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roosterforme · 10 months ago

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Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout.

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

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

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time.

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

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

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was.

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge."

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked.

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth.

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?"

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

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

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza.

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking."

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?"

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar."

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep.

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

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way.

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay."

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side.

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him.

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him.

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs.

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

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

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home.

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you.

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with her, unlike the couch when you were there.

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers.

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room.

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

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

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar.

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him.

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly.

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too.

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar.

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started.

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them.

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped.

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process.

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit.

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again.

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him.

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet.

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding."

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips.

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case.

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him.

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life.

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered.

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot.

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers.

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone.

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms.

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache.

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again.

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body.

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

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

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk.

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love.

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

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

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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pasiveagressive · 3 months ago

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Halloween Icons || M.V.33

liked by f1gossip, wagsoff1, and others

paddockgossip In honor of their 10th annual Halloween Party coming soon, we are counting down with Y/N and Max's iconic halloween costumes over the years!

liked by leclercfan, noverstoppen, and others

paddockgossip 2012 Halloween: Even before she and Max were showing us how to be the world's best couple Y/N was slaying halloween down!

liked by wagsgossip, maxfan33, and others

paddockgossip 2013 Halloween: Another slay without Max! This time with two of her besties!

liked by maxiel4life, wagupdates and others

paddockgossip 2014 Halloween: Max and Y/N's first halloween as a couple, looking absolutely adorable as Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable!

liked by wagsgossip, landonowins and others

paddockgossip 2015 Halloween: Ruh Roh Raggy, Y/n and Max in 2015 as Scooby and Shaggy!

liked by y/nfan, maxfan, and others

paddockgossip 2016 Halloween: Taking things a bit more sinister, Max and Y/N in 2016 as a Purge couple! This is also the first year Y/N and Max hosted what would become their annual Halloween Party!

liked by redbullracingupdates, paddocklove and others

paddockgossip 2017 Halloween: These killers will make you Scream! This years party hosted was the first one that was really popular almost every driver on the grid attended as well as some smaller celebrities!

liked by wagsupdates, 44love, and others

paddockgossip 2018 Halloween: Y/N and Max as Romeo and Juliet from the 1996 adaptation! Y/N has claimed this as one of her favorite movies in the past!

The 2018 party was the first one that really resembles what it still looks like today, they rented a club, a DJ, a photographer and more. The guest list was in the 100's for the first time!

liked by y/nfan, maxiel4life and others

paddockgossip 2019 Halloween: Hide your wallets and jewelry, Bonnie and Clyde are in town!

In 2019 Max and Y/N decided to charge admission into the party in the form of donations to Charities!

liked by checo11, russellfan63 and others

paddockgossip 2020 Halloween: First time they ever 'repeated' a costume, back as Bonnie and Clyde but this time after the shootout!

No Party this year because of the global pandemic! The couple still requested that their friends donate to charities to help support those that lost their jobs due to the pandemic!

liked by f1wags, f1gossip and others

paddockgossip 2021 Halloween: Not much to say about this one, Catwoman and Batman,

Max and Y/N had their party in person again this year after taking the previous year off for the pandemic!

liked by noverstoppen, wagsupdates and others

paddockgossip 2022 Halloween: My personal favorite Max and Y/N costume, they absolutely killed it as Joker and Harley Quinn!

They asked everyone to dress up as heroes or villians at this years party:

Daniel went as Loki

Lando went as Darth Vader

George and Carmen went as Mr. Incredible and Elastagirl

Charles and Alex went as Superman and Lois

keep reading

liked by youruser, wagsupdates and others

paddockgossip 2023 Halloween: Of course our Halloween Icons went as Barbie and Ken in 2023, with a first for Max and Y/N a costume change mid-party!

We can't wait to see what they dress up as this year!

liked by charles_leclerc maxverstappen1 and others

youruser We couldn't decide which costume to do this year so we decided why not both?

tagged maxverstappen1

view all comments

paddockgossip brb got to add this to my list!

#x reader #fanfic #f1 smau #f1 social media au #max verstappen #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x you

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inkspiredwriting · 5 months ago

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Wedding Woes

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Planning a wedding should be a joyous occasion, but for Five Hargreeves and his fiancée Y/N, it quickly turned into a battlefield of hilarious disagreements. From the moment they decided to tie the knot, every decision seemed to spark a new debate.

“Chocolate!” Five declared, arms crossed, as they sat in the office of Sweet Sensations, the premier bakery in town.

“Red velvet!” Y/N countered, her eyes sparkling with determination.

The baker, caught between the two, held up a tentative hand. “We could do a combination cake?”

Five and Y/N turned to her, then back to each other, shaking their heads simultaneously. “Nope.”

“What’s wrong with red velvet?” Y/N argued, her brow furrowing. “It’s elegant and delicious.”

Five scoffed. “Chocolate is a classic. And I don’t trust a cake that’s named after a fabric.”

“Fine,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “What about the design?”

“Simple and clean,” Five said, envisioning a minimalistic cake.

Y/N, however, had other ideas. “I was thinking something with a little more... flair. Maybe some flowers, intricate designs—”

Before Five could retort, Klaus burst into the bakery, trailed by Diego and Luther. “Hey, lovebirds! How’s the cake tasting going?”

Five sighed. “We’re just... debating the finer points.”

Klaus waggled his eyebrows. “Why not go with a giant rainbow cake? It’s festive!”

Diego chuckled. “I vote for something with bacon on it.”

Luther just looked confused. “Do people put bacon on cakes?”

The baker looked like she might faint.

In the end, they settled on a layered cake with alternating tiers of chocolate and red velvet, topped with simple but elegant decorations. It wasn’t exactly what either had envisioned, but it was a compromise—a word that Five was rapidly learning to accept.

Next on the list was the music. Five preferred a live jazz band, while Y/N was leaning toward a playlist of their favorite songs.

“Jazz sets the mood,” Five insisted, adjusting his tie as they met with a potential band leader in their living room.

“Yeah, the mood for a 1920s speakeasy,” Y/N shot back. “We need something more modern, something we can really dance to.”

The band leader, an older gentleman with a pencil-thin mustache, interjected. “We can do a mix, if you’d like?”

Before either could respond, Viktor wandered in, carrying his violin. “Need a musician? I can play Anything you want.”

Five perked up. “Can you do jazz?”

Viktor nodded. “Of course. But I also know some contemporary pieces.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “What about ‘You Are the Best Thing’ by Ray LaMontagne?”

Viktor smiled. “I can do that.”

Five threw up his hands. “Fine, let’s have Viktor play. Just... not too much Ray LaMontagne.”

Klaus sauntered in, a mischievous grin on his face. “I could DJ! Imagine the fun we’d have with a mix of 80s pop and punk rock!”

Five stared at him. “Absolutely not.”

When it came to decorations, Five wanted sleek and modern, while Y/N envisioned a romantic, rustic theme.

“We need string lights and mason jars,” Y/N said, flipping through a wedding magazine.

Five groaned. “We’re not having a Pinterest wedding. How about something more sophisticated? Like geometric centerpieces.”

“Geometric?” Y/N laughed. “What are we, hosting a math conference?”

Lila, who had shown up uninvited but was enjoying the chaos, added her two cents. “I think you should go with a theme park idea. Imagine—carnival games, cotton candy, maybe even a Ferris wheel!”

Y/N laughed. “Actually, that sounds kind of fun.”

Five buried his face in his hands. “We’re not turning our wedding into a circus.”

In the end, they settled on a rustic-chic blend with some modern touches—fairy lights and mason jars for Y/N, and sleek tableware and geometric designs for Five. It was a mix that surprisingly worked, combining the best of both their visions.

Even the wedding invitations were a source of contention. Five wanted them to be minimalist and elegant, while Y/N wanted something more whimsical and colorful.

“This font is too boring,” Y/N complained, staring at the sample invite. “It doesn’t scream ‘fun.’”

Five rubbed his temples. “We’re not throwing a rave, Y/N. We’re getting married. It should be timeless.”

Klaus, had another idea. “Why not go with a pop-up invitation? Like those 3D books! People would love that.”

Five shot him a look. “We’re not making pop-up books, Klaus.”

Despite the disagreements, the wedding day arrived, and everything was miraculously coming together. Five and Y/N stood at the altar, their family and friends gathered around them. The setting was a perfect blend of their styles—rustic yet sophisticated, whimsical yet elegant.

As they exchanged vows, Five couldn’t help but smile at Y/N. Despite their differences, their love for each other had only grown stronger through the process. It was clear that, no matter the debates, they were perfect for each other.

When they shared their first kiss as husband and wife, the crowd erupted into applause, and Klaus, predictably, started a slow clap that turned into an impromptu chant of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Five’s siblings had their mishaps—Klaus accidentally spilled champagne on Viktor’s suit, Lila got into a friendly wrestling match with Allison over the bouquet, and Luther accidentally triggered a sound system malfunction that blasted “Never Gonna Give You Up” at full volume during the toasts.

At the end of the night, as they danced under the twinkling lights, Five pulled Y/N close and whispered, “You know, despite all the chaos, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Not even the part where we almost had a bacon cake?”

Five chuckled. “Not even that. Well... maybe a little.”

Y/N laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you, Five Hargreeves. Even if you have terrible taste in cakes.”

Five grinned, wrapping his arms around her. “And I love you, Y/N Hargreeves. Even if you have questionable taste in everything else.”

As they swayed to the music, surrounded by their chaotic but loving family, Five realized that the debates, the compromises, and the occasional disaster were all part of what made their love story uniquely theirs.

And for Five and Y/N, that was all they ever wanted.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot

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3liza · 2 years ago

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I feel very defensive about the "goth is bougie" shit because it is historically incorrect, yes, but also and more personally, because it just erases the generations of goth kids who grew up in trailer parks and project housing or just straight up homeless, helping each other out.

it's specifically such a supportive subculture for poor and neglected kids and I really fucking hate that this has been revised and erased. juggalos and goths are very culturally close and many subcultural people are both, and juggalos have the same (and, I would argue, even better defined) culture of collective support. the Skids in Letterkenny are not made up for the show, that's just a real type of rural subcultural person. this has also been forgotten in the interim but in the 90s and 00s we didn't even really refer to OURSELVES as "goths" very much except in a joking way. goths had regional endonyms (like "skids" or "trenchies") even if they could all go to a convention or a club in a city and in that context be all called "goths" together, once they went back home they would go back to being whatever the locals called them or whatever they called themselves. this is a whole linguistics and sociology subtopic that's out of scope for a Tumblr post but is sort of related.

my point is that people who wore actual rags, and sharpie instead of nail polish, and wet n wild eyeliner instead of black lipstick, and dyed their hair with markers or food coloring or kool-aid, were and are the core of the goth scene. the majority of the pictures the mallgoth blogs are posting are from catalogs, fashion shows, costume events, yearly balls and fetes like Wave Gothik Treffen, and other places where people save up literally all year, or many years in a row, to put together ONE outfit. and there's nothing wrong with that, personally I'm proud and pleased that our hard work is being recognized and preserved. but just like formal studio photographs from the Victorian era, it is not representative of the daily or even weekly (for clubs) reality of people in the scene, some of whom were completely out of goth clothing during the day or week just to fit in at work or sometimes just to get along without being bothered at home by family members who thought the Cure was Satanic.

the people who RUN the scenes, the promoters and DJs and gogo dancers and independent designers and people who run the mailing lists and websites, the people who organize the room parties at conventions, and yes even most of the original Burning Man camps like Thunderdome, they mostly live in poverty. especially if they're young. when people organize club nights and shows, they're lucky if they break even. I wasn't aware of any of this until I started working at DNA Lounge in San Francisco, which hosts one of the oldest goth nights in the country, Death Guild. I got to know the owner of DNA well enough to find out about the financial reality of the entire scene, even the people who own the means of production and the actual property in this case, and it's not lucrative. I mean, it sometimes is, if you're running a bar for normal people and have investment captain etc, but the majority of legit subculture economics is just barely breaking even. every single event is 90% volunteer labor.

the issue of labor is maybe the confusing thing for the zoomers who are confused. goth outfits take actual physical work. maybe the Aspirational Spectacle of Labor that makes up most of TikTok has made it appear unreal to the audience rather than something you can just sit down and do?

it takes forty seconds to make the fishnet tights into a shirt. you don't need instructions, you really can just look at it and figure it out. then you think, hm, if I can make fishnets into a shirt I wonder what other things I can turn into something else. your brain will amaze you. my mom would save her tights from her formal work outfits for me when they got holes or whatever and I would just go crazy with scissors and safety pins. lots of young designers are getting attention for this layered, tights-n-pins look at the moment and it really is a fantastic aesthetic but I wonder if people think there's something special about the people who make these clothes? there isn't. you can just do it at home while you watch trashy youtubes.

one time, around 2008 or so, @gothiccharmschool and I were at the photoshoot for tabletop RPG Unhallowed Metropolis. we were there with a bunch of local goths to all make the pictures for this book together. we had all brought tons of our costumes from home to cobble together outfits for the book illustrations, and there was a moment when I just handed Jilli a pile of black skirts and some pins and said hey Jilli, could you please make me up a bustle skirt for this model real quick while I shoot these other models? and of course she did, and they were beautiful, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and because that's all a bustle is: it's a way of bunching up a skirt with another skirt. you can do it at home. you don't need instructions or to hire a seamstress or watch a video. you can just look at something and say hm does it look like a bustle? let's drape it and play with it and pin whatever works. and then you wear it for the photoshoot, or to the club!!! and then next week you pin it a different way and it's a cape instead and you wear it again!!!!!!!

#blog #goth history #goth #looking like absolute shit at the club #as is my sacred right

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seungrem · 8 months ago

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Seonghwa (Ateez) x male!reader

Burying the Hatchet

request ~*+ - masterlist ~*+ - part 1 of ??

summary: Though rival mob bosses separating their territories by north and south, m!reader and Seonghwa frequently bump into each other at socialite events. With tension building up in m!reader’s half of the city, he needs decide whether or not to confide in his connections for support.

( overview: mafiaboss!seonghwa, mafiaboss!reader, both socialites and well known, reader controls the south, seonghwa controls north, associates/goons = mob members, Ricky (zb1) feature because he’s very mob coded, reader is lowkey tsundere, established non-romantic relationship w/ eachother, reader inherits wealth, the park family = seonghwa’s mob group )

( warnings: mentions of plausible violence (guns/fighting), blood, injuries (scrapes/bruises/cuts), hostile personalities, mentions of psychotic/psychopathic behavior, threats, cursing )

emoji code:

🌿 ( long story/series )

-🧸 ( very light fluff )

🫧 ( pieces of angst here and there )

🪐 ( mafia / mob AU )

☁️ ( stands for y/n )

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Chatter echoed through a ballroom bustling of attires fit for only the most affluent. If it were up to him, ☁️ would be perched on the mezzanine, people watching until the gala had concluded. Instead, he walked into room preparing a flashy smile to anyone who would have the misfortune of catching his gaze.

“Can I take your jacket for you, sir?”

As ☁️ awaited the host of the gala’s presence, a teenage boy wearing a tuxedo approached him. The boy flinched slightly as ☁️ turned in his direction, ☁️ assuming he was just someone who worked there.

“No- I’ll keep it, thank you. Could you tell me where Ricky is, though?” ☁️ asked, turning his attention back to the crowd of people in the distance.

Though the two were the same age (early 20s), Ricky had made a name for himself apart from his parents- unlike ☁️. The man had the city’s media in a chokehold, with news of his whereabouts and appearances circling weekly. In contrast, ☁️ had inherited his parent’s wealth and “business” after their passing. The public also kept a close eye on him, but for reasons less alluring.

“Last I’ve seen he was on the other side of the room beside the DJ. Here’s your pamphlet.”

“Thank you.” ☁️ replied, him then taking the paper and watching the boy scurry away. He sighed as he flipped through the pages, reading carefully over the guest list and seating arrangements.

‘What the hell is Seonghwa doing here?’ ☁️ muttered to himself before taking a few steps toward the crowd. Recognizing a familiar face slip out of the mass and approach him with a smile, he quickly placed the pamphlet into his suit jacket as he walked.

“☁️, how have you been?” Ricky called out, waving to the man as the two closed the distance in between them. It was then that the two embraced, holding each other for a moment more. ☁️ noticed Ricky’s navy blue suit had a velvet look to it, him feeling the texture as he held onto the man’s forearms.

“I’ve been great, how about you? And what happened to the blonde?” ☁️ responded, smiling and then pointing to Ricky’s hair. The last time that he had seen Ricky, the man had bleached his hair a platinum silver. Now, his raven-black hair was slicked back, with a few strands falling onto his forehead.

“I’ve been better, and my roots grew out so I just dyed it back to a natural color. But listen, before you leave tonight, I’d like to speak to you. In the meantime, you need to do your rounds.”

☁️ huffed, knowing that this meant he had to greet everyone.

“We’ll be fast.” Ricky assured, once again grabbing the man’s arm and escorting him through the crowd.

☁️ smiled, introduced himself, shook hands, and kissed cheeks more times than he remembered that night. Following a conversation with a couple, Ricky led ☁️ out of the crowd, the two now standing for a moment.

“We done?” ☁️ asked, exhaling.

“One more. You aren’t going to like it, but please be respectful. I don’t want my gala to become a war-zone.”

“Is it Seonghwa?”

“Yes. But-“

“Why the hell did you invite him?”

“I do business with him just as I do with you. I’m prompting neutrality.”

“Understandable. But why do I gotta go over to him?”

“Because you two aren’t going to mean-mug each other all night like you did last year. That caused problems, did it not?” Ricky led ☁️ to his table, the two sitting beside one another.

“I don’t even have my guys with me tonight.” ☁️ argued, though he knew was simply delaying the inevitable.

“Neither does he. It’s invitation only this time.” Ricky’s tone was calm and fresh, though firm. ☁️ didn’t want to push his buttons, ultimately deciding to get it over with.

“Alright, let’s go.” ☁️ straightened his tie and stood up, Ricky following.

“Last I saw him he was standing beside the DJ’s stage. Let’s walk behind it.” Ricky said, motioning ☁️ to follow him.

The two tiptoed around the DJ’s elevated setup, emerging on the other side of the room after carefully stepping over wires and boxes.

“There he is. Behave, please.” Ricky whispered after leaning into ☁️.

“Always.” ☁️ muttered back before noticing that Seonghwa had three of his goons around him. The man leaned his back against a column and looked around the ballroom. He wore a bold outfit- a shiny gold top (that exposed some of his cleavage) with a brown fur coat and grey dress pants. His hair was in an up-do with strands hanging in front of his eyes, and silver chains dangled from his neck. ☁️ thought that Seonghwa was insanely hot, especially in this outfit, but would never vocally admit it.

“You said invitation only, Ricky.” ☁️ muttered through his teeth.

“It was... Let’s just make this quick.”

As the two approached Seonghwa, two of his goons noticed and walked over to his side.

“Seonghwa. I’m sure you remember ☁️.” Ricky chirped, hiding his nervousness very well. ☁️ and Seonghwa stared at each other for a few seconds before ☁️ forced a smile and held out his hand.

“I’m sure you’re well.” ☁️ remarked dully, watching as Seonghwa took his hand and squeezed. It took everything in ☁️ not to call him an asshole, but Ricky was luckily there to mediate.

“I am. It seems like you’re here alone tonight.. what a shame.” Seonghwa replied in his usual deep voice, ☁️ watching the man look him up and down.

“I’m here to donate to a charity, not intimidate socialites with my goons.” ☁️ kept a straight face, but wanted to laugh in Seonghwa’s face. “And you look rediculous.” ☁️ whispered after leaning into Seonghwa, only taking a step back when Ricky grabbed his arm and muttered a ‘Jeez.’ Seonghwa sneered and looked around in response, licking his teeth as he nodded in amusement. ☁️ could tell he was already ticked off.

“I’ll see you later tonight, yeah?” Seonghwa nodded his up as he spoke, patting ☁️ on the arm and nodding to Ricking before departing to his table with his goons.

“You couldn’t have made that any worse.” Ricky whined, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at ☁️.

“Somebody has to humble him.”

“I don’t want any bad blood here, ☁️.”

“I said that I understood. If he can’t take criticism then maybe he shouldn’t be The North’s premier mob boss.”

“Well Southside’s premier mob boss seems to not know how to behave.”

“I was-“ ☁️ paused. “Well… He’ll be fine.”

“Right.. I’ve been meaning to talk to him so I’m going to do that now. The service should begin in the next few minutes. Make some friends while you’re here, you need them.” Ricky said before he began walking away. ☁️ gasped teasingly, the two smiling to each other as the distance in-between them grew.

—

His footsteps tapping up the staircase’s crimson-colored carpet, ☁️ was on the hunt for someone specific. He stepped onto the mezzanine and walked over to the beige railing, him then leaning against it. Scouring over the many faces on the dance floor and sitting at tables, ☁️ found that Seonghwa was nowhere in sight despite having seen him before the service had begun. Assuming that the man had left early, ☁️ frowned and turn around.

“Whatcha doin’?” Seonghwa asked, leaning against the wall a few feet in front of ☁️. The man’s goons weren’t next to him, but ☁️ could see them on the other ends of the mezzanine through the corner of his eye.

“I was looking for you. Have a minute?”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow and walked over to ☁️, standing beside him.

“Make it quick.” He muttered, looking down at the people below.

“I received this letter a few days ago. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about it.” ☁️ pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Seonghwa.

“People still write letters?” Seonghwa said with a scowl, pulling a piece of paper out of the envelope.

“So is it safe to assume that you weren’t the one to send it?”

Seonghwa took another minute to analyze the letter.

“No.. not my style... Whoever did hates you, though.” Seonghwa whispered, handing the piece of paper and envelope back to ☁️. “What’s the red stuff at the bottom? Don’t tell me it’s blood.”

“It is. Instead of signing a name, the blood is suppose to be the signature. That’s what I think, anyway.”

“Wow.. you really pissed someone off. Did you figure out whose blood it is?”

“Mine.”

Seonghwa laughed and turned to ☁️.

“So someone wrote a letter threatening you, somehow got ahold of your blood and smeared it onto the paper, and then mailed it to you?” Seonghwa shook his head with a smile. “Good luck, really. You need it.”

“I thought that you’d be more helpful. That’s all I needed, though. Have a good night.” ☁️ said, turning to walk away. Seonghwa quickly gripped his shoulder and stopped the man in his tracks. ☁️ to looked over his shoulder somewhat menacingly.

“Do you need help? Seriously.” Seonghwa’s unserious smile quickly turned into an expressionless display of concern, as he slightly leaned into ☁️.

“Never will I need your help. Stay on your side and I’ll be fine.” ☁️ quipped, brushing Seonghwa’s hand off of his shoulder and stepping away. He stopped upon hearing Seonghwa continue.

“I hate you.. but don’t die, please.”

“The hell are you talking about?” ☁️ snapped, looking over his shoulder again.

“That’s psychotic behavior, ☁️. You can’t just have one of your guys find and take care of ‘em.”

“Why not?”

“This isn’t just some guy on the street.”

“No shit.” ☁️ rolled his eyes. “I have to go, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa remained silent, watching as ☁️ strolled back down the staircase.

“How the hell did they know it was there?” ☁️ walked up the stone walkway to his home, with two of his associates following beside him. The mansion had been broken into, with a suitcase full of hard drives having been taken from ☁️’s chambers.

“Respectfully sir, we suspect a mole in the group. After the passing of your parents, the associates haven’t necessarily been well-monitored.” The older man beside ☁️ replied, opening a door for him as the three arrived to the entrance.

“Please get in touch with the gentleman who set the security systems up.” ☁️ paused as he stepped inside. “Actually, I’ll just do it. You two should go home for the night.”

“But sir, we really think someone should stay with you until everything’s resolved.” The second associate replied, following ☁️ as he unbuttoned his suit jacket in the spacious living room. The room glowed in orange and yellow hues from the lit fireplace. ☁️ sighed and turned to his two henchmen, a sense of nervousness trickling down his spine. He wondered if he could trust them, but also wondered if there truly was an outsider out to get him as Seonghwa suggested.

“I’ll take care of myself and this.. situation. Please, go home.”

“At least let me contact the programmer. I’ll get him here as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

1 week later

“Two events in a row? This must be a record.”

☁️ felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Seonghwa smirked, looking ☁️ up and down. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Wasn’t sure why you invited me.” ☁️ replied, crossing your arms.

“Oh, here I thought that you wanted to support charities..”

“You held a gala one week after Ricky and invited me on short notice.”

“Seems that I did. So?”

☁️ exhaled. “Thanks but I should go.”

“Wait.” Seonghwa held his hand out to stop the man. “I heard things weren’t going well on your side of the city. You sure you don’t need help?”

☁️ looked around the crowd of people surrounding him. This ballroom was smaller than the previous gala’s, but just as loud. ☁️ leaned into Seonghwa, who reacted by leaning forward as well.

“If I find out that you’re playing me again, it won’t end up for you.” ☁️ murmured into Seonghwa’s ear. Seonghwa leaned back up, with a seemingly offended expression.

“Are you accusing me of what’s going on?”

“No, simply warning you- just in case. I need to go.”

“☁️.”

☁️ turned around and slid past people to get out of the crowd.

“☁️!!”

☁️ froze as the room went silent. Everyone turned to Seonghwa as ☁️ slowly turned around to glance back at the man. An awkward silence filled the air for a few seconds, with Seonghwa not taking his eyes off of ☁️. After the chatter picked back up, ☁️ continued out of the room, leaving an abandoned Seonghwa alone on the dance floor.

☁️ walked through the hallways and toward the glass double doors, waving down a bellman as he did so.

A few photographers stood behind red ropes, clicking their cameras immediately after ☁️ began descending quickly down the white staircase. A few began shouting out to him.

“Hey, ☁️! What’re you doing in The North?”

“Have you and the Park family finally made amends?”

“You look great tonight, ☁️!”

☁️ smiled and waved as a bellman pulled to the curb with his grey sports car, getting out as soon as ☁️ reached the sidewalk. The bellman handed the keys to the man as the two walked past each other, ☁️ then jumping into the drivers seat.

“Hey, Mr. ☁️. The programmer was able to stop in today.”

“That’s great, has everything been recovered?” ☁️ responded as he walked into his home, an associate beside him.

“He said he needed a password.”

“To the computer? Why didn’t you call or text me? Is he available tomorrow?”

“He’s still here, just using the bathroom. I’ll tell him you’ve arrived after you put your password in.”

☁️ looked over to the associate after hanging his suit jacket up.

“It’s midnight.”

“It’s the only time he could come this week.”

☁️ raised an eyebrow and walked to his chambers past the living quarters and down the hall. After his shoes tapped echoed through the hallway, he leaned into the double doors, pushing them open. The lamp on his desk was already turned on at the other end of the room. ☁️ also noticed that the associate was still behind him, him turning to the man before walking inside of the room. He was suspicious at this point, hearing more voices in the living quarters.

“Why don’t you go let the programmer know that I’m back. Please tell the other associates that they’re good to go, as well. I don’t need anybody here right now.”

“You want us to leave you alone with the programmer? What if he tries to-“

“That’s an order. I’ll see you tomorrow.” ☁️ narrowed his eyes, allowing his voice to become slightly belligerent.

The associate sneered and nodded, turning around and walking toward the living quarters. ☁️ sighed and closed the chamber doors behind him, walking toward the desk in front of the large stain-glass window. Bookshelves covered the left and right walls, and though the room wasn’t huge, the ceiling was very high up.

☁️ walked around the other side of the desk, sitting down and tapping the computer’s keyboard to turn the device on. He didn’t put his password in, choosing to wait for the programmer to arrive. Another thirty seconds passed before the oldest associate opened the room’s doors, walking in.

“☁️. Do you have a moment?”

“Where’s the programmer?”

“I think he’s still talking to the other associates. I think we should speak in the meantime.” The associate called out, standing at the door.

“Come.”

The associate strolled slowly over to the side of ☁️’s desk.

“What did you want to talk about.” ☁️ asked, giving the man his attention.

“You know, your father and I were extremely close. He entrusted me to do everything beside him.”

“Yes, I remember.” ☁️ nodded, tilting his head to the side.

“He also hated the Park family with every fiber of his being. And I know that you’ve been going out of your way to attend Seonghwa’s galas.”

“To support his charity and rebuild my family’s reputation. Yes.”

“Do you think that your father would’ve wanted this? To knock down the legacy that he has built?”

“Excuse me?” ☁️ snickered. He felt his body become tense, and his tone dull.

“I just think that with you as the head of this.. well, what used to be a mob group, you’ve dug our reputation into ground.”

☁️ felt his body heat up, making him stand up and grab the associate by the collar. The associate responded by pulling a gun out from his back pocket and pointing it at ☁️’s head. ☁️ exhaled and let go of the man’s collar, putting his hands to his sides.

“You need to give this up, ☁️. It’s in your best interest. Your father wouldn’t want this.”

“And his inability to be harmonious with other people is what got him killed.”

“Put your password into the computer so I can put this gun down.” The associate muttered, tapping the gun against ☁��’s head.

“No.”

“Please don’t make me do this.”

☁️ laughed.

“You’re not gonna have the password if you do ‘this.’”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Don’t be an idiot, then.” ☁️ laughed again, pausing before quickly shuffling to the side and knocking the gun out of the man’s hand. The gun landed on the desk and slid across it, falling off on the other side. ☁️ leaped over the desk and grabbed the gun before the man could snatch it, ☁️ then kicking his knee out while still on the ground. The associate quickly stood up and ran toward ☁️ as he got on one a knee. With a loud bang, ☁️ shot the pistol, hitting the associate in the leg. The man fell to the ground and clutched his knee.

“Fuck.” ☁️ muttered under his breath, putting the gun on safety mode and into his pocket. He grabbed his computer from the desk and threw it through the stained-glass window, shattering it. The door then slammed open, with a bunch of ☁️’s members running in. After seeing the older associate on the ground, the group whipped their guns out and pointed them at ☁️. The man was already halfway out of the window at this point, him having jumped through the hole and falling into the bushes below. With scrapes and bruises along his body, ☁️ rolled out of the bush and secured the laptop beside him- though he presumed it broken. He shot up and ran alongside the mansion’s side, hopping over the iron fencing as soon as he reached the front of the building. ☁️ considered taking one of his cars, but quickly realized that the keys were still inside.

Continuing to run through the forest, he eventually emerged into the city after a few minutes. ☁️ noticed a university campus in front of him as he wandered, him power walking through it and waving a taxi down. He ran to its side and jumped in, him recognizing the driver as he did so. The two stared at each other through the rear view mirror before the driver smiled.

“Oh, right- you’re ☁️. I worked a lot with your father.”

☁️ froze with his hand on the car’s handle, preparing to run out.

“Your family has helped mine out a lot. But anyway, where to?”

“Can you just drive, please?” ☁️ asked nervously, his hand still on the handle.

“Sure thing.”

The two drove in silence for a minute before the driver pulled up to a red light.

“You alright? You look pretty disheveled there, chief.”

“Yes, just some work issues.”

The driver chuckled. “Your dad had the same problem. I’d always wait a block or two away after he handled business, and he’d come running over with ripped clothing and red fists.” He paused. “I’m a bit relieved that the whole mob business thing is dying, though. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”

☁️ pondered his words, repeating them in his head before responding. “..Yeah, I’m relieved as well. Can I bother you to drop me off in The North?”

“Oh, sure. I heard that you buried the hatchet with the Park family. That true?”

“I think that’s what I’m going to do now.”

“I see. Is there somewhere specific in the North?”

“Do you know where that gala was held today?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll have you there in a few.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, it’s an honor to help you through this last hurrah. I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you sir. How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t look like you have anything on you, respectfully. Just get me back next time you see me.”

☁️ nodded and slowly turned around toward the large building in front of him. There were no photographers, no red ropes, and no people wandering around at this point. With his computer under his arm, he began up the steps.

Upon walking through the glass doors, a receptionist was packing her belongings in a large purse.

“Oh, Mr. ☁️. Are you looking for the gala’s after party?” She asked as the man approached her desk.

“Ah- yes, I am. Can you tell me where it is?”

“It’s down the hallway to your left, the last door down. Also.. you’re bleeding a bit..”

☁️ looked down to where she pointed, seeing small patches of red stain through his white button-up shirt.

“Oh.. yeah, it’s just part of the outfit. Thank you though.”

“Oh, ok.. Have a goodnight.”

“You as well.”

☁️ continued down the dark hallway, stopping in front of a frosted glass door with loud music playing behind it. Streaks of blue, pink, and white flashed across the glass as he pushed the door open. The room was pretty big, with confetti and balloons spread across the floor. A group of around a hundred people danced in front of a smaller DJ booth, with a few wallflowers conversing amongst each other with glasses in their hands. ☁️ walked over to a table full of champagne glasses, grabbing one and sitting in the nearest seat against the wall. He plopped down, leaning his head against the wall and chugging the glass. He looked around, though couldn’t see Seonghwa from where he was. It didn’t help that the room was somewhat dim, with pink lights illuminating half of the room from behind the DJ. Spotlights also casted quick flashes on the dance floor, them occasionally dancing across ☁️’s body as he sat.

Choosing to calm down before searching for Seonghwa, he opened his computer and tapped the keyboard. Surprisingly, it survived the seven foot fall and still worked- the only flaw being a few cracks in the top corner of the screen and a few missing buttons on the keyboard. ☁️ sighed and placed the computer on his lap, him then closing his eyes.

“Psst. Hey, sleepy head.”

☁️ heard someone whisper from beside him, making him jump. He opened his eyes and looked to his left, seeing Seonghwa sitting beside him. He clutched his computer and looked around, seeing that everyone was preparing to leave the party. The music had stopped, and a few workers were vacuuming the carpet. Seonghwa’s face was barely visible in the dim, pink lighting, though his voice was softer than ☁️ had recalled. “So, you came back..?”

“…I think I need your help.” ☁️ hummed.

Seonghwa smirked. “I won’t rub it in your face even though I wanna. Do you need a place to stay?”

☁️ nodded, standing up as Seonghwa did. Seonghwa placed a hand on ☁️’s back, guiding him to the exit. The flashing lights turned into white spotlights that illuminated the exit at this point.

The two followed the crowd out of the room and down the hallway. As they walked out of the glass doors, ☁️ recognized the cars lined up on the sidewalk, with multiple bellman awaiting the guests at the bottom of the stairs.

“We’re all the way in the front.” Seonghwa stated, walking down the staircase with ☁️ and turning right down the sidewalk. A bellman approached the two, handing Seonghwa a pair of keys. He unlocked the red sports car and removed his hand off of ☁️’s back, hurrying in front of the man to open the vehicle door for him. ☁️ rolled his eyes and attempted to hide a smile as Seonghwa gestured him inside. As he sat down, ☁️ covered the patches of red along his top with his arms and hands. Seonghwa shut the door and ran to the other side, him hopping in and hurrying to start the car. After a few seconds, the two were speeding through empty city streets.

“Have you ever been to this part of The North?” Seonghwa asked with a tender tone, turning to ☁️ as he pulled into a lofty condo complex’s garage.

“This is my city. Of course I have.”

“Our city.” Seonghwa retorted.

☁️ smiled at the answer, opening his door after Seonghwa had parked on the highest level.

“We’ll have to take the elevator to the lobby, and then we’ll take a different one to my place.” Seonghwa stated from the other side of the car. ☁️ waited for Seonghwa to lead the way, but upon standing beside ☁️, the man froze.

“What the hell happened?! You’re bleeding.”

“I know.” ☁️ sighed, him having forgotten to cover the red stains.

“You’re explaining everything once we get inside.”

“Ok.”

Seonghwa linked his arm with ☁️’s, ☁️ speculating that Seonghwa thought he was too badly injured to walk by himself, which elicited the act.

The two quickly reached the elevator and stepped inside. With mirrors along the walls, a gold accent lined the corners of the elevator. Seonghwa leaned forward to press a button, and the two were soon moving up.

“Are you tired?”

“Extremely.” ☁️ replied monotonously.

“I could tell by your tone. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep in my guest room.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll take the guest room.”

“No. You can take the bigger bed.”

☁️ was too tired to argue back, instead choosing to lean against the mirror as the elevator continued. After a few more seconds, the door buzzed and the two walked through. The lobby’s lights were dim and the spacious room was empty. The men walked across the marble floor to another elevator, Seonghwa pressing the button again though the elevator doors opened immediately. The two walked through, and Seonghwa pressed the button of the highest number- 16.

“You’re on the highest floor?”

“Yes. It’s a penthouse with lots of windows , you’ll like it.”

The two stood silent for a few minutes until the elevator buzzed again, the men stepping out into a small walkway. Taking a few steps forward, Seonghwa flipped a switch, which turned on a small lamp above the two of them. He then pulled out his keychain, picking out a key and twisting it into the black door.

“After you.” Seonghwa said, gesturing ☁️ forward. Seonghwa’s penthouse was full of monotonous colors and exotic furniture- definitely a reflection of his personality. Small lamps lit the space as the two walked into the living room area. Large windows sat on each side of the walls, with the moon peering down from the large skylight above.

“I do like it.” ☁️ murmured as he moved his arm away from Seonghwa’s. Seonghwa simply smiled in response.

“Let me show you to the room.”

“Show me the guest room.”

“No.”

☁️ rolled his eyes, following Seonghwa down the end of the hallway. He switched his lamp light on, it illuminating the large bedroom. The walls, bedsheets, and furniture were all visually-pleasing shades of grey. The windows on the right side of the room touched both the floor and ceiling, stretching across most of the wall to reveal a beautiful view of the city. To the left, a door led into another room.

“Just sit on the bed. I’ll get you some new clothes and medical stuff.” Seonghwa instructed, walking into the bathroom. ☁️ walked to the bed and sat, him waiting for the man to come back out. After a minute, Seonghwa walked toward ☁️ with a small bottle, cotton balls, along with a roll of bandages and placed it beside ☁️. He then trudged over to the wardrobe across from his bed, opening it and throwing a pair of green and blue pajama pants with a white tee onto the bed.

“Those are old so they should fit you. Do you want me to get out while you change?”

“I don’t care, just turn around.” ☁️ replied taking off his pants and unbuttoning his top as Seonghwa faced his wardrobe. He threw the man’s pants on but put the tee around his neck, exposing some of his stomach and arms.

“Okay.”

Seonghwa turned around and sat on the bed. ☁️ pushed the shirt away from his arm for Seonghwa to clean.

“So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

“My associates tried to overthrow me and take over my company’s accounts. They said I wasn’t being a mob boss.”

“Is that where the letter was from?”

“I think they’ve been planning this for a few months now. They probably got ahold of my blood after your guys tried to take over my company’s building. Your goons show no mercy.” ☁️ chuckled, but Seonghwa frowned.

“I didn’t initiate that, by the way. That was my father, and we’ve.. talked about it.”

“It hasn’t happened again, so I don’t care.”

After a few seconds of silence, Seonghwa continued disinfecting, and then wrapping ☁️’s arm.

“So what specifically happened?” Seonghwa asked.

“Well, I got home from the gala. I was told someone was coming in to help me retrieve missing data from drives that were stolen after Ricky’s gala last week. I’m pretty sure they lied, and one of my guys cocked a gun at me and told me to unlock my computer so they could use the drives they stole. I didn’t do it obviously, and I ended up shooting him. The gun probably fell out of my pants when I jumped out of the window and ran into the city.”

“You jumped out of a window?” Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly worried. He wrapped the bandage around ☁️’s arm and clipped it so that it stood in place. ☁️ lifted his pant leg up to expose another cut, him then scooting back on the bed to put the cut beside where Seonghwa sat.

“Do you mind?” ☁️ asked, looking over to Seonghwa.

“Not at all.” He replied, preparing another cotton ball to use.

“And.. yeah, I kinda did. It was only six or seven feet and I landed in a bush. So it was fine. I used this to smash the glass.” ☁️ said, pointing to the computer that he placed beside him. “That’s why it’s fucked up.”

“I have another that you can use.” Seonghwa said as he applied alcohol to the cuts.

“I have important filled on there. I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet.”

The two remained quiet again until Seonghwa finished wrapping the wounds.

“Alright, you should be good.” He stated, grabbing the used cotton swabs and walking into the bathroom with them. ☁️ grabbed the alcohol bottle and roll of bandages, carrying them back into the bathroom for Seonghwa.

“It’s 2:30 in the morning. You should rest.” Seonghwa said, watching ☁️ sit back down on the bed, Seonghwa then walking to the lamp.

“Before you go-“ ☁️ blurted out, stopping Seonghwa.

“Hm?”

“Why’re you helping me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Why’re you doing this for me?”

“Because I like you, despite the “conversations” we’ve had in the past. And we’re not like our parents.”

☁️ nodded.

“Sleep well.” Seonghwa called out, turning the light off.

“Wait-“

Seonghwa turned the light back on, exhaling. “Yes?”

“Sleep in your bed.”

“I already told you I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then move over.”

☁️ scooted back toward the wall with the windows so that Seonghwa could sit in front of him. Seonghwa leaned over to turn the lamp off before pulling the covers over the two of them.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I worried about you a lot.” Seonghwa muttered, him then turning his body to face ☁️.

“Shouldn’t have.” ☁️ murmured in response.

“Well, I did.”

☁️ smiled. “Well, thanks for worrying.”

Seonghwa smiled back, grabbing ☁️’s hand from under the blanket. “Do you mind?”

“No.” ☁️ hummed before turning his body around. He scooted his body back to lie against Seonghwa’s. Grabbing the man’s hand and pulling it over his waist, then two now laid together a spooning position.

“Goodnight, ☁️.” Seonghwa whispered.

“Goodnight.”

a/n: genuinely can’t tell if my stories are good anymore 😄 hope u enjoyed tho! alsoooo gonna be a part 2- just to follow up and see how the reader and seonghwa build a relationship together while the reader is still under the other mob’s protection. def gonna be more fluff and character development in that one!! there can be ❄️ if u guys want it bad enough lol

likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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littlxpxtal · 1 month ago

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Puppy Grin

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

I'm alone, to beginning

Just sat right here with my puppy grin

For you and your sneaking on holidays, holidays

What fun to be had

When you've got me here to hit right back

Just some Polly parroting on and on and like you want

What's up with you?

It's never been like you to be back and begging

I've been no good at acting as I should

New Years Eve

My boots clacked against the pavement as I walked to Sabrina’s house, book bag filled to the brim with everything I needed to get ready for tonight. I knock on the large front door and am greeted by Sabrina, wrapped in a robe with her makeup half done and her hair up in a towel.

We greet each other and she leads me upstairs to her room, clothes sprawled out everywhere. I trip over a pair of heels and she profusely apologizes, throwing them across the room, landing on top of a pile of purses.

“Sorry I can’t fucking figure out what I wanna wear, which is preventing me from starting my eye makeup. Can you help?” I nod my head and start picking up dresses from her bed, inspecting each one.

“Ooo what about this one?” I ask, reaching back behind her bed. It was a black sparkly mini dress that she bought online a few months ago but never wore. I remember watching her buy it off her laptop in second period.

“Oh my GOD yes!” she screams, giving me a hug. I help her shove all of her clothes into her closet and start setting up my own little station by her mirror, applying my makeup.

“So who do you think you’re gonna kiss tonight?” I finally ask as I wrap a piece of hair around the hot wand. Sabrina peaks out from the bathroom and smirks.

“Haven’t decided.” she says before spraying hairspray on her head. “I’ve been hooking up with DJ Gabe for only like a week but there’s no strings attached.”

“What about Topper?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow at her. He was the host of tonights New Years Eve outing.

“What about him?” she responds sweetly, admiring herself in the mirror.

“What do you mean what about him” I say with a laugh, finishing up with the last strand of hair that needed to be curled. I spritz some hair spray on it then run a comb through the curls to loosen them up.

“No idea what you’re talking about” she says with a grin on her face. She walks out of the room and I roll my eyes, grabbing my dress and begin to slip it on.

The description on the website I found it from was “Femme Clubwear Gold Sequin Sleeveless Halter Backless Mini Dress” I hadn’t tried it on since purchasing so I was praying it would fit fine. If it didn’t at least I knew Sabrina had plenty of extras to let me wear.

Sabrina’s hopes for the night was to go home with the DJ from my birthday party. I had no motives for the night except to get drunk.

As if she read my mind, she reentered the room with a champagne bottle and two flutes in her hand.

“God you look so good!” she exclaims. “I have to put mine on now.” she shoves the bottle and glasses into my hand and runs to her bathroom to change. I pour the glasses full and hand one out to her when she exits.

“You look perfect.” I compliment her.

“Dude I know.” she says, walking over to her mirror and taking a selfie. I giggle at her and pull out my phone. It was 9:33 and I had a text from Rafe.

What’re you wearing tonight?

Something sexy

Send me a picture

You’ll have to wait till you see it on my instagram

You’re such a tease … Give me the color at least

Gold

Wow that is sexy

What’s your plans for tonight

Slummin it with Sarah while she whines about not getting a New Years kiss with johnbee

:( Be nice to her

Only because you told me to.

Top’s throwin tonight we’re about to leave

Im jealous

You should be :p

Shut up

Make me

Dont ask for things you dont actually want

What if i do

“Who’re you texting?” she says, taking a sip of champagne trying to peak down at my phone.

“No one important.” I say, clicking my phone off.

“When are you gonna tell me whats going on between you and Rafe?”

“Dont know what you’re talking about.” I say, mimicking her response from my probing questions earlier.

“I see the way he looks at you. And the way he touches you. He doesn’t do that with anyone else. And I mean anyone.” She pours herself another full glass and tops mine off.

“We’ve known each other for a while. I grew up around them so he probably just thinks of me like a sister or something.” I say shrugging.

“You and I both know he does not treat Sarah the same way he treats you so don’t even try that.” she says, with a serious face this time.

“Why does it matter Sab?” I ask, my face getting flustered. I let the topic go earlier about her and Top, but she wasn’t letting this one go.

“You guys would be cute.” she finally says after a few seconds of silence. I roll my eyes and walk over to my bag, pulling out my heels.

“That’s not what it is.” I huff.

“HA so something IS going on!”

I decide to give in. I knew Sabrina wouldn’t tell anyone and it was getting hard to keep it a secret from her anymore.

“Fine. We slept together. A few times. But that’s it.”

“And you’re texting.”

“He’s in Bora Bora.”

“He’s on vacation .. and hes on his phone texting you.”

“Its barely a conversation, let alone an intelligent one. No substance. He’s just bored.” I say defensively, buckling the clip of my heels on and standing up.

“This is so hot.” she says with a huge smile across her face. “I can’t believe your fucking Rafe. Is he good?” she asks.

I down the flute of champagne, pouring myself another glass before answering.

“Yea it’s pretty good.” I state. I check my phone to see that Rafe hadn’t answered. I frown slightly and look back over to Sabrina.

“Ready to go?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was 11:45 and I was alone. A bottle of champagne in one hand and a joint in the other. I had stolen a few cigarettes from some random pack that was left unattended on the bar. Everyone was hammered, the music was too loud and I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I stumbled down the hill of Topper’s backyard and made my way to the pier, walking closer to the edge by the water. I sit down on the edge and light both the joint and the cig.

The bass of the music rumbled down to the deck, vibrating the water below. I checked my phone again and saw that Rafe still hadn’t texted me back. I chugged a mouthful of champagne back and opened the spotify app. I was in the mood to listen to anything else other than house music.

The first song that plays on shuffle was Ribs. I laughed and turned the volume up, taking a drag from each of the lit sticks in my hands.

“What’re you doing out here?” The voice makes me practically jump out of my skin. I hadn’t heard the footsteps due to my intoxication and music rumbling around me. I turn my head to see the dark figure walking closer. The light at the edge of the deck where I sat illuminated their face.

It was Rafe.

“What are you doing here?” I squeak out.

“Dad had some business he needed to get back to so I hitched a ride with him.”

I rose to my feet and he walked closer to me.

“How long have you been home? How long have you been here?” My heart was racing and I felt insecure, realizing at the sight he was looking at. Me, crossed and alone on new years, listening to Lorde.

“We landed around 10, I got here around 11. ’ve been lookin for you. “

“You could’ve texted me.”

“That would’ve ruined the surprise” he says with a smirk, stepping closer. He takes the bottle out of my hand and takes a swig. He then takes the joint out of my hand, taking a long drag. “Looks like I have some catching up to do.” he chuckles, and sits down next to my phone on the pier.

After a few seconds, I sit next to him, about a foot of space between us. I stare out into the water, finishing up the cig, passing it to him for the last hit it had. He takes a drag and bums it out on the deck. He passes me back the bottle and joint and cracks his knuckles. I take a few sips before breaking the silence.

“How could you leave Bora Bora a week early?”

“Didn’t want to be alone on New Years.”

“Like I am” I snort. He looks over to me. For the first time, his eyes are soft. His pupils aren’t dilated like they usually are when we’re at events like this, an effect from the white powder he snorts. I never see him sober anymore.

Hurricane by Halsey starts to play from my phone, filling the silence that had fallen between us again.

That’s exactly what he made me feel inside. Like there was a fucking storm brewing. I wanted to run and hide from the way he made me feel so I didn’t have to accept it. Like I had whiplash from his emotions. I never knew if he was going to say something nice or something mean. I never knew what mood he would be in. He was always lingering, I never knew when to expect to see him. Like tonight. He just appeared. He tore me open, left me devastated. And I liked it.

“Well now we’re here. Not alone anymore.” he finally says. A shiver runs up my spine and I hand him back the bottle. I had reached my limit for the night. The world felt like it was spinning, his surprise appearance leaving me in a haze. A dreamlike state. I wanted to pinch myself to check if this was even real or if I blacked out and this was a dream.

A countdown from the house rumbled through the air. Rafe put the bottle down and inched towards me. My breath hitched and I felt my hands start to shake. His hand reaches up to cup the side of my face and I look at him. His eyes still soft.

When the crowd chants Happy New Year, he leans in and presses his lips against mine. Its the sweetest he’s ever kissed me. My shaky hands trail up and hold his neck, pressing myself up, deeper into the kiss. When we finally break free, he keeps his face close to mine.

“Happy New Year.” he whispers. Fireworks erupt from someones house across the water, lighting his face up with color.

“Take me home.”

Rafe led the way up the hill back to the Cameron estate, holding my hand and the other holding onto my heels that I had taken off.

When we walk inside the house is quiet and dark. He grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen and we go upstairs. We turn left at the top of the stairs, instead of my usual right to Sarah’s room. I held my breath when walking in, it felt odd going into his room. I haven’t been inside of it since I was like 11.

It looked vaguely familiar from all those years ago, posters of his favorite artists and cars he liked, his desk with random papers piled on it. His closet door was closed, a few jackets hung from the back of the door. His floor was clean, which was a nice surprise from a teenage boy. His sheets were black and had a white knitted throw blanket on top.

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached his arms out, pulling me onto his lap, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

“This dress is breathtaking.” he whispers. His hand trails from my cheek, fingers hovering over my bottom lip. I stay as still as possible, keeping eye contact with him. His thumb holds my chin, pulling my face closer to his.

“What do you want pretty girl?” he says, his breath lingers over my mouth and I hesitate for a second to answer.

“I want you.” I finally say, releasing the breath I had been holding. He presses his mouth against mine, I part mine open, letting his tongue circle around inside. I begin to unbutton his top, and unbuckle his pants. When they fall to the floor, I go down with them, on my knees in front of Rafe. He visibly gulps and I begin to palm his length on the outside of his boxers. They were Calvin Klein this time. I start to pepper kisses along his happy trail, teasing the band of his boxers, I can feel his abs flex, and he runs his fingers through my hair.

I finally pull his boxers off, his cock slapping up against his abdomen.

“Hold my hair for me?” I ask, battling my lashes up at him. He nods his head feverishly, swiping it all up into his grip in one go. I spit on the top of his tip and hear his breathing get ragged.

Taking him in slowly, I wrap my lips around his tip, letting my spit drop down his shaft, using my hand to spread the saliva around. I swirl my tongue around his tip and look up at him, his eyes are squeezed shut.

I push myself down his length, trying to my hardest to make it down to his base without gagging. He bucks up into my mouth, making his tip hit the back of my throat. Tears brim my eyes and I feel drool dripping from the corners of my mouth. His eyes are still squeezed tight, his chest glistening against the warm light shining from the corner of the room.

Rafe’s hand pulls my hair up and he pushes back down, bobbing my head on his cock. I let him take over completely, and his hips start to thrust up into my mouth, his bottom lip tight between his teeth, he grunts loudly with each thrust.

“Fuck ‘M gonna cum.” he whsipers, a soft whine coming from his mouth as hes unable to keep his composure before filling my mouth with his cum, shooting straight down the back of my throat.

I swallow everything he released into my mouth, wiping the outside corners with the back of my hand. Rafe releases his grip on my hair and I sit up on my knees, batting my eyelashes up at him for my next direction.

“I’m sorry I might be out of commission for tonight.” he says sheepishly, pulling his boxers back on and scratching the back of his head.

“It’s alright. I owed you anyways.” I respond before standing up and walking around to pick up my shoes. From the corner of my eye I see Rafe frown, and rub his hands on his face.

“You headin out already?” he finally says after a few seconds of silence. I nod and walk back over to the bed, sitting on the edge next to him, attempting to put my shoes on.

“You know, you can stay here if you’d like. Its dangerous out there.” I chuckle at this and look up to meet his eyes. They’re soft, and he has a vulnerable look on his face, something I haven’t seen in a very long time.

“I dont know Rafe, we usually don’t do that.” I say, trying to respect the non existent boundaries of our relationship. We’ve never even talked about what this is, let alone what was allowed. He chews on his lip nervously, another few seconds of silence linger around the room.

“But I want you to stay.” I stop fumbling with my shoes when the words come out of his mouth. I internally debate on what this could mean. It was a line that seemed like it shouldn't be crossed, but looked so inviting to try.

“Can I borrow some clothes then?” I ask. He smiles and jumps off the bed, walking over to his dresser and tossing a pair of boxers and a t shirt. He walks to the ensuite bathroom, rummaging around in the cabinet and pulls out a toothbrush in its packaging.

“You can use my toothpaste. I dont got any makeup remover, but I have some face wash and lotion” he says into the room before starting to brush his own teeth. I slip off the dress I was wearing and place it onto his desk chair, placing the heels under his desk. I plug my phone into the closest outlet, and change into the clothes he provided. When Rafe steps out of the bathroom, I go in after him, using the toiletries he provided me to freshen up.

When I enter back into his bedroom, the last light that remains on is his bedside lamp. Rafe laid flat on his back, with his eyes closed. I crawl onto the bed, coming up beside him. He peaks one eye open and smiles, reaching his arms out to grab and pull me closer, pressing a kiss on my forehead.

I cuddle up against his chest, and he runs his fingers through my hair, falling deeper into sleep with each breath. I wasn’t sure what possessed Rafe to fly home early, and invite me to stay the night at his house, but it worried me that this might mean we had to have some sort of discussion about what was happening. I had no experience with a situation like this before, and Sarah’s words about Rafe and his ill intentions haunted my thoughts.

I thought about what I wanted. I wasn’t actually sure to be honest. I’ve known Rafe forever, I felt comfortable around him and he knows me well. But I also consider that he’s still just a guy with needs and maybe just wants a friends with benefits situation. Which I would be alright with, as long as if he gets to mess around with other people, so do I.

Before I could work myself up anymore about the thought of me and Rafe, soft snores escaped his mouth as he fell asleep. I clutched the side of his body tighter and kisses his cheek, whispering goodnight before resting my head on his chest and falling asleep.

Previous Chapter | Instagram AU | Next Chapter

#rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #obx x y/n #rafe fanfic #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx fic #obx #obx x reader #rafe x reader

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ntls-24722 · 1 year ago

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FNAF FANARTISTS!!!!!!!!!!! DJ MUSIC MAN AND MUSIC MAN ARE NOT THE SAME CHARACTER

many times, when fnaf artists are requested to draw music man/dj music man, they get them mixed up!!! which is reasonable!!!!!!! we know almost nothing about them, google mixes them up constantly, and a certain matpat meme has only made it more confusing!

They all have very similar faces, but they've got some staggering differences!!!!! so im detailing them and also giving some trivia/our known knowledge of them!!!

MUSIC MAN (FFPS)

The OG music man! He made his debut in FFPS/Pizzeria Simulator and makes another appearance in UCN. He is!!! weird!!

He's not built like a spider-centaur, he's literally like a minecraft creeper with a torso and a bunch of legs at the bottom.

He's got a design unlike any other fnaf animatronic, even deviating from the style of the human ones, though this is speculated to be because he seems to have design elements from enemies and bosses from Scott Cawthon's other game, The Desolate Hope.

He's described to have "something undesirable" inside him (it's never explained what) and in the Posh Pizzeria group he is the only one to have a liability risk at times - in UCN he's the only one of the posh pizzeria that can and will kill you. Also, weirdly enough, in UCN he's the only animatronic other than the original Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy to use the FNAF 1 scream. Despite being called Music Man, his gimmick in UCN is that he hates noise and you need to keep it down for him to not kill you - music also counts as noise for him.

He's voiced by Matthew Curtis, who also voices nightmare Balloon Boy, here are his lines for UCN!

DJ MUSIC MAN (Security Breach)

DJ Music Man! (Always abbreviated to DJMM in-game)

If MM is built like a creeper then DJ is built like a pig - he's Horizontal and looks more spider-y

There's even less info on him, but here goes:

He's a party host who makes up all of his music on the spot, but in between sessions he cleans around the Plex! The reason why he goes nuts and tries to kill Gregory is that he has an experimental but prohibited bouncer mode that was turned on, which is why he's chill afterwards. He also doesn't speak, unlike Music Man.

BONUS: WINDUP MUSIC MAN (Security Breach)

Windup Music Man!

Designwise they're almost identical to MM, but they look like they got microwaved and scraped across asphalt at mach 10. And also got a windup key stuck in their back. And TINY

Ingame they're described to be a prototype of Music Man that escaped the little museum part of the Plex, and that's all we really know. Other than that, their dynamic together is kind of comparable to a bunch of ants working together. They also JUMP and can be seen conversing/playing together.

ALSO: Those cymbals are not legs, they just have a really weird stance similar to actual tarantulas.

There's technically 394 Windup Music Men because the game randomly generates them from a collection of fucked up parts.

There's no height indication for Music Man but here's one for the security breach cast by @/musings-of-astromonster

happy music man-ing

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acesofspadess · 30 days ago

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New Roads

Pt.3 of All Roads Lead Here

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

a/n: the last, but certainly not least... another long one, comment down below if you liked this sub series or if you just like the AG5 universe in general

warnings: none??

summary: hungover, then drunk again, proposed, then proposed too again.... and her birthday....

The night was a blur of celebration, laughter, and champagne-soaked madness. After the Constructors’ Championship win and Lando’s unexpected proposal that left Ace in tears of joy, the McLaren team was whisked away to Bahrain by none other than the crown-prince himself.

By the time they landed, the group was already buzzing with excitement, though the real party was just beginning. The DJ was already spinning a mix of bass-heavy tracks that shook the room. It was exactly the kind of place you’d celebrate the double victory of a lifetime.

Ace and Lando, now officially engaged, were inseparable on the dance floor. Ace had ditched her racing overalls for a simple dress she always packs for emergencies like this, while Lando stuck to his signature outfit—a half buttoned linen shirt and some jeans. They twirled, laughed, and occasionally stopped to kiss amidst the crowd. The McLaren team surrounded them, equally swept up in the joy, raising glasses and shouting over the music about how this was “the best damn night of their lives.”

“Here’s to Ace, the comeback queen!” Zak Brown bellowed, lifting a glass of whiskey high.

“And to Lando, the fastest fiancé in the paddock!” someone else shouted, prompting raucous laughter and cheers.

Rounds of shots appeared like magic, and soon the entire group was letting loose, throwing inhibitions to the wind. Champagne bottles popped like fireworks, the golden fizz showering everyone in proximity. Lando and Ace took turns pouring champagne into each other’s mouths, their grins so wide they could barely drink properly.

The prince, gracious and clearly thrilled to host the victorious team, had ordered an endless supply of drinks and food. Ace found herself sipping on an exotic cocktail—something blue and impossibly sweet—while Lando goaded her into joining him on a makeshift karaoke stage. Together, they belted out an off-key duet of “Don’t Stop Believin’,” with their team roaring in approval.

At some point, they stumbled back to the dance floor, where the night turned into a haze of bright lights and uncontainable joy. Ace, with a tiara someone had randomly placed on her head, clinked glasses with her mechanics, “Are we drunk yet?” Ace teased, leaning against Lando as they swayed to the music.

“Not even close,” he shot back with a laugh, his arm securely around her waist. “But don’t worry, we’ve got all night.”

They did not have all night. They had until the morning when they had to fly back, very drunk. They stumbled into their hotel room barely getting their clothes off before they were in the bed and sleeping heavily cuddled into each other.

Ace woke up to her phone buzzing relentlessly. “Happy birthday fiancé.” She lifted her head from Lando’s side to look up at him already on his phone. “I could get used to that name.” She smiled sleepily. “Don’t, I plan on making it ‘wife’ soon.” He said smugly. Ace rolled her eyes with a small chuckle before rolling over him to get to her phone.

She looked at the time first, it was already 1 in the afternoon. “We’ve slept so late.” She gasped. Her bottom which was over Lando’s lap was now exposed to him which he took advantage of.

“Yeah, but dinner isn’t until 8.” He said now using his hands to play the drums on her bottom. Ace was entirely used to it though. “Yes, and for that I thank you.” She said kissing his arm as it was the only thing she could reach.

She opened some text first, from her friends and family:

Maman: Joyeux anniversaire chérie, je suis tellement honorée d'être appelée ta maman. Tu es devenue une belle jeune femme. Je t'aime chérie. (Happy birthday darling, I am so honored to be called your mom. You have become a beautiful young woman. I love you darling.)

Charlie: À ma meilleure amie et petite sœur. Joyeux anniversaire petite étoile, je savais quand maman est entrée dans le salon de coiffure et t'a donné à Enzo que nous serions coincés avec toi quoi qu'il arrive. Je savais qu'à partir du moment où tu t'asseyais sur les genoux de Jules, tu suivrais ses traces. Il serait si fier de jusqu'où tu es venu. Je suis si heureuse d'être dans ta vie pour une autre année. Je t'aime petite étoile, ne sois pas en retard pour ton propre dîner s'il te plaît. (To my best friend and little sister. Happy birthday little star, I knew when mommy walked into the hair salon and gave you to Enzo that we would be stuck with you no matter what. I knew that from the moment you sat on Jules' lap, you would follow in his footsteps. He would be so proud of how far you've come. I'm so happy to be in your life for another year. I love you little star, don't be late for your own dinner please.)

Max: Happy Birthday Frenchie. (I’m monegasque not french, you’ll say) You were a menace in Renault and you haven’t changed one bit. It’s odd thinking I knew you and Lando before you two even met, now you’re engaged 🤢. You know I love you, and I’m proud to see how far you’ve come since 2018. You deserve it all.

Alex: Joyeux anniversaire à mon partenaire criminel! 🎉 nous avons traversé une année folle, des petits sourires à l'abandon de Charles et Lando l'un pour l'autre et maintenant vous êtes ENGAGÉS (!!!). Je suis tellement fière de la personne incroyable que tu es devenue, même si tu seras toujours la fille qui vole mes croissants et qui appelle ça "partager". Voici pour vous célébrez aujourd'hui : votre gentillesse, votre feu et tout ce qui fait de vous, vous. Je t'aime pour toujours, ma meilleure amie. 💕 Now go make Lando spoil you like crazy! See you later for cake and champagne. 🍾❤️ (Happy birthday to my partner in crime! 🎉 we've been through a crazy year, from little smiles to abandoning Charles and Lando for each other and now you're ENGAGED (!!!). I'm so proud of the incredible person you've become, even though you'll always be the girl who steals my croissants and calls it "sharing." Here's to celebrating you today: your kindness, your fire, and everything that makes you, you. I love you forever, my best friend. 💕)

Kelly: Happy Birthday, Ace! 💖✨ You are truly one of a kind. Watching you grow over the years has been such a joy—from the little firecracker cheering on Charles and Max, to the unstoppable woman and soon-to-be Mrs. Norris! We are so lucky to have you in our lives. P adores her Aunt Acey, and I can’t wait for you to meet her baby brother or sister soon—you’re going to be the most amazing godmother. Today is all about YOU, so soak up the love and celebration. You deserve the absolute world. Love you, gorgeous! 😘💐

Lily: Happy Birthday, Ace! 🥳💛 The queen of the track, and absolute sunshine to everyone who knows you. I hope you know how loved you are today—and always. You’ve been a badass both on and off the track this year, and watching you crush it has been amazing. Let’s make tonight one to remember (or maybe forget, depending on how much champagne we drink 😂). Wishing you the most magical day, babe! Big hugs and see you soon. 😘

Kika: Happy Birthday, Ace! 🎂💜 What a year you’ve had—championship winner, and you said yes to the man who adores you! I hope today is filled with as much love and excitement as you bring to everyone around you. I still can’t believe we all kept the proposal a secret—honestly, it was SO hard! 😂 But seeing your face last night was everything. Let’s make today just as unforgettable. Can’t wait to celebrate you properly—don’t worry, I’ve got the champagne ready. Love you, babe! Cheers to another incredible year ahead. 🥂❤️

Rebecca: Happy Birthday, Ace! 🎉❤️ The most fierce, kind, and absolutely hilarious person I know. You’ve been the glue that holds this group together, and I feel so lucky to call you my friend. And let’s be real—you deserve a weeklong celebration after this year! Lando’s proposal was the cherry on top of what’s already been a legendary season for you. Carlos and I are beyond excited for what’s ahead. Love you so much, and I can’t wait to celebrate with you. 🥂😘

Pierre: Joyeux anniversaire, Ace ! 🎉 Honnêtement, je n’arrive pas à croire que tu as un an de plus. J'ai encore l'impression qu'hier tu volais mes collations dans l'enclos et que tu agis comme si l'endroit t'appartenait. Oh attends, tu fais toujours ça. 😏 Mais sérieusement, tu es comme la petite sœur agaçante que je n'ai jamais demandée mais que j'ai quand même fini par aimer. Vous voir écraser la F1 cette année a été irréel : vainqueur du championnat et fiancée de Lando ?! Ne laissez pas cela vous monter à la tête, ou je commencerai à vous appeler Mme. Norris juste pour t'ennuyer. J'ai hâte de fêter ça ce soir : les boissons sont sur Lando, non ? Je t'aime, soeurette. Faisons la fête ! 🍾😂 (Happy Birthday, Ace! 🎉 I honestly can’t believe you’re a year older. It still feels like yesterday you were stealing my snacks from the pen and acting like you owned the place. Oh wait, you still do that. 😏 But seriously, you're like the annoying little sister I never asked for but ended up loving anyway. Watching you crush F1 this year has been unreal: championship winner and Lando's fiancée?! Don't let this go to your head, or I'll start calling you Mrs. Norris just to annoy you. I can't wait to celebrate tonight: the drinks are on Lando, right? I love you, sis. Let's party! 🍾😂)

🦁: LIttle Lion, I’m been trying to come up with words to send to you today, but that’s mainly because I’m hungover. Watching you grow up for so many years has been a pleasure. You are right where you belong, the best of the best. Knowing you has been a journey, whether a fun one I’m still figuring out. I love you little Lion. I’ll have more words when i’m no longer hungover 😊

Danny Avocado: Ace of Spades!!!! Happy Birthday little one. I’ve been watching you grow these past two years and damn, you are good. You deserve everything that has happened to you, and you deserve everything that’s coming next. I’ll see for sure in March, but until then. I miss you and am so proud of you.

Lewis: Happy Birthday, little sis! 🎉 Ace, you’ve had one hell of a year—championship winner, newly engaged, and still the most stylish woman in the paddock. You’ve grown so much, and watching you conquer the world while staying true to yourself has been incredible. I’ll never forget all the laughs, flights, and deep talks we've shared. You know I’ve always got your back—whether it’s on the track, on the runway, or when the world gets too heavy. Love you, Ace. Here’s to celebrating you properly tonight—leave some champagne for the rest of us, yeah? ❤️

Martin: Happy Birthday Ace! Playing your favourite songs tonight just for you!

Franco: Happy Birthday paddock mom! Thank you for taking me in these past few months. Hopefully we’ll race together soon!

My sons: Ollie- Hi mum! We love you! Happy Birthday! Kimi: Happy Birthday! We will still need handling next season 🥰

Ace was crying softly in Lando’s arms by the end of it. “You’re so loved baby.” He said, rubbing her back. “I need tea, I’m too hungover to be this emotional.” She laughed at herself. Lando chuckled at her, shaking his head. “I shall spoil you to your heart's content.” He said before standing up with her in his arms. Ace laughed as he was dramatic with steps, almost as if he were slow dancing.

“You’re an idiot.” She laughed as he sat her down on the kitchen counter. “You’re idiot.” He tilted his head at her. “Whatever.” She shook her head at him as he set the kettle. “Did you want to do anything before tonight?” He asked, stepping between her legs and rubbing her thighs.

“Just be with my fiancé.” She said holding his waist. “You never told me if you liked the ring.” He said taking her left hand from his waist and thumbing at the ring. It was a ‘toi et moi’ ring with two pear shaped diamonds. “Lando,” she said breathlessly. “I love it.” She said with sincerity in her voice. “You’re not just saying that?” He assured making her smile as she shook her head. “No Lan, I really love it. I really love you.” She said moving her hand to hold his cheek. He nuzzled into her hand, eyes closed and a dopey smile on his face. “I love you.” He told her softly. She pulled his face down to her and pressed her lips to his.

He hummed in slight shock but let his hands slide up her thighs and to her hips pulling her into him. Ace could feel him through his sweatpants, she knew he wasn’t wearing anything under them. She dipped her fingers into his waistband and pulled away from her. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He warned.

‘Finishing has never been a problem.” She replied back. He licked his lips with a cheeky smile. “I’m aware of that fact. But you know what else I'm aware of?” He asked, biting at her neck. “What?” She said softly. “The fact that we won’t make it anywhere tonight the moment I’m inside you, you’ll beg me not to stop, and you know I won’t.” His hand was tilting her head up exposing her neck.

“Up or down?” He asked. “Down.” She answered before gasping at Lando biting and sucking at the side of her neck. “Lan…” She squeezed his waist, trailing her fingers up his exposed abs. The beep of the kettle rang through the steamy aura in the kitchen.

“Figure out what you want to do today?” He asked again. “Yeah.” She nodded. He raised an eye brow at her. “Get you a ring.” He scoffed out a laugh. “After all of that, that’s what you want to do?”

“No one can see these, so yes.” She said tapping his abs. He looked down and saw that she had lightly scratched ‘A’s’ over his front. “Fuck that’s hot.” He groaned. “Tea time.”

Instead of going to the mall, where they knew it would be crowded, they decided to wait until they were back in Monaco on Wednesday to get it. They decided to nurse the hangovers they had by watching a christmas movie in the free time they had.

Every so often one of them would get a call from friends or family congratulating them on the engagement or wishing Ace a happy birthday.

Ace gave herself extra time to get ready for the Lando factor. The Lando factor was Lando stopping her any time he thought she looked so gorgeous he couldn’t physically help himself from kissing her– or so he says.

She put on her dress, the white one that Alexandra and Rebecca had convinced her to get and there was Lando, arms around her waist and tongue in her mouth.

She had just finished diffusing her curls, shaking them out, so they could fall naturally. There was Lando, hands around her neck, and kissing her lips swollen.

He tried again after she had just put her makeup on and she denied it. “I’ve just put my makeup on amour.” She tried. “Just one.” He asked with a doe look in his eyes. Ace couldn’t say no even if she tried. “One.” She compromised. He smiled so hard his eyes closed and she giggled. She pecked his lips but he grabbed her thighs lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. “Lando no!” She laughed.

He tossed her down lightly and continued kissing her. “Lando yes.” She hummed into his mouth thoroughly happy. “But we have to go now.” She said tugging at his hair in pulses. “Keep doing that and we won’t.”

“Let's go, you slut.” She teased making him giggle at her.

The warm glow of candlelight flickered across the elegant outdoor setting in Dubai, the private dining space bustling with the laughter and chatter of friends. A long table stretched out under the night sky, its surface adorned with fresh flowers, golden accents, and glowing lanterns that cast a soft light over the scene. The Burj Khalifa stood proudly in the distance, illuminated against the night like a quiet guardian of the evening’s festivities.

Ace glanced around the gathering, still trying to process how this incredible evening had come together without her lifting a finger. She wore the sleek satin gown Rebecca and Alex bought with her, its bell sleeves catching the light beautifully. It was understated and timeless—just like her. As everyone settled into their seats, she turned to Lando, who was mid-conversation with Max and Charles, laughing about a particularly chaotic moment from the race the day before.

“Did you really plan all of this?” Ace whispered, leaning closer to him.

Lando grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Well, I had some help, but yeah. You deserve it all. Every bit of it.”

Ace’s heart swelled. Despite his easy going demeanor, she knew how much thought Lando had put into tonight. Even if he’d already proposed in the most spontaneous, heartfelt way after their win in Abu Dhabi, tonight felt like a continuation—a celebration of all they were and all they were becoming.

Nearby, P sat on Max’s lap, clutching a tiny bouquet of flowers she had insisted on giving Ace the moment she arrived. “Do you think Acey is a princess now, Maxie?” she asked innocently, her big eyes darting between Max and Ace.

Max chuckled, smoothing down her braids. “She’s been a princess for a long time, P. But maybe tonight, she’s a queen.”

Ace overheard and smiled full of emotion, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to Max as P beamed proudly.

The evening carried on with a relaxed rhythm. As courses of food were served, the group fell into their usual dynamic—jokes flying between Pierre and Charles, Kika and Kelly teasing Rebecca over her insistence that Carlos had become a “food snob,” and Lily swapping stories with Ace about the chaos of race weekends as a wag. The atmosphere was vibrant but intimate, the kind of gathering that felt like family.

Midway through dinner, Lando gently tapped Ace on the arm. She turned to him, her fork paused mid-air. “Can I have this back for two minutes?” he asked, gesturing to the ring on her finger.

Ace frowned in confusion but slid the ring off, handing it to him with a curious look. “What are you—”

“Just trust me,” he interrupted softly, his voice carrying a warmth that sent a ripple of excitement through her.

Lando stood, the soft hum of conversation fading as everyone turned to look at him. He took Ace’s hand, gently pulling her to her feet. She followed, her heart racing as he led her a few steps away from the table, where the city lights stretched out endlessly behind them.

“I know I already proposed yesterday,” Lando began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “And that moment was everything I ever wanted. But this—this is what I had in mind when I started planning. I wanted to do it right, to say the words I’ve been holding in since the day I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Ace’s eyes widened, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. The table had gone completely silent, every pair of eyes locked on the couple.

“Ace,” Lando continued, his thumb brushing over the ring in his hand. “You’ve been my biggest cheerleader, my partner, my calm in the chaos. From the moment you stepped into my world, you turned everything upside down in the best way. I’ve never met someone who challenges me, inspires me, and loves me the way you do. And through every lap, every lifetime, I want it to be you.”

Tears streamed down Ace’s cheeks as Lando dropped to one knee, holding the ring up to her. “Will you marry me, again?”

She nodded, barely able to speak through her tears. “Yes, of course, yes!”

The table erupted in cheers as Lando slid the ring back onto her finger, pulling her into a tight embrace. The words engraved inside the band—through every lap, every lifetime—glimmered in the candlelight, a quiet promise between them.

Once the moment settled, Ace found herself swarmed by the girls. Kika grabbed her hand to examine the ring more closely. “Oh my gosh, it’s perfect. And the engraving—Lando really thought of everything.”

“He’s setting the bar way too high for the rest of us,” Rebecca joked, nudging Carlos with a grin.

Kelly, her hand resting on her baby bump, leaned in with a smile. “P is going to be so excited to tell everyone her ‘fairy godmother’ is getting married. And let’s be honest, so am I.”

Ace laughed, her heart full as she held out her hand for them to admire. Even Lily, who was usually the calmest of the group, squealed in delight. “I knew he’d nail it. Lando doesn’t do things halfway.”

The boys eventually drifted over, unable to resist the commotion. Charles playfully shoved Pierre aside to get a better look at the ring. “Let me see what we’re all crying about.”

“You mean what you’ll have to match someday?” Pierre shot back, earning a groan from Charles.

Max, who had been holding P again, smiled softly. “I have to admit, it’s a pretty great proposal. But we all knew Lando had it in him.”

Back at the table, Carlos stood and raised his glass, calling for everyone’s attention. “I’m not much of a speech guy,” he began, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness. “But tonight deserves one. I still remember the day Lando texted me about Ace. It wasn’t anything big—just something like, ‘I think I’ve met someone who gets me.’ And from there, I’ve had the privilege of watching you two grow into something so real and beautiful.”

Carlos glanced at Ace, his smile softening. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t Ace’s biggest fan at first. On track, we were rivals, and I let that get in the way of seeing how incredible she is off-track. But once I did… well, I get it now. I was also the first person you two told about your relationship, and I’ll always be proud of that. Lando and Ace, you’re proof that love and partnership can be as strong as any championship. To Ace and Lando!”

“To Ace and Lando!” everyone echoed, raising their glasses.

Dessert arrived shortly after—a stunning cake adorned with fresh flowers and candles. P clapped her hands excitedly as everyone began to sing “Happy Birthday” to Ace. Lando slid his arm around her waist as the area filled with joyful voices.

When the song ended, Ace leaned forward, blowing out the candles as everyone cheered. P gasped, her little hands flying to her face. “Did you make a wish, Acey?!”

Ace smiled, her cheeks warm. “I didn’t need to. Everything I could ever wish for is already here.”

Lando kissed her temple before cutting into the cake with her. As dessert was passed around, the conversation shifted to winter break plans.

“So, what’s next for you two?” Charles asked, fork in hand.

“Skiing,” Lando replied. “Ace has been talking about getting back on the slopes for months. Figured it’d be a good way to spend the holidays.”

“And the wedding?” Kelly asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Ace exchanged a look with Lando before answering. “We haven’t talked about much of it yet, but we’re thinking summer. Something warm, outdoors, maybe in Monaco, use the break as a honeymoon.”

“That’s going to be stunning,” Rebecca said with a dreamy sigh. “A summer wedding by the sea… I can already see the pictures.”

Ace laughed, taking a bite of her cake. “We’ll figure it out. Right now, I’m just trying to soak this all in.”

The night stretched on, full of laughter, toasts, and the kind of moments that turn into cherished memories. The stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, as if celebrating the love that had brought everyone together in this magical place.

"Better drink some tea or coffee." Max said draping his arms around the couple. "Why?" Lando asked into his drink, which Max took from him. "Because you both have testing tomorrow."

"Fuck."

landonorris posted a video

‘good morning it’s sunday and I wanted to film this for me and Ace and maybe you guys should we decide it, but I’m going to propose to Ace tomorrow night at her birthday, and today is a big day, but I just wanted to film our last moments before we’re engaged.

Then the scene cut off and Lando was grinning with a tired, hungover smile panning down to Ace's hand interlaced with his, her ring on broad display and head on his shoulder. “Plans changed.” She whispered kissing his jaw.

liked by carlossainz55 and others

landonorris every lap, every lifetime

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acegiovanelli my forever lover

landonorris my lover forever

user31 this is so Ace and Lando coded

user33 i love them

user36 this is so cute i can't

carlossainz55 This makes sense coming from you two, congratulations again!

maxverstappen1 Congrats again you guys!

charles_leclerc Thank you for making my sister happy, congratulations!

pierregasly Congratulations! Can’t wait for the wedding

acegiovanelli posted

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acegiovanelli maman, i found who love is

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landonorris love found me first

acegiovanelli it’s impossible to not love you more every second of every day

user53 the standard all women should have

user56 this caption is going to make me cry

alexandrasaintmluex congratulations amour!

iamrebeccad so happy for you! congratulations!

lilymhe so special to be apart of! Love you and congratulations!

kellypiquet so excited to see what married life is for you both! Love you so much!

maxverstappen1 posted

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maxvertsappen1 my little lion isn’t so little anymore. Congratulations AJ, the moment Lando asked me if he could marry you, I knew you had found your person.

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user12 lando asked max 🥺

charles_leclerc he asked all of us that grew up with her, or were very important, even pierre

user15 i’m actually crying

acegiovanelli love you lion, will always be your little lion,

landonorris thank you for trusting me with her

charles_leclerc and 3 others

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charles_leclerc Arthur, Lorenzo and I were blessed with Ace at such a young age, and we wouldn’t change it for the world. Then Pierre also got stuck with her. Nous t'aimons petite étoile.

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arthur_leclerc couldn’t be prouder

pierregasly sister I never asked for, but one I love with everything

acegiovanelli i love my brothers so much 🥺

lorenzotl we love you êtoile

user162 ace and lando are so loved

maxfewtrell posted

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maxfewtrell I knew them both before they knew each other, I feel like I can say I made this happen

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user76 max😭😭

landonorris but you never introduced us….

acegiovanelli ever….

maxfewtrell don’t gang up on me just because you’re getting married

user78 😂😂😂

user73 I live for this trio

•••

taglist: @unlikelystay

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x black!reader #lando norris fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x driver!reader #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris smut #ace giovanelli #ace writes #acesofspadess

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seaofwine · 1 year ago

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What do you like about the Odyssey? Besides some entertaining episodes (e.g. Circe or Calypso), I've never really been able to get into the Odyssey as a whole (I find the first 5 books especially dull). The Iliad really speaks to me more.

It's hard to really pinpoint what I like most about it but I love to talk about the Odyssey so I hope you like long posts hahaha

The first five books act as the exposition. When the Iliad ends, there's a general understanding that most of the surviving characters made it home. Menelaus and Helen have reunited, the catalyst for the Trojan War has been resolved. Agamemnon traversed the sea and made it back, and although he was killed by his wife Clytemnestra, there is no question about where he is; unlike Odysseus.

Telemachus has spent his entire youth without a father. When he finally decides to set out from Ithaca to find any leads on where Odysseus is, he is confronted with the fact that most everyone else has been accounted for. He sees Menelaus and Helen, the order of their kingdom, the comfort they have in each other and the bonds they have restored. Telemachus has known nothing but uncertainty, while his mother is forced to weave lies and deceptions to keep the suitors that plague their home at bay. The first five books really show how important one man can be when he is utterly lost, and what it would mean for everyone who loves him should he be found. These books also show the close interest that Athena, as patron of Odysseus, takes in his family. She steps into the chaos of Ithaca and gives Telemachus the inspiration to embark on his own journey, chasing the ghost of his still-living father.

When we finally reach Odysseus, he is not the same man that those who knew him in Troy described. They are the closest Telemachus can come to knowing what came of his father, but even they are separated by nearly a decade and the breadth of the sea. Penelope hasn't laid eyes on her husband in twenty years, there is no overestimating what that can do to a person's memory. Odysseus's first action is to cry. When finally Calypso is forced to allow Odysseus to leave, by order of Hermes, he makes his own raft and leaves at the first possible moment. He is fighting against the will of Poseidon, against the wrath he incurred, all alone. He has lost every single one of his men, every single person who could ever vouch for his identity, in a world where no one could recognize him, is gone. Despite this, he is still fighting to get back to Ithaca.

Odysseus is so utterly human in the text. When he is hosted by Alcinous, Odysseus asks the singer there to recount the story of the Trojan Horse. It's like landing at the doorstep of a stranger who graciously allows you to stay and immediately asking his DJ to play *your own* greatest hits - which in turn only upsets him. This also sets up the dramatic reveal of his identity (I like to imagine him looking around like, you guys remember this one? Yeah that's Me, I pinkie promise. Please give me 4000 drachmae and your best oarsmen (: ).

He recounts the story of how he got so utterly lost on the way back and one thing the Odyssey will tell you, to your face over and over again, is that Odysseus is a big time liar. But for some reason, his tale is so compelling it's hard to remind yourself of that when hearing it for the first time. Some points are so beyond baffling (like striking Polyphemus in the singular eye the poor sod has, and then once to the safety of his boat (which is on open water, the domain of said cyclops's father) loudly announcing his full gods-given name and mailing address, just in case anyone missed who it was) that it's like, yeah that was probably exactly what he did. This is the section of the story where we see Odysseus as he sees himself. This is his own reflection of the actions he made and the troubles that befell him because of it.

Odysseus is such a complex character that one of the epithets he is given is "polytropos", the many-faced or many-sided. Odysseus and his relationship to his own identity, which he can shed and don at any point that's convenient for him, is one of the main reasons I am obsessed with his story. This, and the exploration in an ancient text about what a close relationship with a deity, is something I am constantly thinking about.

#odyssey #ask #odysseus #i just really love him ok? ok

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purrpletiger · 1 year ago

Text

FRESH DRAWING GUIDE:

Hello everybody, I've come to give you all this absurd reference guide for drawing Fresh. yep. I decided to spend hours slapping this together.

If I got anything wrong or should add anything PLEEEASE lemme know! All ideas welcome!

If you want to see my "research" on this character, let me know in the replies, because there's so much to talk about with him and I'd love to do a character analysis or two, I couldn't put much about his personality or source posts in this because it's just a drawing guide!

Link to all the full images

Transcript and close-ups of the text on the image: (May be in a strange order)

Fresh was created by @loverofpiggies (CQ)

Main Outfit:

YOLO sunglasses

Backwards propeller cap

Pink Polo shirt

Crayola Jacket

Gold Tooth

SWAG fannypack

Convertible Zip-off pants

White Heelie shoes

Pink socks

He has thick eyebrows to emote! (The eyebrows are usually depicted with black hair but one human design has eyebrows that match the pink hair color!)

The bag says SWAG on it

His glasses say YOLO by default, but the letters can magically change mid-scene...

this design for Fresh is Tall, we dunno how tall but taller than CQ's Sans characters (or just Geno since he's literally sans undertale with some added steps). But his height is just his host's height sooo it can vary.

those (cyan and yellow) shoe details are on the innerside but not outerside

HE HAS HEELIES!

Pink glove cuffs!

his skateboard is inconsistent dont worry about it

Glasses Off:

The host's soul shows up in their left eyesocket

- The soul tends to look unstable (cracks & a sortve stroboscopic effect.. i couldn't think of a better word.) but not in some cases...

It doesn't have to be a white upside-down heart, that's just a reference to an undertale monster soul.

He has a purple substance full of little RADs that emanate from his eyesockets (when his sunglasses are off)

"The soul in Fresh's eyes CAN be cracked. That soul isn't his. it belongs to his host. And.... after a while.... things go bad for the host, and he needs a new one." -CQ

(example of soul with unstable effect with no cracks) (example of soul with cracks but lacking the effect)

The purple aura(?) can glow and emanate from the eyes when his glasses are on too

i miss this one design specifically. the colors and the SK8 OR B SK8 shirt were peak

I miss the SWAG necklace...

Fresh leaves a rainbow cloud of smoke when he "poofs". Either teleporting him and his host body somewhere or leaving his host behind.

Human Designs:

Fresh can possess humans too.

They all look physically different because they're different people that he's possessing.

Fresh can possess pretty much any body, but I thought I'd show the varied examples of humans anyway

Don't forget the orange jacket flaps! or his hat propeller!

I dunno what's up with the multicolor tongue thing. I think it was extra parasites in the host's mouth? I feel like it was scrapped at some point... but I could be wrong

FURBIES!:

Oh yeah, he also does this: (no image for the bat tho)

"I mean when he fights he pulls Furbies out of his magical fanny pack. takes out a wiffle bat. and hits the furby at his enemies.

And then the furby explodes in a blaze of glory." -CQ

Despite using some furbies as explosives, he seems to 'care' about and treat these two like precious babies:

This one is potentially named McFreshby The Fresh Furbrah (Fresh is mentioned to have one named that, and this is the only other furby he's been depicted with)

It can also do THIS: (roll its eyes back into a spookier look)

This is DJ FurBs. that's all i know about him

The REAL Parasite:

Fresh is actually this little parasite controlling a host body. (if you didn't know that why are you reading this post rn!?! but nah I love new Fresh fans, welcome!)

The main parasite is this purple one with the eyemouth and four(?) tendrils, the other colored tentacles are prrrobably Fresh's offspring (freshmageddon moment?) (I'm not actually sure, I'm just pretty sure they're not part of the main parasite but are parasite tentacles)

You can also see Fresh's five or more purple tendrils here stretching out all over his host's body

All art from CrayonQueen/@loverofpiggies

Reference guide made by PurrpleParrasite/@purrpletiger

pls suggest changes or additions if u have ideas!

That's all!

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beomcoups · 9 months ago

Text

Caller #17

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: basketball player!Soonyoung x college dj reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, 90s au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, talks of tough family dynamics, bit of heavy angst, kissing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

𝐀𝐍: This was not an easy fic. It took me way longer than I planned to write, and the story I had mapped out went in a different direction. I still feel proud of this one, my longest fic yet, and I hope that you will enjoy it too 🥹 This is a part of my very own Now That's 90's collab hosted by me and @mingsolo. Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and @hobeemin for making a banner for me at the last minute 💙

“Thank you for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s your song of the week?” “Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve!” “You got it! Thanks for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio at 526 AM.” Hitting play on the record, the orchestra's melody hits your ears, sending you into an out-of-body experience, your soul floating to cloud nine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand every time the song is played, and you imagine yourself playing the violin, getting lost in the beautiful and complicated sinfonia. Working at the college radio station was your life. It’s the only place to lose yourself to TLC, Nirvana, and Weezer for hours without judgment. You are in your 3rd year of college, getting your bachelor’s in music theory so you can be one of the most prominent songwriters in the world. While everyone in high school didn’t know what they would be doing with their life, you always imagined yourself getting a Grammy for Song of the Year on stage. That is your real passion: creating musical poetry for the masses.

You slowly take the headphones off and set them down, looking at the big clock plastered on the wall. You let out a heavy sigh, sad that your time at the station is ending. You are allotted two hours a day on Saturday as a part of credit for your program. If you had it your way, you would be here daily, listening to your favorite records and writing songs between commercial breaks.

“Hey,” your professor Kim calls out from her office. “Come in here before you leave.”

You gather your things to leave, looking at the station one last time before entering the smaller space. This isn’t her regular office, but it has everything you think you would need: a desk, a comfortable chair, and bookshelves full of books and ornaments for decoration. You have spent a lot of time in here, pitching new ideas for the station and getting turned down every single time.

“What's up?” You sit in the chair opposite of her.

“So we will be introducing a new segment to the radio where callers can call in and ask for advice about anything, and then you can recommend a song based on what they are calling in about.:” She pauses to take a sip of water. “I want you to be a part of it.”

You don’t answer right away. You are peeved that Professor Kim wants you to head any segment. You have never shown any initiative to want to talk to anyone who calls in besides listening to music. It’s just not your thing. You are a loner at heart, and that’s how you plan to stay.

“Why me?” You finally speak up. “There are other people who are better at this than I am. Hell, ask Emily. She has been foaming at the mouth to talk about anything other than music.”

“Because you are who I want,” she shrugs. “I see how you look when you talk about your favorite releases. You go deep with the lyrics and how you can relate that to any part of your life. You are more than the person behind the voice, and it’s time other people see that.” “Well, I am not trying to be the next Oprah or Ricki Lake,” you scoff. I just want to play music, write my songs, and do whatever I need to do for the class.”

“No one said you would be the next talk show anything,” Professor Kim retorted. “This will be considered a project, and it’s worth 20% of your grade. Plus, when you are in the industry and have sessions with the artists about the song's lyrics, don’t you need to talk to them about their life and what they need? Think about that.” You nod, feeling defeated because you know you can’t talk your way out of this. You know she is right, but you will never admit it. “Plus, it’ll be a good idea to get out of your shell and work on those social skills,” she says. “We will start in a couple of weeks, so get your mind ready because before you know it, you will be there.” You nod and leave the office, your stomach grumbling loudly as you put your headphones on and listen to the latest Backstreet Boys release. It’s a quarter past seven, and dusk officially sets in the sky as you walk across campus. Working at the radio station is the highlight of your week, as you can’t play music loud at your dorm without others complaining. Fortunately, your dorm is set where you have your own space, but the walls are thin, and you can hear everything. You considered buying noise-canceling foam to cover your door but were told it was “against” the rules. Whatever. Your stomach rumbles again, and you are determined to get a burger and fries in your stomach and drink an Oreo milkshake. You cross the street, open your bag, and grab your wallet before being met with a screeching halt from a car in front of you, its headlights blaring in your eyes. “What the fuck?” You mouth at the driver. The driver pokes his head out the window, and you instantly recognize him as Soonyoung, the star point guard of the basketball team. His black Jeep is crowded, full of guys and girls, with Usher blasting through the speakers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he waves. “Yeah, no shit,” you retort, walking to the end before the car pulls off. Jeers and boos could be heard, but you could care less. People like that always get in your way no matter what. You avoid people like that as much as people, as you don’t want to be mixed in with that crowd. Soonyoung will eventually go pro and live the NBA life, whereas you will be on the stage accepting awards, with millions of people cheering your name.

The segment started as planned, and you sat and listened to every caller asking for advice. Most of them wanted advice on how to ask someone out for a date, makeup, and things you didn’t care about. The only thing that made it worth it was you got to pick the music to go with the advice, which allowed you to show off your taste in music, from Britney Spears to Mandy Moore, Usher, Sugar Ray, etc. It made the time go by faster as well. You look through the glass, and Professor Kim gives you a thumbs up to take the last call. Letting out a sigh of relief, you let the call ring a few times before you answer. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s on your mind?” “H-hello?” a tenured male voice booms through the speakers. You groan, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve reached C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s on your mind?”

“Hey. You can use this line to ask for advice, right?”

“Yep,” you say, a bit annoyed. “Whatcha got?”

There is a lengthy pause, your fingers tapping dramatically on the soundboard. You raise an eyebrow at the professor, who shrugs and walks out of your view. You hear shuffling in the background, followed by what sounds like something being sipped from a cup.

“S-sorry, I am a bit nervous,” he apologizes. “It’s my first time calling in.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I know how it is. How can I help?”

“So I already have this path carved out for me by my family and everyone who cares about me. Sports is all I have known all my life, and I have worked very hard to get here.” He stops for a brief second. “Everyone expects me to act like this all-star college boy, and no one ever talks to me about anything else than sports, and I am starting to hate it.”

“Do you mind telling me what kind of sports you’re in?”

“I play ball.”

“Okay, that's good. Well, what is it that you want?”

“I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be: this golden retriever everyone loves. I just want to be me.” You understood how he felt. Maybe not in sports, but people pushing you to be something you’re not. You come from a family of doctors and lawyers who expected you to be the same. “Get good grades so you can get into an Ivy League school” is all you heard growing up. When you were seven, you expressed interest in music, sitting in front of the family piano on Christmas and playing Jingle Bells, which you learned on your own. Your parents cared for a while, putting you in piano lessons and taking you all over the state for recitals. They figured if you kept this up until high school, it would look good on college applications, but nothing that they took you seriously for. It wasn’t until you learned how to play the guitar in secret that you fell in love with how the strings strummed against your fingers that you realized that your passion is music. Thanks to your choir teacher, you had a good voice and kept it in tune while practicing writing music. You soon sang in front of the school, getting high praise from people all over for your voice and how you would “make it big one day.” Your parents insisted that it was just a phase and that eventually you would become a doctor and make a “real” living. You were determined to prove them wrong by applying to one of the best music schools and getting in on a full ride. You did that, but it came with a cost: being cut off by everyone in your family but your grandparents. They believed in you from the beginning and made sure you were okay. You will pay them back in tenfold one day. “Hello?” the deep voice cut through your thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry,” you snap back into focus. “Do you want my advice?” “Yeah, I do,” you hear him clear your throat. ‘I think you should be who you want to be. It may feel a little different at first, but eventually, you will be happier being yourself.” “I mean…” he pauses for another second. “How do I go about that? How do I show people the real me?” “Hmm,” you think out loud. “Why don’t you try easing into it? Start a random conversation about something you are interested in that no one knows about. Gauge their reactions, and if they treat you weirdly, then start making new friends. It might be a little harder with your family, but they will come around. But either way, it’s exhausting having to hide yourself at the time. It’s the 90s and a new era!” “Yeah,” he says slowly. I’ll try that.Thanks.” “No problem!” You say. “Check out this song that’ll hopefully speak to your heart. This is me signing off on CARAT Radio, 800am.” You played “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, a personal favorite, closing out the end of your segment. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, some questions were annoying, but it allowed you to pass on music to people and help them get over whatever. You can’t call that a total loss. You push the mic to the side and leave the room, checking in with your professor before leaving. “Great job,” she leaned back into her seat. “You were well-spoken and composed, and the music selections were excellent. Have you thought about being a radio DJ?” “NO,” you snort. “I want to be more behind the scenes, writing songs and getting Grammys.” “Okay, okay,” Professor Kim chuckles. “But don’t rule it out. You are a natural at it.” You nod and head out the door with a small smile. Getting complimented about your work feels good, but you rule out being a radio DJ. You deal with people if you have to, but you prefer to have time for yourself a lot of times. You’re just introverted like that. However, that last call was in the back of your mind. You just want to live and succeed at your dream job. It was nice knowing someone out there felt the same way you did.

Before you knew it, a few weeks had passed, and you had secretly liked doing the segment every Saturday, talking to people from different backgrounds and listening to their troubles. You had a song for every call, and you bragged to your professor at the end of your shift that you had impeccable taste. The analytics showed that more people were tuning in during your segment than at any other time on the radio. Not gonna lie; it stroked your ego quite a bit.

The mystery guy called in on Saturdays, ironically being caller #17 every time. He would call and ask for advice about getting his grades up, coming out of his comfort zone, trying new things, etc. You got to know him a little, see how he solves problems, and see his sense of humor. You have no idea what he looked like, but you imagined he was just your type, like a Keanu Reeves, Theo Mizuhara, or Merlin Santana. Is it crazy that you sometimes daydream about a man you never met?

Today was the last day of the advice segment, and everyone called in with their usual advice and well wishes. Like clockwork, the mystery guy was caller #17. His breathing was labored when you answered, followed by a clunk of metal hitting the floor. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s your damage?”

“H-hey.” You know it was him; the sound of his voice was familiar to you. You shift in your seat, sitting straight and placing your elbows on the desk. You try to keep a poker face, your professor watching you with curious eyes. “Hey there,” you clear your throat. “How can I help?” “I heard today is the last day to ask for advice,” he says. “I can’t say I won’t miss calling and hearing your voice every Saturday.” “Oh yeah?” you chuckle. “ That’s good to know. Well, what is the last piece of advice that I can give you?” “So, there is this girl,” he starts. “I really like her. She’s cute, a bit of a hard ass, and I really like her mind. She’s not like anyone that I’ve met. How do I ask her out?” “Does she know you exist?” “Yeah. I almost ran into her once, but we talked a lot.” “Ah. Do you think she might like you?” “I-I’m not sure,” he stutters. “We get along and everything and we have some things in common. I just don’t know if she would be into me.” “Okay, well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her out? The worst that can happen is that she says no; at least you’d know.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m nervous as hell, that’s all. Have you dated anyone before?” You are taken aback, your professor raising her eyebrows through the glass. You nod, licking your lips before responding. “I’ve dated here and there,” you say slyly. “It wasn't anything serious. What about you?” ‘Um, yeah, I have,” he snorts.

“Well, there you go then, tiger.” You’re clearly entertained by this conversation. “Remember how you felt when you asked the other girls out, and apply that same confidence to this girl. You never know. She might say yes.” “Okay, I will take your word for it. Thank you.” “Not a problem!” You beam. “Here is the last song I leave you with: ’ 4-page letter’ by Aaliyah. Have a good night, ya’ll.”

You play the final track of the night, setting down the headphones while Professor Kim claps her hands in applause. You roll your eyes playfully, pushing your chair onto the desk and exiting the booth. You feel light as a feather, dopamine taking over your body as you meet your professor in her office. “Great job,” she smiles. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Maybe,” you plop down on a chair. “It was fun giving out music suggestions.” “Mhmm,” she nods. “Well, get out there and enjoy your Saturday. I will see you in class on Friday.” You grab your things and leave the station, your stomach rumbling and your mouth parched. It’s after 8, and the nearest thing open is the local pizza joint with the best pepperoni pizza with the cheesiest cheese you’ve ever had. You go there often, and the owners, Dante and Gabriella, get your order ready before you sit down. “The usual?” they always ask, knowing that you are a creature of habit. Aside from your grandparents, they were the closest thing to family to you, always making sure your pizza was hot and crispy with a tall cup of Coke to go with it. They asked about your studies, and Gabriella always asked when you’d get a boyfriend.

“Ah, stop it, amore mio,” Dante jokingly shushes her. “She has all her life to find the love of her life.”

More people started coming in, and they left you to your food and your walkman. You gleefully put Parmesan cheese over your pizza, taking the first bite and feeling instant gratification. A slice of heaven, literally. You take your headphones on, listening to Kurt Cobain croon on Nirvana’s Something In The Way. The “Nevermind” album got you through some tough times, especially when your family cut off communication with you. It hurt you and made you feel isolated and misunderstood. On the outside, your mom and dad put on this persona of being open-minded and willing to do anything for the family. Why were you the exception? You feel the tears well up, and you get yourself together before people start to notice, eating the rest of your pizza before you call it a night. You look around, seeing people on dates or hanging out with their friends, and you miss that. You had friends back home, but you all split up before you went to college. Who knows what their lives are like now. It’s not like you are visiting home anyway. You clean up your mess and walk into the bathroom, relieving yourself and washing your hands before returning to your dorm. You looked at yourself in the mirror: your jean jacket covered your black button-up shirt, shorts, and stockings underneath. Your eyes were slightly red, a contrast from your fresh face. Stifling a yawn, you leave and wave goodbye to Dante, opening the side door and bumping into someone in the process. You look up, facing Soonyoung, his cheerful eyes meeting yours. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” you mutter, backing up and adjusting your jacket. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” he responds, opening the door to let you out. Your head snaps up, half expecting him to not hear you. You rake your fingers through your hair, walking out of the restaurant. He’s a handsome guy, you can admit that, with his fresh, faded haircut and trendy clothes. You get why he is popular with everyone. “I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car the other day,” he calls out. “It’s alright,” you turn around. “Just don’t make it a habit.” “Alright.” He chuckles and goes inside, and you speed walk to your dorm. Did I just flirt with him? You think to yourself. What the fuck was that? You aren’t even interested in Soonyoung in that way. You two are the two opposites of each other. You’re clearly losing your mind.

The cool air calms you down, and the slight breeze underneath the moonlight keeps you at bay until you get to your building. It’s Saturday night, and everyone’s out; the only sound being heard is your boots hitting the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway to your dorm. Unlocking your door, you notice an envelope tucked underneath it. You sit on the bed, open it, and pull out a letter. I know this isn't a four-page letter, but I like you. You’re funny, have good jams, and are down to earth. Did I say that you’re cute? I like talking to you every Saturday and don’t want it to stop.

I want to take you out to a concert on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 4 at your dorm. I know you've said yes if you’re there when I arrive. —Caller #17

“What do you think of this?” Your former roommate and good friend, Nikki Prince, holds up a black leather jacket in your size. You asked her to go shopping with you for an outfit for tomorrow's impending date, and you needed another set of eyes. She majors in architecture and design but models on the side thanks to her striking looks. A tall, tanned skin and green-eyed beauty, she now lives with her much older chef boyfriend, Caelan, but whenever you need her, she’s always there. She’s French, stylish, and brutally honest. You loved that about her. “I dig that,” you take it from her and try it on. It fits you just right. It would be chilly, so you bought new boots, a white shirt, and black jean shorts to wear with black stockings underneath. You wanted to be comfortable as you would be on your feet all night.

“Are you sure about this date?” Nikki’s foreign accent comes through. “How do you know this guy isn’t some serial killer? We’ve all seen Scream.” “Gee, thanks, mom,” you roll your eyes. “If he tries anything with me, I’ll just show him the moves I learned from the YMCA.”

“I’m serious. This is risque for you, no?” You shrug, slowly taking off the jacket and heading to the cashier. “I get your point, and if anything happens, I can defend myself. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen.” You greet the cashier and pay for the jacket. “I’ll call you before I leave and tell you about it the next day. Deal?” Nikki nods, and you both walk out of the store, satisfied with what you bought. The mall is busy for a Thursday night, with young adults frolicking at stores like Rave and Wet Seal, looking for the latest fashion trends. The mall isn’t really your scene, as you prefer to thrift shop for your clothes. You have been lucky to find some hidden gems there, especially since you are on a limited budget. Nikki, however, said it was a special occasion, and you quote, “You are not going on a date in someone else’s vêtements.”

You stop at Auntie Anne’s, buying a massive pretzel with cheese on the side, while Nikki opts for a small lemonade. You offer her a piece, which she declines, saying her boyfriend, Caelan, will make her dinner later. “How is that going, by the way?” You sit down at a table. “It’s going good,” she enthuses, raking her fingers through her long black tresses. “He’s so mature and sophisticated. Imagine not having to cook and clean after a man and have good sex.” “Well, yeah, he’s about six years older,” you remark. He better know a thing or two if he wants to keep his model.” Nikki gloats as you finish your pretzel, talking about the elaborate French dishes her boyfriend makes for her and how he worships the ground she walks on. Since you’ve known her, she has always been opinionated and refused to associate with people within your age group. Whenever you see her in the hallways, she always talks with teachers or ignores the lustful looks of college boys. You two got on well because you were roommates, and both were Scorpio risings. You understood each other. “Oh shoot, I better head back to the flat,” Nikki says, looking at her watch. Caelan is going to be home soon, and he is making steak frites tonight.”

“Yeah, I gotta head to the dorm anyway. Early class tomorrow.”

You walk out of the mall into the chilly night air. She offers you a ride home, and you decline at first, saying that you will walk as it's pretty close. But a slight wind blows, bringing chills down your spine.

“Wait,” you shout after her. “I’ll take that ride.”

The ride was short and quiet, your mind occupied with your date with this mystery stranger. Nikki was right, you don’t know him, and he could be this crazy guy. But you’re also excited; the butterflies haven’t left your stomach since Saturday. You feel like you know him, and you don’t even know his name. He is just caller #17.

She pulls up to your building, and you hug her, preparing to run inside and shower. You know Nikki is still worried and means well, even if she sometimes acts like an overbearing old sister.

“Come over tomorrow at two if you can,” you announce. “You can help me get ready and meet my date in case anything goes crazy.”

“Alright,” Nikki seems relieved. “I’ll be there.”

You shut the door and shout your goodbyes before sprinting inside.

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The next day went fast, like a blur. You slept past your alarm and woke up after twelve, making you two hours late.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” you shout as you scrambled out of bed and tripped over a blanket. You throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from the University, your hair in a wild ponytail as you brush your teeth and high-tailed it out the door. You ran to class, forming an apology along the way, your heart beating out of your chest. You are met, however, with a closed door and a white paper plastered on the door:

NO CLASS TODAY. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND.

“Really?” You huffed, leaning against the wall. It’s not like you are late for class; your alarm was

set despite you being up late last night. But whatever, fuck it. You aren’t about to let this ruin your day.

The leaves flow softly with the wind as you walk back to your dorm, the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. All you can think about is tonight and what concert you are going to. Maybe it’s a huge concert, and that’s why he is picking you up early… or perhaps it’s a local indie band at a bar. Your mind runs with endless possibilities, excitement pumping through your veins. You aren’t a hopeless romantic or a love-at-first-sight kind of person, but something about this person makes you feel good… like you finally have someone who can relate to you on some level. Granted, you have only talked with him on the phone, but you have a gut feeling and are rarely wrong about these things. You finally return to your dorm and take a well-needed shower, washing and detangling your hair with much-needed privacy. Your dorm has shared showers; you usually take them when everyone is asleep at night. Fortunately, there were only a few people, allowing you to have time for yourself. You allow yourself to think of the water running down your body as him, his hands caressing your body, his lips maybe touching yours— “Is anyone in here?” You snap out of your daydream quickly, and the water turns cold right on queue. “Y-yeah?” “I am here to clean the showers,” a woman’s voice calls from the door. “O-okay, give me a second.” Cursing silently, you quickly step out and dry yourself, throwing on your robe and grabbing your shower caddy before exiting the bathroom. You are met by an older woman wearing a shirt representing your college and sweats, with cleaning supplies in tow. “You were in there for a while,” she remarks as she sets out the wet floor sign. Do you have a hot date tonight?” “Something like that,” you shrug. You walk back to your room, and to your surprise, Nikki is outside your door. “You’re early,” you remark, unlocking the door. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But we will need more than two hours to get yourself right.” “You act like I can’t dress myself,” you scoff. “I just wanted your company, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah? Mon ami, when was the last time you changed your makeup?” You open your mouth to rebuttal but close it immediately. You hate to say it, but Nikki’s right. It’s not like you are going anywhere besides school, the music store, and the pizzeria. “Exactly,” Nikki says, setting her stuff down on her bed. “I went and got you makeup close to your teint, just in case.” She pulls out brand-new makeup from Revlon from mascaras, concealers, powders, and assortments of lipsticks of my choosing. She also bought nail polishes, saying it was time to add some color to your life. As much as you want to roll your eyes at her, she is right. As harsh as Nikki seems sometimes, she has a big heart and always looks out for you when you least expect it. You know a thing or two about style, but she takes it to a whole different level and isn’t shy about giving advice on it. You appreciate her so much. Being honest with yourself, you are nervous as hell. You have had crushes before, but you have never been pursued like this, where someone likes you enough to ask you out formerly, even if it was via a note. This person cares about your mind or seems to. You aren’t sure how to feel; you want to be excited and have a good time, but you have a wall up for a reason. You don’t want to be disappointed again like your family has. You figured if the people you love the most can abandon you like that, there is no hope for you out there. You lived with that hard truth for a long time, and you were content with that. But god, this guy has you curious. “What’s on your mind?” Nikki finishes with your makeup and hair, gazing at you through the mirror. “Butterflies in my stomach are killing me,” you grimace. “I can’t believe I am even doing this.” “Oh, relax,” she blows a raspberry. “You always do this thing where you talk yourself out of things you deserve. Stop that. D'accord? “Yes, mother,” you tease. She sucks her teeth, and you get dressed, putting on the new clothes you bought and your black leather boots. Checking out your appearance, you are satisfied with your look, and Nikki gives you a thumbs up while she cleans up. Knock, Knock! You look at the door, the butterflies fluttering deeper in your stomach. You look in the mirror one last time as Nikki opens the door, a brief silence followed by a heart chuckle. “Mon ami, your date is here.”

You see him, and you're stunned. It dawns on you why he’s here, and you feel your heart drop all the way to your ass. This has to be some kind of joke. “Soonyoung? What are you doing here?” He walks more into your view, wearing a grey jean jacket with matching pants. His right hand is in his pocket, and he has a small bouquet of irises in his other hand. “I’m here to take you to the concert?” Nikki is behind him, trying to keep her composure and mask her giggles. Of all the people you thought would show up, Soonyoung was the LAST person on your mind. This is the person who was calling in every Friday and wanting to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “What happened?” you accost him. “Did you lose some bet, and you had to ask me out? Or do you feel bad for almost hitting me with your car?” “No?!” he scoffs, clearly offended. “I mean, yes, I feel bad about almost hitting, but no one dared me to do anything. Do you think I am that kind of person?” “Well, yes.” You wish you could take back what you said, but it was too late. You knew you hurt his feelings, the crestfallen look on his face saying it all. “This was a mistake,” he sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, I wasted your time.” He handed Nikki the flowers and walked away, the air feeling thick and awkward. You couldn’t even look at her in the eyes. You knew you fucked up. “Well, that was awkward,” you huff. “And shitty.” You raise an eyebrow at her, and she stares you down. You don’t want to feel worse than you already do, and Nikki isn’t helping. “Honestly, I think the guy was telling the truth,” Nikki surmises. “He looked like a sad puppy.” You think about this caller #17 guy who would call in every week and share his thoughts with you about everything, with you having to do very little. You think about how scared he felt about being his true, authentic self and how much courage it probably took to ask you out. You know you are a tough cookie to crack and understand better than anyone how it feels to go against the grain and be who you are. “I fucked up Nik,” you slump on your bed. “Yeah, you did.” God, you hate her bluntness sometimes, but she’s right. You need to go find him and make this right. “Do you think he’s still here?” you ask, sitting up and grabbing your purse. “He couldn’t have left that fast.” “Only way to find out is to get off your ass and find him,” she says, pulling your arm. “Go find your guy.” You both rush out of your dorm, jogging down the hallway and out of the building, looking for a silhouette of him. You were scared you missed him and felt defeated, not seeing any sight of him anywhere. Surveying the area one last time, you noticed a black Jeep peeling out of the parking lot. It stops at the stop sign, the second to last car to go. This is your only chance. “WAIT!”

You sprint towards the car, barely meeting him as he is about to turn.

“STOP,” you exhale, relieved that you caught him. “Don’t go.” Soonyoung steps out as you rest your hands on the hood of his car, trying to catch your breath. He touches your arm, his hands soft as silk, sending shocks throughout your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a good look at you.

“Aside from me about to pass out, I’m good.” You take a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and an asshole and—”

“MOVING YOUR FUCKING CAR!”

A middle-aged woman leans out of the window and gives you the bird, followed by a slew of car horns beeping in annoyance behind you and Soonyoung.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung curses, realizing the amount of cars behind him. “Get in the car.”

You both get in the car and drive off from the angry drivers, pulling into the nearest gas station. You sit with your hands in your lap, this weight of regret sitting on your chest and guilt eating you from the inside. You look at him, and he seems surprisingly relaxed as if you didn’t reject him

not even thirty minutes ago.

“I’m going to get some gas,” he announces. “Wait here.”

You watch him walk inside to pay and let out the deepest, most agonizing sigh. He should be calling you every name in the book, and rightfully so, as you insulted him. Why is he being so nice? Does he really like you that much?

He returns a few minutes later, shoving his pockets with change left over, and you both lock eyes with each other. In another situation, you would’ve been able to appreciate his good looks, trendy clothes, and tiger-like appearance. But instead, you feel sick to your stomach, disappointed in how you acted. You look down, twiddling your thumbs until he finishes pumping his gas and returning to the car. This is not like you at all. “Hey,” he says. “Hi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry again. I feel like a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.” “I know you were intense, but Jesus Christ,” he exhaled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you? You made it seem like I lost a bet to ask you out. You made me feel like crap.” Every word felt like a punch in the gut, and you deserved it. Despite your parents' many flaws, they always taught you not to judge a book by its cover, and that’s precisely what you did. You were pretentious and stuck up about him. In some ways, you aren’t any different from them. “I guess…” your voice trails off. “I just saw you as the athlete that everyone is in love with. Your friends, I know the type, and we’ve never really crossed paths with each other unless I was bumping into you or almost getting hit by your car.” “So… you saw me as the very thing I told you I didn’t want to be seen as.” You didn’t have to answer back. You both knew the answer, and it was eating you up inside. “I’m sorry, I am just gonna go.” Before he could stop you, you exited the Jeep and started walking back toward your dorm. You are embarrassed and can never face him again. This is why you don’t don’t talk to anyone. This is awkward; it feels weird. You lose yourself in your thoughts until you reach the street light, waiting for your turn to go. The air is slightly chilly than usual, the smell of the ocean taking over your senses that you would enjoy any other time. Yeah, a walk to the beach sounds nice, you say to yourself just as the street signal turns green. You feel someone’s hand pulling you away, and you twirl around, facing Soonyoung’s back as he takes you back to his car.

“You’re dramatic as hell, you know that, right?” He shouts over his shoulder. “You didn’t even let me respond; you just hopped out like you were on the run.”

You stayed silent. What more could you say? He was right. He opens the passenger side, letting you slide in and shutting the door behind you. A few seconds later, he is on your other side, turning on the ignition.

“You not a terrible person,” he breathes. “A terrible person wouldn’t come sprinting out of their doom in boots and a nice outfit trying to apologize. You said you’re sorry, and it’s fine.” “Is it?”

“I mean, I’ll get over it,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pulled you back here if I didn’t want to be around you. Now, do you still want to go back and forth about this, or do you want to make it up to me by going to this concert?” It’s a brief moment of silence as you seriously consider your options. You can tell Soonyoung is still bothered by what you did, but his small smile clarifies your decision. “Lead the way, tiger.”

He chuckles as he pulls out of the lot, pulling into a line of cars headed in the same direction. The sun starts to set, the golden hour hitting the horizon at the sea. You fold your arms, confused as to why he is being so nice to you, despite you being a bitch to him earlier. You haven’t felt forgiveness in a long time, which feels foreign. Uncomfortable. You hope this feeling will go away as the night goes on.

You mainly rode in silence aside from the music on the radio, and the hour trip to the venue seemed to be double that. You pull up to Bayfront Amphitheater, packed to the brim with people screaming their hearts out to the band onstage. Your heart skips in excitement, realizing what concert Soonyoung took you to.

“The Foo Fighters?” you grin, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ve been wanting to see them forever.: “Yeah, I remember you were talking about it on the radio, so I figured why not,” his voice trails off.

Your heart feels like it is going to burst at the seams. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, and you had the nerve to be a bitch to him earlier.

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry again. I feel really shitty about it.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, let’s just enjoy this concert, and I’ll forget about it, okay?” You nod, walking towards the loud music. The rhythm of the drums and guitar blended together, hyping the crowd. You let Soonyoung lead the way, checking your tickets and guiding you to your seats. The crowd is thick, with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol flowing freely, and everyone is caught in their own zone. You wouldn’t say you are claustrophobic, but being packed like sardines isn’t your definition of a good time. Soonyoung notices your discomfort and grabs your hand, holding tight until he finds your assigned seats. You felt safe with him, a tiny spark in you that made you swoon.

“Are you okay?” He shouts over the noise. “Do you want a beer or anything?” “Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head.

The opening act finishes their set, the crowd politely cheering as the members walk off the stage. There is a small intermission, with people disbursing from their seats to grab drinks or making quick trips to the bathroom. You can feel Soonyoung looking at you, his eyes burning into the left side of your face. You lick your lips and pull strands of your hair to the back of your ear, a blatant attempt at flirting.

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” You feel bold, turning your body towards him. “I might,” he purrs. “I have a beautiful, mysterious girl sitting beside me.”

“I’m not that mysterious. We’ve been talking for weeks.” ‘Yeah, in front of thousands of people on the radio. Now I have you all to myself, and I want to get to know the real you.”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Well, I’m always the same on and off air. You’ll see.” “I hope so.” He smiles at you, and gotta admit the man can flirt. Soonyoung is devastatingly handsome, and he’s quick with his words. It excites you. You like being around people you can banter with and not take shit personally. It takes a load off your shoulders, not having to hold yourself back every time. You just want to be you and be free. It feels like Soonyoung is chasing the same thing.

“I wouldn’t have predicted you’d be into rock bands like the Foo Fighters. What made you want to go to their concert aside from me?”

“Well, you might be surprised to hear this, but I actually like the band,” he laughs. “I’ve been following them since their debut.”

“Really?” you say. “That’s cool.” “What?” Soonyoung leans closer, your shoulder barely touching his. “Do I not seem like the Foo Fighters type?” “Aht aht,” you playfully wave your finger at him. “I’m not getting tripped up on that question.” You fell into a rhythm of laughter that felt natural as if you had been doing this all your life. Despite your fuck up, he makes you feel cozy and open. The sun makes one final appearance, shining its glorious light on his beautiful, tanned skin. You can fully admit to yourself that he’s handsome as fuck, taking him all in before the sun dips below the horizon. “No, but seriously, I don’t seem like the type to be into them?” You pause before responding, being careful with your answer. “On the surface, no. But I am learning that there is more to a person than meets the eye.” There is a comfortable silence between you two, the sweet-smelling breeze keeping you at bay as you sit and enjoy each other’s company. You have so much you want to say but don’t simultaneously. You savor this tiny bit of peace with him. “I think I am gonna grab a drink,” Soonyoung gets up suddenly. “Do you want anything?” “Yeah, like a juice or something.” You watch him leave, checking out his ass as he stands in the concessions line. Nice and firm, definitely a football player’s ass. You look away before being caught, watching the crew prepare for the next act. You feel like a young girl who just realized you have a crush on a boy. You’re giddy inside, hypersensitive to everything around you and how you look. You hope he finds you as attractive as he says he does, or if not, keep up the lie a little longer. You’ve been dealt many disappointments in your life, and you can’t let this be one of them.

“Here. I got you a lemonade.”

You gaze up at Soonyoung, carefully grabbing the cup from his hand. He has a cup of beer in the other, sipping before making a face. You laugh in your cup, tasting your sweet drink with some tart. You feel refreshed and a little bit alive, thanks to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the FOO FIGHTERS?”

The crowd erupts into a roar as the band joins the stage, getting their placements to perform. Jolts of electric excitement course throughout your body, screaming your heart out before the first string is played on the guitar. You’ve always wanted to see them in concert, being a huge fan of Nirvana and following Dave Grohl after. Despite everything, he seems like a rad guy, and

if you ever had the opportunity, you would want to pick his brain and jam out with him. “ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKERS READY?” Dave Grohl shouts into the mic.

You both scream as the first song is played, the drums scratching the excellent part of your brain while the guitars take you to another level. You look at Soonyoung, his attention on the band with his arms folded, in awe of the performance being given. He looks adorable, and all you can do is smile, satisfied that you are in this space and can experience this moment. The band keeps playing hit after hit, the energy around you making you want to levitate in the clouds. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. You reach the last song of the night, and the key changes, the guitars riffing into a song you know all too well. “I want everyone to sing this song with us— this is for the regular heroes out there.”

You feel the emotion and intensity in Dave Grohl’s voice, making you emotional. The song is about the ordinary person and their potential; you wish your family saw your potential. You wish you could share your music with them and see you thrive in the elements you’re most comfortable in. But instead, you’ve been cast out, and as much as you worked hard to get over it, it hurts you deeply. “Are you okay?” Soonyoung looks at you wide-eyed; you’re unaware of the tears trickling down your face. All you want to do is be held and told everything will be okay. As if he read your mind, he holds your hand, his thumb rubbing your palm softly, keeping you anchored in your emotional storm. Nothing else needed to be said between you two; the song lyrics moved your spirit. Kudos, my hero

Leavin' all the mess

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

“Thank you for taking me to the concert. I had a really good time.”

You sit with Soonyoung in his car, sitting outside of your dorm. You talked about music all the

way back home, singling your hearts out to whatever is on the radio. Soonyoung is surprisingly a good singer, hitting some notes even better than you can. You wonder if he had any training. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you,” he grins. “Oh, please,” you wave him off. I’m the one who started us on the wrong foot.” “True. But I think you more than made up for it tonight.” “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.”

“Why were you crying during the concert?” You knew this question would come eventually, but you still felt unprepared. You hadn’t really talked about your family life with anyone besides Nikki, but you were determined to keep it to yourself. But he makes you want to open up. “The song really hits me,” you point at your chest. “I feel every word and every percussion note as it plays. It reminds me of my mom and dad, and I wish they saw me as a normal person with their own aspirations rather than the person they want me to be. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soonyoung nodded his head, understanding what you were saying.

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I just don’t see myself doing that. I fell in love with music and singing, and when I shared that I wanted to do songwriting full-time, they made me feel so low. Like I am stupid and naive for wanting a career, I would actually be happy.” You huff, wiping fresh tears off of your face. “I just wanted them to support me, but they couldn’t even do that. Aside from my grandparents, they cut me off completely.” “That’s not cool,” Soonyoung scoffs. “So they just went cold turkey and quit talking to you?” You nod, bitterly reliving the last conversation you had with them before you made no contact. “Why can’t our parents just let us live the lives we want? It’s like they want to live vicariously through us.” “Right?!” You exclaim. “See, you get it!”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he mumbled. You turn your body to look at him, studying his face and the possible thoughts he is having. You may see more eye to eye than you realize. ‘So, what’s your damage?” You poke at him. “It’s the same as yours,” he revealed. “They just want me to keep playing basketball so I can go into the big leagues and take care of everyone. I am essentially everyone’s meal ticket.” “Well, you don’t have to be,” you say. “You could just say fuck ‘em and live for yourself.” “Easier said than done,” he sighs. “I’m the first person in my family to attend college, and I actually like playing basketball. I believe in it, bleed it, all that… but whenever I am around my folks or friends, that’s all they want me to be about it. It’s like I’m not real. I am a person with complex interests and feelings, too.”

“I know exactly what you mean, tiger.”

You smile reassuringly; you understand that last sentence all too well. Your family would rather consider you the family fuck up, the black sheep, instead of understanding that you wanted different things. Why is that so fucking complicated? You stifle a yawn, looking at your watch and seeing how late it was.

“I really like talking to you and being around you,” Soonyoung confesses. I hope we can do it more.” “Yeah,” you gaze into his eyes. “ I would love that.” He walks you to your dorm, opens the doors, and holds your waist as you walk up the steps. His hands bring jitters and butterflies in your stomach that you hope you can experience more. You know you have a hard, cold exterior on the outside, but deep down, you want to feel love and adoration from someone. You hope Soonyoung can bring that.

You never want this feeling to go away.

“Thank you for walking me in,” you say, unlocking the keys to your room. “I know I was being a bitch early, but thank you for showing me a good time anyway.”

“It was worth it, seeing a smile on your face.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” he leans in closer. “I want to see it more.”

His lips touch yours, your chest bursting like fireworks as he deepens the kiss. Your arms rest on his shoulders, feeling natural and comfortable like a glove. He is gentle and kind, not doing too much but making you feel safe and like you can depend on him. It's crazy how one kiss can have you seeing your future.

“We should do that more often,” you joke, leaving one last peck. He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “We will. I’ll make sure to do it more often.”

“Okay,” you say, walking into your dorm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung angst #svt fluff #svt angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi angst #hoshi x reader

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user211201 · 8 months ago

Text

Totally Normal

--- Originally posted on 2023-12-08 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Welcome back to Totally Normal, the online show where we narrow down the one thing that makes us all meet that standard!”

The host then hit a button on his laptop, releasing an audio for an uproarious round of applause. With his entire audience streaming in live, he had to make due with tracks. He didn’t mind it though; he could always predict what his viewers were thinking. It was like they shared the same mind.

“My name’s DJ, and before you ask, yes I have a side gig in music.” A laugh track obnoxiously inserted itself. “I don’t dabble in the typical jazz; I remix these men back to the tunes they oughta be singing.”

Another fake round of applause. The host smirked before continuing forward with the rules.

“The point of the game is simple: Figure out that one thing that makes someone totally normal. Through a series of questions, I’m going to chisel away at our contestants until we get to the base. For every wrong answer, a vibration will be sent out to their device until they head back on the right track. We want to find out that one thing that solidifies them as an average joe, but we don't exactly know what that thing is."

The host then took a scripted pause. "Well, *I *know what that thing is.”

Another laugh track entered before the host silenced his imaginary audience. “So, let’s get down to it. We have our men here, but ARE THEY NORMAL?”

The last three words were all enunciated with the typical gameshow pazazz. The host even had an accompanying audio that made it seem like there was an audience chanting it with him.

On cue, the livestream booted up a panel of the three contestants. The first was a shy young man, who by his age looked to be in college but by his height possibly younger. The second was the typical corporate homosexual, the breed who was already happily married and wore tight, designer clothing. And last but not least, the third looked just a little older than the first with an office that displayed the inner workings of a minor start-up.

“Help me welcome our first contestant, coming from the cool waves of Cali, here comes Cody!”

Corey opened his mouth to kindly correct the host, but was immediately silenced by the massive track of applause. A small and nervous 20-year-old, Corey was an academically-fine student at a state school. He worked as an IT intern, helping others work through their issues in a manner where he didn’t have to fully engage. Yet he knew he would probably have to work through this introvert problem if he ever truly wanted to make a loyal boyfriend from the crop of surfers across the street.

“Up next is our cowboy-tootin’, bullet-firin’ family man, Norman!”

Nolan made a face of disgust, but he too didn’t stand a chance against the fake cheers. He’d settled down with his husband just about 10 years ago in the suburbs. Working for a Fortune 500 company, he had everything a man of his caliber could want. Great company, great style, great pets instead of real children. Nolan loved his little metropolitan life.

“And finally, the privileged heir to the corporate throne, it’s Asher!”

Aaron rolled his eyes as the artificial eruption burst through his speakers. He assumed that this narcissistic jock host had gotten all of the contestants names wrong. Aaron had built his own business up from the ground, an independent hard-worker with no one tying him down. It wasn’t that Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, he just needed to focus on himself. That’s why he was keeping it casual, hooking up with boys a little younger and less responsible. He absentmindedly pawed at his crotch a little as the douchebag DJ started the game.

“Now,” the host cracked his knuckles dramatically. “Let’s start off with some easy questions, just to make sure those devices are working after all. Cody, you’re looking comfortable out on that beach!”

Corey looked around the library he was sitting in confusedly, neither comfortable nor on a beach.

“I think you’re mistaking me for the surfers across the street,” Corey tried to joke, but his feeble demeanor spoiled the comeback.

“Men…you all ought to be where all the other guys of your kind are at.”

All three of them put on bewildered faces.

“Cody, what’s holding you back from embracing that Cali life?” the host asked.

“I…I mean there’s the obvious fact that they aren’t keen on ga-”

BZZT

“Ah!” Corey ripped his hand away, the "vibration" more of a literal sting.

“Cody, what’s holding you back?” the host asked again.

“Dude,” Corey uncharacteristically responded. “I don’t know if they will accept me, man.”

“Bro, what’s there NOT to accept?” the host chuckled. “You fit right in!”

Corey looked over his short frame, his pale skin, his shrimpy figure. He appeared better fit for the library than the bea-

BZZT

“You’re right DJ! I'm a gnarly guy like them brahs! They’ll totally accept me!”

Corey looked over his tall frame, his tanned skin, his toned figure. He appeared better fit for the beach than the library–that’s why he was on the beach after all!

“Alright alright,” the host nodded with approval. “Now Norman, let’s talk about your life in the countryside.”

‪‘Country side’?” Nolan interjected. “Do you consider Houston-”

BZZT

Nolan flung his hand back, “HOWARDWICK the countryside? You bet! Population 402, the two being me and my husband.”

“And what massive land you got behind you, I’m assuming you and your male fling built that together.”

“My what?” Nolan peered behind him, noticing his garden he’d built with his hus-

BZZT

-the ranch he’d built with his hustle. Well, not technically–this land had been managed through the traditional good ole ways of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. He’d just been fixing it up here and there.

Nolan stretched his thickening fingers, hoping to desensitize them from the pain. “W…What in tarnation is goin' on ‘ere?”

The host continued on, mocking the Southern accent he’d implanted onto the second contestant. “A place fittin' for a cowpoke like y’all’s self! Ain’t no city folk allowed; you don’t want nothin’ queer intrudin' your property, right?”

Queer?!” Nolan spat back. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’-“

BZZT

“Darn tootin’ straight! Ain’t nothin’ strange gonna be happenin’ on this ‘ere land.”

With the second contestant’s location rightfully reoriented, the host moved onto the third.

“And onto our Ivy League, let’s discuss ascension…I mean, ‘climbing the corporate ladder’.”

Aaron shot the host a dirty look through the screen. “You don’t think I worked hard to earn this position?”

“Well, you certainly didn’t do it all yourself.”

Aaron held his breath. He was a decently attractive man with his slim figure and responsible will, and even his anger made him appear wiser than his years. But Aaron's best feature was his independence, and he wasn’t going to let anyone taint his name over that.

“What, do you think my current boyfri-”

BZZT

“-my dating his-”

BZZT

“-my friends with benefits were involved?”

Aaron’s fingers tingled with energy. His body tingled with fury.

“Well,” the host snickered. “If by benefits, you mean…”

“What’s all this!” Aaron flipped. “This is simply…p…preposterous!”

“What are you talking about?” the host egged on. “It's simply normal for a man with your caliber to have such an ‘inheritance’.”

The other two contestants watched on with intrigue.

“I…I may have a b…benefactor,” Aaron suddenly revealed, as if something had just been placed upon his chest. But he was still independent, right? “But that has nothing to do with it!”

“Benefactor? Do you mean your DADDY?”

The fake audience suddenly burst into a chorus of shocked “Ooooohhhh”s. Aaron’s usual calm nature was flatlining, being replaced by a more quickly-agitated behavior.

“We may be really closely acquainted!” Aaron backpedaled. “But it’s nothing of that kind of sort!”

The other two contestants smirked as the growingly-pompous bastard was taken down a peg.

“Sounds pretty queer to me, man,” Corey interjected confidently, scratching at his defining abs.

“Yeah, Ah reckon that fellas a little less normal than us folks,” Nolan added, adjusting the large hat that had secured itself upon his head.

“SHUT UP SWINE!” Aaron spat, his face gaining back a little of his baby fat as he absorbed more child-like aggression. “I'm perfectly normal!”

The two men laughed alongside an obnoxious laughter track.

“He’s right folks, we men are on the right side of history.” The host knew he needed to move on, the show only had so much time of course, but he was having fun. “Surely that father-figure is just some kind of…relative?”

“Just a relative, brah?” Corey asked as his trim cut bloomed out into luscious blond waves.

“Seems closer than that, partner.” Nolan quipped as a graying stubble crawled upon his widening jaw.

“A….A relative?” Aaron stammered, a higher youthful pitch lightening his tenor as this benefactor became clearer in his head. “He’s…he’s someone who I f-“

BZZT

“Father! He’s my father: Asher Osvald the Third!” Aaron screamed, his blond locks gelling up into a refined style that didn’t match his own personality. “And you all better remember it when you see our company in the headlines!”

Both Corey and Nolan took their respectful back-offs, but the host could only smirk with pride. After a moment of self-congratulation, he noticed some slight hesitation from the first candidate.

“Dude…” Corey started. “Can’t you just see he’s messin’ with us, man? Don’t you guys feel kinda strange-“

“Aren’t you supposed to chill, dude?” The host immediately cut him off.

Corey’s mouth went flat, his chin taking the opportunity to curve out a little further. “How can I chill with-“

BZZT

“Without the support from my brosettes across the screen, duuuuude!”

The host watched on with glee as the female portion of the livestream burst into a flurry. Lots of hearts and kisses and even some eggplant emojis were flooding the chat. And the comments were getting suggestive too. One chick wanted to know why he was wearing a dorky button-up, and she was soon exposed to his lean bod and treasure trail. Another suggested he should flex for the camera, and Corey was happy to oblige, each of his muscles pumping larger as he did so.

“Now, Cody,” the host coyly asked. “I’m sure the fans would like to know what you do for work.”

“I uh…I work with coding.”

“You are studying IT?” the host replied, incredulous. “Sounds complicated man.”

Corey beamed at the compliment, an excited fever entering his voice. “Yeah, but I sort of have a gift for-“

BZZT

“IT...like as in ‘it’ man...not ‘eye-tee’ or whatever.”

“But it has something to do with a code, right?”

“Well…yeah man…” Corey’s lifeless vocal fry responded. “But it's not that nerdy crap…something more…uhhh…”

The host graciously provided the answer, “Manly?”

“Yeah man….’it’ is the uh…bro-code brah.” Corey fiddled with the cross necklace that had materialized around his neck, trying to structure his thoughts. Corey felt like his head was spinning in a light vertigo, but not out of stress. Rather, a pleasurable confusion. Cali dudes don’t think that much right? They just go with the flow, so why shouldn’t he man? Wasn’t that what was normal?

While Corey processed his internal dilemma, the host reconnected with the second contestant, noticing he too was becoming a little self-aware.

“Hey Norman, you’re really rocking that fit.”

Nolan was honestly surprised at the comment. He knew he looked good in his tight, patterned three-piece, but he didn’t think the ultra-straight host would notice that too.

“Those shoes must be great for the ranch.”

Nolan laughed. “These ole’ things? They’re Prada from last season-“

BZZT

“Uhh…Ah mean these boots are from that one brand-”

BZZT

“Ah’ve had these kickers for years, fella!”

The host observed quietly as the rest of the second contestant’s clothes altered. The suit jacket and vest disappeared completely. The pants grew out into a straight pair of jeans that had been worn continuously for many seasons. The shirt rolled it sleeves and loosened some buttons, darkening to a dusty black that was meant for hauling hay rather than implying gay. But as the outfit masculinized, there was one item that stubbornly fought back, unlike the man who wore it.

“And that belt, how long have you had that?”

Nolan evaluated the expensive snake leather. “Oh yeah, this ‘ere was a gift-“

BZZT

“What in TARNATION was that for?!” Nolan yelled, the vibration noticeably more painful than the previous blasts. The material of his belt quickly grew cheaper, a massive longhorn buckle blooming forth above his blooming pouch.

“S…Sorry y’all,” Nolan collected himself. “Ah don’t know what’s gotten ovah me, or why Ah’m speakin’ so-“

“Enough apologies,” the host gagged. “You are a man, are you not?”

“Yessiree, but that doesn’t mean we men ain’t got to be sens-”

BZZT

“Ah reckon yer right there, partner!” Nolan puffed out his chest, carrying his emerging muscle gut with him. “We men oughta be tough! The MAN of the household.”

The host snickered, his eyes meandering around the second contestant’s body as additional muscle and bulk was piled onto his frame. “And men like you ought to have a body like that, don’t they?”

The cowboy huffed, his torso heavy with Southern pride. Nolan had worked his muscular frame up over all these long years, from sunrise to sundown. At 6’4, his big hearty body was always devouring meat to stretch out everything from his big strong biceps to his huge Size 15 clompers!

With the first and second contestants almost there, it was time for the host to catch his third man up to speed. He had already advanced mighty far, his skin having cleared up a bit and a few arrogant gold trophies having appeared in the office background, but the host had some additional notches yet to secure before the final round.

“Now Asher, let’s get real here.” The host put on his classic douchebag smile for the audience. “Any ladies tickling that fancy lately?”

“What?” Aaron scoffed. “Are you dense? I'm into g-”

BZZT

“Girls…no…wait what?” Aaron felt strange. Why did the host ask if he liked…girls? And why was the thought of girls suddenly something he…liked?

“Listen ere’, partner,” Nolan suddenly interjected. “Yer talkin’ 'bout women like they’re nothin’!”

The host, displeased, fought back. “Aren’t you married to one, partner?”

Nolan couldn’t believe the disrespect. “Me? Married to a woman? Yeah right-”

BZZT

“-Ah am! Ah’ve been married to my lovely wife for darn straight twenty years! Ain’t nothing QUEER happenin' on this ‘ere normal ranch. I got youngins to raise after all!”

As Nolan became bombarded by memories of his new flock of children, the satisfied host switched back to his third contestant.

“Look, I think we should respect women.” Aaron tried his best to sound mature, now finding it extremely difficult to maintain. “In fact, I think we should respect all others appropriately-“

BZZT

“And by appropriately, I am referring to overlooking these swines of colleagues who cannot afford a top notch education adjacent to my own.”

The host queued up a laugh track for his next one-liner. “They weren’t kidding when they said someone with your prestige had everything handed down to you, including bad manners.”

Aaron felt his anger rising once again, it easily filling his shortening body as he squared out to an average 5’9.

“Well excuseeee me! I am my own person with-“

BZZT

“My father is a reputable man who would wish to-”

BZZT

“DADDY!”

Aaron stomped his foot, bewildered at this idiocracy. Why was he continuously interrupted? Why was he not given the required recognition? He was captain of the country club’s golf team, rowing team, youth league, and the youngest member on the executive board for Christ’s sake! He studied at an Ivy League! He was everything!

As Aaron tried to understand why none of these other men appreciated the absolute honors of his merit–which he refused to ever admit weren’t even his own–a small alarm went off from the host’s computer.

“Like what was that, mannnn?” Corey’s face furrowed into an all-too-natural look of dumbfoundment.

“Yeah,” Nolan reared. “What's y'all gonna do next?”

“I demand to know it this instant!” The host was surprised at the third contestant jumping in, but he assumed it was just his way of trying to maintain his (nonexisting) position on top. “Or else I’ll tell my father about this-!”

An insane uproar of artificial laughter echoed throughout their ears, startling and silencing them.

“Alright folks, you know what that sound means!” the host grinned. “It’s almost time to wrap up our show, and because our contestants still haven’t figured out what makes them 'Totally Normal', we’re going to have to speed things up!”

“But can’t there only be one winner?” Aaron whined.

“Technically, no,” the host responded honestly. “All of you can be winners if you find out what makes you totally normal.”

For the first time since the game had started, all three of the contestants fell silent.

“I mean, let’s look at our surfer stud Cody,” the host started. “You are almost there, but you gotta loosen that one thing that’s still pent-up, man.”

“Brah…” Corey complained. “What else is there?”

As if by some subconscious command from the host, Corey began dumbly palming himself, a light drool dripping from the edge of his lips. The constant cycle of tits and feminine bits in his mind bombarding all over thoughts.

“A totally gnarly surfer focuses on working out, banging chicks, and chillin’ dude.”

Corey guffawed with a stupid relaxed expression, casually groping as the host moved on.

“And Norman, you’ve worked hard for your position in life, haven’t you?”

The Texan father nodded in cold agreement.

“So what would pride a totally traditional cowboy more than his ranch, his woman, and his legacy?”

Nolan groaned as he instantly unbuckled the massive lock hiding his mighty steed. Huffing loudly, the Southern Baptist’s lil’ pony was wrangled into a full-fledged stallion, the kind that was built to produce offspring. And the kind that got worked up over anything that could threaten the generational uniformity his family, religion, and nation he swore to protect.

“And you, Asher,” the host swiped over to the final contestant. “What’s stopping you from becoming the total Harvard bastard?”

Asher’s face went red and his cock went hard.

“I’m talking complete corruption, pure privilege, Daddy’s little-”

The host was suddenly cut off by a loud holler, the exclaim like the crashing waves of the ocean. Immediately, the comment section blew up as the host, players, and audience watched the surfer jock release a blast of his sea salt spray.

But before the host could congratulate the first winner, the southern father turned around the corner. With one hand whipping his meat and the other held tightly onto his hat, it was only mere moments until the inevitable:

“YEEHAW!”

Once again, the audience burst into merriment over the propagating blast. It was then that Aaron’s anger truly took the best of him. He couldn’t be beaten by two no-names! He was the top of his class, an heir to a Fortune 500 company, and a totally normal man for Christ’s sake! Gripping his pecker and shining it furiously, Aaron accepted his heterosexual rage and vowed that he would win and please his…please his…!

“F…FAAAAATHERR!”

A loud, pretentious yell echoed out of the Harvard student, an endless splurge of funds dumping out of his mighty account. It was just one of the many things his heritage’s estate had granted him.

The host didn’t try to hide his devious sneer as the viewers erupted once more. He’d loved his job because everyone won every time. And now, seeing all the new stereotypical straights he’d created, the host couldn’t help but feel his own massive sausage chub. But he laughed the feeling off, knowing beating off over these other men wouldn’t have been “totally normal.”

“And it looks like with just a minute left on the clock, all three of our contestants will be going home as winners today!” The host then added his artificial rounds of applause. “So, did you three ever figure out what makes you ‘Totally Normal’?”

“Isn’t it obvious, brah?” Cody replied, the typical airhead more sure of himself now than when he had dropped out of high school. “It’s that we’re straight, mannnn…”

“He’s right, partner!” Norman added, his fatherly conviction always strong and steady. “Ain’t none of us are them faggots. If Ah do say so myself, we are all what the mighty Lord named men.”

“Well, if that is what common plebians such as yourself are called, then you shall address me as ‘I-V’,” Asher Osvald IV’s voice was doused in entitlement and a lack of understanding for anyone but himself. A pair of offscreen hands adjusted his tie just to prove his privilege. “After all, I do attend Harvard. I guess you could say I was destined for greatness since birth.”

“Yes, Asher, everyone here knows you are a prick.” The host immediately followed up his quip with a laugh track. “But that’s all we have for today’s show. Signing off, this is Host DJ!”

“Hang ten and surfs up, dudes!”

“The biggest rodeo’s the family and kids y’all!”

“I’m probably way richer than you vagrants, so don’t bother.”

“And don’t forget to ask yourself,” the host winked before adding in the final audio. “ARE YOU NORMAL?”

#gay to straight #dumber #bottomtotop #nerdtojock #political #lib to con #preppification #unintendedresults #Christian

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