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itsbeeble · 1 year ago

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Enchanted

Summary: You lost each other once, holding out in hopes of crossing paths again. It's almost fate that you do, and Wonwoo doesn't want to let you leave him again

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, exes to lovers

Pairing: Idol!jeon Wonwoo x afab!reader

WC: 4.5k (i got REALLY carried away yall im so sorry)

Series Masterlist

18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

WARNINGS UNDER CUT

Warnings: hurt comfort, ex high school sweethearts to lovers, mentions of someone trying to get a little too touchy feely with reader so if you aren't comfortable, don't read it (nothing bad happens AT ALL, the guy is just a dumbass, but i figured i would put a warning for all of you), unprotected sex, making out, fingering, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, begging, kinda dom/sub themes again, mentions of drinking, swearing, marking, spanking, Wonwoo likes boobs, sexual tension, mentions of chemistry, idk there's a lot so let me know if i missed something important

Listen to Enchanted by Taylor Swift <3

A/N: Guys i wrote this all today/last night and i'm really proud of it. It's also the first smut fic that's like...i wouldn't call it intense but it's more than what I'm used to ig. I hope yall like it though <3. Also thank you to Fawn for beta reading again. teehee

You had always hated gatherings: holidays, work events, family reunions, weddings, you name it. You always hated being the only person there without a partner. Not that you felt the need to have one, but it got annoying when you got the same questions over and over and over again.

When are you going to settle down and marry a nice boy?

Your parents aren’t getting any younger, don’t you want them to have some grandkids?

What are you waiting for?

The truth is, you had the answer to only one of those questions. What were you waiting for?

It has to be some stroke of luck when the answer walks right through the door to your high school reunion decked in an all-black suit and the same nerdy glasses he’d had his whole life.

Jeon Wonwoo. Your high school sweetheart turned drunk sob story to your best friends after a few too many cocktails.

It’s ironic how the root of all of your relationship problems just so happens to hate your guts. Not that you blamed him for it. Everything that happened between the two of you, everything that went wrong in your relationship was because of you and your insecurities. Because you didn’t trust that the idol life wouldn’t ruin the two of you. If you were him, you’d cut contact and disappear as well.

Eunchae, your best friend from high school, nudges your arm, her eyes flicking between you and the man who hasn’t spotted your wide-eyed stare.

“Did you know he was coming today?” She whispers harshly, jerking you out of your dumbstruck trance. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, awfully reminiscent of a goldfish.

“I— no, no I didn’t.” You feel out of breath, your heart beginning to pound against your ribs so hard that you fear the bones might snap. “Hana said that— that he didn’t RSVP.”

You look up again, and your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s looking at you, through the crowd of people around him. Wonwoo had his eyes locked on you, his gaze unreadable from where you stood. It feels like he’s cast an enchantment on you, freezing you under the weight of his gaze.

Your hands are shaking, and the drink in your hand almost spills before Eunchae grabs you. Someone steps in front of Wonwoo— a man, from here you can’t tell who— and your view of him is cut off.

You don’t see him try to gently nudge the man to the side while talking to him, trying to get a better look at you. You don’t see the disappointment when he finally gets him to move and you’re gone, out of his view.

“Wonwoo,” one of his old friends, whose name has slipped his mind (Seonkyung maybe?), claps him on the shoulder. “You really have grown up, huh?” Wonwoo smiles politely, adjusting the expensive watch on his wrist.

“I mean seriously,” another man comes forward, someone Wonwoo knows very well and for all the wrong reasons. Lee Jongdae, the man who planted seeds of doubt in your ear. The man who ruined something good, something that would have lasted. “You used to be like,” Jongdae raises his hand, waving it flat in the air next to his shoulder, “this tall? And now you’re a giant!”

“You must be getting all the girls, eh?” Seonkyung teases. Wonwoo wants to scream, wants to get out of this situation as fast as possible. “The idol life must make things easy, right?”

“I don’t really go out much,” he shrugs, still holding that polite smile on his face. “The idol life is busier than you think.” Seonkyung scoffs at this. Jongdae narrows his eyes, but the near-mocking smile returns to his face.

“Come on~” Jongdae presses, “there’s gotta be some idol woman that you’ve snatched up. Someone has to have grabbed the attention of the great Jeon Wonwoo.”

He hesitates. Yes, someone has grabbed his attention but it isn’t another idol in the industry.

“Or, wait,” Jongdae’s hand collides with Wonwoo’s chest, something similar to malice appearing in his eyes. “Are you still hung up on that Y/N girl?”

Wonwoo goes rigid, and beside him Seonkyung gets quiet. Jongdae bursts into laughter, the sound ringing around the room and gathering the attention of a lot of people. Wonwoo feels his jaw tick in annoyance, fighting the urge to roll his eyes or knock the man to the ground.

“No way are you still hung up on her!” Jongdae huffs out between laughs, seemingly uncaring that he’s the only one laughing. “Ten years, and you’re still going after someone who couldn’t care less about you anymore?”

Someone inside of Wonwoo breaks a little bit. Something inside him cracks, and his resolve crumbles slightly. He hadn’t expected the jab to hurt as much as it did, but god did it sting.

“I never said I was hung up on her.” Wonwoo folds his arms over his chest. “Like you said, it’s been ten years. If she’s moved on then that’s her business.”

“So it wouldn’t bother you if I got with her?” Jongdae takes a step forward, an eyebrow arching in challenge. “Because I won’t lie to you, she’s looking good.”

Wonwoo’s jaw ticks again, but he keeps a pleasant smile on his lips. Don’t say yes, don’t say yes. “Like I said, not my business.”

That clearly isn’t the answer Jongdae is looking for, and a puff of pride fills Wonwoo.

And then dread. He just gave the one man he would hate to see you with permission to do whatever he wanted. “Permission”, as if he has any control or say in the things, or people, that you do.

When Jongdae approaches you, there’s an immediate pit of despair in your stomach, like some princess waiting to be saved from the tower she’d been locked in. There’s a menacing look in his eyes, and he walks with a swagger telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants out of a situation.

“Hi, gorgeous.” You almost cringe at the first words out of his mouth, your lips twisting into an awkward, tense smile.

“Hi…?”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jongdae continues, not waiting for you to say or do anything. He’s only focused on getting what he wants, that much is obvious from the way he smirks and glances around to find…someone. Who, you aren’t sure. “You sure have…grown up a bit, haven’t you?”

“I mean…yeah I’m 27. I would hope I’ve grown up a bit.” He laughs a bit too hard for something you hadn’t intended to be funny.

“Say,” he leans closer to you, and you press yourself back against the wall. His hand comes to rest on the side of your thigh, right near the slit in your dress. “Why don’t we get out of here? You know, go somewhere a little bit more…quiet? Maybe Mrs. Ji’s old chemistry lab?”

Your body is tense, and you try to pull away from him.

“No, thank you.” Your hand tightens around the small plastic cup of cheap wine in your hand. “I think I’m fine where I am.”

“C’mon, don’t you wanna loosen up a bit?” He coos, and his grip tightens on part of your dress. Your body tenses.

Then his grip was gone, and his body is hitting the floor, and people were beginning to surround you and Jongdae and…Wonwoo?

Wonwoo is standing next to you, his black jacket seemingly gone, and the sleeves of his black button-up are rolled up to his elbows. His eyes are narrowed, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“What the hell was that for, Jeon?” Jongdae pulls himself to his feet, trying to approach him, but another man steps forward. “Thought you said it wasn’t your business?”

“It wasn’t,” Wonwoo agrees, “but that was only until you tried to do that.”

Something about Wonwoo being this protective over you, even after what you did, makes your stomach twist into knots. You have to remind yourself that he’s just doing this because he had to. Because this is what anyone would do, and your heart sinks into your stomach.

“We were just trying to have some fun,” Jongdae snaps, “right Y/N?”

Wonwoo looks at you, and when you return his gaze it’s like you’re back in high school again.

Do you want to leave? His head tilts ever so slightly toward the door.

Get me out of here. You hope your eyes are portraying that thought perfectly, but the tight smile on your ex’s lips tells you all you need to know.

“She’s not going anywhere with you, Lee Jongdae.” Wonwoo’s hand finds its way to the small of your back, and you find yourself tucking your body into his side just like you used to.

Only this time, it’s like you fit perfectly under his arm. His very…very…very muscular arm and slim waist and when your arm wraps into the back of his shirt, you can just barely feel the tight muscles and—

Oh god, you’re gonna do something you shouldn’t if the two of you don’t leave right now.

You’re lucky that Wonwoo is able to guide you away, and that Jongdae doesn’t try to come after the two of you. You figured that, while the man was stupid, he wasn’t going to try and harm someone making more than triple his annual income and with enough power to ruin his life with just one click of a button. Probably literally.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo has his hands wrapped around the headrest of the driver’s seat in his car, watching you as you pick at the skin around your manicured nails. You turn your head to look at him, pursing your lips.

“I mean…I guess? He didn’t really do anything, thank god.” You let your hands drop to your lap and a heavy sigh escapes you when you let your head fall against your headrest.

“I’m sorry that he did that.” Wonwoo’s voice is gravelly, and you have to take a moment to calm yourself before speaking.

“It isn’t like it’s your fault. You do know that, right?” Wonwoo shrugs.

“It kind of is, though. The only reason he went up to you is because of me. Because he wanted to get under my skin.” Oh? You arch an eyebrow, turning your body to face him. The slit in your dress shifts ever so slightly, exposing your bare thigh. Wonwoo turns his head away from you, his cheeks heating.

“Why would he want to do that?” In your heart, you already know. The way the two of you easily slipped back into your old habits, the way he didn’t even hesitate to help you despite protesting that anyone would have done it. You knew, now, that he didn’t hate you. You just wanted him to admit it.

Wonwoo lets out a heavy sigh and rolls his head to look at you.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” You nod, leaning your body across the center console to get close to him. You can tell he’s nervous, maybe embarrassed.

“You know me, Wonwoo. I always get what I want.” You grin and Wonwoo turns to look at you again and suddenly you’re aware that you aren’t dating him anymore. That it’s weird for you to be that close to him.

Your smile drops and you sink back into your seat. Wonwoo watches you, a frown replacing his previous smile.

“I’m— I’m so sorry.” You press yourself as close to your door as possible. “I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wonwoo fights the itch in his brain that tells him to grab your hand and place a kiss on the back of it. He hadn’t realized just how enchanted with you he was until he saw you across the room for the first time in ten years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having you pulled against his side, although you fit much better now that he’d filled out and grown into his body. Wonwoo hadn’t missed the way your breathing hitched when he pulled you against him, hadn’t missed the dazed look in your eye when he looked down to ensure that you weren’t hurt. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I just— I shouldn’t have touched you like that—”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo cuts you off. “You did nothing that I didn’t want you to do.” Your mouth snaps shut, and you look at him with wide eyes. He takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I…I still— fuck this is harder than I thought it would be. For a songwriter, you would think I’d know how to confess that I’m still enchanted by you.” He laughs nervously, and when he turns to look at you, you’re smiling gently. You understand.

You stay quiet and then turn to him again. He’s facing you too, and your faces are inches apart.

“I was enchanted by you too, Jeon Wonwoo.”

And then your lips are on his, and it’s a searing kiss that leaves him breathless from the moment it starts. His hand rises to your cheek, gently pulling you even closer to him. Your hands wrap around the fabric of his shirt, and you whine when his tongue hesitantly prods at the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth for him, and his hand slides to tangle in your hair and pull you impossibly closer, nearly across the center console. He roams your mouth, his tongue licking at every inch, sliding against your own as if this was the last time he’d ever be able to kiss you. Your hand slides down, tracing down to his tie, then to his abdomen and you can feel the muscles tightening wherever your nails trace.

Your hand trails even lower, and you feel him freeze against you when you place your hand over his crotch. He forces himself to pull his lips from yours, a string of spit connecting your tongues, and his eyes flutter shut again when your hand squeezes lightly around his hard-on.

“Don’t do this to me,” he pleads. “I’m supposed to be a gentleman.” You smirk, raising your lips to his ear.

“What if I don’t want you to be?” A gentle kiss was placed to the corner of his jaw, and his grip on your hair tightened to the point of near painful. This draws a whimper out of you, right in his ear. He pulls you back, not harshly but enough for your jaw to drop.

“Tell me you’re sure,” he practically begs. “Tell me that this isn’t going to be a one-time thing, that you want me as much as I want you. Tell me that you aren’t in love with someone else, that there’s no one waiting for you at home.”

Tell me you love me.

Your hand slips to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing just under his eye.

“You know that you’ve always been it for me, Jeon Wonwoo.” You promise, and your lips are against his again. It’s sweeter than the first but still filled with ten years of words left unsaid. “Take me home.”

The moment Wonwoo locks the door to his apartment, you’re pressed against the wall with so much force you’re surprised there isn’t a hole in the shape of your body. His hands are on your hips, your thighs, your shoulders, and your chest. Every time he pulls away from your lips, he catches one between his teeth, nipping at the soft flesh before shifting his focus to your neck.

“Wonwoo,” your voice is shaking, your hand tangled in the dark strands of his once neatly styled hair. “Wonwoo, please?” Another hickey blooms across your neck, another on your shoulder, then your collarbone.

“Please what, baby?” He rasps, tugging the strap of your dress to the side until it slips down your shoulder and exposes more of your breast. “What do you need from me?” He slides the other strap down, and you gasp when his cold hands reach up and grab at the soft mounds on your chest.

“Wonwoo— Wonwoo, I—” Your brain has gone to mush the moment his mouth lands on your nipple, sucking at it and nipping at the bud. You breathe out soft moans, your hands struggling to move to the back of your dress to reach for the zipper.

It’s impossible to function with Wonwoo flicking his tongue against one nipple, his fingers kneading and twisting and pinching at the other. Your hands shake as you finally catch the zipper, yanking it down as quickly, yet gently, as possible.

Wonwoo pulls away from your chest, breathing heavily, eyes filled with nothing but lust. He examines your body, entirely nude from your choice to go braless and pantiless tonight, and his cock twitches in his slacks.

“God, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He hisses. You peer up at him with eyes so innocent, but you both know that isn’t the case. “Did you know I was gonna be there? Hm?” He grabs your chin in one of his large hands, yanking you toward his face until you’re struggling to even stand on your tip toes. “Did you know that I was gonna give in to you?”

“No— Wonwoo, I didn’t know—” His free hand collides with your ass and you cry out, stumbling toward him. “Fuck, Wonwoo!” His hand strikes your skin again, and a gush of arousal practically drips down your legs.

“I think you’re lying to me,” he hums thoughtfully. “Lying isn’t nice, you know.”

“I’m not lying— Oh, Wonwoo please—” His free hand has slipped down to your core, delicate fingers brushing against your sopping wet cunt. “Please touch me, please, I need it.”

“Yeah, baby?” One finger pushes between your folds, and your knees almost buckle. Your nails dig into his biceps, squeezing the taut muscle as he sinks two long, slender fingers into you. “Need it so bad, don’t you? Had you waiting for so long. Did you miss me, baby? Miss this?”

“Missed you so bad, Wonwoo,” you arch your back into him, your hips jerking against his fingers. He slips a third inside of you. “Miss— Missed the way you t-touched me.” He hums, curling his fingers up into you and you emit a desperate cry of his name. “Right there, Wonwoo! Fu—fuck, right there!”

“Tell me how much you missed me, pretty girl.” He continues to curl his fingers inside of you, watching you and enamored by the way your eyes roll back, the way your jaw is dropped, and the way your chest heaves. “Tell me how much you need me.”

“N-Need you so–o bad. No o-one makes me fe-feel this good— oh god,” you clench around his fingers, pulsing and dripping down his wrist. “No one el-se made me c-cum like you d-do.” A swell of pride in his chest, and his thumb presses hard against your clit. You spasm around him, your moans growing louder and higher in pitch. “So close, Wonwoo.”

“It’s okay baby,” he purrs, “you can let go. I’m here now, gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you so good, never gonna have to turn to anyone else again. Just let go.”

You spasm again, and your body sags as your orgasm rocks through you. Wonwoo has an arm around his waist, his other hand still working his fingers into you and easing you through your high.

It takes you a few minutes to come down, and by the time you do, Wonwoo has removed his shirt and kicked his shoes off. He’s watching you as you try to step forward, catching you when you stumble. You reach for the button of his slacks and he stops you, smiling when you pout.

“I’m not fucking you here, baby. You deserve to be fucked in an actual bed.” You let him guide you to his bedroom— correction try to guide you. It’s like you’re addicted to the taste of him, your lips practically gluing themselves to his biceps, licking and biting at the salty skin. You can feel every one of his breaths as he walks, and his pace picks up until he’s flinging open his bedroom door and shoving you in front of him. You stumble a bit, and he pushes you again so you fall face down onto his bed. Wonwoo isn’t far behind you, his body leaning over yours and his hand on the back of your neck and preventing you from pushing yourself up.

“Do you know how much I missed this? Being able to fuck you wherever, whenever, and however I wanted?” He hisses into your ear, and you feel his free hand slip down your back as he reaches for the button on his pants. His hips keep rolling into yours, and the little grunts and moans that he releases are almost enough to get you to cum again. “Do you know how hard it was to not imagine that I was fucking your sweet little cunt every time I found someone to spend the night with? No one matched up to you, sweet girl. No one got me to cum like you do, got me as hard as you do.” You whine when he kicks your ankles apart, your nails gripping the duvet for dear life.

When you feel his tip prodding at your entrance, it takes everything in you to not grind into him. He’s breathing heavily into your neck, slowly slipping in. Your body twitches and you fling your hand back, frantically searching for his own to squeeze and distract yourself from the pain of him stretching you out.

“So tight,” he presses his forehead against the back of your neck, his body shuddering. “Fuck, it’s like nobody has fucked since me.”

“N-nobody else felt as good as you,” you gasp out. “No one could stretch me out like you do. Just fuck me, please.”

“Gotta let you adjust, baby,” he argues. “Still got about half left.”

You whine again, jerking his arm in front of you and letting your face fall into it. He groans when your teeth sink into his skin, biting and sucking and gasping against him until you feel his hips connect with yours.

“You ready?” He rubs your back gently, and you frantically nod your head.

“Please, please, please, please—” His hips pull back and you release a guttural moan as he slams his hips into yours. Again and again and again and again. Every thrust sends the tip of cock full force into that soft, pleasurable spot inside of you and it feels so good, and he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down, and you don’t ask him to. Your mouth has fallen open, a neverending stream of cries and moans and begging leaving your lips.

His hands reach forward, and you feel a finger hook into your mouth on either side. It stings, the stretch of him holding your mouth open, and you feel your back arch, his cock somehow hitting even deeper inside of you. Drool slips down your chin and it’s so nasty but you can’t form the words to stop him. The only things that leave your mouth are nonsensical babbling and you feel Wonwoo begin to rise, taking you with him. One of his hands leaves your mouth and slips down to the base of your throat, and the other’s thumb hooks into your jaw and holds your mouth open. His hand squeezes around your throat, and you squeeze around his cock

“You close, baby?” Wonwoo coos into your ear but you don’t have the brains to form words. Your hips press back into his, one of your hands slipping down to frantically rub at your clit. You’re clenching rapidly around him now, almost in time with when he pulls out of you and you can feel him twitching inside of you. “Gonna cum again?”

You try to tell him that, yes you’re so close and it feels so good and oh god Wonwoo please—

Your body shudders and a sound similar to a scream escapes you, your free hand gripping his forearm tightly and you can feel the skin tearing beneath your nails but neither of you cares as he pumps white-hot cum deep inside of you. His hips are still rolling, adding to the sensation of his cum inside of you. Your core begins to sting with overstimulation, and you try to pull away from Wonwoo with a whine. He just laughs, his hands settling on your waist and lowering you down onto the bed once his cock has softened.

Your back is against his in the tub and he’s running a soft cloth along your body, along the marks on your body and the bruises on your hips.

“You doing okay?” His voice is tender. “I know I was a little bit harsh on you.”

You chuckle. “Not like you haven’t done that before.”

You play with the suds that float in the water, humming quietly. Wonwoo takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back a bit.

“Why don’t you hate me?” You lean your head back on his chest, and he frowns at the question.

“Why would I hate you?”

A shrug and you drop your arms into the water.

“I threw away a nearly perfect relationship just because someone said you’d drop me the moment you found someone better in the idol industry.”

“So?” Wonwoo traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. “That’s not your fault. I get that it was scary. Neither of us knew what was gonna happen, you were already stressed about how things were gonna work with you being in college. I’m not gonna blame you or hate you for that choice. What matters is that we found each other again.”

Your cheeks heat up and you turn your body around in the tub to sit on his lap. He looks up at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes.

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask. He raises an eyebrow. “In the hallway. That I’d never have to turn to anyone else. Are we gonna…” Your voice trails off and Wonwoo raises his head to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I meant every single word I said tonight. I’m here to stay, Y/N.” His nose nudges against yours. “I was enchanted from the moment I met you, and I want to be yours again if you’ll let me.”

You play with the strands of his hair, smiling like a madman.

“And I meant everything I said as well,” You let your forehead rest against his, your eyes falling shut. “I want you to stay with me. Please.”

Wonwoo exhales softly.

“Always. I will always stay.”

Taglist: @juyeonszn @leejihoonownsmyheart @nobraincellmode

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stepintothelimelight · 4 months ago

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▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄SHE CAN GO HOME, BUT SHE’S NOT GOING TO

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° i would do

anything

you want me to…. ✧ ⁺ ┊

PART 4 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: A home race that doesn’t feel like home anymore

(2018!f1grid x fem!Genz!driver!reader, max verstappen x reader (platonic), lewis hamilton x reader (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader (platonic))

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: FAMILY ISSUES, mentioned child abuse, swearing, gratuitous hurt/comfort, reader’s birthday happens before the gp, mention of a suicidal thought, ANGST, barely edited :)

fc: an assortment of female celebs

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

f1: 🇺🇸🦅💥💥💥HOME RACE FOR Y/N L/N 🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅

American fans - be there or be 🟦

📍Circuit of the Americas

tagged: yourusername, mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 637918 others

view 2672 comments

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You arrive early, per usual, to make sure you have time for every fan, and maybe to catch a glimpse of Taylor Swift, who will be singing the national anthem today.

Your phone call with Seb last night quickly turned into him and Hanna knocking on your hotel room door and enveloping you in their arms. You fell asleep between the two of them, a comfort show playing on low volume in the background.

You hate that it caught you off guard. A small, stupid part of you actually believed that your family - your mother - could love you like they - like she- was meant to.

It was supposed to be fun. You dressed up, treated them to one of the nicest restaurants in Austin. The second they arrived, though, it all turned to shit.

At least your fans are majorly little girls and they couldn’t care less if you’re having widely photographed, public arguments with your older brother after a family dinner turned sour.

Miraculously, you get into the paddock unscathed by prying questions into your personal life. You just get set up in your drivers room for Qualifying and try to put it all behind you. You don’t see Taylor, and unlike any other day, you don’t have the energy to face the paddock.

As you rearrange your hangers for the hundredth time, there’s a knock on your door. You sigh. Most of the team knows that you like your private time before any event, especially your first home race.

“Yeah?”

The door opens slowly. It’s Lewis. Since the beginning of the season, your relationship with him has definitely developed. He’s good friends with Seb and you have a sneaking suspicion that he has told Lewis to keep an eye on you where Seb can’t. He’s become a sort of mentor-slash-friend and you couldn’t be happier, especially since you’ve both signed on for another few years at Mercedes.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say.

Lewis sent me this.

“Did you hear about Taylor Swift?” You exclaim. “How cool is that?”

He grants you a trademark half-smile.

“Consider it a belated birthday gift.”

You eyes widen and your mouth drips open.

“It was you?”

He shrugs.

“It wasn’t very hard to convince her.”

You hurry over to him, hesitate for a second, then hug him gently. You’ve never hugged him in a normal setting. You break off of him and stand there, not quite knowing what to say next.

“Home race,” He says awkwardly. Lewis is hardly ever awkward. “Big deal.”

“Yeah.” You don’t mean to sound annoyed. Or tired. Or defeated.

“Family coming? I’d like to meet them. I don’t think I have, yet. “

That’s true. Your mother has been to two Grand Prix since the start of the season and your father and brother one, respectively. They’re busy people, but after last night, some part of you wonders if your mother intentionally schedules conflicts so that they can never make it.

That’s stupid, she says in your head. We love you. You’re the one who makes this whole thing impossible.

When they have shown up, you’ve kept them as far away as possible from cameras, and Lewis draws every camera in every room he steps foot in. Maybe your brother is right. Maybe you hide them because of some secret shame you hold for them. The only thing you’re ashamed of is how complicated your relationship with your family is.

“No. I-“

What?

Sent them home?

Told them to never show their faces around the paddock again?

Cried into Seb’s chest all of last night wishing I was dead because of how horrible they make me feel?

“Couldn’t deal with them today,” you say decisively. The media might see you as a stone cold bitch, so why not Lewis, too.

“They’re your family.”

“They hate me,” you whisper, turning back you your hangers. You’ve never said it out loud. Not to Max or Charles, not even to Hanna last night when she was helping you wash your face through swollen eyes and a runny nose.

“I’m sure they don’t-“

“You’ve never met them. My mom hates me. She loathes me and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I have given her everything and she still don’t bring herself to even like me a little bit. The rest this I’m too independent, too liberal, not liberal enough, too opinionated, too young, too smart, whatever. My dad and his side wish I went to university and my mom’s side tries to chase the fame. It sucks. It didn’t use to be like this, but it is now.”

You spare a glance back at him. He’s wide- eyed. This is probably the most he’s heard you talk without cracking a joke or bursting out laughing.

“Have you told Seb? Or… Max, Charles?”

“Seb, yes. Max would order a hit on my entire family if I told him this type of thing and Charles would hide the evidence.”

What you told Charles at Christmas, he didn’t acknowledge then and there, but he was noticeably cold to your mother when you brought her to see him.

Lewis studied you, then a look dawns on his face. It’s a mix of dread and fury, but he schools it quickly.

“Y/n,” He says in a very serious tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

Your brow furrows.

“Do they - does your mother or your father hit you?”

It wasn’t the question you’d expected, but it still makes your blood turn cold.

You think for a second, contemplate his expression, run the risks of him exploding if you tell him the truth.

“No…” you trail off. “Once. I made her mad when I was fifteen and-“ you raise your own hand and slap your face. “Never after though.”

She cried into your shoulder for hours after, telling you just how sorry she was, how she would never dream of laying another violent hand on you again.

Lewis’s mouth opens then closes. You purse your lips.

“I don’t need my family,” you whisper. “And I don’t need you to worry about me. I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, one that says:

There’s no way in hell I believe you.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

chalmaxy/nship

chalmaxy/nship: Max and Charles (+Pierre) teaming up to cheer Y/n up 😫 they are sooooo whipped for her (even tho they pretend they hate each other 🙄)

tagged: max33verstappen, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, yourusername, f1

liked by lestappenforever and 4773 others

view 627 comments

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

The video starts with the camera fixed on a very angry - looking Y/n. Her brow is set and her mouth is distorted in a flat line, which of course, is to be expected. She was obviously off her usual top-five worthy game today and has earned herself a starting position of P20.

The interviewer asks her a series of questions that she responds to very flatly and emotionlessly, so much so that her press officer elbows her in the side more than once to get an actual, genuinely not sarcastic answer out of her.

And then -

“Do you think your family issues are the reason you’ve performed so miserably today?”

She stops. Pauses, opens her mouth then closes it again.

“That,” she drags out bitingly. “was an incredibly stupid and insensitive question. Every question you’ve asked me today has been either completely patronizing or borderline inappropriate.”

She shoots a look at her press officer, shakes her head slightly, then leans into the microphone.

“You’ll understand why we’re choosing to cut this interview short.”

And then she turns and leaves the media pen.

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mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1: AAAAAaaaaaannnnnddd she’s done it again! A home race win is yet another thing our Spitfire can check off of her bucket list 💪

tagged: yourusername

liked by yourusername, f1 and 63720 others

view 67199 comments

user6: Admin really said yes she’s a spitfire yes she’s OUR Spitfire

user7: did anyone else notice how down Y/n seemed up on the podium tho

⮑ user11: Yeah, definitely not the energy we’re used to up there

yourusername: 🖤🖤

⮑user12: girl I need to know the tea behind the story and the tweet 🙏🙏🙏

user7: Call me crazy but she’s the biggest talent of her generation, not Verstappen

⮑ user8: you’re crazy

⮑user9: @/user8: did we not just watch the same race?

user10: she’s making the sport annoying.

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yourusername

yourusername: Great home race win guys! 🇺🇸💥💥🦅💥 lovely to share the podium with maxie and lewie

tagged: mercedesamgf1

liked by max33verstappen, charles_leclerc and 738291 others

view 7329 comments

max33verstappen: Get ready, I’m coming to get you in an hour to celebrate

⮑yourusername: I can’t drink here dumbass

⮑user13: MaxY/n confirmed???

taylorswift: So glad I finally got to meet you in person!

⮑ user14: TAYLOR SWIFT WAS THERE AND Y/N DIDNT EVEN MENTION IT???? OH SOMETHING’S WRONG WRONG

⮑ yourusername: 🖤

user15: U go Spitfire!!

user16: Y/n is such a bitch.

lewishamilton: This is starting to sound redundant, but congrats Y/n!

user17: I still can’t get over how rude she was to that reporter

⮑user18: EVERY reporter is rude and/or patronizing towards her. She deserves to bite back once and a while

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

True to his word, Max knocks on your door. You get up from the spot you’ve been staring out the window and open it.

He’s dressed up, ready to go out drinking, you suppose. You’ve changed into your pajamas and tied your hair up sloppily.

He arches his eyebrows.

“Ready to celebrate?”

You shrug.

“Not really in the mood. Plus I can’t drink here. You go ahead, tell the team to send me the bill and I’ll pick it up.”

You go to close the door then. He kicks his foot between the door and the doorframe.

“Come out. It could still be fun,” He offers. “It’s your home race. I’d be happy if I won at spa.”

He raised his eyes brows at you and you look down guiltily. You should be happy. You’ve broken a record of some kind, you’re pretty sure, and every other driver dreams of winning his home race.

“You’d be happy because your family would be there to see it,” you say bitterly. “Because then you’d be able to prove to them it wasn’t all for nothing. That you’re not selfish or - or something.”

Max closes the door when he hears your voice tremor. There’s a hard concern in his eyes.

“Go, Max. You should celebrate.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

You look him up and down. He’s gelled his hair and put on a non redbull shirt. Obviously he’s gearing up for a big night of celebrating.

“Tell me,” He says. “You can talk to me. I’m not a stranger to family issues.”

You scoff and flop onto your bed.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You love partying. It’s a big deal.”

It’s quiet, except for his slightly heavy breathing. Here’s Mad Max Verstappen, standing at the foot of your bed begging you to confide in him with his eyes. His big, sad, droopy eyes.

You cover your face with the your arm.

“I can’t believe they actually left,” you choke out. “I told them to go and they just … left. The first time my entire family could muster up the time and effort to spend an entire weekend supporting me and they decide to just go home.”

Max moves towards you, hesitates, then settles himself on the floor next to your bedside table.

“Why?”

You huff.

“I don’t know. I push them away. I get on my mom’s nerves. I try too hard to impress my dad. Did you know,” you take a deep breath. “Did you know my mother hasn’t told me good night or I love you in five years?”

He sits and stares out the window.

“Why doesn’t she love me, Max?”

It comes out more pathetic than you wanted it to. Max is probably one of the only people who might get it, just a little.

“Schat…” he trails off. “I don’t know.”

Max is two years older than you. Sometimes those two years feel like a lifetime. You wish he was a lifetime older than you so he would know.

“Maybe…” He trails off. “Fuck. Maybe some people just aren’t made to be parents.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to try and push down the sobs building in your chest. Max, thankfully, doesn’t react when you let out a soft gasp and sniff wetly. He just sits there and stares out the window

Eventually, you curl up in your bed and Max sits a on the other side (on top of the covers, a safe two feet away) and turn on Star wars (The prequels - he’s a huge nerd, surprise, surprise).

Maybe some people aren’t made to be parents.

Maybe some people aren’t made to be daughters.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

✧ ⁺ ⁺ Yelled down the hall

but nobody answered ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

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Aaannnnnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: A short and sad angsty hurt comfort type of thing… next chapter i swear will be happier !!

Want to join the taglist? drop a comment below or message my inbox

🏷️ @octavikravecell218 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @sugarrush-blush @scarletwidow3000 @umm-i-love-u

@tallrock35 @itsjustkhaos @dullwaterlily @demande @delululeclerc

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watchyourbuck · 10 months ago

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I really wanted to NOT analyze this scene bc it’s been done so many times but I’m a public menace, so

Buck and Eddie and Chris are at Buck’s loft, after a mission and a less than pleasant conversation w Bobby, and here are my thoughts:

We see Buck (who’s upset), cooking for Chris and Eddie, when — in the whole arc —, we never see him cook for Taylor (or Ali, or really, anyone else but the 118).

Recently therapied™️ Eddie doesn’t give a flying fuck about being interim captain, but has enough eyes to see Buck does. His voice softens, and he gives him foot to discuss his own feelings without hiding them bc Eddie doesn’t share them. (Bonus points bc he makes the same face he made after the lawsuit, in THE Kitchen Scene, when he tells Buck ‘not to beat himself up about it.’).

“Lucy is great– whatever-,” Buck says absentmindedly, and we get a glimpse of Eddie’s smug little face. It kind of implies he knows about the kiss, but opts to say nothing. He did, in fact, cheat on Taylor (and Chris is in the room). But the grin falls a little. Maybe he’s not so nonchalant about it, after all. Or maybe, he knows they (she and Buck) never stood a chance. He looks – relieved, almost.

Eddie feels comfortable enough to keep actually playing with his kid. Enough to win, actually. He doesn’t feel that comfortable at his parent’s house (5x17).

Buck keeps talking about this, and even if he acts like he doesn’t care (and Eddie has dealt with that sarcastic-coping-mechanism-tone Buck does one too many times), he’s visibly angry, so Eddie changes the subject. “What are you offering?”

“Right now? Bobby’s famous lasagna.” Okay, this doesn’t scream ‘I’m cooking you my family recipes’ to anyone else?

Then we have The Diaz’ compliments, which not only sound genuine, but make Buck grin. Like he did something right. Besides, it took him ‘three tries to get it right.’ Interesting, when other in the show has Buck not given up immediately after something doesn’t go his way? Surely, this had to be something he was very keen on achieving, cuz he barely cooks for himself.

Chris’ little ‘you don’t even have a couch’ is very funny to me. Because he’s a kid and he’s joking, or being smart. But Chris isn’t my focus here, it’s Eddie’s reaction. We do know kids absorb what their parents feel and say, right? Eddie laughs, so he must think alike. He looks almost drunk — all flushed cheeks, big smile, squinted eyes.

“My last two couches came with girlfriends” and the IMMEDIATE correction Eddie makes. We know Buck is at his most comfortable with the Diaz boys, so we know he’s not putting on a show. What he says – he means. Of the heart speaks the mouth. That’s how he feels about his past relationships, not the correction Eddie makes. (And if you may let me be annoying here, it’s kinda interesting, the correction. It sounds almost – hopeful. Eddie knows it’s supposed to be the way he corrects him to be, but in a way, he corrects him just to guarantee himself that that’s not what Buck meant ((and it’s not.)).

The way that Buck stops, stares and then plunges down on the chair. ‘Right,’ he thinks, ‘the girlfriends came with couches.’ Again, NOT his initial thought. He hides behind a grin.

Eddie is not careful mentioning Taylor. Buck isn’t heartbroken. He even mentions her in Chris’ presence, and we know by history they’ve always been careful. (If you ask me, that’s the reason they didn’t hook up after the ‘you wanna go for the title?’ scene).

“Maybe I don’t wanna pick the wrong couch again.” Please stay here for a second. In all objectivity we’re talking about furniture…, right? This is a three-street conversation, because Chris added himself to it, yet Buck won’t look at him. He looks at Eddie, very intently. As if… as if he’s saying something different with his words. Huh, whatever could he mean? (Faint whispers of: ‘your couch, you, I wanna pick you, I wanna pick you, pick me, too.’) And then Eddie, who is Oblivious Firefighter of the Year (awarded) brings the conversation down again to the actual topic, and Buck deflates, like his balloon has been popped. His eyes literally stop glimmering.

So, is this a conversation two best friends who are comfortable in that title would have?

#yall tell me #if I’m off I’m off #but I don’t think I’m off #buddie #911 fox #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 tv show #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie #buck and eddie #911 abc #911 on abc #911 buddie #buddie 911

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storiesfromafan · 1 month ago

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Chaos - Draco x Reader

A/N: so I am finally posting a Draco one shot. Thank the lovely Sabrina Carpenter for this, as Taste inspired me 😂

I am feeling really inspired by both Sabrina and Taylor Swift. I have an idea for imgonnagetyouback for Mattheo, which will have a choose happy or f' you ending haha.

If anyone has any songs that could inspire me, or have you coming up with an idea, please share them and I'll give writing them a go 😊

Warning: use of the word shag, not really language but bitchiness. Mean spirit. Sass is real.

Slytherin's are known for being territorial. And if you so much as touch, speak to or glance to long at a Slytherin's partner, you better get out of Hogwarts asap. Or deal with the consequences. The worst being the females. They are never to be trifled with, because those girls aren’t afraid to use their fangs. Either you will be physically dealt with, or your reputation would become null avoided. You will be the low of the low, a blimp on a social map. Moaning Myrtle will have more social standing then you.

But put female Slytherin vs female Slytherin, and it is pure chaos. And you like chaos. Live and breath to deliver it. Which brings us to current events. Draco and Pansy had broken up a few months ago. Of course being one to despise the annoying leach, that Pansy is, you were there for Draco. And in the process got to have your fun with him. Which in fact was fun for him too, as I quote ‘Pansy was always clingy and annoying. She barely did anything for me, I hardly wanted to touch her' end quote.

You obliged poor Draco. Sneaking off to snog in empty classrooms or halls. Light and heavy petting. Not to mention some interesting places to shag. He might not have been number one in that department – cough Mattheo Riddle cough – but Draco was top three. And you just know there were rumours flying around – maybe partially from your own mouth – and dear, dreary Pansy had to have heard about them. In fact you hoped she did. You welcome the chaos that will bring. She needed to be brought down a peg.

You woke up this morning, showered, done your hair and make up, like usual. And you chose today to drop the shit storm that you had been scheming. The day before Pansy had been a royal c you next Tuesday. The tipping point being making you fall from your broom, thankfully you hadn’t been too high off the ground. Prior to that it had been a lot of passive aggressive comments. So, you knew you had to finally give it to her.

Moving to your uniform on the bed, you smiled sweetly as you imagined how this was going to go down. One of your room mates called out you would be late for breakfast if you don’t hurry. Without missing a beat you up on the skirt and button up shirt, followed by your tie, socks and shoes. Choosing to for go your cardigan, you needed your choices to have full effect. With one last look at yourself, you grabbed your bag and headed to the Great Hall.

You noticed the looks you got from those in passing. And when you made it to breakfast, the looks you got only intensified. Yet no one said anything. Your room mates looked to you, then each other and then back to you. But remained quiet. They knew there was a reason for your uniform today. But decided to not ask questions, this way they wouldn’t be implemented in your scheme.

You knew people were whispering to each other, but never addressed you about it. Not even from your walk from the Great Hall to your first class; Transfiguration. By the time you arrived to class everyone was there except for a couple of late shows. You walked into the room, eyes looking to you as you walked closer to the front were Professor McGonagall stood.

The older woman cast a glance to you, eyes moving on till they flew back to you. She took a couple steps forward, gaze analysing you. The way her face went from blank to slight annoyance seemed to go noticed by you. But you were about to be addressed.

“Miss (L/N)” McGonagall began, making you look to the woman just before you took your seat, and all attention on you. “What in Devils are you wearing!? Where is your uniform!?”

You faked embarrassment. “I’m so sorry Professor. I was in a rush this morning and looked to have put on the wrong shirt". Such a lair you are. But it was part of your plan.

She tsked. “Not good enough Miss (L/N). After morning classes you best change into the correct shirt".

With that the Professor turned and went to the front of the room. By now all students were present. You took your seat, feeling curious eyes upon you. Along with the whispers around you at the elephant finally being addressed.

Transfiguration was lack lustre. McGonagall just rambling on, and the persistent whispers about you. Finally free, you exited the classroom with your room mates. Unfortunately, yet perfectly planned, just down the hall was your target: Pansy. She was with both Draco and Blaise. As you approached, about to pass, did she make her presence known.

Turning to her two companions, yet gaze on you, Pansy spoke rather loudly. “How scandalous to be wearing a males shirt. I wouldn’t dare advertise my escapades".

Perfect. She took the bait. You smiled, stopping to turn to the three. “What escapades would you have to advertise? From my knowledge you weren’t one for really that much".

The students who just happened to be around for the interaction snickered. Pansy's face flushing in embarrassment. Ah, how you felt some satisfaction. But wanted – needed more, hoping she would fire up. And you got your wish.

Turning to glare at you, hands on her hips. Pansy relied, “what I get up to is no ones business!”

“Hmmm" you mused. “Really? Again, I know first hand you don’t get up to much dear".

If smoke could have come out of ears, Pansy's would be going off. She sputtered with words before finally getting out, “well at least I don’t wear some random guy’s shirt!”

Ah, the magic words you had been hoping for. Leaning in, biggest grin on your face, you said; “oh it’s no random guy’s. I know exactly who's shirt this is...”

Pansy looked to you with baited breath. So you went on.

“Maybe you should check Draco's closet sometime. Either he’ll be missing a shirt, or he may have one of mine. I don’t know, I haven’t counted my shirts lately". Your tone was sickeningly sweet, like honey.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead. Pansy looked like she wanted blood. Draco stood behind her, having watched and heard it all, looking fearful of the two of you. For you see, it had been almost two weeks since they’d gotten back together. Though you didn’t believe for long.

“Why you-" Pansy began before you hushed her.

“Now, now Pansy" you slightly sang, leaning in so she could hear you. “Every time you close your eyes, and feel his lips, you’re feeling mine. And every time you breathe his air just know I was already there”.

Pansy watched you, taking in your words. It was simple truth you were spilling. And she hated it.

You stepped back, wicked smile on your lips. “You can have him if you like. I’ve been there, done that once or twice" you shrugged. “I know I’ve been known to share". Finally sealing it all with a cheeky wink.

With that you turned around and began to move on to your next class. Letting your words sink into the retched girl. And when you reached the end of the hall did you hear her shrill, angry cry. Ah, music to your ears. The sheer joy you felt right now. Knowing how you burst Pansy’s bubble was the perfect chaos for the day.

You know she would come for you. Physically or verbally. Either way, you were here for it. Ready to go to battle. Only downfall was poor Draco, being collateral damage. But you know he would get over it, or you’d let him get over you to make up for it.

Unbuttoning the collar button to Draco's shirt and loosening your tie, you kept making your way to class. A shit eating grin on your face, and pep in your step. Chaos really was one of your best past times.

#Draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #Draco x reader #draco one shot #Draco x Fem!reader

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hwangism143 · 6 months ago

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empty

synopsis: minho and his antics, of which you and your family must endure.

pairing: dad!minho x fem!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: mentions of food, vaccines (?), swearing

word count: 1.2k words

now playing: seven - taylor swift

requested: by @stayinlimbo (have your own requests? find the prompt list here)

a/n: i could have made this very angsty and sad. i could. but i didn't since i'll save that hurt for later and dad minho is simply top tier. also, this is a first day of school present (pls wish me luck).

"just like a folk song, our love will live on"

There were several problems in the world that you should have been worried about: poverty, hunger, war; but there was only one problem in your world which you were currently worried about: a purple lunch bag.

You set off on your conquest, the lunchbox being lost to the point where you were rummaging in places where you knew it wouldn't be. (The act certainly did earn you confused stares from your family, wondering why you were rifling through the shoe closet.)

As you continued tossing things aside and internally screaming at why something had to go wrong today of all days, you heard a meek voice coming from the living room, which was behind you.

"I'm sorry," the voice came, followed by a sniffle.

"No, don't be sorry. It's not you fault," Minho said softly.

You smiled softly at the interaction before focusing on the task ahead once again. When you finally spotted the lunch bag behind the cat food in the pantry, the gears in your head started turning. You let out a small laugh when you realized the scope of the situation.

Walking over to where the two other occupants of the apartment were standing, you held out the purple lunch bag and dropped down to your knees.

Your daughter Minji gasped in wonder, here eyes wide, "You found it!"

Share wrapped her arms around your neck as you responded tightly, "I sure did."

Over Minji's shoulder, you caught Minho's eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him and he just innocently blinked in response.

"Alright, all set to go?" Minho asked gently once Minji finally peeled herself of your body.

You both knew that the overtly long embrace was not only because of the then lost now found lunch bag, but because of the nervousness that was hidden deep in the crevices of her heart now that she had to face the reality of her first day of school.

No matter the amount of anxiety that resided in her though, because Minji's excitement overshadowed all else.

Nodding enthusiastically, she slipped her hand into Minho's. The juxtaposition of her tiny hand adorned with glittery bracelets and his larger hand with a single brown watch nearly made you tear up. Shit, were you pregnant again?

Minho and Minji were practically out of the door when she squealed, "Wait! I almost forgot!"

Shoving her lunch bag into the hands a perplexed Minho, Minji ran back inside and to the tiny corner of the living room where the cats were peacefully sleeping. Minho exchanged a glance with you and quickly whipped out his phone, not knowing what Minji was about to do but eager to capture it anyways.

Minji hurriedly bent down and placed a kiss on each cat's fur. "Be," mwah! "good," mwah! "and don't," mwah! "annoy mom," she finally finished with a content expression on her face.

You nearly doubled over in laughter and turned around to look at Minho. You expected him to have a similar reaction but instead found tears glistening in his eyes. Sending a pout his way, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you asked, "Are you crying?"

Minho sniffed, "No. Yes. Maybe."

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and leaned against you, the two of you quietly observing the outcome of the life you had built together. Materialistically, it was a four bedroom house. Emotionally, it was home. Literally, the scene in front of you was a five year old girl kissing three cats.

To you, it was family.

You pressed your lips against his cheek. "Go drop Minji off at school," you told him sweetly, "And then we'll discuss why you hid our daughter's lunch bag behind the goddamn cat food."

Minho's eyes widened fractionally until he finally let out a defeated sigh. He shifted his position so that now, you arms were around his neck and his arms were around your hips. The lunch bag hung from his wrist and occasionally bumped against your body.

"The house will be so empty," he argued, "I'll have nothing to do and no one to talk too. And you know how I am when I'm alone."

It was true; Minho's separation anxiety was an extremely comical topic of conversation. When you took Minji to visit your parents for two days, Minho called up his members so much that you started to receive complaints from his friends.

("I took my son to get a vaccine," Hyunjin ranted, "A vaccine and this man was blowing up my phone with anime memes. I don't even watch anime!")

You were about to give him a response when Minji came over, shooting the two of you a dirty look. Minho chuckled nervously and quickly detached himself from you. You placed a kiss on Minji's cheek and with a 'bye mommy!', she was dragging her father out the door.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

She was one of the most treasured people in his life. He would move heaven and earth for her, at just a request. He would kill and die for her, at her behest.

Minho thought that losing her to that horrible institution would kill him. He was overdramatizing, per usual, but it still pained him. As soon as her hand slipped from his, it dawned on him just how easily temporal loss could turn into a permanent one.

But on his drive home, Minho reflected on her beaming smile that rivaled the beauty of a rainbow. He was going to watch his baby grow, and be there every step of the way. And threaten any significant others she finds on her journey during their first meeting with possible oven baking, if you allowed it.

━━━━━━━✦✗✦━━━━━━━━

Later that night, when you secretly told Minji about the mischievous antics her father was up to (he tried eavesdropping, but she promptly told him off), she gasped as if you had just fed her the juiciest piece of celebrity gossip their was.

She quickly admonished her father for it ("appa, that is not kind!") while Minho bit back laughter, silently convulsing at her words. He later moped around you when Minji went to bed, ignoring the way you were coaxing him into bed until you apologized.

When you asked him why you should apologize, he defended himself with "You can't go around sharing our inside jokes! I want something just for me and you. In case you were wondering, kisses and cuddles will help."

Soon, it became a Lee household tradition for Minho to hide Minji's lunch bag the first day of school. You and Minji would then wake up and pretend that there would be disastrous consequences if the lunch bag wasn't found.

Despite the changing environment and personal developments taking place in all of you, two things always stayed the same during these annual games: the now old and battered lunch bags and Minho's fond gaze as he watched his wife and daughter set out to find the lunch bag.

This was the same gaze he wore when he hid Minji's graduation cap and prom dress. It was the same gaze he had when Minji introduced the boyfriend he knew would be the one and watching her walk down the aisle.

It was the same gaze he portrayed on his face when he was old and graying, with Minji soon bringing over kids over her own and work drama.

He wore this gaze often and with pride because he knew, no matter how empty his house would feel at times, he heart would be filled with people he loved and people who loved him, never deprived.

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

main taglist (reply to be added):

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

@hongshuaknow @cookiesandcreammy

#- via's fics <3 #lee know #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n

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traveler-at-heart · 1 year ago

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Finding Home

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. - First few chapters feature a platonic relationship but maybe it will develop. Who knows! Let's enjoy the ride :)

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, past violence.

Part 1

“You can’t be serious”

“I am always serious, Barton”

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know what else to do, how to make this situation any better. Take down an enemy, that’s easy. You just shoot an arrow.

This required more than an arrow.

“She helped us kill Dreykov. What more proof do you want, Fury?”

“I want training. And regular sessions with a S.H.I.E.L.D. shrink. And constant surveillance”

“So I’m a babysitter now?” Clint looked out the window.

“You made a decision, Barton, and now it’s time to stick by it” Fury said in a tone that made it clear the conversation was over.

“Yeah, but I was expecting a little more help from your side” the man grumbled. They both stared out the window.

“I already did. Secretary Ross wanted to prosecute you”

—

Clint left Fury’s office, aware that Natasha was following him. He was used to it by now. Without speaking to her, he walked to one of the tables in the cafeteria, resting his head on his hands.

The redhead stood by the wall, looking around as if she was ready to escape.

Maybe she would, and then he’d be so screwed not even Fury could help him.

“What’s wrong?” he heard a voice say. Clint lifted his head and saw you, smiling at him.

“I have a headache”

“And a shadow” you nodded to Natasha. As one of Fury’s apprentices, you’d heard about her already. The young woman before you was stunning in a way that was hard to ignore.

Her green eyes examined you as you leaned forward, offering your hand to introduce yourself. She kept staring and Clint chuckled.

“Scary” you said, not taking offense in her guarded demeanor. “So, what now?”

“I don’t know. I need to clear my head” the man stood up. “Wanna come to the gym with us?”

“After you”

—

Natasha was beautiful, yes. But now you understood the Black Widow monicker completely.

In a matter of minutes, she left Clint completely defeated.

Good thing she was on your side, right?

“Agent Y/L/N” Fury walked up to you as you left the gym, still thinking about Natasha’s incredible technique.

“Sir?”

“What do you make of Romanoff?”

“Well… she’s... I don’t think I have the words. She doesn’t need training, that’s for sure. In fact, she should be training our people”

“I need to know if I can trust her first. The way I trust you, and Barton, and Hills”

You crossed your arms, because Fury already knew what the plan was gonna be. And all you could do was listen and accept it.

“The secret Penthouse. I already told Maria to give you access and everything you need. Natasha stays there with you. Earn her trust”

“I can’t lie to her, Fury, and neither can you. A golden prison is still a prison” he rolled his eyes and you tried to hide your smile. It was always fun to annoy Fury with your morals.

“This is what I imagine it would be like to work with Captain America. And it ain’t fun, Y/L/N”

“I’m not saying I won’t help”

“But you’ll do it your way. Fine. No one listens to me anymore”

“Maybe you’re going soft”

—

Fury requested daily reports, which was to be expected. Except you only saw Natasha once and she barely spoke to you.

You cooked all three meals, trying to guess what she’d liked, knocked on her door to let her know it was time to eat, and then she’d wait for you to finish to come out.

Same with training. She hit the gym at break of dawn. You only saw her whenever you drove her to Doctor Taylor’s office, who was assigned to her case and then later, before dinner when she’d answer your questions about her work as a Black Widow and gave you all the information she could remember about Dreykov’s operations.

A week after moving to the penthouse, Fury and Maria showed up.

“We’re just checking”

“I sent you everything she’s told me. She’s being cooperative”

“That’s not enough” Fury said. Natasha came out of her room in that moment and you looked over your shoulder. “Let’s see what you’re made of”

“I already told you she doesn’t need training”

“Of course. I meant you, Agent” he pointed at you. “You said Romanoff should be training us. I know she can kick Barton’s ass. What about yours?”

Natasha did. You were thrown around in ten different ways, always discovering a new weak spot that you’d never thought about before.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s young promise, panting and sweating on the gym’s floor. Begging for your life.

The last time Natasha knocked you down, you stayed there. You couldn’t take another round.

“Train together. Every day” Fury requested and you nodded.

To your surprise, Natasha offered her hand to help you up.

You smiled and took it. Fury was gone before you could say anything to him.

“Make sure you ice that punch” Maria pointed at your split lip and you sighed.

“Thanks, Hill”

As the warm water of the shower soothed your muscles, you kept going back to Natasha’s flawless movements. Of course you had read her file. The Red Room training included all kinds of physical demands and oddly enough, ballet.

To reach that level of perfection and control, Natasha must have worked out endlessly, without rest, without room for error.

Without a life. Or a childhood.

Knowing you’d be sore the next day, you took painkillers and went to the kitchen to start with dinner.

To your surprise, Natasha was already there.

“I’m sorry” she said as soon as your eyes locked. Before you could ask, the redhead clarified. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“Oh. It’s not your fault that I’m out of shape”

“You’re not… I’m just…”

“Better” you said, laughing. There was the glimpse of a smile on her lips.

“I can help with dinner if you want to. That pasta you made the other day was good. You’ll just have to tell me how to prepare some stuff”

“Sure. We’ll make it together” you offered, standing behind the kitchen counter. “Just don’t tell my mom I gave you the secret ingredients for the sauce. I’m supposed to share it only with the girl I marry”

When you were met with silence, you thought your attempt at a joke had gone unnoticed. Instead, you found Natasha looking at the knife you were offering so she could chop the tomatoes.

“Are you sure you want to give me a weapon?”

“What? You’re gonna chop these with your ninja moves? Come on, Nat. If you wanted me dead, you could do it with a pencil. That much is clear”

“Ok” Natasha nodded, taking it and following your instructions. You cooked in silence, until she spoke again. “No one’s ever called me Nat before”

“Sorry. Is that ok?”

“I think so”

“Alright” you nodded, smiling at her.

—

For a week, Natasha put her entire focus on your training and a new, pleasant routine developed.

Training, prepping meals, doctor Taylor, more training, dinner. Small talk here and there. Natasha never asked you personal questions, but you volunteered information about your family.

Clint stopped by and you could tell that Natasha trusted him more than anyone, including you. It was only logical, considering he was the one who put his ass on the line for her.

Maybe things would move along if he was the one here, instead of you. But Fury trusted you with this, and you had to follow his lead.

He always had a reason for eveything.

—

The autumn rain hit the penthouse windows. Natasha looked out, her head resting against her knees.

“Here” you offered a cup of hot cocoa. It was a lazy day, and you’d rather spend it making cookies than getting your ass kicked.

Sitting next to Natasha, she looked over at you as you took a sip of your own cup.

“What?” you asked when she smiled.

“You have whipped cream on your nose”

“Oh, you think that’s funny? Here” you leaned forward, getting some cream on her cheek.

“сука” she said playfully.

“I love it, let’s learn Russian curse words instead. That will please Fury”

“So, we don’t have to train today?” Natasha asked in a small voice. It almost sounded like… a child, asking if she could skip school.

“No, never if you don’t feel like it. Ok?”

“Ok” she nodded, looking out the window.

But your eyes, they remained on her. Hoping, wishing, you could help Natasha build a life worth living. Part 2

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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talkdutchtome · 1 year ago

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Glitch - teaser

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

warning . . . tbd )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . this is a little section of the first chapter as a little teaser for what's to come. hope you like it )

“Mason why did you and Y/N come in together, aren’t your places on opposite sides of the city?” Ben asked his best friend already knowing the answer to his question. Despite the fact that Y/N worked for Mason as his assistant, the pair were close, very close; so when they arrived to the party in the same car, Ben didn’t have to wonder too hard about the reason why. “Oh, she was at mine for a movie night last night and she was too tired to go home so she stayed.” Mason told his friend matter-of-factly, not seeing what the issue was or why his friend in front of him looked so annoyed. Even if you took away the widely inappropriateness of an employer having his employee stay at his house, there was the small issue of the fact that Y/N was madly in love with Mason and had been for years now. As much as she tried her best to keep it hidden, the only person in their circle that didn’t seem to know about it was Mason himself. Ben and Reece had a conversation a few days before, discussing whether they should tell Mason as from an outside perspective, even if it was unintentional, he did seem to be leading Y/N on; they both knew their friend extremely well, so they knew that he didn’t have the same feelings that she had for him and they knew that if Mason knew the full story there are aspects of his relationship with her that he might change.

“Look mate,” Ben started, unsure of exactly what to say but knowing he needed to say something. “I think you should know that Y/N has feelings for you” Mason’s brows furrowed, completely taken aback by his friends' blunt honesty. “What? No are you sure?” he asked him, truly hoping that he was mistaken or playing some kind of prank. “I’m 100% sure, it’s obvious to be honest with you mate. You can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, she really truly loves you. Having her stay at your place and being that close to her, it’s going to make her think that someday you two could be more than friends, so if that’s not the case then you really need to reconsider doing things like that as it isn’t fair on her. Y/N’s a good girl, you know that she deserves to be happy.” Ben’s words make Mason’s head spin. Y/N was more to him than just his employee, she was one of his closest friends, but he really didn’t see her as anything but a friend. “Oh, fuck Ben what should I do?” Mason asked with his brain completely frazzled at this point, 15 minutes ago he was feeling great, he had just had a great day with one of his best friends and then then he came to a party to blow off some steam after a very stressful week, but now it seemed like everything had come crashing down. “I think you need to speak to her, make it clear that you value her friendship but you don’t see her as anything else, let her down gently.” he told Mason who simply nodded before starting to walk towards the girl in question who was at the bar talking to one of the other players girlfriends., the second Ben realized what he was trying to do he put a hand out to stop him from going over there, causing Mason to look back at him with a puzzled expression. “Maybe telling her right this minute isn’t the best idea though mate, considering you’re in public. Not to mention the fact we’ve all got that trip planned for the Spanish Grand Prix in a few days, maybe you should wait until after that. If things don’t go well that could make the whole trip so awkward.” Ben pleaded at his friend, but he could see on Mason’s face that his words were going in one ear and out the other. “Fine go, but be nice to her and you better not ruin the race for everyone” he relented, taking his arm off of his friend and letting him walk towards the unsuspecting girl.

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?” Mason asked with no regard for the fact that she was already deep in conversation with somebody else. His bluntness combined with the pained look on his face made her recognize instantly that whatever he wanted to talk about wasn’t likely to be lighthearted. She hesitantly followed the man as he gestured for her to come along to a quieter part of the bar. Before she could ask what was going on, Mason had already asked her a question that made her stomach sink - “Do you have feelings for me?” She had absolutely no idea how to answer his question, of course she knew the answer; she had been pining after him for years at this point, but she just wasn’t ready for him to know that yet. “Will you please just answer my question?” he almost demanded, his harsh tone making her freeze. Looking up at her best friend with tear filled eyes she muttered the last thing he wanted to hear - “Yes”. Her voice was so faint that it didn’t come out as anything more than a whisper but to Mason it was the loudest thing he had ever heard. Y/N had imagined having this conversation with Mason so many times, imagined herself finally telling him that she loved him but in all her fantasies, in all her daydreams, he had never flinched like he had done just now. “Mason I -” she started but stopped in her tracks when she saw tears forming in her best friend’s eyes. “How could you do this Y/N, why would you ruin our friendship like this?” he asked her in genuine disbelief. Mason watched the girl stood in front of him stumble over her words, clearly not expecting to be asked that question, before putting her almost full glass down on the table and running out of the bar.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #football x reader

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

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cornelia street

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: mentions of drinking, reader has diabetes, mentions of misogyny in the workplace, satoru and reader are lawyers, gojo calls reader bonnie bc they're bonnie and clyde, a teenager who pees on da sidewalk, and a bitchy barista

an: 50+ listens to cornelia street and she's done. a request from the lovely @skzismyhome I hope you love it pookie and thank you for your support always!!!

You look down at the contract in front of you, willing down the angry tears settling in your eyes.

You knew that this day would come. It comes for everyone, for every son and daughter in higher society. The day they arrange your marriage.

And you never really dreaded it. Or hated it. Utahime was nearly murderous when it was happening to her, Shoko almost eloped and moved to the countryside when it was her turn, and Mei Mei was the only one who actually disappeared off the face of the Earth.

But you didn’t really care. Since you were young, you knew that this was something that you were being primed for. Why you had to be the best. You just hoped when it happened, it would be everything like your parents.

They didn’t love each other. But they were partners. By each other’s side. More like friends who just also happened to be married and had kids together.

But like all things in higher society, you never get what you want. Because the idiot you’re signing the papers with is the most entitled, self-centered egotistical asshat you’ve ever met.

Satoru Gojo.

“Last matter of business. I think this decision lands on Y/N, since Satoru made the last one. Where would you like to live?”

You scribble your answer onto the page and sign the line next to your name at the bottom. Satoru follows suit, sliding the ring box to your side, as you both shuffle in your seats.

Satoru has no reason to hate you. If anything, he should be praising the fucking ground you walk on for what he did to you. You slide the ring on your own finger and collect the papers, sealing them into the envelope.

“Where did you pick? For us to live?”

“Cornelia Street.”

You and Satoru butt heads often. You start it. Sometimes he argues back. You’re both pissed off by the end of it.

“I’ll run the errands, Satoru.”

He groans as he swings open the fridge, pulling out his leftovers from the night before.

“It’s literally right next to my office. I could just grab it if you tell me what it is you need.”

“No, thank you. I can get my things on my own.”

“Why are you so stubborn all the time? You haven’t even let me do anything since-”

“I can do my shopping on my own, thanks.”

You would let Satoru do it. You would. Because it is really annoying to run down to the store every time you need something, but you’re not giving in.

Because that would require you to indulge Satoru in more personal information than you would like to, so you can’t. Because you don’t fraternize with the devil.

The thing you need from the store isn’t actually from the store, it’s from the pharmacy next to it. You’re out of your long insulin pods, because you’ve been so busy with work. Because your own pancreas is so stupid, it can’t produce it’s own insulin. You have to buy it from the store, in a stupid little patch that painfully pricks into your stomach every time you insert it.

He blocks the doorway as you try to walk out, blue eyes peering into yours.

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you?”

“Because that worked out so well for me last time, Satoru.”

He groans as he presses his fingers to his nose bridge, nearly rolling his eyes at you.

“You know. If you’d let me explain that, I’d actually-”

“There’s nothing to explain. I asked you to give me a shoo in for my dream job. You quite explicitly told them not to hire me.”

Three summers ago was the first time you were graced with Satoru Gojo’s presence. And hell, you actually tolerate him. Maybe even liked him. You were both doing an internship, at the Zenin’s law firm in Brooklyn.

You and Satoru were somewhat of a…dream team. Every case you worked on together gave you a rush, like he’d finish your thoughts before you were thinking. Like you picked up where he lacked and vice versa. You were Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime.

So when they gave Satoru the associate position first, you asked him to pick you for the second associate opening. Because the person who gets that opening gets to be his partner. And you had convinced him - that you two would be a dream team, that you would be unstoppable. He agreed, in fact - he promised he would give it to you.

Which is why you felt blindsided when they picked an outsider, Getou Suguru, as the associate. And when you asked the head of the Zenin’s, Toji, why he didn’t pick you, you were mad. Why you weren’t the associate when you ran to get coffee for all of them all summer, stayed up late on cases, and busted your ass off, he said that Satoru didn’t think you were a good fit. And he has to make sure staff has good personal relations.

“Why are you so stubborn? You literally won’t even talk to me about-”

“I don’t want to talk to you! What part of that do you not fucking understand? I don’t like you. I’m never going to like you because you’re an egotistical, sadistic little prick and-

“And what are you? You’re an entitled little know it all. You don’t even listen before jumping to your own fucking conclusions about-”

“It’s not jumping to conclusions when Toji tells me straight to my face that you didn’t think I was a good fit. You’re fucking dense as fuck if you think I don’t know that.”

You push past him, marching angrily down Cornelia Street.

You press your face against the glass, watching the mounds of snow out in the street. You and Satoru have been snowed in on Cornelia Street for three days now, the stupid climate change induced storm in the middle of November trapping you for good.

In theory, you would have loved something like this. A break from work for a few days, nice weather for you to watch movies and cuddle up on the couch. Except, there’s an intruder in your house who has the same ideas as you.

“Hey.”

“Shove a fork in your eye, Satoru.”

“You get more creative as time goes on. I appreciate that in a wife.”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the kitchen, where Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen.

“Did you eat all the food already?”

“You know, if you actually did groceries on time, maybe we would actually have food for emergencies like this, Satoru.”

“First you don’t want me to do groceries and now you do? You’re so unpredictable it’s like-”

“I’m unpredictable? You’ve got to be kidding-”

“Oh my god. We’re not doing this today. I get it. I stole your dream job. Ruined your life. You hate me. Just, shut up about it already.”

He’s swirling the spoon through the saucepan as he waits for it, your irritated, agitated retort. And it doesn’t come.

He looks over to find you all but leaning over the counter, your head pressing into your forearm as you wobble on your feet. He instinctively reaches forward, holding you up in his arms.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you-”

You lean forward against his chest, pressing your hands against his biceps as you feel your legs go limp. Right. Day three on Cornelia Street. With no extra insulin pods left.

“I’m out of-”

You slump forward more this time and Satoru drops the spoon on the floor, securing you against him as he leads you to the couch, laying you down flat on your back. His hands are on your face, firm on your cheeks as his voice starts wavering.

“What-what do I do? Tell me how to fix this, I-”

“Candy. Or anything sugar should-”

You can’t even finish the sentence before he bolts up, rummaging through the drawers before he returns. His touch is so gentle, so featherlike, as he helps you up, his hands shaking as he helps you drink the juice.

His hand is rubbing circles into your back, his cheek pressed into the top of your head as you both slow your breathing. And when you level out, Satoru’s hands are pressed around your face again, cupping your cheeks again.

“You okay, Bonnie?”

Bonnie. Like that summer, when you were Bonnie and Clyde.

“Yeah.”

“You’re positive?”

“Mhm.”

“Perfect. Are you a fucking dumbass?”

You lean your face out of his touch, more confused and disoriented than before. You-you just passed out and he’s yelling at you?

“Satoru. You’re so rude. I just-”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m yelling at you. I’m yelling at you because we literally live together and are married and you didn’t tell me you have fucking diabetes.”

“Okay. And?”

“And? You can’t be fucking serious right now-”

He pushes off the couch, pacing back in forth in front of you as he starts yelling, angrily running his hands through your hair.

“You’re-you’re this fucking mad at me? It was one job. And you-you would compromise your health over it?”

“This isn’t compromising my health. I just didn’t know there would be a storm and-”

“Y/N. Oh my fucking god, get it through your thick head. I’m your emergency contact. If you were fucking dying in a hospital and they ask me what’s wrong with you, I wouldn’t know. And then they would probably kill you because I didn’t know you had diabetes.”

You lean your head back against the couch, feeling the strain all at once. You’re drained. And you hate it when Satoru’s right. Because he is your emergency contact, because he’s your husband - whether you like it or not.

After not responding right away, Satoru leans back onto the couch with you, a hand pressed in your hair. He’s brushing through the tresses, his voice soft when he speaks again.

“God, Bonnie. Just let me take care of you.”

“That didn’t work out wel-

“Well for you last time. Quit saying the same shit over and over again. That was three years ago. And we’re…married now. I’m..supposed to take care of you now and I’m going to so just let me.”

You deflate as he keeps running his hands through your hair, the lack of insulin and energy surely imparing your inhibitions.

“Fine.”

He turns over to you, a wide smirk pressed against his face.

“Fine? You, Y/N L/N, agreeing with me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs, leaning his head against yours as he moves his arm down your back, squeezing your side once before he talks again.

“Got any other big secrets you’re keeping from me?”

“I murdered a guy. He’s in our attic.”

“Ouch. What did he do, Bonnie?”

“It was an accident. I thought he was you.”

He presses your face into his hand, rolling his eyes at you.

Satoru is pleasantly surprised to find out that you don’t argue with just him, your unfiltered and unabashed rage is something that you do with everyone. Your latest victim? Your little brother, Yuuta.

You’ve been screaming at him for a better part of the past hour, because Yuuta’s being a fucking idiot. Yuuta was never into the whole arranged marriage, higher society thing. And you knew that.

You just never think he’d come to your place, asking you and Satoru for money so he could run away with Maki.

“This is the wrong move, Yuu. You’re only nineteen.”

“I have to do this now. I can’t do what you did. I don’t care if you like him now and you’re friends or whatever, I just really…really love her, okay?”

“You love her? Then stop being a fucking idiot about it. You’re both making a stupid decision that’s just going to hurt you. You can’t just run away from your problems.”

“Y/N. You’re always think you know what’s best and you control-”

“Yuuta, you little piece of-”

Satoru stops you before you walk further, yanking you back by firmly pulling on your wrist. He leans forward, whispering I got this in your ear before yanking Yuuta out of your apartment and down the opposite block of Cornelia Street.

When they return, they both have the audacity to be smiling, Yuuta holding two cups of Coppola’s Coffee in his hand. He sets one in front of you, awkwardly brushing his hand against his neck.

“Sorry, Y/N. You’re right.”

You smile.

“What was that? I didn’t really hear you.”

“You were right.”

“One more time. A little louder, Yuu.”

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He walks back, pressing a kiss to your cheek and bidding goodbye to Satoru as he drags out the door. You turn to your side, glaring at Satoru.

“What did you say to him?”

“Ah, you know. The usual.”

“The usual?”

“Just talked him down. Told him if he really likes this Maki girl then he should ask us for help. We are his older siblings and all. That you just get mad because you care about him.”

You roll your eyes as you lie face down on the counter, cheeks burning. You’re his older siblings. Because Satoru’s his brother in law. You feel him tapping on your head, gleefully grinning at you.

“What?”

“Guess what time it is.”

“You know, just because I pass out one time on accident doesn’t mean-”

He presses his fingers to your lips, rolling his eyes as he places it in your hands. A pack of almonds.

“Satoru.”

“Did you know that almonds are the perfect snack? Because they’re high in magnesium, potassium-”

“And vitamin E. Making the perfect nutrient-rich snack for those with impaired glucose tolerance.” you finish, mimicking his high pitched voice.

He opens up the packet, pouring them all into your hand. And then he watches you eat every single one. You come up with an insult for each one you eat.

“You’re a disgrace to humanity, Satoru.”

“And?”

“And a little pain in the ass. Like you know when you get a pimple stuck right in between your butt and it hurts to sit down? That’s what you are.”

“Descriptive. Just one more almond and you’re done, Bonnie. Make the insult good.”

“I don’t take orders from men. Least of all you.”

You place the last one in your mouth, chewing and then sticking your tongue out to Satoru, to show you did in fact eat the entire thing.

“That’s my girl. Not only does she eat all her food but hurls scathing insults at the same time.”

“Being your biggest hater is my full time job, Satoru.”

He laughs, pinching your cheek as he starts milling around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Ever since you and Satoru got snowed in and he found out about everything, you…were both surprisingly tame. Not at Bonnie and Clyde pre-getting backstabbed levels, but he’s not…horrible to be around. And he never really was.

Because Satoru’s thoughtful. He’s googled all the ways to control blood sugar, reserached different pods for you to try, and always tries to balance the dinner (that you now let him make for you) to make sure that you’re eating all right.

And he’s funny. He’s convinced you into watching the Bachlorette with him every week. And you’re above corny reality shows but his commentary is just so ridiculous you can’t help but watch with him.

And he even got Yuuta and Maki to like him now.

And really, it’s all types of irritating because you like him. You actually like him. He backstabbed you into oblivion but he’s also the sweetest, most compassionate guy you’ve ever talked to and you like him.

You push off the counter, reaching for the cupboard and yank out the biggest glass of wine you can find. As soon as you finish pouring almost the entire bottle into the glass, Satoru snatches it out of your hand, cheekily smiling at you.

“Thank you, Bonnie.”

“I was going to drink that, Satoru.”

“Diabetics should drink in moderation. Can’t have you passing out on me now.”

“That was one time. You could share, you know.”

He rolls his eyes as he hands you the glass, your hands burning from it. How intimate it is. That you and Satoru are sharing a glass, all warm and drowsy from the drink. And when he grabs your hand, leading you onto the little patio just off of your roof, you follow. Blindly.

You’re both laying against the bricks, the lights of the city reflecting into the sky. There aren’t any stars out, only the tinted white of the fluorescnets against the dark sky.

“Why’d you pick Cornelia Street, Bonnie?”

“It’s quiet. And I always walked down it - when I used to go to class and then after when I started walking to work. I’ve always liked all the little people bustling by with Coppola’s on the corner.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“So do you like that kid who peed on the block last week?”

“Ew. Gross, Satoru.”

He laughs, leaning back on the tiles, beckoning for you to move closer to him. He opens up his arm, which you lean into, his arm wrapped around yours. The tiles are kind of digging into your back, but you ignore it because you don’t want to move and risk Satoru moving away from you.

“Do you like Cornelia Street, Satoru?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m moved by the passion, Satoru. You can’t imagine yourself anyplace else, can you?”

He looks over, blue eyes glimmering under the shy flourescents of the building, his voice firm as he answers.

“No. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.”

And from the look on his eyes, the way your skin is itching from the way he’s looking at you…you know he’s not talking about Cornelia Street.

“Are you-”

“Talking about Cornelia Street? I’m not, Bonnie. I’m talking about the girl who loves Cornelia Street.”

You reach over, timidly pressing your hand to Satoru’s face as you shift his face over, his cheeks warm under your touch. He’s moving forward, eyes fluttered shut and you can feel your heart hammering under your chest.

And when he presses his lips to yours, soft and plush with a hint of wine on his mouth, you can’t help but feel it all untangling in your chest. Unraveling. The way you feel about him, those stupid blue eyes and that lopsided smile.

Because all of those summers ago, it wasn’t that you liked working with the Zenin’s. It’s that you liked working with Satoru. And it wasn’t a backstab to not get to work with the Zenin’s, it was that Satoru didn’t want you to work with him.

He snakes his hand under your shirt, his touch featherlike but blossoming searing light onto your skin.

“Satoru. This is public indecency.”

He presses his head into your neck, peppering soft kisses into your neck as he responds.

“Bonnie and Clyde were criminals, silly girl.”

“Almonds, Bonnie.”

“Satoru.”

“Nope. Eat ‘em and we’ll go.”

You roll your eyes as you tilt the packet back, shoving them all into your mouth. Satoru gives you a gleeful grin and a kiss on the forehead as he shoves you out the door. Satoru walks you to work everyday. And back home on the way back. To protect you from lewd street pee.

You get coffee from Coppolas every morning, the barista always giving the two of you a shining smile. Whenever the flower vendors pass by, Satoru always buys you the pink ones, which make your heart pound but you always clown him for.

Satoru insists that you wear your wedding ring everyday. And buys one for himself too, which he forces you to put on him. And he encourages you - to be better. Which is why you’re going to try again.

“Toru.”

“Hm, Bonnie?”

“Can you do me a favor on your way to work?”

“Sure.”

“Mail this for me.”

You hand him your job application, to work with the Zenin’s and Satoru, to fix what happened the first time. Granted, Satoru doesn’t really work with the Zenin’s anymore, but instead a different firm, but they do partner up sometimes.

In a way, asking Satoru to do this for you is righting a wrong. Because he should put in a good word for you this time, so you can actually get your dream job. Because whatever stopped him the first time isn’t there now - he’s told you hundreds of times that you’re brilliant, the smartest person he’s ever met - so there’s no logical reason for him not to.

So when you find the application in his bag, six days after the fact while looking for his phone, you’re a little bit confused.

“Toru.”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear back from Toji? About the job?”

“Ah, yeah. He’s not really into it. I gave it to him but he said there’s no associate openings.”

Liar. As always, Satoru Gojo is a fucking liar. And it’s stupid. It’s so stupid of you to think otherwise. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you shove your things into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder.

And you almost walk out the door before he catches you.

“Hey. Where are we going, Bonnie?”

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.”

You watch the smile fall off of his face, the grip on your wrist loosening.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?”

“You really hate me that much, don’t you? You couldn’t even hand it in for real this time? You have that little faith in the work that I can do?”

“This-this isn’t about the faith I have in you. You’re brilliant and I’ve always thought that about you. It’s just that it’s not right-”

“Not right for me? Because working at one of the best law firms isn’t right for me? I should just slum it out where I’m at now.”

“Bonnie, I can explain-”

And you run straight out the door, flat off of Cornelia Street.

Satoru doesn’t hear from you for nine days. And it’s pure agony. Waking up without you next to him. Watching people mill by on Cornelia Street, getting Coppola’s without you. The barista doesn’t even smile at him anymore.

And when that stupid kid pees on the block again, he can’t even laugh at it. Because Cornelia Street without you is all types of wrong.

He wakes up every morning, promptly at 7:30. Because if what you said is right, you take Cornelia Street on the way to work when you walk from home. But you never do. He’s never seen you walk past, not even once.

You’re still going to work. He knows that because Maki told him so. Yuuta isn’t really talking to him anymore, but Maki begrudgingly gives him slivers of information that he lives off of.

She’s going to work, just a different way.

Yes, I gave her the almond packets.

No, she doesn’t want to talk to you.

But he knows you have to come back. Because your sewing machine and your vinyls and all your things are here. Because some selfish part of him thinks you have to come back because it’s him. Because some small part of you loves him the way the entirety of him has always loved you.

So much so, that he’s had selfish intentions from the start. To protect you.

If he was a smart guy, he would have picked you to be his partner when he was working with the Zenin’s straight out. Because you’re a dream team, because no one picks at his mind and makes him work in circles the way you do.

But when he brought you up to Toji, it eliminated any possibility you had of working here. Because the Zenin’s are disgusting, misogynistic pigs.

Toji said he would hire you on one condition. That Satoru shares you with him. Because Toji had caught on to the affections Satoru had held for you in earnest but still wanted his fair share of the cut. Because he’s still an old money lawyer, who uses his own power to his advantage. Because your pretty face is the only reason he hired you in the first place.

He picks Getou the next time he sees Toji. And he never hears from you again. And that’s okay, because you end up working with Utahime at a different firm and he knows that you’re safe from this. And dear god does he miss you, but it is better than the alternative.

And when your parents bring you together, because you’re both lawyers and that’s a common interest, he’s more than happy to sign the papers. Because it’s his chance to right his wrong. Because he still wants to be Bonnie and Clyde, in all the ways that matter.

You pass out in his arms and his world stops. Because he’s always wanted to protet you, and he recognizes that some part of that is selfish because you can protect yourself, but god he just wants to take care of you because you mean something to him.

And when you leaned over and kissed him, Satoru loves you. He loves you and he loves Cornelia Street and he loves everything you love. Because anything you like is anything he likes. You could tell him that you hate the sky and he’d never look at it again.

But when you hand him that shiny job application, asking for his support, he can’t. Because now more than ever, he can’t let his wife even stand near idiots like Toji. The thought of someone thinking about you like that, let alone doing something like that is enough to send him into a blind rage, that would most definitely get him blacklisted from literally any workplace.

And dear god does he wish you would have heard him out when you left. Because he would have told you. That you were all types of brilliant, that you keep him on his toes, that you’re the only god damn thing he’s ever wanted.

That he can’t let you work there because he loves you. Because he wants you to be happy always, to be surrounded by people who respect you for you, who think you’re just as brilliant as you actually are.

And he’d actually be able to do that if he could fucking find you. He wanders a different street everyday, hoping to catch you walking to work. It’s currently day nine and he has yet to find success. But when he sees them, shiny black loafers across the sidewalk, he runs into incoming traffic just to catch you.

He gets angry honks and yelling because New Yorkers are always rude, but he doesn’t care. You’re like a ghost. You can get away if he doesn’t walk fast enough. And when he catches your elbow, stopping you from walking, he knows he’s done it.

“Bonnie.”

“Satoru. Why are you…panting?”

“Ran into traffic.”

“Wish they hit you.”

He takes you in. And just like Maki said, you’re fine. Well, you look fine. A bit angry, that stupid vein bulging out on your forehead, but you’re okay.

“Why don’t you walk on Cornelia Street?”

“What?”

“You said you picked Cornelia Street because it’s on the way to work. That you like to watch the people on Cornelia Street and Coppola’s on the corner. You haven’t walked there for nine days. Why?”

He watches you roll your eyes as you shake his hand off, walking past him. But Satoru’s faster, basically pinning you into the wall by putting his arms around you.

“Give me an answer.”

“No, Satoru.”

“Bonnie. You love Cornelia Street. Have since you were a kid. Why aren’t you walking there?”

You can feel the tears rising up in your eyes, the anger bubbling out of you as you respond.

“Because of you, asshole. Because Cornelia Street is you. I see that dumbass teenager piss on the street and all I can think about is how you think it’s funny. The guy selling flowers? I think about which ones you would pick out and buy for me. Coppola’s? The girl does’t even smile at me anymore. I don’t walk Cornelia Street because I can’t. Because it’s all you now. Everything I like there reminds me of you.”

He can feel it. His heart burning. He can still make this right.

“She’s kind of a bitch, you know? She doesn’t smile at me either.”

You laugh, your chest heaving from the pain. Because seeing him again makes your chest burn. Ache. Because you miss him and because you love him. And when he opens his arms and shoves you into his chest, his smell in your nose, all you can do is cry, cheeks burning into his skin.

“Bonnie.”

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you. You’re a back stabber.”

“If you let me explain, I would-”

“Fine. Let’s hear your great explanation.”

So when you start making your way back, he explains. That he’s selfish. And a back-stabber. And when he tells you what Toji says, he doesn’t miss the way you cringe, the way your face goes blank when he thinks about it.

About how he knows he should have told you but he hates to see you down. How Bonnie and Clyde was always going to be more than a work thing, but the thing he wants forever.

And when you reach the front of the door, of your apartment on Cornelia Street, he can’t help but feel a weight in his chest. Because you’re quietly standing, staring at the door. Granted, you are holding his hand and it’s a good sigh, but…you haven’t said anything.

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I really…messed this up, didn’t I?”

“What?”

And when you turn to his side, he’s floored at the fact that you’re crying. Begging him to stay with you.

“Satoru. I-I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t walk away I, I don’t-”

He clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head as you as he deflates.

“God, Bonnie. You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?”

“Huh?”

“I love you. I want to walk Cornelia Street with you. I want to buy you flowers and check the mailbox with you. I want Yuuta and Maki to pretend to throw up when they see us kissing and I want to take care of you. If you’ll just let me, I’ll do it right.”

And when you lean forward, the kiss is messy. Your tears are falling on to his face and he’s way too eager from the way he’s hanging off of your lips, the way he’s literally shaking you in his hold.

You walk Cornelia Street the next day. And you’re part of the constants of the street. The guy selling flowers, the fresh fruit cart on Saturdays, lewd pee kid when he’s drunk, and two very happy in love lawyers.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06@bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme

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ranbling · 1 month ago

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I love buddie but after last night I'm starting to think it's not gonna happen. I thought we'd see some crumbs of bt having issues (regardless of what us viewers feel buck didn't appear to be overly annoyed or upset by tommy reaction). Or maybe a contrast where eddie was really sweet and caring to buck and Tommy was an ass...but eddie was laughing along as much as Tommy was. So yea I mean I know it's still kinda early in the season but I don't see how they can go from last night to bt breaking up to buddie Canon. Eddie and buck getting together would be such a huge thing to happen that they can't or wouldn't just spring it on us in one or two episodes, surely there would need to be a build up, like crumbs etc where they both realise their feelings, angonise over what to do, and then get together

I see what you mean Anon, however we still have 15 episodes left. This is the first episode that actually gave Tommy screentime (because 20 seconds is barely enough to remind the audience he still exists), and it wasn't that positive. I made a post how I think this episode was actually starting to show that Buck and Tommy are not in that good of a place.

Also, it's important to mention that most couples don't have a big build up for their breakup (Buck and Taylor is an outlier in that regard). Abby and Buck were living together and going strong right until ep10. Ana was ready to introduce Eddie to her family. Buck and Natalia went couch shopping(!!) in their last scene. Marisol (not counting the nun stuff), was Eddie's long term girlfriend who Eddie trusted enough to spend time with Chris on her own.

I also don't think it's realistic to expect bt canon and buddie getting together in episodes right after each other. I do think bt will break up before mid-season, and for all that they relationship seem going strong, they had no kiss since s7ep6. The most they did was Tommy patting Buck's leg. And even in this episode, he talked to Buck a really condescending way. He might not be appear too upset by it, but it is not a good look. Also, when he broke up with Taylor, one of things he said "I thought I could learn to live with it" referring to Taylor's traits that he disliked. Buck also suffers from seeing everything through rose-colored glasses in every relationship of his. He thought Natalia was seeing him.

Next episode will probably be the Eddie breakdown episode. He was really OOC in this episode and I think it will also start his feelings realisation journey.

I think we can expect both Bucktommy breakup and the start of the pining area by the mid-season finale.

#911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #anti tommy kinard #pinky's asks #911 spoilers

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deanwinchesterscherrypie · 1 year ago

Text

Inescapable

Kinktober Day 1: Dom/sub

Summary:

(Inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift) Dean, Cas, and Sam go on a small local ghost hunt while you stay at home. While you get the bunker prepared for them to come home, you can't stop thinking about your dom. Dean specifically ordered you to not be thinking of him while he's gone, but you can't help it. You miss him, and when he gets home, you think you'll show him just how much.

Words: 3,919

Kinks: Dom/sub, Rope play, light degradation, teasing, spanking, punishment

Relationship: Dom Dean/Sub Fem Reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (only in the first paragraph), mentions of a knife, smut, cunnilingus, p in v sex, fingering, dominant dean winchester

Notes: Read here on ao3! Full Kinktober Masterlist. I hope you enjoy :)

Dean. Cas, and Sam left Friday evening for a ghost hunt. Apparently, Old Man Milton only comes back once every 7 years on his daughter’s birthday to kill young men that sexually assault or harass young women. His daughter died by a violent sexual assault and was found in the basement of a fraternity house. He searched for the boy that did it to her, but the college covered it up. Now, he’s coming back for justice. You told Dean that they shouldn’t do anything. If it were your hunt, you would have left it alone. Those guys deserved to die, in your opinion. And maybe that makes you a bad person, but honestly, you’ve literally been to hell and back. You don’t really care if wishing a painful death on rapists is a bad thing.

The only reason you didn’t attend this hunt with the boys is because the whole topic was just a little too triggering for you. Dean suggested you stay home, and Cas agreed that the emotional trauma it brought up wouldn’t be worth getting rid of the ghost. Sam offered to stay home with you, but Cas isn’t the best hunting partner when it comes to these small hunts. So, Dean asked if you’d be alright and insisted that Sam come with him. Cas is always one call away if you need anything, and you know that.

On Sunday morning, you get ready to start your day with brushing your hair, doing your makeup, and picking out an outfit. You don’t have much to choose from, because it’s laundry day you’re washing all of the boys clothes along with yours. It’s kind of annoying that they expect you to do their laundry, and you pointed out once that you thought it was misogynistic to expect the only woman in the home to do laundry. But Dean came back with the argument that you were only doing laundry when they were out on a hunt without you. If they were the one staying home, they would do the laundry and you wouldn’t mind. Sam offered to do his own, but it didn’t actually bother you too much. You think that Dean’s just saying it to get you to do it, but you let them have it because he said it with a really cute face and puppy dog eyes. And they do so much for you that doing some laundry or cooking a meal isn’t going to kill you. You don’t exactly like falling into gender roles, but something about them being so appreciative every Sunday night when you make dinner and have them change into clean clothes is so sweet.

So, you pick out your outfit: a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s flannels because it’s the only thing that smells like him, but doesn’t have blood on it. You take his load to the wash first, because you know when he gets home, you’ll make him change into clean clothes. You put on some music first. You listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin while he’s gone because it reminds you of him. Before he left, as always, he told you not to think of him too much. In a normal relationship, that would be sweet. A request. But in yours and Dean‘s relationship, it was a demand. Every hunt he went on scared you, every time he left the bunker, a chill ran down your spine. You wondered if you would ever see him again. You try not to think like that, and he demands you don’t think of him at all. You don’t listen. You never do. He knows this, and he’ll punish you when he gets home. That’s sometimes why you think of him. You enjoy the punishment. It’s nice when he takes control when he gets home.

You finish putting his clothes in the laundry and go to the kitchen to prepare dinner for when they get home. It’s your week to prepare dinner on Sunday night. Every Sunday, you make everyone have a family meal at a table. Hunters don’t get to have a normal life, so this is as normal as it gets for you. You don’t have long before they get back, so you pull out all of the necessary ingredients and set them on the counter. Normally, you’d also be doing some research while they were gone. But this hunt specifically was one that lacked research and needed more gumption than Dean could ever gather. As you’re swaying to the music in the kitchen, the song “Dress” by Taylor Swift plays through your phone speaker. This song reminds you of Dean, but in a way that’s more playful than sexy. He likes Taylor Swift, your favorite artist, but he won’t admit it. Sometimes, you catch him listening to her in the shower, but he thinks you don’t know. Sometimes, you see him adding a song of hers to his playlist. As the lyrics ring through your head this time around, you can’t help but think about how teasing it would be for Dean to come home to tear your clothes off. He always requests that when he gets home, you are in bed with no clothes. You enjoy this usually, but tonight you’re feeling a little extra.

You prepare the food, so all you have to do is cook them. You make homemade burger patties that need to chill, sourdough bread that needs to chill to make buns, and a pastry crust for the pie. You clean up and grab your keys. Before Bobby passed, he built up a car for you out of some old parts. It was a crap car, but it barely cost you. Bobby had a soft spot for you, so he would fix the car up for you anytime it broke down or something happened. Unfortunately, when he died, you had nobody to fix up your car. It was just your luck that you remembered meeting Dean Winchester, a friend of Bobby’s, a few years back. He and his brother were well known hunters, so you didn’t think he would have the time to help. But any shop would tell you that the car was more to fix than it was actually worth. They said it was unsafe and shouldn’t be driven. They didn’t have the memories you had with that car though. So you gave him a call, and you were lucky that he was in the next town over just finishing up a case. You two haven’t left each other alone since.

You head toward a town close by to find exactly what you are looking for. You stop into a few stores before you find exactly what you wanted. A short, white sundress, complete with a cherry print scattered across the fabric. You check the price tag because unlike other hunters, you try to earn honest money when you can. You save as much as you can and invest some of it. The dress is on sale, which just lets you know it’s meant to be.

You check out and head back to the bunker to get ready and prepare dinner. When you walk inside, you hear a ding on your phone. You pull it from your pocket to see a text from Dean.

We’re on our way home, Sweetheart. About an hour out. Be ready. - DW

It’s funny that he signs his initials with every text, but it’s his thing. It’s how you know it’s really him. He told you to be ready, but you should really be the one telling him to be ready….

Yes, sir.

You go to the kitchen and begin cooking the burgers. Cas doesn’t have an appetite, but he still sits at the table with us. He always compliments the food, even though he doesn’t actually eat it. His description of food is that it “all tastes like molecules” to him. But nevertheless, Sam and Dean still enjoy it when you cook. After the burgers are cooked, you put them on a pan to keep warm and take out the dough. You make some rolls and put them on a pan to bake. The pie will cook while you’re eating, so you go ahead and head toward your bedroom to change.

You put on your new dress and put your hair up with some loose curls falling down. You touch up your makeup a little bit and add some red lipstick. It’s Dean’s favorite and it matches your dress perfectly. You spray on some Tom Ford’s “Lost Cherry” and make your way back to the kitchen. You check your watch and see that it will be about half an hour until they get home, which is perfect timing to go ahead and put in the rolls and start preparing the pie.

Soon, the whole bunker smells like fresh bread and sweet, cherry pie. You put all of the clean laundry in the rooms. You set the table with a whiskey glass in front of both Dean and Sam’s seats and a courtesy glass of water in Castiel’s spot. You put a wine glass in front of your seat, and pull out the rolls to replace them with the cherry pie. You take out all the extra condiments for the burgers and put the sides on the table. The locks of the bunker do a familiar click, and you know it’s game on. You hear the low chatter of the boys discussing the familiar scent wafting from the kitchen.

Sam walks in and sees the set table. He waves the other guys into the kitchen.

“Is it Sunday already? Man, I’m hungry!” Sam goes to pull out a chair before your hand catches his.

“You boys go wash up first. I don’t want blood and sulfur at my dinner table. Your clothes are in your rooms. Dinner in 5.” You smile and pat his hand. He laughs a little before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing a little bit. You smack his chest gently, and he laughs and saunters off to change. Dean’s heated gaze is focused on your legs, or more importantly, how much of them he can see. Your apron falls below your dress, and when you’re turned to the side, he can see that your dress barely covers your ass. He groans low to himself and raises his eyes to meet yours. Cas speaks up.

“Thank you for putting together dinner. I appreciate it.” He smiles awkwardly before the dirt and blood disappears from his outfit. He hangs his overcoat on the rack in the corner and then settles into his spot. Dean’s gaze hasn’t left you, and you know exactly why.

“All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation.”

“Something wrong, love?” You ask with your most precious voice. You know he won’t say anything in front of Cas. He treats him like a toddler, his child that he must watch over. It’s adorable, but at the same time, he watches himself around Cas. He doesn't want him repeating things. Dean doesn’t reply, but his face looks pained. You smile and wave him off to his room to get changed. He obliges, but you can see the tension in his back as he walks away.

“Dean seems stressed. We got rid of the ghost. Why is he upset?” Cas asks you as you make Sam’s plate.

“Because his wife is his wildest dream, and he’s mad he has to eat dinner first.” Sam laughs as he walks out in fresh clothes. He sits at the table and smiles up at you. “I mean seriously, come on, he came home to his wife dressed up with his favorite dinner made and pie in the oven.”

“But why would that stress him out? Shouldn’t he be happy that he has the terribly domestic life he wished for?” Cas asks as you plate the food in front of him. He won’t eat it, but he likes to have a plate to feel involved.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean walks to the table, “can you three stop talking about me like I ain’t here? I am not stressed. I am exhausted from a three day long hunt. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Dean’s gaze shoots up at you as he sits down. You plate his food next, and then, your own. You sit down and everyone eats in silence.

The conversation starts flowing once everyone starts getting full, and then, it’s time to take out the pie. You head over to the oven, which is right next to Dean’s seat, and bend down to get the pie out. Your dress rides up right next to him, so he can see your cunt soaking your white lace underwear. He groans and attempts to cover it up with a cough. You chuckle a little to yourself and set the pie down on the table. You take the boys plates and put them in the sink.

“Sam, don’t forget. It’s your day to do dishes.” You nudge his shoulder. You set out more plates and serve up the cherry pie to Dean and onto your own plate. You are on one side of Dean, so you scoop up Sam’s piece and lean over Dean to place the pie on Sam’s plate. Sam shakes his head and chuckles to himself before digging in. Cas wanders off to the library. You sit back in your seat and take a bite of your pie. Some of the cherry juice drips off of your lip and onto your chest, where Dean’s gaze falls. You swipe your finger across the juice and stick it into your mouth. Your eyes close in ecstasy, and you make a small noise of happiness. Dean has yet another cough, and you open your eyes to watch him. He hasn’t even touched his pie.

“Dean, you haven’t touched your pie?” You ask him sweetly.

“Dude, it’s delicious. You picked the right woman.” Sam says as he goes back for seconds.

Dean nods his head and picks up his fork with shaking hands.

“My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

You all continue to eat before you both hand your plates to Sam to wash. You bid goodnight to Sam and Cas before heading to your room with Dean hot on your heels. You barely make it through the door before he catches your wrist in his hand and closes the door behind him with his foot.

“You disobeyed me.” He states. His eyes pierce yours with pure lust and determination.

“I made dinner.” You counter, reminding him that it was your week to make dinner.

“You know the rules, sweetheart. You know what happens when you break the rules.” A glint appears in his eyes, and suddenly, he begins walking toward you slowly. The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fall backward onto the soft cushioning. “Tell me what happens when you break the rules, love.” His voice commands.

“I get punished, sir.” You let out with a bit of excitement.

“Oh, were you looking forward to this?” He chuckles deeply, “Of course you were. My pretty little slut loves it when I show her who she belongs to and where her place is.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod your head and raise your hips toward him as he climbs in between your legs.

“Oh, do you want me to touch you?”

“Please touch me.” You ask, waiting for his touch.

He chuckles deeply again before pulling his knife from his pocket. You back up a little before his hand comes to the back of your neck to keep you in place.

“Don’t run away from me, sweetheart. You just asked me to touch you.” His smirk says it all. “Do you remember your safeword?” He asks in your ear.

“Yes. Cherries.” You giggle a little at the word and how significant it’s made itself today.

“That’s my good girl.” He says as he places the knife down on the nightstand next to your head. “Sit up.”

You sit up quickly and wait for your next instruction. You don’t always have such an intense dynamic, but you both need intense when you’ve been apart for a while.

“Over my knee.” You shiver at his words, but do as you are told. He lifts the skirt of your dress and rubs over the smooth skin of your ass.

“How many do you think you deserve, darling?” He says to you as he runs his finger over the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“I don’t know, sir.” You say to him while you try to grind your hips into his legs. He lays a smack on your ass, leaving a stinging feeling.

“I think ten is fair. Two for thinking of me while I was gone, four for wearing this slutty little dress, two for teasing me at dinner, and two for grinding yourself against my leg.” You shiver again and nod your head in response. He lifts your chin and gets down in front of your face.

“Words.” He whispers and bites your lip.

“Yes, sir.” You bow your head as he lets go. His fingers travel downward until he reaches the soaking spot in the center of your underwear and presses in.

“Oh, your pretty hole is so wet for me. I can’t wait to use you.” You whine as he retracts his hand.

“Don’t make a sound or I start over. Got it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as he speaks to you.

“Yes, sir.”

He lays the first smack and your body jumps in response. You feel your hole squeeze the nothingness. You know you’re in for it, and you just hope that he’ll have mercy on you and touch you soon.

“Nine more.” You breathe in slowly, preparing yourself for nine more.

Smack. You just want him to touch you.

Smack. You’re getting desperate.

Smack. Soon, you’re going to start begging.

Smack. You don’t know if you can handle more.

Smack. It feels so good, but it hurts.

Smack. Almost there.

Smack. You’re going to come.

“I know I don’t feel you grinding on my leg, do I sweetheart?” He chuckles before laying two smacks back to back. You let out a sound that is a cross between a moan and a cry.

“Tsk tsk, what did I tell you about making sounds?” He asks you gently.

“We- would have to start over.” You whine. “Please Dean, don’t make me.” You beg.

“What did you just call me?” His hand wraps itself around the back of your neck and pulls you toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. He looks back at you with pure satisfaction. You can feel his cock that's been growing beneath you this whole time twitch at the sight of you.

“Two more.” He says, and he means it. You groan lightly, and you hear his light laugh at you.

One. It stings, but he was more gentle than before.

Two. That one is going to leave a mark.

“Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo.”

“Good girl. Sit up.” He helps you forward and reaches beneath the bed. He grabs two pieces of rope that you don’t remember putting there. He smiles mischievously when he sees your confusion and scoots you up the bed. “Arms.”

You put your arms up and he ties each arm to the holes in the headboard. That is not what you were expecting, but you aren’t complaining. That is, until he rips your dress off of your body straight down the middle.

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

“Dean! That dress was new.” You look at him with shock.

“Well, I hope it wasn’t expensive.” He smirks a bit before dragging your underwear down your legs.

“Please.” You push your hips up to him.

“Please what?” He asks, his breath grazing over your slick cunt.

“Please touch me.” You ask.

“My pathetic little slut wants me to touch her pretty cunt? You want me to lick your pretty clit?” He spreads you apart until you’re completely exposed to him and glistening in the dim bunker light.

“Yes, sir.”

And that’s when he takes his change to shove his tongue deep inside your hole. He fucks you with his tongue, occasionally slipping his tongue out of your hole and circling around your clit. You can feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. His scruff scratches the inside of your thighs, and you just want to tangle your fingers in his hair. He flicks your clit quickly and shoves a finger inside of you.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asks as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue feels so good as he continues his gentle assault on your clit. He moves in quick circles. Every now and then, he sucks your clit into his mouth. He slows his fingers and fucks you slow and hard. You like it like this, feeling every bit of him. His fingers curl up inside you to rub on that spot.

“Fuck.” You can’t help the sounds that come from your chest.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby. See, this is what good girls get when they behave.” He taunts you, moving his thumb to your clit and his mouth to your sensitive nipples.

You start riding his fingers harder, chasing the orgasm that his fingers are promising you. You close your eyes in pleasure.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see me when you come.” He says, watching your every emotion. He switches out his fingers for his thick cock. He rubs the tip against your sensitive clit and has you whining for it. He pushes into you slowly, but that’s the only time he’s slow about it. He rams into you and fucks you hard. He is relentless and merciless.

“That’s it, pretty girl, only I can make you make those sounds.” He whispers in your ear. Your arms pull against the ropes, but you’re unsuccessful at breaking them. You buck your hips toward him as you chase your orgasm. He starts rubbing your clit, and you feel it coming on.

“Come for me.” He whispers in your ear as you let loose the orgasm that's been building inside of you. Your legs shake a bit and your back arches off of the bed.

“Good girl.” He says as he slips his cock out and pumps it a few more times before rolling his head back and letting out a groan as he comes on your stomach. You love watching him come at the sight of you.

He reaches forward to the nightstand next to you and grabs the knife. You look at him with confusion until he leans forward to your wrist. You realize he’s going to cut you out of the rope. You hear a scratching noise and attempt to look above you, but you can’t see. Suddenly, he cuts both of the ropes and lets your arms free. You rub your wrists and turn to see what he was doing. On your headboard, there is freshly engraved statement:

Property of D.W.

“Carve your name into my bedpost.”

You put on a shirt of his and snuggle into your bed with him. He cuts the lights out, and as you’re drifting off to sleep, you swear you hear him singing Dress by Taylor Swift.

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cariantha · 3 months ago

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In a Mood

Book: Open Heart, Book 3 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: Mention of pregnancy Category: Grumpy/Sunshine; Angst Word count: 1.3K Prompt: From @kyra75, “Sunshine is humming and singing constantly, while grumpy at best just tolerates it quietly.” A/N: This is a prequel to their proposal fic.💍Hope you don’t mind, Kyra, but I reversed the grumpy/sunshine roles.🤭

Ethan stepped out of the high-end jewelry store, twirling his keys around his finger and sporting an uncontrollable grin. He whistled a happy, upbeat tune as he walked down the block to where he had parallel parked. Settling into the leather seat of his Jaguar, he started the ignition and cranked up the stereo. Safely merged into traffic, his fingers drummed to the classic rock beat as he sang along. “l said, are you gonna be my girl… 🎵🎶🎵… I say you look so fine that I really wanna make you mine… 🎵🎶🎵”

Sawyer woke on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe because it wasn’t the comfy bed she became accustomed to. She’d been sleeping in Ethan’s for the better part of the past year but stayed at her apartment last night to start packing. Her lease ended in a couple of months, and despite Ethan’s offers to pay the penalty for breaking the lease early to encourage her to move in with him, Sawyer insisted on keeping her room until after her board exams. The six-foot-four, blue-eyed sex machine was too great a distraction when she needed to hunker down and study.

Shuffling down the hall and into the kitchen, she found Sienna balancing a mixing bowl on her hip while she swayed back and forth, singing a Taylor Swift hit. When Sienna noticed her, she shoved a batter-coated spoon into Sawyer's face, suggesting she take over lead vocals, but Sawyer shook her head and grumbled. “Sorry, Sienna. I’m not awake enough for the Eras tour.”

The day continued in the same irritable fashion. She was fifteen seconds late catching the T. While she waited for the next one to arrive, a street musician embarrassingly circled and serenaded her with “The Lady in Red,” making her wish she had picked a different color jacket this morning.

Later, she watched from the gallery as Bryce led his first heart-lung transplant. He bobbed his head and lip-synced to a mix of 90’s alternative rock playing through the operating room’s speaker system. The intro to “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence began to play.

“Ohhh yeah,” Bryce hyped and looked to the gallery. “Brooks! It’s our song. Sing with me!”

Not one to usually shy away from some lighthearted fun, Sawyer just couldn’t get past her funk this morning. “I’m good, buddy.”

After a couple more headbangers, Sawyer wished him luck on the rest of the procedure and went back to work.

That afternoon, Ethan suggested a walk to Derry’s Roasters. On the way, he began to whistle a chirpy tune. It was familiar, probably a melody from one of the arias from the opera they attended a few nights ago. “Ugh, not you, too,” she muttered. Ethan wasn’t usually a whistling and humming guy, but something was definitely in the air today, and she seemed to be allergic to whatever it was.

“Did you say something?” Ethan asked.

“It was nothing.”

The annoying merriment continued into the evening hours. Music sounded from the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen as her man prepared dinner. It wasn’t loud, but he sang along with the lyrics. Ethan Ramsey was singing! It should have brought a huge smile to her face and forced her into a fit of laughter, but for reasons she could not explain, it grated on her.

She fake-smiled her way through dinner, not wanting to project her foul mood on her disgustingly happy boyfriend. When Ethan hopped in the shower and started humming another melody, Sawyer grabbed her phone and headed to the balcony. She texted her best friend, hoping Christian would allow her to vent.

A couple of days had passed since her text exchange with Christian. Saywer’s moodiness was at an all-time high, though she tried to curb it, especially around Ethan. He had been so sweet the past several days and had done nothing to deserve her bite.

Hoping a jog would burn off some of the negative energy, Sawyer headed to the waterfront. As she ran along the boardwalk, she made a mental note to shop for a new sports bra because this one felt like it was lacking support. With every pound of the pavement, her breasts ached. Midway through her route, she had to stop for a breather, her body heavy with an unusual fatigue.

When another female jogger pushing a stroller passed and politely waved, a potentially life-altering thought occurred to her. One that detoured her to the pharmacy on the way back to Ethan’s apartment.

Sawyer heard his happy tune when he entered the apartment later that evening. Finding her in the kitchen prepping dinner, Ethan greeted her with a “Hi” and kissed her temple. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

As he put his things away and changed into more comfortable clothes, Sawyer could hear the song he whistled on his lips getting louder as he returned to the kitchen.

Even if she found his carefree mood annoying lately, she couldn’t deny him his happiness. Her heart hurt knowing there was an excellent chance he wouldn't be humming or whistling much in the days to come. Because Ethan Ramsey didn't see kids in his future. He said as much two and a half years ago. When she had asked him the question, the fMRI scan of his brain confirmed it.

Ethan stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her from neck to cheek. He greeted her with a proper kiss when she turned her face toward him. "How was your day off, baby?" he asked.

Baby.

Sawyer hesitated before answering. With his hand splayed over her stomach, she wanted to say, "It was shocking, and I'm terrified to tell you because it's going to change everything."

Instead, she shrugged and answered with a deceiving truth. "I went for a jog, ran some errands, and waited for test results."

Ethan kissed her temple again and gently moved her to the side to take over dinner prep. "Stop stressing over those test results, Rookie. You've got nothing to worry about."

Sawyer stepped behind him to hide the mist gathering in her eyes. She squeezed him around the waist, and to herself, she said, "Please let that be true."

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction

@jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst

@liaromancewriter @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75

@socalwriterbee @txemrn @midnightmelodiz @snoopdogcone

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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yellowloid · 9 months ago

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I'm kinda new to Milex, despite loving both AM and TLSP for years, and like so many questions.......What happened to those sweethearts, what are the divorce allegations, why they don't hang out anymore, is there any tension between Miles and Alex's girlfriend?😭 I need to know

hiii and welcome to the milex fandom!!

first of all, you can check out this post to know more about the divorce allegations - but of course always remember it's just theories, no one really knows what happened (if anything happened at all)

second of all, they do still hang out! they're just very private about it and rarely ever get spotted together, but over the years after the tbhc and cdg eras we got to see them together a few times, usually hanging out in london like here (august 2020):

and here (july 2021):

but also in jnstances like this one (september 2021) (it's not confirmed that they were together but miles posted this with the caption 'ARRABIATA HEAD X' and arrabiata is Their Thing + those are alex's sunglasses and the photo was most likely taken by him idc i will die on this hill)

then we got to see them together in june 2022, hanging out at some pub:

and also at zackery michael and lola mcdonnell's wedding aka the wedding of the century aka i wish i was a fly on the wall there. this was also in june 2022, they were both there but sadly we didn't get any interaction nor photos of them together:

we did however get a few interactions between miles, (nadya) and louise.

in may 2023 they were spotted having a cute little date night at a scott walker tribute concert in london (feat. the one and only brown leather jacket):

and then of course we got to see them playing 505 together in june (💖) after five whole years of not sharing a stage:

and then again in dublin, miles opened for them on all four nights of the irish leg in october and joined them for 505 on the very last one:

during both the cts and omb eras miles has mentioned alex and tlsp quite a few times (both spontaneously or because of annoying interviewers asking him about it).

speaking of miles and louise, they ignored each other for a long time since alex started dating her back in 2018, which was quite weird considering miles usually seemed to have great friendships with alex's girlfriends (he was very close to taylor, and he's still friends with alexa). recently they started interacting more, liking each other's posts or leaving comments there (see miles commenting on her latest birthday post for alex). as i mentioned, they interacted a bit during zack and lola's wedding (katie posted a video on ig where her, kirstin, louise, miles and nadya were all hanging out together). i think at this point it's safe to say miles and nadya aren't together anymore, but her and louise were hanging out quite a lot during 2022/start of 2023 and they probably got introduced through their respective boyfriends. there's no official drama between miles and louise but they don't seem to be friends, just close acquaintances at best.

and... i think that's it anon! in conclusion they're still very much close and hanging out with each other, it's just much rarer to get a glimpse of them but maybe in the (hopefully not so distant) future we'll get a tlsp3 announcement and then they'll finally be touring together again, planet earth will heal and we'll be well-fed once again. in the meantime, i hope this little recap was helpful <3

#@ moots please let me know if i missed something crucial!! i tried to include everything i could think of but if i forgot something >#> some instance of them hanging out together over the recent years then don't hesitate to add it to the post #also anon this is just considering the official sightings we've had. who knows what happens behind closed doors and how many times they >#> hang out without any of us knowing (top 10 thoughts that haunt me at night)#it's also worth noting they keep vague posting about each other through their lyrics which is very gay of them if i do say so myself #never beating the psychosexual relationship allegations!#ramblings #answered

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pluckyredhead · 11 months ago

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so what did you not like about worlds finest teen titans? There were a lot of dropped plot threads and bits I expected Waid to develop more (Roy and Ollie conflict, Roy, Garth and Wally never resolved their sleepover argument, Karen's reaction at the con to nearly being unmasked, Wally's parents, ect) and also the queerbaiting with garth (and his eyes changing colour halfway through???) was annoying. I thought it was cute overall but maybe I'm not familiar enough with some of the characters?

I held on to this ask because I was going to reread the miniseries to answer you more accurately, and then I decided to not put myself through that, so...hopefully my memory is accurate lol.

(I should note before I get into it that none of my quibbles are with Emanuela Lupacchino's art. She's a treasure and we're thrilled that she's here.)

But yeah, you've put the nail on the head with a lot of it. It was just terribly paced, like Waid didn't know how many issues he had or something. Aside from all the dropped threads you mentioned, it felt like the main bad guys were...pretty much hastily introduced, or at least assembled, in #5? There didn't seem to be any kind of...well, point to this miniseries. There was no theme. There was nothing Waid was trying to say, as far as I could tell, except "Fuck Roy Harper." (Oh, we'll get to that.) It wasn't an origin story for the team. It wasn't about adolescence or coming of age or learning who you are, except maybe a little bit for Garth. It was just...there.

And I want to be clear here: Mark Waid is one of my favorite comic book writers of all time. When he hits, he hits. The regular World's Finest book and his Shazam are wonderful. I just think this wasn't the right match of writer/characters, because he didn't handle these very well. Taking them one by one:

Dick: DC is fully in their "Dick the unbearable Mary Sue" era and this book is no exception. If I never see another comic where a whole team of experienced superheroes with major league powers and training stands around like incompetent jackasses until a Bat comes along and tells them what to do, it'll be too soon. I'm here to read about an ensemble book where everyone is a three-dimensional character, not The World's Most Perfect Boy and his loser sidekicks. Not only is it unfair to everyone else in the cast, it's doing a disservice to Dick, who is a much more interesting character than this book (or Tom Taylor, ahem) gives him credit for.

(There's also something very weird and inconsistent Waid is doing across his books with Dick - WF, WFTT, and BvR - where sometimes he's throwing a tantrum because he doesn't get to be a circus star with everyone looking at him all the time, and sometimes he's screaming at Roy for filming them, and both feel utterly arbitrary to me as well as contradictory.)

Donna: Donna's characterization in this was just...bizarre. I was a little worried about how Waid would handle her, since he has a tendency to turn more quote unquote "wholesome" female characters into the Mom Friend (see: his Champions run, where he tries to get away with it by having Kamala announce that she's not going to be the Mom Friend because she's the only girl on the team...and then immediately becoming the Mom Friend), and Donna's already very much a Mom Friend, and I didn't know what Mom Friend Squared would look like. But instead he went for this...Manic Pixie Nightmare Girl approach? Where she's really into bungee jumping and monster trucks? I'm not offended by it, it's just so utterly random. This isn't who Donna is? It's never been who she is? Baffling.

I am offended (I mean, mildly, but still) by the fact that she and Garth are shoehorned together in this. He's the only boy on the team she's never been romantically linked to, even in dreams/hallucinations/whatever, so completing the set feels very much like Donna's only narrative worth is in being a love interest, which...gross.

Garth: Garth probably got the best treatment of the bunch, to be honest. He was in character as the shy little weirdo he was in the Silver Age and in pretty much every flashback we've ever seen. He's smart and perceptive and bad at saying what he wants and generous towards those who have hurt him, all of which is very Garth. I have no complaints about him except the weird queerbaiting, and I'm not blaming Waid for that because from what I understand, solicits are written by editorial working off of a pitch, potentially before the comic is even written, so who knows what happened there? It might have been a stupid joke that didn't land, it might have been a story that was pitched and then a higher up vetoed it, it might have been a story Waid was going to write and then changed his mind. I'm not going to say it's his fault when I have no idea if that's true. Otherwise, I think he handled Garth well.

Wally: Wally was another one where I was just like ??? the whole time. He didn't feel like Wally, he felt like Bart. But, like, fanon's innocent child version of Bart and not the actual canon character, who has a lot more backbone. Why is he hero worshipping Dick like that? Why is he so docile? What was up with that weird line where Dick's like "you're the youngest?" Yes, historically Dick had already dropped out of college while Wally was still in high school, but otherwise they've always been portrayed as the same age. And if it's a reference to debut year, Donna's the youngest. It's such a random throwaway line dumped in at the very end for...why? Confusing me personally?

The worst, though, was whatever the hell was going on with Wally's parents. Wally's parents are not an idyllic suburban couple! They are not the Kents! Rudy West is only not classified as a supervillain because he doesn't have a costume! Even if he hadn't tried to kill Mary, sold the Earth out to alien robots, faked his own death, or run a deadly labor camp for children at this point in the timeline, he definitely hit Wally and, uh, poisoned Wally's Little League coach. I don't think Mary is as bad as some of fandom does, but she's certainly a difficult person. Wally was desperately unhappy at home as a child, which is why he latched on so hard to Barry and Iris. And Waid knows this, because he wrote a lot of that canon. If it's a retcon, it's such a strange, pointless one that makes all of them a lot less interesting. Just baffling.

Karen: I think it was a very smart choice to add Karen to the founding roster and make the team slightly more gender-balanced and not all-white. It's kind of a wasted choice, though, when she's so aggressively sidelined. All she does in this book is hang around with Mal and the support staff. She isn't looped into any of the major emotional conflicts - Garth and Donna, Dick and Roy, Roy and Wally and Garth. She's not treated as a headliner in the same way the others are, and that really sucks.

Roy: Hoo boy.

When Waid was announced as the writer of Batman vs. Robin, I was worried, because I had a feeling he didn't like Damian. I couldn't put my finger on why, it was just a feeling I had. And boy howdy, was I proved right! Damian is treated like shit in that book.

I had the same feeling with this book and Roy, and...let's just say I'm two for two, okay?

Here's the thing. I'm okay with Roy being written as kind of shitty, especially during his period of his life. Teen Titans: Year One writes him as an utter fuckboy, and I love that comic. The Mal and Karen issue of The Other History of the DC Universe retells the Bronze Age Titans era from their perspective, and it pulls absolutely no punches regarding Roy being, well, kind of an asshole...and it's right to do so, because it's drawing very directly from those 1970s comics, and he was often awful in those.

But Waid writes him as a generic 80s movie villain. He's a human popped collar. He's a stereotype of a bully. My problem isn't that I need him to never do anything wrong, it's that nothing in this book is specific to Roy, his history, or his established personality.

For instance, all of his bragging about how much money he has? He comes off like a kid who was born into wealth and has never known anything else, but that isn't true. He was at best middle class before Ollie, probably more likely working class given the economic situation on most reservations - but there's no indication that he's responding specifically to that shift in circumstances. He's just, like, Draco Malfoy with arrows. Also, Dick has a nearly identical history but none of the same issues. He even says "Roy and I have the same background but he sucks." Why is one of them a perfect angel untouched by filthy lucre, and the other is Bradley Uppercrust III?

And then there's the subplot with Ollie neglecting Roy, which fizzled out to a real wet fart of a resolution. But honestly, at no point did I know where Waid was going with that, because...well, if you know Roy's history, you know Ollie neglecting him is what leads directly to Roy getting into drugs. And like...first of all, the timeline here is off, because historically Ollie didn't ditch Roy until after he lost his money, and he still has it here. (How interesting would it have been to have Roy pretending he was still rich in addition to pretending Ollie was around?) But also, this comic ends on an "and now everything is fine!" note, but it isn't! It really, really isn't. So Ollie showing up at the end and being like "I'm here for you, buddy" doesn't ring true, because he is demonstrably not in this very comic, and we also know he won't be in the future. And Roy getting what he wants doesn't feel like a satisfying resolution either because we don't actually get to see changed behavior from him, and again, we know this won't last. (Again, TT:YO handles this dynamic very well, where we see that Ollie is an affectionate but negligent guardian who Roy is learning some very bad habits from.)

And to top it off, constantly contrasting Terrible Roy to Virtuous Dick and simultaneously pretending that Ollie was at this point a responsible guardian has the (I hope unintentional) effect of implying that Roy will eventually become an addict because he's just a bad and weak person, instead of a struggling teen who needed support and didn't get it. I would have actually preferred a story that hinted at the beginning of Roy's addiction and how he hides it from the Titans, because we've never had that story told in comics, but I don't think Waid's the one to write it. Instead we get a conflict that's out of character for Roy, a resolution that doesn't feel at all earned, and the looming threat of Roy's immediate future which Waid refuses to address.

In conclusion, this book was a mess, and you should all read Teen Titans: Year One instead.

#meta #teen titans #dick grayson #robin #donna troy #wonder girl #garth #aqualad #wally west #kid flash #karen beecher #bumblebee #roy harper #speedy

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aonungapologist · 2 years ago

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sweet nothing

ao’nung x metkayina!reader

A/N ! i know Tsireya is older than Ao’nung, but just for this fic we’re gonna pretend Ao’nung is older and will be the next Olo’eyktan, and reader will be the next Tsahík (gender not mentioned, Tsahík is not a female role)

EDIT: i thought tsireya was the eldest between her and ao’nung because in the avatar visual dictionary it states that she is tsakarem and is training to be the next tsahík so i assumed that she was older. i just watched an interview where bailey bass (who plays tsireya) says she’s the youngest sooo apologies i was wrong

also ignore that the spaces are weird

inspired by Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift

Ao’nung rolled his eyes as the Omatikaya resurfaced again. What is wrong with them? Rotxo signed. They are not good divers, he signed in reply. Stop, they are learning, his sister gave them both a look and you hit him over the head as hard as you could, which was difficult as you were underwater.

As you swam upwards to the surface, Ao’nung noticed a shimmering new bead on your songcord. He recognised it from the night the two of you chose each other as mates.

His mother was pressuring him to find a mate, she wanted to start training the next Tsahík as soon as possible. He had other things to think about, and to clear his mind he ran off to the Cove of the Ancestors. Sitting on a small area of a rock that wasn’t submerged underwater, he was so lost in his frustration and stress that he didn’t notice you surface from where you had presumably been connected to the Spirit Tree. You told your diving partner to head back, thanking them for watching over you. You climbed the rock Ao’nung was on, gently touching his shoulder to let him know you were there.

He jumped slightly, making you giggle. You noticed the look on his face and gave him a smile. He sighed heavily and turned to face forwards again.

“What is wrong?” you ask carefully.

He takes a moment before answering. “Mother wants me to choose a mate.”

You don’t look surprised, but you do look slightly annoyed. “You are still young, you have time to choose. She should not rush something as important as that.”

“I cannot change her mind. You know how she is; a control freak,” Ao’nung stated, and despite his frustrated tone you laugh a little.

“Maybe she is; so what are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “What else can I do? I have to pick someone,” he muttered. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, you would make the perfect choice. You were loved among the people as an impossibly kind and generous soul. If you were the next Tsahík, there definitely wouldn’t be any complaints from the clan.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to choose you. From the moment his mother first started pestering him about a mate, just after his Iknimaya a few months ago, he had instantly thought of you.

Even with all the pressure on him to be the next Olo’eyktan, his parents thinking he was a disappointment, you had always believed in him. His parents had been there during his Iknimaya, but you were the one to encourage him and convince that he could do it. And when he did complete it successfully, you were the one to run to him and hug him and tell him you knew he could do it. He wanted to choose you, but he was scared you wouldn’t choose him.

“You can’t just choose anyone, Ao’nung. Whoever you pick will be your mate for life, it has to be someone you enjoy being around.”

Ao’nung didn’t reply, his mind was racing. If he was going to confess, now would be a good time. You went on, trying to help.

“Eyrina is lovely, and very good at weaving,” you offered. He shook his head. “No, not Eyrina.”

“Amanti is well liked, and one our best hunters,” you went on. He couldn’t listen to this anymore, he didn’t care about these other people.

He turned so he was completely facing you. “I don’t want Amanti,” he stated, his voice low.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. He took your hands in his, staring at them to avoid looking in your eye.

“I do have someone I enjoy being around,” he began.

You remained silent, heart racing.

“Whenever my mother tells me to choose a mate, I do think of someone. But…” he swallowed, his nerves taking over. You smiled and squeezed his hands, encouraging him to continue. He was starting to doubt this, there’s no way you’d choose him. Just as his mind started racing, the zooplankton of the Spirit Tree surrounded your feet, which were dipped in the water. These zooplankton lived in the area surrounding the Spirit Tree, and they were thought of as signs from Eywa when they showed themselves.

The little fish made him think that maybe there was a chance after all. Eywa herself was reassuring him that you would make the perfect mate for him.

Feeling emboldened, he took a deep breath, making you look away from the zooplankton. No doubt you were thinking the same as him.

“You are the only one who believes in me. You are the only one I feel truly comfortable around. You are the only one who thinks I have what it takes to lead this clan. And I am certainly not the only one who thinks you have what it takes to lead this clan by my side.”

Your eyes soften and a small smile grows on your lips. “Will you lead our clan with me, one day?”

You remain silent, but still beaming at him as you search his eyes for any dishonesty. But his eyes were as honest as the zooplankton by your feet, and so you threw your arms around his neck and squealed in excitement. He stumbled back, falling into the water with a splash.

He resurfaced, holding you by the waist as you kept your arms around his shoulders. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, with a smile as bright as the bioluminescent freckles on your face.

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing and a tension he hadn't realised was there left his body. You rested your head against his, and he leaned up to gently press his lips against your forehead.

Neither of you wanted to return to the village yet, and there was still time before eclipse, so you sat on the rock together, your head resting on his shoulder and his arms wrapped securely around you. On the edge of the rock you found stones, tiny crystals embedded into them, shimmering and reflecting what little light was left. You picked up two, wordlessly handing one to Ao’nung.

Now he knew what you’d done with it; as the others went in search of Kiri, he grabbed your arm and held up both his and your songcords, comparing the two stones on each. He felt completely relaxed now that it was just the two of you.

The stone on his songcord would forever remind him that all you ever wanted from him was sweet nothing.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar aonung #avatar ao'nung #ao’nung x reader #ao’nung #i love him

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