with a long kiss and when he releases he lets out a "pop!", your moans grow louder and louder the more he licks and slurps at your sensitive dripping entrance.

he knows when you're about to cum, the sound of your gasps and moans strained, the way your grip on his hair tightens as you try to pull him in closer to your pussy (it already is but he isn't complaining) and your hips jerking up—he closes his eyes, taking in the moment and makes sure to hold you steady when you finally reach your climax, thighs, hands and legs trembling from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

and even after cumming on his face he continues to eat you out (obsessed much), you try to push his head away but he only narrows his eyes at you, it was hot to see him maintaining eye contact with you so well as he licked and slurped up your sweet essence. "don't try to push me away now princess, not after you were so eager to cum and pushed me in so close. just another, please?"

he's the type, that even after you're passed out in bed from cumming, his head's still in between your thighs, bumping his nose onto your clit for stimulation as a few strands of hair tickled your thighs. he really enjoys eating you out, if you can't tell (he doesn't even stop even after you've done passed out) but you know what he enjoys as well? face sitting, the feeling of your soft thighs squeezing his head as you ride his face and nose is everything.

he ignores his own problem when eating you out, his cock was aching, all hot and bothered. but he didn't mind, if anything just seeing you cum from his tongue and mouth made him cum (happened too many times), he's too preoccupied with your pleasure anyway. although if you really do insist on helping him out then... (can he put his dick in?)

— ZHONGLI, DILUC, albedo, BAIZHU, DAINSLEIF, aether, kaeya, KAZUHA, NEUVILLETTE

definition of "pussy drunk", he LOVES eating you out.. so what if he suffocates between your thighs? he will gladly and happily suffocate between your thighs. although he is a bit shy doing it in public the thought of someone walking in the restroom and hearing the lustful moans coming from one closed stall makes him hard, at first he's soft and slow and kissing your thighs but that only lasts for a bit before he's literally making out with your pussy.

he LIVES to hear your praises when you mewl his name and cry out of pleasure, his lips swollen from burying his mouth deeper into your warm pussy, his nails digging into your thighs as juices (was it cum, saliva or sweat? who knows?) coated his chin, dribbling down his neck. it was a sticky mess and he loved it. his eyes are closed shut, brows furrowing his concentration as he sloppily laps over your hot, swollen puffy cunt. and when he does open his eyes he only does it to admire your soaking pussy coated with slick before licking up your cream, and his eyes? god they're so dazed and lustful it makes you feel embarrassed, real pussy drunk.

one thing he will never ever get enough of is the taste and how messy it gets. call him a freak or whatever you want but the sensation of his cheeks and mouth smothered by your juices and arousal as he gently nipped at your folds and slurped up all of your essence, is something to die for. the way your slick rolls down from his lips to his chin and down his neck, the tickling sensation is one he will never forget.

who knows what the slick is made up of? was it from your arousal? was it his spit and drool? perhaps both. there's just something irresistible about how dirty you could get just by his tongue and fingers that does something to him (not to mention the precum leaking out of his boxers), the more you cry out in pleasure and overstimulation makes him crack.

he's extremely skilled when eating pussy, that's just something he's naturally good at but you swear he gets better and better every time.. maybe you're too kind to let him eat you out nearly every day. but the more he goes down on you the more he learns—what spot you like the most, where's the most sensitive part, what combination you like, what pace... you get the jist. one of his favourite things is when you get too overwhelmed with pleasure to the point where your legs are shaking and pushing his head away, crying out for him to stop—that you were full.

"full? already? but i haven't even used my fingers yet..." he sighs (directly onto your pussy) and only ducks his head back in despite your futile attempts to push his head away, he knew your energy was low meaning you couldn't push him away even if you wanted to. he could eat out for hours on end, even days if he could (he would), he gets really delirious when eating you out, it's as if everything around him is gone, he's like his own little world with your pussy. the low groan and grumbled escaping his lips as he licks your clit up and down before sucking on it, letting go with a loud "pop!"

and once again he's back it, his tongue brazenly exploring your cunt before swirling at your poor sensitive bud, with every sharp and precise movement he makes he does it with every intention to make you cum, for like the third time. the way he's alternating between your clit and your needy hole makes your mind crazy, too fucked out to think about anything but the intense pleasure, and with every exhale his warm breath hits your flushed skin, his tongue lapping over your squishy folds. he'll never leave your pussy alone, will he?

— XIAO, ZHONGLI, ALHAITHAM, DILUC

the one thing they all have in common is that in the end when he pulls away he can't tell whether or not you're extremely wet because of your arousal/sweat or his saliva, or maybe it's both, who knows?

note: uuuuhhhhhhh dialogue or the text itself may be a bit icky (I'M NOT GOOD AT WRITING SMUT) so if it irks you just stay quiet and go on about your day. (*′з`b)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: slightly proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me.

[r1elle]

desperate male lead syndrome is making a strong comeback in 2024 and i’m here for it!! so i wrote about this annoying loser (your honour i love him so much)

husband atsumu drabble because this is what the people want ^^ (i’m people)

“baby, don’t go looking at yer’ poor husband like that..” atsumu pouts, poking your cheeks at the sight of your evidently disdained face.

okay. you could go do that. you could also just forget the broken ceramic on the floor, still not cleaned up because atsumu would rather make amends with you first than cleaning up the potential risk that was right infront of you both.

honestly, you couldn’t tell whether you should be glad, or concerned.

“i’m not mad at you,’ you say, the expression on your face clearly betraying your words. “don’t worry about it, atsumu.”

you thought that maybe your words would ease the blonde man’s resolve, however it seemed to have only made it worse for him.

“atsumu?! no baby, no love, no ‘tsumu?!” he stresses, hands going up to his mouth.

you stare at his rather dramatic delivery,—and was that the life in his eyes flying away?? he looks like a modern rendition of casper the ghost.

“i’ll do the dishes for a week, no,—a month! i’ll buy ya’ those heels ya’ told me not to buy at the mall!!” atsumu frantically spouts, saying anything he could think of as he continues to cling onto your figure, his face mushing onto your neck and shoulder area.

you shut your eyes. just.. how could you stay annoyed? look at his pouty face, how his ears seemed to be more red than the rest of his skins current complexion. he practically made it impossible for you to even be the least bit mad, and you would’ve felt as guilty as a convict for even attempting to do so. that’s the kind of effect he had on you.

in response, you merely sigh. but there wasn’t any bark to it. “or, you could clean up the shattered pot on the floor.” you say, making sure to bring your tone to a more gentle and reassuring one.

atsumu turns to at you once again, his blonde locks tickling your skin as he moves.

“yer’ not mad anymore?” he beams. “i mean, we could always make another pot, right? how ‘bout it?” he says, hopeful eyes staring directly to your orbs.

in all realness, you genuinely weren’t mad at him, —(as much as he would sulk and say you definitely were), no. you were just sad at the fact that you and atsumu’s ceramic that you both had worked so hard to sculpt and paint on your first date was now shattered on the floor, all but beyond repair.

“i was never mad at you, promise.” you say. “just a bit disappointed. i liked that pot a lot, you know.” your hand reaches for atsumu’s cheek, pinching it slightly. physical touch always seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

atsumu mentally notes that he should make you breakfast in bed the following morning as he stares at your affirming expression. he plants various of pecks on your face after doing so.

“i’m sorry, princess.” atsumu coo’s, his hand pushing away the little hairs on your forehead as he plants a kiss on it.

“i’ll make it up to ya’, i promise.”

— • —

now, you know that you most definitely shouldn’t be all too surprised, considering that, well, —this was miya atsumu we were talking about,

but seriously….

you stare at the little bundle of fur politely sitting on your lap as you rub your eyes, just having come out of your nights sleep. you also happen to notice the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate coming from the bedside table.

“ ‘tsumu, where—?..no, when did you get this dog?”

“i have my ways.” he proudly grins. “but look, it’s yer’ favourite breed!”

“….yes, i know. but where did you—“

“we have a daughter now, hehe.”

“since when did i agre—“

“so adorable, definitely takes after her mommy and daddy. look at the bow on her head!”

“ ‘tsum-“

“i love you.”

“dont change the subject!”

——————————————————————————

atsumu brainrot is real and clocking me out (kageyama i can explain)

update: TYSM for 1k+ notes omg ??!! thank u all for loving this loserboy with me i feel so heard 😢😢🙏🏽

[katsukistofu]

my caffeine mix-up!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | pt. ii

You take a sip of your morning coffee and almost spit it out on your dashboard.

This could not be your order. It was so… unusually sugary. Too sugary. Like someone liquified a whole candy store and shoved it into a venti cup.

Still reeling a little from the overly sweet aftertaste that lingers on your tongue, your eyes trail down to read:

Vt Crml Crnch Frap

5 Banana

Ex Caramel Drizzle

Extra Whip

Extra Ice

Ex Cinnamon

7 pumps Add Dk Crml Sauce

Ex Caramel Crunch

1 pump Honey Blend

Heavy Cream

Double Blended

What kind of pretentious asshole orders this garbage? Were their taste buds dead?

You mentally sent your condolences to the poor person that had to make this disgusting monstrosity of a drink. Please, you would’ve taken one look at the order and thrown it in the trash.

Your eyes searched the paper cup for who your local coffee shop transgressor was– catching sight of a scribble in blue marker reading “H-A.” You moved your hand a bit to reveal a “W-K-S.” A sense of dread creeps in as you numbly stare at the squiggly heart next to it.

It was like someone slipped an ice cube down the back of your shirt.

You had mistakenly picked up the wildly famous winged pro hero’s order and to make things even worse, put your mouth on where his was supposed to be.

Okay that sounded kind of dirty. But it’s not like you could drive back and return it now, what with your lip gloss already staining the lid.

Hey, um, I think I accidentally took a sip of the Hawks’s coffee? Oopsies? You guess you could pay for his order to be remade, but who’s to say he’ll even come back for it, much less accept it from some random stranger?

You were already running late to your desk job as is, and your coworkers were probably scratching their heads, wondering where you were since you always arrived at least half an hour before them. Should you just throw it away and pretend it never happened?

Oh god, would some person dig through the trash the moment you turned your back and extract your DNA from your lip gloss on the lid, thinking you were a deranged fan who stole his drink on purpose?

Or worse—that you were his secret girlfriend picking up his drink who had just wanted a little taste first before delivering it to him?

Your brain starts to wring itself dry of all the possibilities that could happen, shuddering despite each one being as unlikely as the next. An impressive mental workout for an un-caffeinated person at barely eight in the morning.

You wish you never even went to get your usual little treat today. That barista definitely looked right at you when you went to pick up your order, you swear they did.

But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe they were looking at the person standing behind you that you didn’t see as you rushed out of the shop? How do you even miss a man with wings that big?

Something gently knocks on the driver side window and you almost jump out of your seat.

As you roll it down with caution, your brain momentarily stops functioning as you’re met with a pair of striking golden eyes. Another inch of tinted glass down, a strong Grecian nose.

Forget work, the hell. You didn’t even know noses could be that pretty, and as your last bit of window disappears into the car so does your self-respect as you realize he’s abandoned his usual tan-colored jacket, standing before you in his black compression shirt with gold embossment.

Forget everything, actually.

You don't realize you’re holding your breath until he laughs at you, and you sheepishly close your slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know coffee thieves came this cute.” Drinking in your appearance his keen eyes stray from yours, slowly trailing down to your trembling lips, a stark contrast to the growing smirk on his. “Or this nervous.”

His fingers drum absentmindedly on the side of your car door, clear amusement written across his handsome face as he waits for you to say something. You collect yourself and snap out of your thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“I’msososorryIdrankyourcoffee!” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as your words come out in a jumble. “I totally grabbed the wrong order and I can’t believe I didn’t see you waiting behind me, I swear I’m not a creep–”

“Hey, hey,” Hawks gently interrupts you, reassurance laced in his voice. “It’s all good, no harm done.” He taps the paper cup that somehow miraculously hasn’t slipped out of your fingers yet.

“Sooo was it good?”

You choke on air, not expecting that. “Your drink?”

“Yeah, my drink.” He shoots you a cheeky grin. That bastard. “Good or nah?” You pause, contemplating if you should lie–no. No, today you chose honesty.

“...Genuinely, I have no idea how you drink this shit.”

Hawks laughs at your bold answer. “Thanks for being my little taste tester anyways. Too sweet, huh?” The tip of his finger traces around the remnants of your lip gloss on the lid, the cup still in your now slightly shaky hand as you nod.

His touch seared against your skin, as his pretty fingers closed around yours to raise the drink up to his lips to take a slow sip, eyes never leaving your own.

With a gaze that was infuriatingly sultry as it was sweet, like a bird of prey beckoning a field mouse to be their next meal, he murmurs, “Just how I like it.”

You’re not really sure he was talking about the coffee anymore.

He hums, and your thighs involuntarily clench a bit as his soft-looking mouth closes around the opening of the lid to take another sip.

“I’d say you’re a villain that deserves their own special category.” He grins, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. “One that involves letting me take her out to dinner.”

If you weren’t sitting down you know your legs would have given out. “Like… like on a date?” You gape at him incredulously. Because there was no way. Hawks. Just asked you out.

“Now sweetheart, what else would it be?” Hawks smirks at your dazed expression, like you’re sure you misheard him. So cute. “I mean, unless you don’t want to–”

“No!” He blinks, and your hand flies to cover your mouth at your sudden outburst.

“I-I mean, I want to…” You shyly say at a much quieter volume, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. He leans closer to you with a grin, languidly resting his folded arms over the open frame of your car door.

“It’s a date then. I know this really good sushi and ramen place down the block near my agency, my treat of course.”

“If I’m a villain is this your idea of rehabilitation?” You joke dryly. “Because it’s working.”

He tips your chin up. “Oh don’t worry pretty, I’m just getting started with turning you into a good girl.” A hot flush creeps up your neck to your cheeks, and you almost melt into a puddle right then and there at your steering wheel.

“I’d love to stay but I’m actually so late for work right now.” You utter weakly, chin still resting against his finger. Hawks tilts his head at that, unfolding his vibrant crimson wings as he wordlessly opens the front door of your car.

With little effort and an impressive flex of his biceps, plus a sharp intake of breath from you, one of his arms slips under your thighs and another firmly hugs you just under your shoulder blades as he lifts you up to his firm chest.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he feels your flustered arms hastily reach up to wrap around his neck. Honeyed eyes like molten gold meet yours as he gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh through your pencil skirt, and once again you find yourself needing a reminder to breathe.

“So, where to?”

‎

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“IS THAT FUCKING HAWKS OUTSIDE OUR COMPANY’S BUILDING?!”

say you can’t sleep, baby i know, that’s that me expresso~ ♪

[thegoldencontracts]

Bodyswap With The Dormheads

I can't help but imagine the Prefect swapping bodies with the other dormheads...

Riddle, who is definitely struggling without his magic, and constantly trying to behead Grim. Meanwhile you'll definitely behead Ace at some point, maybe levy your power to try to make Crowley do his job for once.

Leona's suddenly stuck being poor and dependent on the headmage. Not a fun experience, to say the least. He'll come out of it with a newfound respect for you. And you'll get food! And Ruggie... Who's definitely gonna clock something's off.

Azul can't sigma male grind his way out of this one, I'm afraid. Back in that helpless position he was in before, only now it seems like he can't work his way out. It'll definitely be miserable, and he'll have quite a few spats with Grim. And you? Well, you'll get clocked by the Leech twins before you know it, I'm afraid.

Kalim flounders completely. He's kind, and wise in some ways, yes, but his circumstances mean he's never learned a lot of basic tasks. So having to take care of both himself and Grim in this unfamiliar place... well, it's pretty hard. He probably almost burned the dorm at some point. Meanwhile, you get more food, and Jamil's ire. There's a pretty good chance Jamil clocks you, but he also might just not care so long as nothing happens that he has to take the blame for. Afterwards, Kalim will definitely offer more in renovations, like he did after VDC.

Vil is appalled by the state of your dorm. He doesn't blame you, of course, you can't help the fact that the headmage is too incompetent to properly care for his students. Afterwards, expect him to try and help you with skincare and renovations more. He always wants to help people be their most beautiful, does he not? And you? Well... You'll quickly be met with the brunt of his self-imposed workload.

Idia's social battery is completely drained. He can't use his tablet anymore? And what's with all these normies? Why are they making fun of you for not having magic? And not to mention the terrible state of your dorm... Hey, at least he gets a cute kitty-cat to hang out with as consolation. And you, well, you appreciate the break from being bullied. Even if Ortho probably clocks you in an instant.

Malleus is rather shocked by your poor living conditions. How could you be treated so poorly? Are you not a student of this school? He really is rather confused. Your friends are rather fascinating though... Along with that little cat - no, monster of yours. And you get a powerful fae body, yay! But everyone fears you. Hey, is it really that much worse than dealing with mockery?

[astrronomemes]

HURT / COMFORT : STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings for when your muse needs a little TLC. change & alter as needed.

THE HURT:

“Nah, it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.”

“I don’t think I can walk that far... or at all.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

“Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

“I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“I don’t need a break. I’m okay.”

“It was my fault. It was all my fault.”

“I think I need help.”

“So, I don’t think I’m dying, or anything, and it’s probably not that serious, but... I’m kinda bleeding. A lot.”

“Is the room spinning right now, or is that just me?”

“No, I’m okay, I just... I hit my head. Really hard. I’ll be okay, just give me a second.”

“I’m not sick! I’m fine!”

“No, I don’t think any of my bones are broken, or anything like that. Just bad bruises.”

“Yeah, but you should see the other guy.”

“I’m fine. This just happens sometimes. It’s normal for me.”

“I’ve got a headache.”

“Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!”

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need your help, and I definitely don’t need your pity. Fuck off.”

“Please tell me I don’t look as bad as I feel.”

“I think I’m running a fever.”

“So, what’s the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?”

“Stop fussing over me! I’m not a baby!”

“Can I stay with you tonight? I just... really don’t want to be alone right now.”

“No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.”

“I... can’t actually remember the last time I had something to eat.”

“You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get sick, too.”

THE COMFORT:

“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I think you’d better take a break.”

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You did everything you could.”

“You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Don’t ever let yourself believe that there is.”

“You really don’t realize just how many people love you, do you?”

“If you’re not going to take care of yourself, at least let me do it for you!”

“I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

“You’re not alone, baby. You never have been.”

“Let’s get you some food.”

“You’re dead on your feet, poor thing. Come on, you need some sleep.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“Tell me where it hurts.”

“How many times have I told you to be more careful?!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m not gonna leave you. I’m never gonna leave you.”

“Oh, honey, you’re safe now. I promise. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Go ahead and take a shower. I’ll fix you something to eat.”

“What happened to you, baby?”

“I’ll kill that bastard. I’ll kill him for what he did to you.”

“You look like shit, man.”

“Whoa, whoa, take it easy! You got pretty banged up back there, and you don’t want to go making yourself worse.”

“I’m not trying to baby you. It’s called taking care of my friends.”

“Sweetheart, you’re burning up! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?”

[missnxthingg]

could you do a lando norris x reader smut with that damn sucker at the austrian grand prix after he DNFed and maybe the reader gets turned on by his frustration and anger.

YOU'RE HOT WHEN YOU'RE ANGRY

Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Warnings: Smut & swearing Words: 1.8K (a shorty, compared to my other works) Author's note: Thank you so much for being so quick with the request. Loved doing this because angry Lando is absolutely hot. Also, found this template for the cover pic and absolutely loved it. It's so different.

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After the crash, Lando was pissed, to say the least. So far, things have been looking good for him this season. At the Austrian Grand Prix, the 11th race of the season, he was the only driver to finish among the points in the grid. But after a streak of almost wins, he crashed his car into Max Verstappen’s at the final laps, having to retire from the race just as he was starting to feel the victory taste between his lips.

He was fuming when he turned off the car in the pits, throwing daggers with his eyes at everyone that crossed him that day. Having to watch the finishing of the race from the garage was frustrating, and the last drop to make him lose it this week. So many almosts, and luck was never in Lando’s favour.

Y/N was gutted for her boyfriend. She had joined him in this triple header because she knew he was feeling very overwhelmed by the season, and it had only got worse after his bitter P2 at the Spanish Grand Prix. That day in Austria, she had been watching it from the garage and was one of the first people Lando met after the DNF. He quickly pecked her lips to find some comfort, but was so angry that didn’t want to be around her to affect her somehow.

Knowing he needs his space when he’s frustrated, Y/N stayed behind and watched Lando do his job. He was talking to his engineers, trying to at least help Oscar with the best outcome of the race, but he was angry, and his face showed. Jaw tense, fire in his eyes, no bubbly smiles. And somehow, that turned her on.

Usually, after bad races like this, she takes her time showering him with love and support through the whole night after the poor result. But Y/N was needy, and seeing him with the droplets of sweat on his forehead, disappointed look on his face and his suit hanging low on his hips were doing things to her. Well, to the point where her panties were soaking wet just by looking at him.

She tried hiding it while they were on track, but Lando noticed she was behaving weird, trying to keep more quiet as they were still surrounded by a lot of more people. He frowned when she tried her best to escape him after the post race media pen, and found it weird again when she changed her behaviour once they were in his driver's room.

He had sneaked away from the crowd a minute before her. Lando closed his eyes, breathing deep, trying to assimilate and calm from what had happened. He was only taken out of his trance when his girlfriend snaked her arms around his waist and started pressing kisses to his jaw. He opened the first genuine smile that day when he finally felt her right there with him.

“Hi, baby”, he said, making Y/N smile to finally have his attention. “I love you so much”

“Always nice to hear that after hours seeing your cranky face”, she said. “I love you more”.

“Probably impossible”, he winked, making her giggle. Then he pecked her lips, feeling easier to have her around, even though he still didn't understand her behaviour from earlier. 

“You good?”, she asked, and Lando sighed.

“I will be”, he assured, holding her a little tighter. “You make me better”.

Y/N smiled at his words and locked their lips together in a sweet kiss. But soon they turned things around into a more steamy make out, that had her palming his cock through his fireproofs. He moaned at the contact, but stop the kiss to see what that was about.

“You were literally avoiding me a few minutes ago, and now you're doing this?”

“I was avoiding you because I was horny, you muppet. Would've come undone right in front of everyone if I didn’t ignore you”, she smirked, making him smile. “But God, you look so hot when you're angry”.

“So you’re taking advantage of my misery?”, he provoked with a smirk, but didn't last long with his boyish behaviour when she started massaging his balls. “Oh, baby, this feels so good”.

“Let me take care of you, my love”, she pecked his lips again, making him smile in response. “Want to turn this day around for you”

Y/N gently pulled him to sit on his couch and kneeled in front of him. Then she took off his fireproofs, leaving him in his underwear between those tiny four walls. But before she could jump into giving him pleasure, he dug his digits on the skin of her waist, pulling her into his lap. She straddled his laps and sunk into him as they made out, trying to make it as silent as possible.

“Need you”, he whined, feeling that his boxers were too thick for his liking. Lando wanted to feel his girl more than anything.

“Let me make you feel good, baby”.

Y/N trailed kisses down his torso, her lips feeling like silk against his skin. Lando felt them burning deliciously through him and urged to feel her touch more and more. When his girl finally pulled his underwear down and wrapped her hands around his base, Norris lost it, throwing his head back in pleasure.

She licked him from up and down, but not doing much to get his relief. Lando was whining and groaning in frustration, but Y/N was taking her time with him.

“Fuck”, he moaned. “Please do something, angel. I need you”.

Y/N decided to grant his wish, popping the tip of his cock inside her mouth. Lando grunted with the move, and moaned louder when she started taking all of his length in her mouth. He could feel him hitting the back of her throat turning him into a mess.

“Baby, your mouth feels so good”, he held her hair away from her face and started thrusting a little into her throat. “Won't last long with you making me feel like this, fucking hell”.

Y/N stood quiet, completely focused on giving him pleasure. But desperate for some relief, she started  clenching her tights, needing some sort of friction between her legs. Lando noticed, and he most definitely didn’t want to leave his girl wanting him just as much as he wanted her.

“Baby, if you want me to continue, you're gonna have to stop”, he groaned, but she didn’t stop, only taking him further into her mouth. “Please, Y/N. Wanna feel your pussy around me”.

Those words had convinced her, who took his cock out of her mouth with a pop. Lando smiled with her move, pulling her by the arms to make her sit on his lap again. Then she kissed him once again, feeling him hard against her legs, and turning her on even more, if it was possible.

“Wanna cum inside you”, he admitted, letting his hand wrap around her throat. “Can I, baby?”

“Only if you bring back that angriness you were showing earlier in the garage”, she smirked. “It was fucking hot”.

“You want rough, uhm?”, Lando smirked once again, adding more pressure to her throat. “Ask for it, angel”.

“Please, Lan. I need you”, she whined, not really able to properly form sentences at his sudden domination. 

Y/N started to grind against his crotch, feeling some relief from her neediness. But most definitely wasn’t enough. So Lando switched their positions, pressing her against the couch and kissing her once again, as if his life depended on it. 

She was wearing a skirt, and Lando easily found access by pulling her tongue to the side. His fingers ran through her folds, making her moan on his mouth, shivering with the contact on her pussy. It felt even better when he started pumping two fingers inside her.

“Oh, Lando”, she whimpered. “So good, baby”.

“You like it, pretty girl?”, he smirked. “Wanna cum for me, uhm? I want you to cum on my fingers”

“Yes, please. Make me cum. I wanna cum, Lan”.

Y/N had been so far gone for Lando through the whole day that she came undone for him in seconds. But only his fingers weren't enough. She wanted to feel his frustration as a whole, pinning her down on the couch and fucking her senseless. 

“Baby, you’re so needy today”, he smirked, gripping on his cock and brushing the tip on her folds. Both of them moaned with the contact, loving to be this intimate with each other once again. “I'm gonna fill you up so good”

“Please, I need it so bad”, she cried.

When Lando finally put it inside her, Y/N immediately threw her arms and legs around him, wrapping herself onto him, needing to be as close as possible to her boyfriend. Together, they setted a firm pace that had them both in sync at giving each other pleasure. He held her by the throat and kissed her dearly as their hips kept meeting over and over again.

Lando transferred all his anger and frustrations onto his movements, loving that Y/N gave him the opportunity to feel better like that. At the end of the day, he would always win if he was with her. He knew that as he kissed her, feeling her pussy starting to clench around his cock.

“Gonna cum again, baby?” Lando asked, and she hummed, trying to nod, but being kept from moving by his hand on her throat. “Hang on, I'm almost there too. Wanna cum together?”

“Yes”.

“Then be a good girl and wait”, he asked, now picking the pace a little bit up, chasing for his high. Lando quickly found it, feeling his veins thicken downstairs and her nails digging on his back. “Fuck, baby, so tight for me. Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Lan. Make me cum”

Lando lowered one of his hands to her clit and rubbed it until she came undone for him. Less than a second later, he filled her up with his own cum, finally letting his weight collide over her body. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around Lando and kissed his temples, trying to catch her breathing once again. He relaxed under her touches and pressed kisses to her collarbones as they laid in silence.

“I love you so much”, he said. “Thank you for this. For being my biggest supporter”

“I love you too. And I'll be here for you through the bad and good days”, she assured. “And will suck your cock every time you look pretty when throwing a tantrum”.

They giggled with her statement, sinking into each other, wanting nothing more than to just stay cuddled together, even though they knew they should get going. After all, they had a flight to England to catch.

“So… round two at the plane?”

Lando's taglist - @celestialams @lizaschronicles @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion @bborra @sltwins @riccdannyf1 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @carmenita122 @lqvesoph @poppyflower-22 @logischeroktopus @saturnbloom77 @formulaal @taisferrari-blog @eclipsedcherry @readingbringsjoy @kenzieyeballs @alilcloudy @eringaitskill @Honeyhatty12 @dreamercrowd @demig0d0fapollo @beyond-the-ashes @ijustgomessitupx @laiba26 @marialovesf1 @katieschry1 @loveofmylife12 @diaa-20 @likedbygaslyy @notturloverr @c-losur3brizzy-xogorgrussell @loveofmylife12 @morketheduck @kravitzwhoree @darkacademicvibes @jenna123456789 @crispymcniall @phantomxoxonoobmaster6931 @ohlahlaa @c0rpsecore @rafegirly @darleneslane @annalisenelson @nataliambc @amorydsmt @slytherinholland @hstylesmermaid @harrysdimples05

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[itneverendshere]

we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s. 

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it. 

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa. 

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard. 

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head. 

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull? 

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way. 

oh, wow, big spender. 

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first. 

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has. 

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you. 

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go. 

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.” 

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there. 

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration. 

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it. 

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed. 

real, scary, big girl feelings. 

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

 “better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to. 

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

[sodaabaa]

shadows and spirits, part one

azriel x reader reader is azriel's mate but she hasn't accepted the bond yet due to her fear of azriel himself.

tw: slightly nsfw, brief mentions of illyrian misogyny, suggestions of edging and arousal

part two

Bells rang as the door to the bar opened, signaling the arrival of the day’s first customers – or so Y/N thought. She walked to the bar counter, leaving behind the half opened crates of newly shipped wines and spirits. She’d deal with those later. 

“Y/N! How’s my favorite bartender?” Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court walked in with his arms raised and a friendly, welcoming smile on his face. 

She fought the urge to smile at the sight of her friend, “I’m only your favorite because I give you discounts and secrets,” she whispered the last part as he approached.

Y/N ran one of the most popular bars in Velaris, being a favored spot for many because of its proximity to the Sidra River and the spectacular view it offered (and of course, the variety of top-shelf liquor favored by Rhysand himself). Y/N knew everyone and anyone that frequented her bar. She often provided a shoulder to cry on and a few shots of tequila to mend broken hearts. Because of this, she gathered vast amounts of information from the citizens of the beautiful city and when needed, she reported back to Rhys. 

Rhys smiled, leaning his elbows on the counter. She swatted at him with a towel, “I just cleaned that.” Rhys chuckled but didn’t remove himself from the dark wood counter.

She opened her mouth to ask Rhys why he was here when something pricked at the back of her neck. Her eyes darted to the man trailing behind Rhys like a shadow, and then back to the High Lord. She stood a little taller, back straightening as she steeled herself. 

“Here on business, I guess?” She asked him. His smile faded as he nodded. She poured herself and the High Lord a drink to avoid any more eye contact with the man who’d just entered. They clinked their glasses and downed their drinks. With a sigh, Rhys pulled something out of his back pocket.

“Have you seen these men?” He placed a few pictures on the counter and waited for Y/N to recognize them. 

“I may have seen them, they look familiar. I can ask the girls, maybe they’d have more luck identifying them,” she replied. 

Rhys nodded, “Alright, be on the lookout for these guys. They’ve been stirring up some trouble and I’m gonna need to put an end to that before it gets worse.” “Are they Illyrian?” “Unfortunately,” Rhys replied with a sigh.

“I’ll keep an eye out for them,” she gave him a curt nod. 

“Take care, Y/N,” and with that, Rhys turned to leave. Azriel on the other hand, stayed behind. Y/N quickly busied herself with wiping down the counter and tidying up in hopes he’d get the signal and leave.

“You can’t avoid this forever, Y/N,” he finally broke the silence, his voice deep and flat – it rumbled through her, causing the hairs on her arms to raise. 

She threw the towel onto the counter, “Watch me,” she spat back. Big mistake. His hazel eyes darkened, shadows coming to life around him; twisting and flaring with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. He exhaled, silently making his way out the same door he arrived in. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You could at least try being less hostile towards him, the poor man is in a constant state of sulking these days,” Feyre said as she swirled the glass of ruby-colored wine in her hands.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend’s attempt at getting her to talk to Azriel. Feyre frequently visited the bar since it was closeby to her art studio. The two had hit it off quickly, becoming close friends and bonding over art, music, and men. Feyre had found out about Y/N’s mating bond issue and because she was biased (being friends with Azriel), she constantly pestered Y/N about it. 

“Feyre, I already told you. I don’t want anything to do with Illyrians – they’re possessive, violent, and they view women as breeding machines,” she looked at the High Lady, “and I mean this with all due respect to Rhys, I don’t want to be mated to an Illyrian.” 

“He’s really a big softie, I promise. Just get to know him, he has the same complaints about Illyrians as you do!” Of course she would defend him, they’d been close friends ever since Feyre first arrived at the Night Court. But she overlooked the innate instincts of the warrior species. 

Y/N sighed. She tried to repress the memories of her parents – her mother, like Y/N, was mated to an Illyrian. She knew the culture they were raised in, the way they looked down on women, the violence they were accustomed to. To top it all off, Azriel was the Spymaster of the Night Court – the rumors about his cruelty and power were enough to keep Y/N away from him in fear. Luckily, she knew he’d stay away until she accepted the bond.

“I somehow doubt a man who tortures people for a living could be a 'big softie',” she replied with a scoff. 

Feyre sighed, “He doesn’t hurt the innocent – in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hurt a fly even,” she took Y/N hands in hers, “He’s a good man, Y/N. Give him a chance.” 

Y/N huffed, “I’ll think about it.” 

Feyre squealed, an uncharacteristic sound for a High Lady to make, and pulled Y/N in for a hug. 

“You won’t regret this!” 

I somehow doubt that, she thought to herself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the sun began to set, the bar came alive with people ready to unwind after a long day of work. The air hummed with laughter and conversation, glasses clinking in the air while soft melodies floated about. Y/N looked around the bar for the men Rhys was looking for, taking in the lively atmosphere – a jolt of pride running through her as she surveyed the place she built up from the bottom.

Despite the bustling noise of the bar, she felt that damned prickle on the back of her neck, her eyes catching on the shadows in the corner. He did this every so often – lurked in the corners, watching her. She rolled her eyes, returning to the customers at the counter asking for drinks. 

“Hey sweetie, give us a smile!” One of her unfortunately regular customers called out. He leaned forward, trying to get in Y/N’s way.

“Find someone else to bother tonight, Devon,” she replied, topping his glass with more liquor avoiding eye contact with the sleazy man who constantly vyed for her attention. 

“Oh, but I wanna bother you,” his hand grabbed hers. 

“Devon, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, let go,” She said as she tried wriggling her wrist out of his grip. The nuisance of a customer pulled her closer but stopped in his tracks, abruptly letting her hand go and backing away from the bar. He all but scurried away and Y/N sighed. She knew there was only one man who could make people shit their pants in fear like that. 

“You could’ve at least let him pay before he left,” She said without even bothering to turn around as she picked up the abandoned glass of whiskey.

The man behind her dramatically placed a few coins on the counter. She braced herself for the brooding face and shadows as she turned around. She glared up at him, the height difference between them all the more prominent as he stood not even a foot away.

“Stop sending Feyre to do the dirty work of convincing me to accept the bond,” she tried to sound intimidating – or at least serious but she found it difficult when faced with his presence, it consumed all of her confidence and left her feeling small, defenseless against the Spymaster.

“I didn’t send her,” he replied rather monotonous but she could see the tinge of amusement on his face at the sight of her trying to put up a confident front.

“Well if you’re done playing savior, can I get back to work?” 

“Would it kill you to say 'thank you?'” He blocked her from passing by with his aggravatingly large obsidian wings. 

She put her hands on her hips and mustered up all the vitriol she could, “Yes, actually, it would. Now get out of my way before I kick you out.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, a laugh. Y/N, now fuming at the man before her, shoved him in the chest, knowing it wouldn’t amount to much but it helped relieve her annoyance.

This time, he chuckled, a sound that resonated through her, only serving to fuel the fire that was Y/N’s anger. She grabbed one of the soda guns under the counter and aimed it at the nuisance before her. His brows lifted in surprise and he lifted his hands in a mock surrender. Her eyes fell to his scarred hands and her stomach dropped as her hands gripped the soda gun tighter.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, “I’ll be around.” With that, he returned to the shadows and Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

At the end of the night, the final few customers stumbled their way out of the bar and Y/N took a seat at one of the tables, exhausted from the day’s work. She poured herself a drink, relishing in the quiet – though her relief was short lived when she sensed the shadows in the corners. She squinted, grabbing a towel from her apron and threw it at the corner. He caught it, revealing himself from the shadows. 

“If you wanna lurk here after hours, the least you could do is help me clean up.” Amusement once again danced over his dark features. No doubt thinking about all the ways he’d make her pay for her rude behavior. He didn’t say anything as he started wiping down the tables, eyes occasionally finding their way back to Y/N, shadows brushing her skin when she walked past him.

They cleaned in silence, Y/N taking a mop to the floors while Azriel put up the chairs and collected stray items off the tables. Something clicked in her then, she felt almost at ease with his presence. Almost. 

“Do you know what happens when accepting the mating bond is delayed?” He said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him from across the room as he put up the last few chairs.

“What happens?”

His eyes darkened, narrowing at her, “There are reports of males being unable to stop themselves from taking their mate, over and over," he paused, giving her a moment to process, "I like to think I have more restraint than my dimwitted brothers but even I cannot control nature,” his voice was dangerously low as he spoke. It made Y/N stomach flutter in ways she couldn’t contain. Her skin prickled as she took in his words. Her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm, suddenly realizing she was at a crossroads. 

She’d been putting off accepting the bond for years now. They had first met at the grand opening of the bar. Rhys had come to congratulate her and survey the bar and of course, he had brought the inner circle. They became her first customers. A feeling of dread welled in her stomach when she first laid eyes on Azriel and somehow she knew it was him, her mate. She cursed the Cauldron for pairing her with the deadliest Illyrian in Prythian. 

“You won’t be able to delay it forever, Y/N,” he stalked closer to her, massive wings dragging behind him, a predator approaching its prey.

She took a step back, stumbling into the table behind her and she flinched. He smirked at her clumsiness. 

“Eventually, you’ll feel it. The primal, unavoidable need. The raw desire,” he drawled. 

She swallowed, looking up at the man who now stood too close to her for comfort. She leaned back, her weight shifted to her hands gripping the table behind her to put as much distance between them as she could. He only looked down at her, his intense gaze raking over her body, sensing her fear. He leaned down, she could feel his breath tickle her ear as he said, “That’s not fear, Y/N. It’s arousal.” Her breath got caught in her throat at the show of his abilities. He straightened and stepped back, giving her room to breathe. 

“Good night, mate.” 

He disappeared into the night, leaving her dazed and flustered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/N entered the bar, grumbling at Daisy, one of the bartenders, as she passed by the bubbly girl.

“Woah, what’s got you all crabby this morning?” She glared at Daisy, prompting her to find some task to tend to as Y/N slouched on the counter. She couldn’t get a wink of sleep the last few nights. Azriel’s words echoed in her mind, keeping her up.

It’s not fear, it’s arousal. 

After he left the bar that night, she found herself almost constantly in an aggravating state of arousal. Despite this, she couldn’t find any relief no matter what she did. She tried pleasing herself but when all she could think about was Azriel and his dominating presence, she decided to erase the memory of him through a string of one night stands. To her utter dismay, none of it worked. It nearly drove her mad. She hadn’t seen Azriel in the past few weeks since that night and she realized he was giving her space on purpose, to heighten her need to see him again. Asshole, she thought.

She poured herself a drink, hoping it’d dull the throbbing in her head (and in other places she deigned to acknowledge). 

“Day drinking? Is there something bothering you, Y/N?” 

Great. As if the day couldn’t get any better.

The velvety, deep voice rang through her, causing damned butterflies in her stomach. He stood before her, dressed in his fighting leathers, blue siphons pulsing with power. He gave her a knowing smirk.

“I can’t deal with this today,” she said as she walked off.

“You could give in, you know. It would provide you with the much needed relief you’re so desperately trying to seek,” he taunted.

“No thanks, there’s bound to be some half witted man that can satisfy me plenty,” she shot back.

The shadows around him flared, reaching out towards her but not quite touching her. Azriel’s eyes were dark. Maybe it was stupid of Y/N to taunt him, dangerous even, but she'd spent the last few days in sleepless agony because of him. He could suck it.

“Aw, is the big bad Spymaster jealous?” She teased.

“Don’t play games with me, Y/N.” She walked back over to him, lifting her chin in defiance. 

“Or what? We both know you won’t touch me until I accept the bond.” 

He smirked, “You will accept the bond. And when you do, you are going to be at my mercy. Begging for relief,” he gripped her chin with a hand, sending a chill down her spine, “And I’ll take that as an opportunity to remind you of your obstinance.” 

“I bet you’re just as pent up as I am. It gives me peace knowing you can only find relief with me. Maybe it’ll give me the strength I need to continue denying you.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, “I have centuries of experience on you, little girl.” 

Her stomach dropped at the degrading title. The reminder of his age dawned on her. He fought in the first war against Hybern, Y/N hadn’t even been born then. She was a mere century and half to his five centuries. 

“Cat’s got your tongue?” He taunted with a smile.

She shoved him off in a sudden movement. Grateful to be away from him. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some room to breathe. Cauldron knows you’ll be needing it.” 

He left as fast as he had appeared, once again leaving Y/N off-centered for the rest of the day. What have I gotten myself into?

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

“Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.