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evilmenenjoyer · 3 days ago

Text

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

–––

It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true.

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

��W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm.

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position. “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

#the salesman x reader #salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #gong yoo x reader #squid game x reader #the salesman x you #salesman smut #my fics #guess who was too lazy to make a cute banner #next time i promise

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anon-sect · 1 day ago

Photo

As Trevor was walking around the corner of the back lot of the office, he happened to notice Axel and Landon smoking weed on the premises. This was in strict violation of company rules. "You know you two aren't supposed to be smoking that stuff here." He spoke to them.

Axel and Landon both looked over at their coworker, Trevor. "Mind your own business. We won't get caught. We have been doing this for weeks." Landon replied. "Yeah, piss off, okay." Axel remarked back as well.

Trevor saw no need to say any more and walked off. It was really none of his business after all if they weren't caught yet.

Later that day, the manager had called everyone up to the main area. "As you all know, we have a strict no weed smoking on premisis. But there has been someone smoking in the back lot. We have found the buds on the ground." Owen paused for a moment. "Due to the plant odor, it's hard to smell the weed scent in here. So if anyone knows anything, they are encoursge to speak up." He finished and dismissed everyone.

Trevor went up to Axel and Landon. "You know I should report you two." He spoke softly so that only those two heard his words. "You would lose your jobs, I bet." He added.

Axel and Landon looked a little nervous. They were both already on their second strike for violating company rules. If there was a third, they would be fired for sure. That resulst they didn't want. "What do you want to keep your mouth shut?" Landon asked Trevor, hoping something reasonable. "Yes, anything, we don't need a third strike." Axel also pleaded for some mercy from his coworker.

Trevor thought about it. "Come by my office in ten minutes, and I will tell you. If you don't show, I might be persuaded to talk." He spoke as he walked off heading bakc to his office. He wanted them to pondoer their options.

Riight on time, Trevor saw Landon and Axel enter his office. "We are here, now what you want from us to keep your silence." Axel wanted to know so that this ordeal would be over with.

Trevor pulled out his phione and opened up his TF Pro Max app. "I want you two to be my perfect socks to keep my feet comfortable. I never had living socks before." He stated his request to the strange look on their faces.

"Let me get this straight. You want us to be literal socks willing?" Landon asked in disbelief. Trevor nodded back in response. Both laughed at the thought of being socks.

"I guess I should call the manager then." Trevor threatened while smiling back at them.

"Even if it was possible, It's worth keeping your silence. We will be your socks." Landon spoke, not believing that would ever happen.

Travor pointed his phone at both of them and hit the flash. Axel and Landon were instantly turned into a pair of whites socks. He went around his desk and picked up the socks from off the floor. "Nice, you both look perfect. I will wear you two for about a week. I will turn you back to normal then." He sat back down in his chair and took off his old socks in favor of his new living socks. He loved how the new socks felt on his feet. He wiggled his toes in them before putting his favorite sneakers back on his feet. He caught a quick scent of the odor from his shoes. He was glad he wasn't the one being stuck in that foul stench.

Landon was totally shellshocked. He was completely wrapped around Trevor's foot and trapped in the most foul prison he could possiby think of. The shoe smell so bad it almost made him pass out if he had a physical human body. He didn't believe it was even possible to literally be a sock, yet here he was on his coworker's foot. The insoles had been so worn in that he could tell that the shoes were worn very often. They reek of foot stench of years of use. He wanted to get away form the foul odor, but was powerless to do so.

Axel was mentally begging for mercy. He found feet to be disgusting. The worst torment in his mind was to be tied up and forced to smell another guy's foot. He saw that being turned into a sock was worse than that. He was trapped in as stench that smelled like rotten eggs and sour milk with no way of escape. The very foot kept him trapped in his shoe prison, which made him feel so degraded and humiliated. He would have rather the guy rat on them than this existence. The excruciating pain of being walked on made it unbearable in his mind. He was now just an object on his owner's foot. The fact that this would be for a whole week only to keep one secret made it not worth agreeing to this. He mentally pleaded for Trevor to change them back to normal. He didn't want to be a whole week on his foot.

THREE WEEKS LATER.....

Trevor relaxed in his office with his socked feet propped on his desk. He had been wearing the same pair of socks for the past three weeks. Someone had also noticed Landon and Axel smoking weed in the back lot and reported it to the manager two days after he had turned them into socks. Seeing how this would have been their third strike, their employment in the company would have been terminated anyway. At least as his socks, they still had a job. Their new job would forever be to comfort his feet and to absorb all his foot sweat and funk.

But Trevor did enjoy other uses for his living socks. They made good cum rags as well. He took advantage of that on multiple occasions over the past three weeks. He often thought about what his socks were feeling now that they were permanent footwear. Unfortnantly for them, he had erased their datat them moment he heard they were reported. There was no need to change them back to normal now. They were just better of as his dirty, smelly socks.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #shrinkage #tf story #permanent transformation #unwilling permanent transformation #sock transformation

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andhumanslovedstories · 2 days ago

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you think often of how nurses should speak and relate to patients, and i highly appreciate knowing you put this kind of thought in and share it with other nurses. but as someone who often occupies the patient position, i'm curious if you have any thoughts on ways for patients to interact with nurses, when we are in decent enough control of our faculties to make choices about that. i would like this knowledge from both an altruistic perspective in recognizing nursing is difficult and not wanting to voluntarily make it difficulter, and a wholly self interested position of knowing nurses who like interacting with me give better care. what helps as a professional and as a person?

I'm surprised how much I had to think about this question. What do I want patients to do? I don't know. A lot of it is basic human decency, some of it is specific to my nursing workflow, but overall I find it complicated saying what patients "should" do. I cut out about 500 words of navel gazing from this post explaining why. Here are answers I've come up, in no order and not of equal importance.

--a lot of it is basic "polite interaction with another person in a professional setting." If you're asking this question, you probably care about treating people well in general. If you wouldn't say it to a barista, would you say it to your nursing tech?

--don't do joke answers to basic orientation questions like "what's your name" and "where are you right now", because it's annoying to have to clarify if you're actually confused or if you're fucking with me. I know they're annoying. Just answer correctly so we can move on.

--have some flexibility and patience. Hospitals have a lot of moving parts, and each person interacting with you has other patients that also need care. My hospital and state has mandated nursing ratios. The maximum amount of patients I've had in one assignment is five. Other hospitals have far less protection, and nurses may have six, eight, twelve other patients. Our respiratory therapists each cover multiple units. One CNA might cover the entire floor. I know if melatonin is the difference between you sleeping or not sleeping, it is very frustrating for someone to bring it late. I just ask you keep in mind that there's dozens of reasons that might happen besides someone ignoring you.

--help us help you. If you can lift your arm up for me to put a blood pressure cuff on, why are you holding your arm completely limp so it's like putting pants on a toddler than doesn't want to get dressed? If you can help roll yourself in bed, help us roll you. If your IV is beeping, hit the call light so someone can come turn it off. If you don't have urgency issues and you can tell you're going to need to go to the bathroom soon, call before it's an emergency. If your IV hurts when I give you medication at 8 pm, tell me then, not when I'm trying to give you your midnight antibiotic and all the evening staff have already gone home.

--if you don't understand how something works in the hospital (what happens when you hit the call light, how often are people going to take your vital signs, why can't I get up and walk around the room), just ask. It's really easy for people who work in a hospital every day to forget other people aren't familiar with it.

--don't treat doctors noticeably better than you treat everyone else.

--pet peeve number one: if I give you pills in a med cup, you can just use the med cup to get the pills to your mouth. You don't need to pour the pills into the palm of your hand and then pop them into your mouth. You're gonna drop the pills, and I'm gonna end up on the floor looking for a tiny tablet of dilaudid.

--bundle requests, especially low-importance ones. If you ask for crackers and you know crackers make you thirsty, just request your drink at the same time. Don't make me walk to your room, the nutrition room, and your room again ten minutes later.

--I don't expect people in the hospital to be pleasant all the time, and I don't take snappiness personally, but I always really appreciate the patients who apologize or even just acknowledge their behavior.

--I love patients who acknowledge my work. I don't need effusive praise or a thousand thank yous. It means a lot for someone to just be like "hey, thanks for your help tonight."

--have patience with repeating yourself. If you've got something important and complicated to convey, practice a quick understandable blurb that takes no brain power from you. There may be something that you've told the staff a dozen times, and it may be documented in your chart, but in the hospital you see many people who have never worked with you before and for whatever reason didn't read that info in your chart. For example, I'm a float pool nurse which means I almost never see the same patients twice. I can get sent to a different unit and a different patient load at literally any time. I can't familiarize myself with complicated documentation or read every nursing note. Especially not for patients I know I will only have for four hours. I know repeating yourself is annoying, I know it sucks to have to explain your bathroom routine or your preferred pain med or when you like to get pills or whatever every shift. And it's great when people make that information very easy to find! But if you just accept the reality you'll be repeating yourself a lot anyway, it makes doing so less frustrating.

--pet peeve number two: don't exaggerate to make a point. This is such a human thing to do, and god knows I catch myself doing it all the time, but you can raise objections in a way that's factually true. I've got a lot of concrete data that people are very often wrong when they say they're been "waiting for hours" after hitting a call light. The computer has a time stamp of the last time I was in your room. I know it was 45 minutes ago. There's a timer by the call light. I know you called twenty minutes ago. And I know it feels much longer when you are waiting for basic cares or pain control or anything pressing. Things can be unacceptable without needing to be exaggerated. When the exaggeration is the base of your complaint, it undercuts your credibility. Honestly I find it really irritating when I spend a disproportionate amount of my shift with one patient only for that patient to tell another staff member that I've been neglecting them. Just say I did a bad job, don't pretend I wasn't there at all.

--don't ask me to pull my mask down so you can see my face. like cmon dude.

--I'm not saying you have to send all your visitors out of the room when I'm there, I'm just saying have some sympathy for how nerve-wracking it can be to do your job while being intensely watched by five other deeply invested people with limited context for your actions.

--this is a nebulous and difficult one. You might have a lot of emotion that you don't know what to do with. What you shouldn't do with it is channel it into every interaction you have with a healthcare worker. If you feel guilty about how you haven't visited your mother in a while and now she's in the hospital, you gotta find ways to deal that don't involve getting extremely passive aggressive at your mother's night nurse.

#b.#nursing tag

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goldsbitch · 3 hours ago

Text

Kiss with a fist

To his twins, the world is ending. To Lando, it’s another exhausting reminder that parenting might actually be harder than racing.

or - No boys allowed near the girls from now on, especially not his rivals' son.

warning: dad! Lando, none, fun, domestic 3k word count stand alone part of Norris Family Polaroids

There is a loud crying sound coming from the room the seven year olds share and Lando has never felt so old in his bones. He'd just come back from an exhausting race and those don't exactly get easier with age. In times like these, he longs for the days when he was in his first years in F1, blissfully unaware of just how capable and seamless his body was. Anyway. No time to sulk in. One of his daughters is in distress and the day he does not respond to that will be the day he willingly puts himself up in jail.

He gets up from the couch and rushes over to the kids room. The crying is not stopping and when he enters it somehow starts clicking all in. He kneels down and hugs Maya, who looks like is determined to cry her eyes out. Meanwhile, Olivia is sitting on her bed, exceptionally quiet and has never looked more suspicious in her life, ever.

"We need to keep a closer eye on Liv, I think she's teasing Maya too much these days" he recalls Y/N saying over the phone one late evening. It was an early morning call for him, due to the timezones, but he remembers it clearly. He brushed it off, telling his wife that it's getting late over back home and that she should go and get some sleep while she can. But right now, assessing the current situation, he is not so sure about his previous judgement. Long gone is the time he was scared of being a bad parent, of fucking up. He's come to realization that he will inevitably fuck up - not in the same way as his parents, but in a completely new and original way. The fact they were blessed with twins making it that more likely to happen. He's hugging and caressing one daughter, while eyeing the other. Olivia has this look in her face and his stomach sinks down deeply, because he has seen this look before. In the mirror, many times. He was what most would consider a peaceful quiet child. Unless it was him and his sister alone. He'd tease her mercilessly, wait for her to start crying and then play innocent. His parents fell for that so easily.

And now, he's looking at his own daughter, who stares right back at him, and they both know. He shakes his head, making sure Maya does not see and while it does make him mad, it makes him less mad that it should. Because ultimately, he knows that him and his sisters grew up just fine and this teasing eventually stopped. Still, his other daughter is wallowing in his arms and he can't ignore that.

Maya is the first one to speak. "Daddy...I don't want to have a baby," she leans back from his embrace and pouts at him in a way only seven year old know how. So raw, honest and unfiltered.

Lando must have misheard her. “Come again, sweetheart?”

He brushes few tears away. At least she’s not sobbing anymore and is focused on trying to get the words out. “I don’t want to have a baby, I’m too young for that”.

It’s hard not to agree with that. She is seven years old.

He smiles gently, trying to somehow untangle this. "Why would you have a baby?" Another stream of tears and cries follows and she wraps herself in his arms again. He sighs, as it is does not get easier with time to hear your little daughter cry and he looks up to Olivia, who's still sitting on her bed. He's not mad per say, but he's silently asking her to help him find an answer to this all. This is the first time that Liv's expression shakes up and cracks away, hinting on either guilt or at least a sorrow she feels at the sight of her own twin crying. Good, Lando thinks. He tries as much as he can to avoid automatically blaming her for anything without having enough information about the situation. But, his it's hard to ignore his intuition.

He turns to Maya again. "Sweetie, why would you have a baby? You're so young?"

Maya's voice trips over her own sobs, but she finally speaks again. "I...I kissed a boy today."

Now - hold on. First of all, why is his seven year old daughter kissing some boys? He feels himself tense up. Of course he knew this days would come, but he was silently hoping for ten more years of keeping his little angels as they were. Just young, tiny kids running around playing tag. Not kissing boys, girls or whomever. "Who did you kiss?" he can't stop himself from asking, silently hoping he does not know the parent of said boy, because there is no way of preventing himself from making the "concerned parent phone call". Monte Carlo is small, there is only few nursery schools around here. It's an everyone sort of knows everyone kind of situation. "Maya, don't worry - you're not in trouble," he adds, trying to make sure he keeps up on having his daughter willing to tell him stuff like that. She is not in trouble - the boy is. Lando used to be a boy. He knows what's up.

Maya's lip is trembling and her eyes are wet. He can't bear that sight. "Sweetheart, you're not pregnant. I'm sure of that," he consoles her and after few moments of deep thought, she seems to believe him. She ask once more for confirmation. His answered is interrupted by his other daughter, who now looks equally concerned as Maya was just a minute ago.

"But she is pregnant. That's how it works. Boys at the playground said so," she speaks, oh-so-sure of her claims. He face is serious and has a sense of fatality around it. He begins to understand how other children would fall so deeply under this spell.

Ah, Lando thinks and the penny drops. He runs his hands through his hair and has to chuckle just a bit. He doesn't want Maya to think he’s making fun of her, but the absurdity of the situation is too much. He leans back on his heels, looking between his two daughters. Maya’s face is still flushed from crying, and Olivia is sitting with her arms crossed, looking like a pint-sized prophet of doom.

He clears his throat, trying to sound as serious as possible. "Okay, let's get something straight out of the way. Kissing someone is not how you get pregnant," he speaks and his mind briefly flashes to the panic he and Y/N felt the moment they found out she was pregnant with the twins. It's been a long time ago and enlightening journey since, but he can somewhat understand the sentiment. He tries to ground his children down some more. "Look at me and Mommy. We kiss all the time and she is not pregnant, right?"

Olivia seems intrigued. "So, how do you get pregnant?" He looks at her and curses himself for walking right into that one. It's clear in her face and maneurism that she is going to be a very difficult teenager one day. "Ask Mommy when she comes back," he blurts out, not at all prepared for that talk. He's also already mentally ordering apology bouquet for his dear wife for throwing her under a bus like that. He turns to Maya again. "Anyway, you don't worry. You're not pregnant," he caresses her cheek and once she really does seem more calm, he asks. "Now - who kissed you?"

Maya glances at Olivia, and Lando notices his other daughter watching with laser focus. Olivia’s lips are pressed tightly together, her expression that of someone who knows something and is dying to spill it.

“Do you want me to tell him?” Olivia asks suddenly, looking unable to contain herself any longer.

“Liv,” Lando says with a sigh, shooting her a warning look.

“What? I already know who it was,” Olivia says, folding her arms across her chest with a dramatic flair that only a seven-year-old can pull off. He averts his gaze to Maya, who looks like is ready to fess up.

"You're not in trouble," he says and hopes he can keep up on his promise.

She tenses up and something tells Lando he actually does not want to know. "It was Lucas." Too late. “Lucas,” he repeats, his voice carefully neutral.

Maya nods slowly, her cheeks flushing pink. “Lucas Verstappen,” she specifies. Lando feels his stomach drop. Max Verstappen’s son. Of all the boys in the world, it had to be Lucas, the mini version of the Verstappen gang and what one would call a true heir of their infamous blunt approach to life. If this is true, it marks the beginning of a lifetime of headaches. His poor, sweet little daughter - one he'll have to protect until forever.

"And she kissed him too!" Olivia nearly screams out, letting her opinion on this known by the judgy tone.

Lando eyes grow wide and he silently thankful for Olivia spilling it like it is. Maya's guilt ridden face gives it away all. "Maya, honey, aren't you a little young to be kissing boys?" he asks rhetorically, because of course - his little angel should definitely not be doing that.

"I would never kiss a boy! They are gross and annoying," Olivia blurts out, ever-so-competitive. He's not sure what scares him more, Maya who's running around kissing boys or Olivia, who reminds him of himself more each passing day. Let's see about that, Liv, when in ten years I'm warding off boys from your window, he thinks, but does not say it out loud.

"He kissed me first!" Maya defends herself and snuggles into Lando's embrace more. He sighs. It's not been the quiet chill down he expected to return to.

"Okay, ladies. Let's all calm down. How about some ice-cream?" he offers, hoping that cheap bribing will buy him some time to think. The sudden cheers confirm it and he's adding another five flowers to the bouquet for Y/N, knowing she won't condone this.

He's watching his daughters munch on the impromptu ice-cream sundae, both of them sitting silently on the kitchen counter, apparently dead set on destroying their pajamas with colorful stains.

The name Verstappen still rings in his ears. They're suppose to have a little family get together tomorrow and for some reason, that's starting to increasingly bother him.

He excused himself for a moment and goes to the balcony, making what he fears is one of the first distressed "my daughter kissed someone" call in his life - and not the last one. Headache. That's what it is.

The phone rings twice before Max picks up, his voice sounding tired and politely annoyed.

“Lando. What’s up, mate? Is it urgent, I'm kind of dead tonight.”

Lando takes a deep breath, trying to sound calm. Oh, you and your son will be dead very soon.

"Hi Max, yeah, it sort of is," he murmurs, trying to think his strategy through. "We have to cancel tomorrow, something came up." Genius. That's who he is. Now, he just has to move his family away from Monte Carlo and make sure Maya never meets Lucas Verstappen ever again. Problem solved.

Max doesn’t miss a beat. "Cancel? What do you mean cancel? Lucas has been talking about seeing the girls all week." Of course he has. Lando groans internally. Of course Lucas has been excited. This wasn’t just any hangout. This was apparently the next chapter in their little playground romance.

"Yeah, not gonna happen, mate," Lando insists, leaning on the balcony railing, running a hand through his hair, overlooking at his dearest angels, who will need his infinite protection. "We can’t do it. Something came up. Okay, bye."

Max is quick enough to speak before he manages to hang up. "Wait, what? If it's a problem for you and Y/N, we can just take care of the kids, no problem."

Is it the whole Verstappen family that wants to take his precious daughters? Lando knows he might be overreacting, but he is a tired man with a resposibility over two seven year old. Cut him some slack.

"No. Canceled. Bye," he says and kills the call. There, all sorted. He immediately goes on figuring out some back up activity for the family, something that will sound so exciting that they will all forget about the Verstappens.

Max calls him right back and he does not pick it up.

The young father goes on putting the girls down, everyone is now calm and there are no more pregnancy scares. He is good at this. Everything is great. Just as the girls are tucked into bed, eyelids drooping and calm finally restored, Lando’s phone buzzes once more. He glances over at it, expecting Max to be trying again. Instead, he sees Y/N’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hi, love,” Lando answers, trying to sound casual. He winks at his daughters, who are always excited when Mommy's around. “How’s dinner?”

“It’s nice,” Y/N replies, but her tone has an edge, the one where he knows she’s about to interrogate him. “How’s everything at home? The girls okay?”

“They’re fine,” Lando says quickly and decides to leave the kids bedroom, so that he can pace around, as he always does when Y/N sounds like that. “All good here. No problems.”

There’s a beat of silence. He can feel her narrowing her eyes through the phone. He can hear the rush of the restaurant she's at, so her calling him must have a pretty good reason.

"Mm hm. So why did you cancel tomorrow’s hangout with Max and his family?"

Lando rolls his eyes, his brain scrambling for an answer while cursing Max mentally. Ugh. “Uh… something came up?”

"What "something," exactly?" Y/N presses, her voice filled with wonder.

"Just… things," Lando says vaguely, mentally kicking himself.

"Things," Y/N repeats flatly. "Lando, Max is suspicious. He just called me, distressed, asking what was going on, and now he thinks you’re mad at him."

This fires him up again. "Well, I am mad at him! So he got that right." Saying this makes him feel like the child in this scenario. Headache. Again.

Y/N sighs. "Did something happen on the track?" he asks patiently.

"What?" he asks, confused. He shakes his head. "No, no, it's um...The girls don't want to meet Lucas tomorrow, that's all."

Even he can't believe his tone.

"The same girls that spent the whole of yesterday excited about the bouncy castle they have at home?" she speaks with almost annoyed tone now. Lando groans, resting his forehead on the cool countertop. He does not have an answer. Just as he's about to fill her in on the whole kissing debacle, he continues. "Look, unless they're sick or something, can you please call Max and talk this out? I'm at the dinner and I can't just spend it all on the phone with my husband and his friend. Call him and talk it out."

Why is life so hard on him? "Do I have to? Can’t we just-"

"Lando," Y/N interrupts firmly. "You canceled without an explanation. You absolutely have to."

"Fine," he says, defeated. "Have a nice dinner, honey. I miss you," he concludes genuinely.

"Me too," Y/N says, her tone softening slightly. "I’ll check in when I’m on my way home. Love you."

"Love you too," Lando mutters, hanging up. He stares at his phone for a moment, then reluctantly dials Max’s number again.

It rings twice before Max answers, his voice dripping with faux innocence.

"Hey man. What the fuck?" Verstappens - always the pleasure.

"Max," Lando starts, rubbing his temple. "How are you? All good?" he asks politely, like the Brit he used to be once.

"What the fuck do you mean, how am I. You cancel out of nowhere and now Lucas won't talk to me, so yeah, great night off for me," he hears unfiltered tone coming through the speaker. He can't say it does not please him a bit.

"Well, it's late, he should be sleeping anyway," Lando let's out of his mouth before he thinks that through, ragging Max even further.

"You stop giving me instructions on how to raise my child and act like an adult for a moment, would you?"

"If someone should act more adult, it's Lucas," Yeah, Lando. Great comeback. Wow. The eight year old should act more like an adult.

Max manages to brush over that. "Did he do something to the twins? You need to tell me these things, how am I suppose to fix it if I don't know what happened? Or if something has even happened?"

It's hard to fight that logic. Especially after the evening Lando has had today. Lando sighs. There’s no way out of this, so he decides to just rip off the band-aid. "Maya told me… that Lucas kissed her. The silence on the other end is deafening. "And she kissed him back," Lando adds, cringing.

Max’s response is immediate: he bursts into laughter. "Oh, my God," Max wheezes. "Lucas and Maya? That’s amazing."

"It's anything but amazing, Max,” Lando snaps, pacing around again. "She thought she was pregnant because of something the kids on the playground told her! Do you know how much emotional damage I’ve endured in the past hour?"

Max is still laughing, clearly delighted. "Mate, you’re overreacting. They’re small. It’s harmless."

"This is the first boy she’s kissed, Max!" Lando argues. "Your son is now part of her origin story!"

"Oh, please," Max says, still chuckling. "What do you think is going to happen? They’ll run away together? They’re kids, Lando. Relax. It's normal for the to do this."

"I can’t relax," Lando grumbles. "And what’s worse, Olivia is now convinced she’s never falling in love because, and I quote, "boys are gross.""

Max cackles again. "Honestly, that’s probably for the best. Liv’s smart."

Lando's cup of patience, small one to begin with, is truly overflowing.

"Alright, alright," Max says, finally calming down and sensing that teasing Lando is not the way to go about it tonight. "Look, Lucas is a good kid. He probably just thought Maya looked pretty and didn’t know how else to say it. I’ll talk to him, alright? But you don’t need to cancel tomorrow over this."

Lando hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He knows they would all team up against him anyway. He lost this one. "You’re sure he won’t try anything else?"

Max snorts. "What, like propose? No, Lando, I don’t think so. He’s seven."

Fine.

The sound of children’s laughter fills the Verstappens’ backyard, the air warm and bright with sunlight. Like it's all mocking Lando specifically. The infamous bouncy castle stands in all its glory. Lando leans against a chair at the patio table, his arms crossed as he surveys the scene with the intensity of investors watching their car getting overtaken on track.

Maya and Lucas are bouncing together, grinning ear to ear like they’ve completely forgotten the events of yesterday. Meanwhile, Olivia stands off to the side, arms crossed and nose wrinkled in distaste, looking like she’s silently judging the entire scenery. She’s probably drafting her manifesto on why boys are, indeed, “gross.” Lando feels proud. At least one of his daughters is strong enough not to fall for cheap boy's tricks. Not even Y/N seems to understand the gravity of the situation. No matter how long Lando spent trying to explain it to her. Cute, that's what she called it. He hopes this is not a precedent. For now, he stands alone.

"You’re watching them like a prison guard," Y/N comments, nudging Lando gently as she sits down beside him.

"And for good reason," Lando replies, narrowing his eyes at Lucas, who’s apparently successfull at making Maya laugh. "He’s already made a move once. I’m not letting it happen again." He will sit happily sit in every playground they happen to encounter each other at.

Y/N hides her smile behind her coffee cup. "I think we’re safe for now. They’re just kids, Lando. You don’t have to treat Lucas like he’s some F1 rival trying to steal pole position from you."

"He is trying to steal something," Lando grumbles under his breath. Max strolls over, holding a plate of snacks, like the responsible dad he pretends to play, and looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Enjoying the show?"

Lando gives him a side-eye glare. "You think this is funny, don’t you?" Max smirks, popping a grape into his mouth and just nods.

"Your son traumatized my daughters yesterday," Lando fires away.

Max rolls his eyes. "And now they’re bouncing around like best friends again. Kids bounce back back. In this case, literally." Oh, he thinks he's so funny.

As if on cue, Lucas lands a little too close to Maya, sending both of them tumbling onto the floor of the bouncy castle in a fit of giggles. Lando tenses, halfway out of his seat before Y/N grabs his arm.

"Relax," she whispers. "It's fine." "For now," Lando protests, settling back reluctantly. From across the yard, Lucas suddenly stands up and calls out: "Mr. Norris!" Lando freezes, his eyes narrowing as the devil child approaches him. "What?" Lucas grins, holding up a flower he’s picked from the garden. He's rushing over to his and hands it to Lando, eyes filled with expectation and anticipation. "This is for Maya!" Speechless Lando accepts the flower, albeit confused as to why he's handing the flower to him and not to Maya, if she's the supposent recipient. Lucas flashes one look towards his father and in the corner of the eye, Lando can see Max nod approvingly. They really have all teamed up against him. Everyone is watching them and waiting for something exiting to happen. Olivia, the only one having Lando's back, lets out an audible groan loud enough to be heard across the yard.

"Oh, come on," she says, throwing her hands in the air. “This is ridiculous. I’m never falling in love. Ever!”

Y/N snorts into her coffee, Max doubles over laughing, and Lando buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, happy Lucas runs back to the bouncing castle.

"Why is my life like this?" he wonders, looking up the sky for answers. None come. Y/N pats his shoulder affectionately. "Because you’re the dad of two amazing girls. And one of them might have a little crush. It’s not the end of the world."

"It’s the beginning of the end," Lando mumbles dramatically. Max grins, leaning closer. "You know, if Lucas and Maya end up together, we’ll officially be family. Imagine that, Lando," he pauses dramatically. "Maya Verstappen."

Lando's stomach turns upside down, he groans and turns to Y/N. "We're moving to another continent."

The domestic afternoon continues, adults laughing and talking - apart form Lando, who sits in his observant position, regularly sighing, back leaning and forth in his chair. It’s going to be a long, chaotic road ahead. And it looks like he's the only sane person around - in his opinion exclusively.

----------------------- note: fire up them ideas for this pseudo series!!! love you all

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landonorrisscar · 2 days ago

Text

Confessions ~ Harry Lewis

summary: A video of you and Harry at Vikk’s wedding went viral and the rest of the boys are questioning you guys about it.

word count: 1k +

this is my first fic, so please be nice! 😊🫶

You and harry were sat across from each other getting questioned by the other sidemen about the rumors going around about you two fancying each other.

This came after a video of drunk harry and you dancing at vikks wedding went viral on TikTok.

The sidemen had decided to make a video about the rumours and to find out more about what had exactly happened, the infamous night 2 months ago. You and Harry hadn’t properly seen you since as you have been avoiding him trying to hide your feelings.

“Honestly guys, it's not that deep.” you thought trying to get this over and done with as soon as possible seen as though you don’t exactly want your personal life to be exposed on the internet.

JJ chuckled as he looked at the others who were trying to control their grins, he looked back at you, still amused as he questioned you, "not that deep, huh? The entire internet went crazy when that video came out".

Simon nodded in agreement while tobi, vikk and josh tried to control their laughter.

“Yeah so? It's the internet they don't know anything” you explain as there insistent questions were starting to annoy you, along with Harry’s silence.

Ethan looked confused, "but you were drunk and dancing with Harry all night and Faith swore that you too snuck off early". As he finished his sentence, Simon started laughing as tobi and josh snickered and vikk shook his head.

“Harry always gets like that when he's drunk”, thinking back to the countless times Harry held your hand when drunk and completely forgot by the morning, always leaving you with a twang of disappointment.

At that simon started laughing more, "so does he call you baby whilst drunk too? How about kissing you?".

With a shocked expression on your face you shyly say “he was just being friendly” not realising that they had seen that. You remember the day after when Harry apologised and said that it didn’t mean anything.

You had learnt not to get too hopeful when things like that happened. After the a thousandth time Harry explained to you that you guys were just friends and that he never meant to kiss you. You have had a crush on Harry for years and after countless hints he’s never made a move whilst sober.

JJ couldn't hold his laughter anymore and started cackling, "being friendly, i didn't think friends hold hands, hug and kiss eachother".

Vikk nodded as an agreement but he too was smiling and tobi started laughing quietly.

“Well you and Simon do it all the time” you replied sarcastically waiting to see the look on his face.

JJ's smile faltered as he glared at you, "we do it for the jokes, you two were looking at each other lovingly”.

“Harry, you wanna back me up on this or what?” you try to bring him into the conversation as he was just sitting there silently with a guilty look on his face.

JJ rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone, before putting on the video of you and harry. It showed a drunk harry twirling you around, kissing your cheek and laughing together

Harry was silent as he looked at the video, he remembered what he had done at vikk's wedding and blushed as he remembered how you felt in his arms

JJ smiled at the silent glances you guys shared with each other, "so just friends do all this stuff?" Harry stayed silent, trying his best to keep his cool but it was obvious he had feelings for you by the blush on his face.

Fed up, you explain “Well Harry hasn't told me how he feels so how should I know” , god this video wasn’t going anywhere if you had a say in it. You don’t want to make a fool out of yourself even more than you already have.

Josh shook his head, "how come neither of you admit your feelings for eachother? This has happened countless times and you guys have never done anything about it". You froze at this question as your heart started beating faster, knowing that you could admit your feelings and hopefully change the ordinary outcome for once.

“Harry??” you look up at him shyly through your eyelashes, not wanting to be the first person to say anything.

Harry froze as he heard josh's question, a little embarrassed as he looked and you and began to say "what if you don't feel the same? Or what if you don't see me in the same light?”

You silently nod at him which lets him know that you feel the same, wishing him to continue.

Harry looked at you and spoke, "Y/ N, i have liked you since the first time we met, please tell me you like me too” he exclaimed with a wishful look on his face.

“Harry, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that!” you excitedly say, going over to him to hug him. As he heard this, he grinned and blushed shyly at you, when he saw you stand up to go over to him he opens his arms welcoming you into his space.

The rest of the sidemen smiled at a shy Harry. JJ spoke excitedly, "finally! There is no drama anymore! We have proof of yous likin each other back" he says as the rest of the sidemen smile at each other and cheer.

You had forgot that they were there for a moment as you got lost in Harry’s warm embrace. As you pull apart, you quietly whisper up to him “what happens now?”.

Harry looked down at you smiling before he spoke softly, "im gonna kiss you, like i should have done years ago"

Harry slowly moved closer to you, a small smile forming as a hand reached out to cup your cheek. Your stomach filled up with butterflies as he gazed into your eyes before he gently pressed his lips to yours.

Your body tenses up in shock as his lips finally meet yours. His touch is soft and gentle, as though he is afraid that you might break, your lips move against his. His other hand moves to the back of your neck to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

You can feel his heart beating fast against yours as the two of you continue exchanging passionate kisses, deepening them with every moment that passes.

JJ explains to the camera, “and that ladies and gentlemen is how you make your two friends stop being idiots around each other.”

Harry and you just laugh at each other, at this statement. You then turn to the sidemen and say “thank you boys” smiling at them with a grateful look in your eyes.

instagram

yourusername posted

yourusername: happier than ever, can’t wait to have forever with you by my side 🤍

tagged: wroetoshaw

Comments:

user1: OMG ITS HAPPENING!

sidemen: watch the video of how we got these two together!

-> user2: you have it in VIDEO?

ynandharry4ever: my two favourite people finally together!

-> yourusername: thank you for the support!

-> ynandharry4ever: OMG YOU NOTICED ME!

wroetoshaw: the love of my life

-> yourusername: I love you baby 🤍

ksi: I made this happen!

-> tobjizzle: ^^

-> miniminter: ^^

-> zerkaa: ^^

-> behzingagram: ^^

-> vikkstagram: it was my wedding so you’re all welcome! liked by yourusername and wroetoshaw

-> wroetoshaw: I think we actually made this happen you know seen as though it’s our relationship @ yourusername

-> yourusername: no they made it happen, like when were you gonna make a move if not for them 😂

#harry lewis #harry lewis x reader #wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #sidemen #ksi #tobjizzle #ethan payne #josh zerkaa #vikkstar123 #simon minter #one shot #my fic #fanfic

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monotonykillsartist · 20 hours ago

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So headcanon Fawcett was way ahead of their time and also they make there own laws, cause like sure try going into the city and try to enforce straight marriage only or segregation cause like they literally have alligator people who are green blue faries pink nymphs so why would they care I'd someone was dark skinned. Also also someone did once try to go and argue against same sex marriage and was killed by a nymph, and then another one had their head caved in by a centar.

Interviewer: "So, Captain Marvel, I have to ask. Since Fawcett is a city that's been stuck in the 50s, how do you guys feel about same sex marrage?"

*Both Billy and Solomon confused like all the words make sense but put together seems kind of odd* Caption Marvel, confused head tilt: "What do you mean by that?"

Interviewer, slightly confused: "Err like a regular marriage but between two men or two women?"

Captain marvel let's out an 'ohhh' of understanding: "Well, in Fawcett, we don't have tha-" gets cut off by egar Interviewer

Interviewer: "So Fawcett is homophonic and stuck in the past?!?!" excited for a hot controversial scope.

Caption Marvel is even more confused now: "I mean, we don't have a specific name for it. We just call it marriage, like Sue and Sara have been married since I think the 20s?'

*Diffrent Interview with Different Interviewer*

Interviewer: "Since fawceet is stuck in the 50s, did you guys ever stop with the segregation?"

Captain Marvel with a look of disgust: "Ewww no we-" interrupted by Interviewer

Eger Interviewer: "So you guys are rassicst!!!"

Captian Marvel bewildered: "No we never started in the first place, Fawcett has always had a city wide ban on slavery and unlawful containment, no slaves were ever owned in Fawcett we did allow any and all to seek refuge from slavery. The city typically allowed them to stay."

Because really all Fawcett residents knew the city itself was sentient, and if it didn't want you there, you wouldn't last more than 48 hours.

*Diffrent Interviewer*

Interviewer: "What are your thoughts on the possibility of a female president, or do you think women should stay at home like the little housewives from the 50s?"

Captain Marvel offended on behalf of his city: "The founder of the city, the current mayor, is a woman. Her wife enjoys staying at home and upkeeping the house. Neither is better or worse than the other."

Interviewer: "I umm wasn't aware of that...err what about transgender people? Do you think to say about them?"

Marvel sighs: "What does that mean?"

Interviewer: "When someone is born, as say a man and chooses to become a woman, " looks on with intense eyes.

Captian Marvel with raised eyebrow: "So again like the mayor? We just call thoese folks blessed by the fae."

Interviewer looking lost: "I'm sorry what umm what exactly do you mean by that"

Captain marvel now in teaching mode, "So the fae do enjoy tricking people out of their names and legal identities but some people choose to just straight up ask to give their names to the a fae, then they just rename themselves. We have a whole system in place in case you need to make new identification. Also, if you ask one of the nymphs, they might help you with the rest of changing. That's how the mayor met her wife, I believe."

*peoples reactions to the Interviewers*

"Dang, a city stuck in the 50s has apparently been way ahead of the time since its founding."

"So I want born in the wrong era just the wrong city"

"Anyone else planning on moving to fawccet or just me? Hope the city accepts me, whatever that means lol"

#billy batson #captain marvel #dc captain marvel #shazam

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spiritmander13 · 2 days ago

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- Of COURSE that's what he'd do.

- Oh, so now you can't even go to the asylum or get an admission if you manage to cross the border and are called a national emergency. Ain't that lovely.

- Don't know what that means, but considering it's Trump, it's bad. Someone explain to me what this means.

- The two sexes thing is bullshit. Yes, there's the obvious reason of "Gender is a social construct that has been bound to how our bodies have changed", but also. We have M and F. What about I? And the suspending transgender protections in prison is just the first nail. But remember, just because they say we don't exist, doesn't mean we don't exist.

- OF COURSE HE'D DO THAT.

- So. NPA might be fucked.

- OF COURSE HE'D DO THAT.

- OF COURSE HE'D DO THAT- Y'know what, all bullshit relating to his effect on climate change is tiring enough.

- Aaaaand now you're gonna let your people die from disease because climate change doesn't exist. I think a ruler or president should, I don't know, NOT LET THAT HAPPEN?

- No words. Just... why. That makes my last point more of a problem. I feel like someone ruling over an entire country in ANY sense shouldn't be putting their citizens in harm. That's my entire fucking problem with this guy. He'd kill half of the country just to prove a bullshit point.

- Hahahaha... Why is that? Are you gonna kill us for being queer? I'd like to fucking see you try. (cough) Sorry, ego mind came in for a moment, but yeah, wonder why he's doing that (it's immigrants, it's fucking related to immigrants probably).

- I don't need to say anything, considering we all know Elon.

A brief bullet-point list of the executive orders Trump signed yesterday. The tiktok thing is a distraction. If you are in the US, please read this. It will take less than 5 minutes. Gift article so no paywall

Some of the items on that list:

Freeze federal hiring except for military and immigration enforcement.

Bar asylum for people newly arriving at the southern border; declare migrant crossings at the southern border to be a national emergency; suspend the entire Refugee Admissions Program.

Terminate DEI initiatives across the federal government.

Recognize only two sexes; remove protections for transgender people in federal prisons.

Withdraw the United States from the Paris Agreement, the pact among almost all nations to fight climate change.

Declare a national energy emergency, a first in U.S. history, which could unlock new powers to suspend certain environmental rules or expedite permitting of certain mining projects.

Try to undo Biden’s ban on offshore drilling for 625 million acres of federal waters; undo Biden-era tailpipe pollution regulations and other energy-efficiency, fossil fuel, and pollution regulations.

Open the Alaska wilderness to more oil and gas drilling.

Eliminate environmental justice programs across the government, which are aimed at protecting poor communities from excess pollution.

Withdraw from the World Health Organization.

Ensure that states carrying out the death penalty have a “sufficient supply” of lethal injection drugs.

Create the Department of Government Efficiency with Elon Musk in charge.

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novascharms · 1 day ago

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teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.3 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

eight sunday, february 2nd

you've gotten the question 'how do you do it?' a couple of times in your life. you've always been the kind to never stop running, never stop moving, never stop working, just never stop. never even take a break, really. any 'free' time was an opportunity to do something useful or productive.

you're pretty sure you never really 'cracked the code'. the code was kind of built inside of you, weirdly embedded in your brain. you've always been disciplined, you've always known that small, deliberate actions over time were the only way to stay consistent. it does help that you've always had this purpose or reason to do it.

you knew what you wanted, who you wanted to be.

you knew that commiting, sticking to the plan was the only way to get there.

in order to stick to a plan, there had to be a plan.

it makes sense that you wrote out an entire two page document, detailed and in depth with graphs, sources and pictures explaining your complete approach to getting over rafe and putting some much needed space between you two.

you're picking your nails, a habit you'd abandoned years ago after a rather brutal pull that ended with you in tears while your dad disinfected your bleeding thumb.

now here you were again, staring at the dining room table you'd temporarily transformed into a desk for rafe's tutoring session. step one of your plan was distance, of course. you had to block him away emotionally and him wandering around in your room, letting his smell linger, leaving his clothes or his stuff sitting there for days, lying in your bed. it was too close. too personal.

your room was a sanctuary, it was essentially your place of work and your home all at the same time. it had to feel serene and cleansed from distractions like feelings for boys.

the table was set up the same way your desk was: his notebook, pencil and calculator neatly placed on the table. you even placed a bottle of water right there so he didn't need to go wandering into your kitchen for anything. there was no need for him to walk around your house.

you would sit diagonal to him, working on the valentine's day cards which you were super behind on because you spent multiple days being too upset to even look at a heart-shaped-anything.

your dad was also sitting in the living room working on his laptop which somehow made it feel even more impersonal. it was perfect.

the doorbell rang and you froze for a moment. "are you gonna open that..or should i?" your dad called from the living room and you jumped into action. "uh! no, it's rafe. i'm going, sorry." you're rushing to the door and take a deep breath. "just be casual, be normal." you whisper to yourself before opening the door.

don't even think about how good he looks or smells or just how good it feels to even be in his viscinity. don't. don't. don't. shut up. don't.

"hey." he says as you move to the side to let him in. "hi. was the..drive good? any traffic?" what kind of a stupid question was that? this town had less than 50 000 people. there was never that much traffic.

he seems to be confused by the question as well, "no, no..traffic. it's sunday.."

"that is.. good. really good." you stand there with your hands behind your back as he takes his shoes off and when he walks over to you, in front of the stairs, he gives you a look and raises his brows. "are we gonna go up?" he slowly asks and you press your lips together and shake your head. "so, actually. i had this really fun idea that we could just..stay down here." you gesture to the dining room down the hall.

he looks at where you're gesturing before he looks at you again. "you want to stay down here?" he questioned, eyes boring into yours. "mm, i would like to stay down here..it's..i—it doesn't really matter where we sit, right?"

he blinks at you, lips parted. "right," he says softly and you nod and repeat after him before turning and heading into the dining room. he followed and his eyes immediately went to the table set up before glancing at your dad. "hey, y/d/n." he says and your dad greets him back, this big smile on his face that kind of makes you want to shove him. this boy broke his little girl's heart and he was just smiling at him? okay, sure, he doesn't know that it even happened but he should just sense those things. is that too much to ask?

you don't waste any time. the minute rafe sits down, you're getting into the lesson. "alright, last lesson we covered how to solve systems of equations by graphing, substitution and elimination. do you feel like there's one or multiple methods that you struggled with the most when you were doing the exercises?"

he looks at you, seemingly lost for a moment. "before we start, can we just—"

you tense. "maybe during the break. so, any issues?" it seems like he sees the momentary panic in your face because his eyes soften before he nods and exhales, "i..i guess with the graphing, i struggled with the overlapping lines and the parallel ones and for substitution, isolating variables and variables in general is still a shaky one."

you nod and stand right next to him, reading his notes carefully. "you're not gonna sit?" he looks at you. you don't look at him. "i'm okay, so, for the overlapping lines and parallel, what you need to remember is overlapping lines represent infinitely many solutions and parallel lines is the concept of no solution or an inconsistent system. it's kind of confusing but once you can set those apart and remember what they mean, it gets easier." you flip his page then, "and for the variables, i can see that you forgot to solve for the second variable a couple of times. remember that after finding one variable, you have to plug it back in to find the other."

"wait, but i thought when i did this, i was solving for the second variable…?" rafe points at his page, eyebrows furrowed as his pencil drags under a line of equations. "because i brought this one over."

you lean closer, bending over his notebook to see what he’s pointing at. "no," you say, tilting your head toward him. "i explained this last time, but you were too busy trying to braid my hair instead of listening, remember?"

he cracks a lopsided smile, the kind that always threatens to make your knees weak. "just trying to grow my skillset," he murmurs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at your lips. "anyway," you say, nudging his pencil aside gently, "what you’re actually doing here is moving the term over to isolate one variable first. see? once that’s done, then you substitute it into the second equation to find the other variable."

you wait for his usual reaction, the quiet "ohhh" that always follows whenever he finally pieces something together. but the silence stretches, and when nothing comes, you turn to him. "you get… it?" the words falter on your lips as your gaze meets his, and the rest of the room seems to fall away.

he’s already staring at you, his eyes steady and unrelenting. they’re warm, piercing, and hold a depth you can’t even begin to describe. you don’t even have time to process how close you are, how his breath brushes faintly against your cheek, or how the faint furrow of his brow softens as he takes you in.

you feel caught, anchored by something invisible yet impossibly strong. your heart hammers so loud in your chest you’re sure he can hear it. the air around you thickens, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged tension. it’s as if the world has narrowed to just the two of you, and nothing could pull you out of this moment.

remember the plan. remember the plan. you try to tell yourself but then his eyes flicker down for the briefest second, not enough to seem deliberate, but enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. when they meet yours again, it feels like he’s trying to tell you something without saying a word. it’s overwhelming, consuming, and utterly impossible to look away.

your breath catches, the intensity growing unbearable. you’re drowning in the weight of it—this connection, this magnetism that shouldn’t feel as monumental as it does. and just when you think you might give in, might let yourself fall into whatever this moment is, you tear yourself away.

your eyes drop to the notebook in front of you, your hands fumbling to straighten the page unnecessarily. "so, um… yeah, just try the new exercises i made and i'm here if you need help," you say, your voice a pitch higher than usual, and you can feel your face burning. you bee-line for the kitchen before you actually make the situation worse.

you paced in the kitchen for a couple of minutes before casually walking back into the dining room. you slid into your seat and could feel rafe's eyes on you but you refused to look up. you willed yourself to focus on the notes and hundreds of pink and red enveloppes in front of you.

the entire session went the same way. you worked on your envelopes, and rafe worked on his exercises. you answered his questions when needed, but you never moved from your spot.

near the end of the lesson, your dad's voice carried from the doorway, casual and warm. "rafe, are you eating dinner with us?" it had become a bit of a routine—your sessions almost always wrapped up around dinner time. but tonight, you’d planned for this.

"no, not today," you answered for him.

your dad hesitated, clearly surprised to hear your voice instead of rafe's. his confusion deepened when he glanced at you, taking in your stern expression. after a moment, he nodded sharply, muttering, "got it," before disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

rafe stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape. for a moment, you thought he might just leave, but instead, he stopped at the doorway, turning back to you. his eyes pinned you in place. "come here," he said firmly, his voice low but unyielding.

you blinked at the demand, your body rooted to the spot. "what—"

his jaw tightened. without repeating himself, he walked straight to you, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating off him like heat. you thought he’d just grab your wrist and tug you to your feet, but instead, he did something much more dramatic.

"rafe, what are you—"

before you could finish, he bent down, his arms looping around your waist as he hauled you over his shoulder with ease.

"rafe!" you yelped, your voice higher than you’d like as you squirmed against him. "what the hell are you doing?"

he didn’t answer. didn’t even flinch. he just turned and started walking, his steps firm and purposeful as he carried you up the stairs like you weighed nothing. you slapped his back and demanded to be put down, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

he set you down, right on the edge of your bed. you jumped to your feet immediately, but he was already there, standing in front of you, so close you could feel his breath. the proximity was overwhelming, so you sat back down again, instinctively creating space.

"rafe—"

"no. i’ll do the talking now." his tone left no room for argument. he pulled your chair from your desk, dragging it a little too roughly across the floor before sitting down, facing you. you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his stare, and for a split second, you felt small—like a kid about to get scolded by the principal.

"i don’t know what happened last week. i don’t know why you won’t talk to me. i can’t help but assume that you either aren’t ready to talk or just don’t want to talk to me, but i can figure out that i’ve done something to upset you. i can’t force you to open up, but if you don’t… i won’t know what the hell i’m doing. i’ll apologize, because, honestly, i just want this," he waved a hand toward you, your whole being, "to stop."

he leaned forward, his voice steady, firm. "you’re ignoring me at school, you barely answer my texts, and we won’t even talk about how you yelled at me on wednesday because clearly, you don’t want to talk about that either. i’ll never bring any of it up again, if that’s what you need from me. but now? you’re shutting me out completely. we can’t even sit in your room? i can’t stay for dinner, you won’t sit next to me—what the hell is this all supposed to mean?"

his gaze was unwavering. "i want to fix it. i want to make things right. but if you won’t let me, if you refuse to even try, you can’t act like i’m the enemy. you can’t be pissed at me, not tell me why, and then shut me out and act like i'm somehow misunderstanding the situation. that’s not how this works."

his voice was tight, but there was no shouting. just a clear, deliberate force.

"okay." you nod after a moment. "okay?" he repeats and you nod after him. "you're right. i'm not being fair, it's just..i d-don't really—i w-want to—"

he stops you the moment you start to struggle, "don't. don't force yourself to tell me anything if you don't want to. i just don't want to lose this. " he says and your mind immediately flashes to him with adriana before you can even delusionalise yourself into thinking he meant that in a romantic way.

"i know..and our friendship is important to me too. i just.." you start slowly and he's looking at you with these, big, kind, hopeful eyes. "i am a very type-a person—"

"you don't say."

you glare at him, "—and i work well with planning, order, organization. i don't like mess. i don't like things that don't go my way. now, please, do not take this the bad way because i promise, i don't want you gone, you aren't a burden," you beg quietly and he nods reluctantly, "but..this..situation we've found ourselves in has significantly.." you pause and search for the right word, "upset my balance and i think that the bonfire was a bit much. that is all. i j-just..got my period that day and i've been doing all this stuff that i usually don't do like not following my schedule by the letter so i needed to let it all sink in a bit and i process things in a very specific way which makes me lose sight of other people's feelings sometimes but i'll try to stop. i promise." you say and rafe raises his brows, "yeah?" he asks and you nod, faint smile on your lips when he grins because it's impossible to not smile with a grin as contagious as his.

safe to say you didn't stick to the plan.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

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mimisempai · 2 days ago

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The smile that belongs only to you

Summary

While the angel and the demon are on a visit at Whickber Street, Nina points out something to Aziraphale. Something he'd never really realized, and it has to do with Crowley's smile.

Notes

Sorry but not sorry for the amount of sugar, I need it to counteract all that bitterness...

On Ao3

Rating G - 777 words

"When will our dear Mr. Grumpy be joining us, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale and Crowley had left their cottage in the Southdowns to visit their friends on Wickber Street for a few days.

The angel put down his glass of sherry and replied to Nina, "In a few minutes. He's looking for a place to park the Bentley."

"Where? There's a free spot in front of the bookshop!"

"Too small, according to him."

"Oh, I see, Grumpy's afraid of scratching his old banger."

Maggie replied, "Honestly, that nickname hardly fits him anymore."

"You're right. The way he smiles, I should call him Dopey instead."

Muriel and Maggie giggled as Aziraphale looked at the three of them with a puzzled expression.

He asked, "What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Whenever you're in a room and he walks in, he smiles in a very peculiar way. I'm not talking about that mocking smile he puts on his lips like a well-fitting mask, no, I'm talking about a goofy, completely idiotic smile. Fleeting, yes, but really silly."

Aziraphale was about to reply that Crowley had smiles for him that weren't mocking, but he'd never noticed the one Nina was talking about. Seeing his puzzled expression, Muriel added, "He smiles like that when he thinks you're not looking at him."

Maggie interjected, "Oh look, he's just entered the pub, take a good look, you'll see!"

Aziraphale didn't turn to the door on his left, but watched Crowley's arrival out of the corner of his eye.

First he saw him looking for them, then the look on his face when he saw them, and finally he saw it, the moment Crowley laid eyes on him, the smile Nina was talking about.

He vaguely heard Nina murmur: "I told you so! It's tiring to be right all the time."

Then she added in an even lower voice, “Dopey...”

Only for Aziraphale, there was nothing silly or goofy about that smile. The only word she could think of to describe it was happy. Knowing that it was he, Aziraphale, who had brought that smile to Crowley's lips filled the angel with overflowing joy.

He couldn't help but turn his full attention to Crowley and watch the smile turn into something more teasing. Ready to have some fun. Aziraphale watched in amusement as the demon "bickered" with Nina once he was seated beside him.

He thought about it later that evening as he joined Crowley in the bedroom above the bookshop. He watched the demon before entering and saw that smile again.

Of course, Aziraphale had always wanted to see the joy on Crowley's face again. The pure joy of the Starmaker. But this was different. Here he was the one making Crowley smile. He'd never really thought about it, but one thing was for sure: he liked the idea. Very much.

A special smile. Just for and because of him.

He slid under the covers, and Crowley opened his arm so that Aziraphale could rest his head on his shoulder.

After a few seconds of silence, the angel asked softly, "May I tell you something? I mean something very sappy."

Crowley took Aziraphale's hand, which was resting on his chest, and planted a kiss on the palm.

"Go on."

"I like the way you smile."

He felt Crowley's lips curve against his palm.

"The way I smile?" Crowley placed a gentle kiss on Aziraphale's wrist and the angel felt the smile on his skin again.

"The way you smile because of me or for me. You don't know how you make me feel."

Crowley lowered his head to meet Aziraphale's eyes and another smile appeared on his lips, literally a smile of adoration.

"Tell me."

"Well, seeing you smile is always a delight, obviously. But when I know it's because of me or for me, it takes my breath away."

Aziraphale shook his head before adding, "Sorry, I don't know how else to put it."

He rested his head on the demon's shoulder and felt Crowley kiss him in the hair before the demon replied softly, “It's the same for me, you know. I've always loved to see you smile, just because of me, because of something I said, something stupid I did, no matter why. Just to know that I was the reason for your smile."

Aziraphale lifted his head to look at Crowley and they both smiled at each other in the same way.

Nina would have said they were smiling like two idiots in love, but that didn't matter to the angel and the demon.

For each of them knew that he was the reason for the other's smile.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

South Downs cottage series : here

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #South Downs Cottage #Domestic fluff

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meanbossart · 2 days ago

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Hellow

I was catching up with the latest chapters of ANE before reading The Spice™️ and I was reminded of how well you build and describe the environment surrounding your characters. Which prompts me to ask:

1 Do you have any drawings/sketches of landscapes and places from ANE that you can/would like to share?

2 Any advice for someone (me) that isn’t really good at putting their characters in places? I always end up with either a ‘too crowded’ or a ‘too barren’ of a setting.

Thank you for reading and hopefully answering my questions byee:3

Hello!!

Thank you! I have no idea what I'm doing so I'm glad I'm able to paint a good enough picture 😅

I do have two VERY simple sketches of the house of blood/the compound that I made to compare against my boyfriend's mental picture of it, basically to see how well I had been able to describe it since it's by far the most challenging area to put down into text.

(everything is very boxy and not exactly the ideal proportion, but again, this was a very simple sketch I made to "aid" the descriptions rather than for it to stand on its own at all) Here you see the "apple core" of the hive with the drow settlement and all the precarious platforms that interconnect and spring out of it. The cabins you see are sometimes two stories high so the area us actually quite big! Which is how Do'zynge is able to walk across the support-beams on the underside of said platforms even though he's rather large for a drider. The catwalk pictured can be moved up and down to connect people to different floors a little faster.

Here's a similar sketch based off of an specific scene, this one focuses more on the walkways built into the walls. I'm not sure why I huddled the doors together so much, they should definitely be more spaced out.

Also, while I used the same shorthand for everything, the spawn living spaces are all wood and stone - from the doors to the floor and railings. While the drow settlement (where Dalyria is too) is mostly metal and well structured tents.

For your second question, that's rough because I am also never quite satisfied with my descriptions 😂but I think that's a part of it; you need to make peace with the fact that you will NOT be able to paint a perfect picture, and think of the whole process as less of a job that you must do alone, but rather a collaboration between you and the reader's own creativity! You have to be willing to put some of the onus on them to imagine what it is you're trying to transcribe, instead feeling under the obligation of giving them exact descriptions for every little thing.

I try to use words that evoke a specific style and mood - say that the room is ornamental, warm, say that it's all golden and red and six sentences from now mention that the couch your character sat in is velvety. Reveal things as they come into relevance instead of interrupting the pace for two entire paragraphs to describe the room your characters just walked into - when appropriate, consider what they would even pay attention to at all and maybe limit yourself to it. Set a rough base for your environment at the start of a scene and then sprinkle descriptors in throughout the prose, and always consider if you truly NEED to get into the specifics of something or if the reader can be left to their own imaginative devices.

Also, unless necessary or some sort of plot device, I find that trying to establish where things are in a room (doors, furniture, stairs) in a map-like manner is a waste of time. Just say "behind him", "to her left", "right ahead", I don't think being overly specific benefits anybody - your reader picturing this set of stairs facing the west rather than the east is unlikely to be consequential to your narrative.

That being said, don't shy away from pointing "unnecessary" things out when they help set a mood, or help in characterization. Way early in ANE there's a scene where DU drow walks into the room where him, Astarion, and Shadowheart have been staying and are now about to leave, he takes note of the fact that one of them made the bed - he doesn't say who, besides that it wasn't himself, but I put that there to hopefully establish from early on that one character's priorities had started to change. In the compound, Dalyria is described as collecting useless things she found in the underground and displaying them around the office - this, on top of her new look, outfit, and company should paint a picture. Irennor's living situation should say all there is to know about him, and the way DU drow dismantles his belongings after only what is immediately valuable instead of considering the historical significance of anything says something about him, too. That's my favorite way of setting scenes, by finding out how to say something about the people in it.

#ask #a novel experience #advice

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lale-txt · 3 days ago

Text

STAR CROSSED ; Oikawa x f!reader

The flutter of her long eyelashes; all the wishes for him not to leave her alone upon them. The unfathomable hurt and the betrayal in her gaze. The love, too.

contains: f!reader, hurt/comfort, ldr goodbyes, messy and complicated feelings, can be read as a sequel to colder, closer (but works as a standalone too), oikawa pov, don't be fooled by the bright header this is one of the fics where the author works through some issues

word count: 1.3k

You’re always leaving, Tōru.

Her words cut like glass because they are true. In all honesty he doesn’t know why she still puts up with him, but his love is selfish enough not to seek answers to that. As long as she still hiccup cries against his chest the night he’s heading to the airport, she still belongs to him, right?

It’s always the same, like a malfunctioning dance they had perfected by now. On his last day they’ll go out for brunch together and she’ll be overly chatty and cheerful, as if she wants him to remember her like that. The bright girl he fell in love with all the years back in high school, with their tables pushed together during lunch break and their feet nudging each other underneath them, the small wonky doodles in his notebook and their pinkies touching over their homework, so quiet and subtle. Even back then he wanted her all for himself. His sun, his girl, his everything.

Oikawa still remembers what the kiss tasted like, the one he stole from her lips during training camp, when she scraped her knee falling down the stairs and he put a band-aid on it for her in an empty classroom. Overly sweet, a little salty from her tears, and so full of longing. Looking back it’s almost ironic how he kneeled before her, sweet talking her nonstop so she’d stop crying, so he could bask in the light of her again. Greedy, but he meant them. All the things he told her that afternoon, he meant them.

You’re so brave. You can hold on to me. There, there, doesn’t hurt so bad when we’re together, right? Is that a smile? You really are the sweetest, aren’t you? Such a heartthrob. What, me? Nah, there’s only one girl I want. Yes, you know her. Who is she? I’ll let you in on a secret.

How he slowly peeled her fists in her lap apart, his fingers tangling with hers, his thumb rubbing soothingly over her sore wrist. He had tried catching her by it before she fell but it was too late, and in the blink of an eye she slipped right through his grasp. Fleeting, like a dream.

He used to kiss her pain away once. Now he only causes more of it whenever he tries.

Back at the apartment she’ll busy herself while he packs his bags, and by busying herself he means she’ll cry quietly in the kitchen or on the balcony, somewhere she thinks he can’t see or hear her. Sometimes she’ll let him wrap her in his arms and kiss the top of her head, sometimes she’ll flinch away from him when he tries.

This home belongs to the two of them. There’s both of their names on the doorbell, his toothbrush next to hers on the bathroom counter, his custom-tailored suit hanging next to her backless gown in the closet. Photo albums with shared memories of them are stacked next to his nightstand, magnets of places they traveled together are pinned to the fridge, next to her desk sit the dried flowers from the bouquet he got her before he set off to Argentina.

His belongings are there, but he isn’t. He’s always leaving.

Iwaizumi got angry with him one night when he told him about the small velvet box he keeps for her, for the right moment, when things are less fragile. She’s a caged bird, Oikawa. Set her free. She’s hurting all the time and you know it. Oikawa is aware his best friend has been there for her at times while he was at the other end of the world, picking up the pieces he willingly shattered with his absence. He probably should feel guilty about it but he can’t; not when her love is the sole thing in the world that keeps him going. Her tears a fickle proof that her feelings for him haven’t changed.

Back then, it was easier. Held hands on their way home from school, kisses that tasted like popsicles and honey melon, confessions written with sunscreen on her bare back. Her head resting against his shoulder during hours of bus rides, shared earphones and his thumb spelling L-O-V-E in the palm of her hand. Her airy laughs fawning over his skin when he kissed her neck, idle fingers tangling in his hair and her entire heart on his tongue.

For one summer, they were allowed to dream that they were indestructible.

It’s the dead hours between him shutting his suitcases and putting on his shoes for his departure that he loves the most; when the apartment gets eerily quiet and they find their way back to bed again. With her weight on top of him and her face hidden in the crook of his neck, whispering all these sweet things against his skin. Their legs tangled under the sheets and his fingers dancing up and down her spine, his other hand on the back of her thigh to pull her impossibly closer against him. It’s the moments her love for him feels the most palpable.

She’s waiting–she’s always waiting–and some days Oikawa gets scared that she’ll get tired of it. Tired of him. Tired of pouring love in a broken vessel. Tired, tired, tired.

He loves her. In the solar system of their universe they’re two moons, always facing and orbiting around another, forever drawn to their counterpart. There’s no him without her. When she sinks into his arms, he feels a faint sense of coming home, of belonging. It drowns out everything; the fears and the doubts and his useless pride. A lunar eclipse in his embrace.

“You’ll love me forever, right?”, he murmurs into the dark, trailing kisses along her jaw, coaxing her to look at him. He has her face memorized from touch alone, the ghost of her underneath his fingertips when he was alone again. She’s still here, her heart still drumming against his ribcage with his arms wrapped around her.

He’ll never get used to that look in her eyes, he thinks. It’s the same she gave him when he told her about going to Argentina after high school. The flutter of her long eyelashes; all the wishes for him not to leave her alone upon them. The unfathomable hurt and the betrayal in her gaze. The love, too.

“What about me?” she asks, her voice wavering a little, and it’s like they’re eighteen again and she’s too prideful to ask him to stay and too lonely to walk away. They’re one of a kind. “Will you love me forever?”

Oikawa scoffs, as if the underlying doubt in her words was absurd. In one swift movement he rolls her on her back, pinning her down underneath him. He likes how her legs come apart to make room for him between them, and he likes the way her breath hitches when he grabs her chin to make sure her eyes stay on him in the dim light of the bedroom. Her lovesick gaze mirrors his own.

“Sweet girl… really now?” he hushes her with a condescending click of his tongue before he leans down, lifting her hips to meet him. His lips find her neck and leave a mark for every day they’ll be apart again soon, and his fingers write all the things he can’t say to her yet against her bare skin till she comes undone underneath him. It’s what he does. Taking her apart, over and over again, making her forget all the ways he shatters her heart with one kiss after another.

She’s a siren song, he thinks. Impossible to resist and drowning him slowly, but he lets her. As long as it means that he gets to have her, he’ll let her. He loves her more than life, more than the entire sun, more than his own vain beating heart.

a/n: i need to throttle him

gen taglist: @kentocalls @wyrcan @nekozaki @kittygirl11829 @bakingcuriosity

@bakery-anon @jodercriis @chaotic-neutral-ig @kitsune-kita

gen taglist is open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings) ♡

#hq x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #hq x you #oikawa tooru #hq reader insert #haikyuu reader insert #haikyu x reader #oikawa x y/n #hq imagines #hq oikawa

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theconstitutionisgayculture · 2 days ago

Note

"Putting your hand over your heart isn't a part of a Nazi salute!"

Not the original salute no, but it is part of the salute being used by Neo Nazis. So here's a link to a video comparing them, showing his gesture was identical to a Neo Nazi salute.

https://www.reddit.com/r/france/s/2bdn5cuvf6

"Even the ADL said it wasn't a Nazi salute!"

The ADL can be wrong just like any other group of people can. You people hate their stance on hate speech, so why are you magically in agreement with them just because they support your worldview?

"It was so bad that it couldn't have been a real salute, Hitler would have killed him for mocking him!"

Bad salutes are still salutes, just as bad insurrections are still insurrections.

"He was symbolically throwing his heart to the crowd!"

Here he is doing it a second time while facing away from the crowd.

"He said his heart went out to the crowd!"

Yeah so he could have some deniability for idiots like you to cling to and defend him with.

"Kalama did the same gesture!"

She waved and pointed. You're just blind. There's something wrong with you if you can't distinguish a wave from an actual Nazi salute. Here's them being conpared side by side.

https://x.com/tify330/status/1881512417387040998

The sad part Is, if you saw this back in 2012, your immediate thought would have been "Oh my god Elon Musk did a nazi salute!", but Trump has so successfully brainwashed you, conditioned you, and groomed you, that his richest and most vocal supporter can preform a blatant Nazi salute, and you'll deny the obvious evidence before you to defend him, ignoring everything before your eyes and ears, because you've been made incapable of acknowledging the evilness, or the nature, of your cult.

It should have been obvious when he showed up to the Madison Square Garden rally in a custom black MAGA hat that used a typeface that was associated with the Hitler and the Nazis, the font the Nazis regularly used as a sign of nationalism that Hitler chose as the as the font for the cover of his autobiography.

https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/elon-musks-maga-cap-text-has-eerie-resemblance-with-hitlers-nazi-font-6903216/amp/1](https://www.ndtv.com/world-news/elon-musks-maga-cap-text-has-eerie-resemblance-with-hitlers-nazi-font-6903216/amp/1

You guys are REALLY bad at taking hints due to your programing.

"Trump, who is nothing like a nazi and never talks about nazis or white supremacists except to disavow them, brainwashed you into thinking Elon Musk isn't a nazi" sure is an interesting take.

Anyway you're putting a lot of words into my mouth and the ones you're quoting that are actually mine explain pretty well why what Elon did isn't a nazi salute, so I'm not going point by point and addressing your nonsense (especially the "nazi font" shit. Jesus do you even hear yourself?)

What I am going to address?

"Here he is doing it a second time while facing away from the crowd"

There were people behind the stage behind him. I don't know if you can see them during Elon's full speech but here's the same setup from when Trump was at the arena

You can clearly see the white star bunting that's behind Elon in the clips of him doing the "salute". The stage is in the center of the arena with people all around.

I'll also explain why I trust the ADL here, again, because apparently you either didn't see it or, more likely, your leftist brain selectively edits everything that doesn't conform to your warped world view.

The ADL is a partisan left wing group that constantly calls conservatives, but especially Trump and his allies, nazis, racists, white supremacists, anti-Semites, and every other ist and phobe under the sun. They rarely let a chance to lie about the right go by. The fact that a group like that is saying "that wasn't a nazi salute" means a lot, because they're going against the talking points of their own ideology in favor of a person they hate. When a group, even a partisan hack group like the ADL, goes against their interests and the interests of their allies in favor of a person or a group they normally can't stand, that gives their words a lot of extra weight.

She waved and pointed. You're just blind. There's something wrong with you if you can't distinguish a wave from an actual Nazi salute.

Yes. That's the point. She waved and pointed. Elon symbolically "threw his heart" to the crowd. Neither were nazi salutes. Both could made to look like one out of context. The media only cared about doing it with Elon.

I don't expect any of this to get through to you, because you still think J6 was an iNsUrReCtIoN. But maybe one day, after you grow out of this weird leftist phase, you'll look back and remember this and feel as silly as you should.

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ki-kink · 10 hours ago

Note

Recently won a free coupon for the local barbershop that just opened. I thought i'd check it out but it seems it's in the more dangerous side of town. What do you think i should do? The weirdest part of the coupon is that it specified i should come to the barber shop late night after the closing hours...

I recently won a voucher for a new hair salon that has just opened. I thought I'd check it out, but it seems to be in the more dangerous part of town. What do you think I should do? The strangest thing about the voucher is that it says I should come to the hairdresser late at night after closing time….

It's 22:00. The area is really not very inviting. You're glad you got a parking space right in front of the hair salon. The store is dark. At least the blinds are down. There are a few young Latinos loitering in front of the store. Smoking, talking on the phone… But they have cool haircuts. Very short hair as a rule. But it looks rough and masculine. Still not for you. You also need a masculine and rough body for this kind of hairstyle. You get out of the car. The boys are checking you out? “What are you doing here, gringo?” asks one. You show the voucher. The boys nod approvingly at each other. One of them opens the door for you. One throws away his fag and follows you. He shows you a barber's chair without saying a word. He places a glass with a brownish-clear drink in front of you. Could be whiskey. Or rum. And an ashtray. You say that you don't smoke. He puts you a box of Marlboros without a filter and a Zippo. And then he puts the hairdresser's cape on you.

Even though the store is new, the cape smells of cigarette smoke and sweat. It's actually disgusting. But somehow also a turn-on. “As always, Hermano?” You want to say that you don't know each other at all. But you reply: "¡Como siempre, Hermano! ¿Qué otra cosa podría ser?" Raoul starts to run his hair clippers over your head. Your blonde hair falls to the floor as black hair. Raoul asks how your day was. You reach for the cigarettes, light one and think that the day is just beginning. Raoul laughs. He asks you to light him a cigarette too. Raoul is an artist. He manages to pull off a transition even with short hair. He hits the shaving soap, you lean back. You still have plenty of work to do this evening. You have to look perfect. And Raoul knows how to do it. The Old Spice burns pleasantly. Raoul pulls the cape away. You look in the mirror. Yes, that's you. Un cholo de primera, un príncipe en tu barrio. Camino de convertirte en rey.

¿Pago como siempre?, you ask? Raoul gets down on his knees in front of you and opens your pants. Your cock pops out of your pants like a jack-in-the-box.

#ai generated #male tf #muscle tf #inked man #jock tf #chav tf #thug tf #race change #racial tf #cholo tf #latino tf

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sunnyie-eve · 23 hours ago

Text

54 | Today is the Day

Series: Unexpected

Paring: Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: steamy kissing, slight dry humping

| MASTERLIST |

At the moment Dani dreaded getting out of bed. Last night her and Matt finally agreed to let Nick and Chris in on the secret of them. They were even going to film a video for her channel to post in the future to announce they were together. But that wasn't the main reason she wasn't jumping for joy. He also mentioned telling Colby after telling Nick and Chris later in the day.

Turning her head to the right, she looks at the spot Matt was sleeping in before sneaking back to his room before anyone woke up, "I hate that I fell for your stupid ass." She laughs at herself.

Rolling out of bed she grabs clothes for the day to change into after her shower. She hoped a shower would relax her a bit. While showering she hears Matt enter the bathroom to use it, "Morning." He tells her still tired.

"What time did you leave?"

"I believe it was six o'clock. I still don't understand while we've been sneaking back to our rooms for the past few weeks. They already know we have sleepovers." Matt looks at himself in the mirror.

"We didn't want them thinking too much." She laughs.

"Well to keep up the act... I'll leave now. They're in the kitchen so they know I came in here while you're showering." He tells her before opening the shower door to poke his head in, "Kiss." Dani shakes her head giving him a kiss before he leaves.

Nick and Chris still didn't fully understand how the two shared the bathroom when one was showering and the other had to pee. The shower door was semi-see though so they thought it was impossible but it wasn't. Way before the two even started dating then talked about how they could make it work. Plan and simple, don't look. Do what you need to do and go. Plus they respected each other no matter how bad they each wanted to take a peek at some point.

After the shower, Dani eats breakfast with the guys and then they all relax on the couch watching TV before going out later to film the car video for Dani's channel. As time got closer to leaving Matt could tell Dani didn't want it to come.

"I need to get things ready." She goes to her room and the other two didn't think much of it.

Matt waits for a bit before going to check on her to see her pacing her room, "Honestly, I'm relieved we are finally doing this with them." He tells her.

"Until they joke even more about us." Dani adds, "And now keep an eye on us when alone."

"True, true, true but I can finally kiss you around the house without being careful." He wraps his arms around her, "That's the best part of this." He gives her a kiss and sees the look on her face, "You're mainly nervous because when we release it and telling Colby later."

"Duh, and we haven't talked since our fight. What when I see him say, hey remember that fight we had about me liking Matt or not? Yeah, we've been dating for months actually." She gives Matt a look walking away from him as he sits on her bed,

"Not exactly, but I'll be with you. If he acts up we leave. It's that simple." He tells her, "Come here." He puts his arms out then takes her hands pulling her closer, "You won't be alone, I promise."

"And this is why I fucking love you."

What started as a sweet and slow kiss quickly turned into Dani straddling his lap, making out intensely. The thought of Colby was completely forgotten, his hands resting firmly on her hips as he held her close. Matt's grip tightened on her hips as the kiss deepened, his body responding eagerly to her closeness. His hands slide up from her hips, trailing gently along her sides

Matt pauses briefly, "We should hurry and tell them." He leans in, his lips hovering just inches from hers, his breath mingling with hers, "Just so they know if we're alone to leave us alone." He murmurs, his voice low, before attacking her lips again.

"Matt." She giggles as she kisses him back.

His thumb gently tilts her chin up so he can deepen the kiss. His hands slowly slide down to her waist, his touch gentle and reassuring.

Matt's body responds to Dani's closeness and the intensity of the kiss. A noticeable bulge begins to form in his pants, growing with each passing moment. His hands guide her hips in slow, gentle movements against his growing erection, and Dani knew exactly what he was doing. His kisses become more urgent, his breathing heavier as he fights the urge to grind harder against her.

"You know we're about to leave right." She reminds him trying to hold back her moans as she kisses along his jaw.

"Sadly it doesn't take me long when it comes to you." His hips buckle a bit.

"Yeah, you c-," He cuts her off with his lips on her again.

Matt's hands slide up her back, arching her closer to him as he continues the rhythm against her. His teeth gently scraping against her neck as he kisses but doesn't suck at her sensitive skin. His free hand reaches up to gently tug at her hair, pulling her head back further to give him better access to her neck.

"GUYS ARE YOU SET TO GO!" Chris yells ready to film since he was bored out of his mind.

"See what I mean." Matt groans tossing his head back.

"Yeah, and you have extra jeans in here so you're lucky." Dani gets off him.

"Now lets go do this." He smiles once he was in new pants and calms himself down before leaving her room first then she follows.

"Can someone please tell me what we are doing if not a normal car video? For our channel or Dani's channel. I'm getting nervous." Nick asks sitting in the back with Dani as they film for a video.

"It's for the future." Dani lets him and Chris know.

"Guys, I just wanna say before we get into the reason for this future video..." Matt starts to rub his hands together getting nervous.

"So this is for your channel?" Chris looks back at Dani.

"Yes, it's for my channel but for months in advance." She tells him.

"So there's something the two of us know and a few others know too that you two and a few others don't know. It's a big thing and a huge deal that has been going on. Any guesses?" Matt asks his brothers.

"Yeah, it's a big thing that has been going on since late March." Dani adds.

"I seriously have no idea what it could be." Nick laughs, "It sounds like some big secret project."

"Is it a brand deal?" Chris asks looking at Matt then back at her.

"Not close at all." She points with her finger laughing.

"Hell, are you secretly pregnant?" Chris jokes to me funny shocking the others.

"What the fuck? To you, I'm single so how? Plus I would be huge by now." Dani laughs at him not believing him.

"It was a joke since I have no clue what it could be."

"It's a big deal?" Nick looks at Matt.

Matt nods his head, "'It's super huge." Matt turns to look at him.

"Is it bigger than us when we shared you turned me down?" Chris looks back at Dani again.

"I would say it's the same level but higher." Dani nods her head a bit, "Shock value. More hate" She adds.

"Which sucks." Matt says before breaking the news, "Regardless you're my girlfriend." He adds and the two gasp.

"That I am." Dani smiles as Matt looks back at her.

"What?!" Nick shouts, "Are you FUCKING SERIOUS!" He now yells throwing his arms up making Matt and Dani laugh.

"WE KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP!" Chris shouts turning back to point at Nick.

"You fucking assholes."

"Just friends my ass." Chris adds making Nick laugh.

"We did okay." Matt smiles looking back at Dani.

"I think we did well." She agrees with him.

"When we joked about something going on between you two. We didn't seriously think it." Nick explains to the two.

"We just hoped at one point our joking would become true." Chris adds then stops for a second, "Turns out we were right to joke around. And I'm super happy."

"We were lucky we were already super close before hand." Dani explains why she thinks the secret was easy to keep from the two.

"We got to play it off easier." Matt smiles at Dani causing her to smile too.

"Why wait to tell us about it?" Chris asks wanting to know.

"We wanted to enjoy it without you two driving us insane." Dani tells him.

"Technically, you two still drove us crazy wanting it to happen." Matt adds laughing.

"It was worse than if you knew." Dani makes Nick laugh pointing at Chris since he was the main one.

"I feel like you two should thank me." Chris decides to mess with the two.

"Thank... you?" Dani says confused.

"Like what?" Matt turns back to look at her confused as well.

"Yeah." Chris nods his head, "If like she didn't turn me down."

Matt starts to shake his head, "Dude. You're joking but still don't. It's weird. Don't please." M=He says a bit annoyed with the joke because it wasn't funny at all.

Chris looks at his phone for a few seconds as the car filled with silence, "Yeah, I know that was a bit much." Chris agrees it was out of line, "I'm sorry." He apologizes, "Dani, you know it was a joke as well, right?" He looks back at her.

"I do but remember there's still fans who wish I said yes to you..." Dani gives him a look then at the camera, "Too bad so sad to y'all out there that wanted that." She makes the guys crack up.

"Yeah, she's Matt's and only Matt's." Nick snaps his fingers pointing at the camera, "We are team Datt till death." He adds making Matt laugh while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Also Madison, Tara, Justin, and your mom know about us." Dani adds letting them know who else knew before them.

"We know mom and Justin keep secrets." Nick shakes his head rolling his eyes a bit.

"Yep." Matt laughs.

"Now we gotta keep an eye on you two." Chris points his finger at the two shaking it a bit, "No more doors closed." He makes them laugh at him.

"Now I say lets go to lunch before we have to tell Colby." Matt tells the whole car.

"Oh yeah." Nick agrees.

"Man do I wish we were 21 so you two drink beforehand." Chris tells the two and they all laugh.

#sam golbach #colby brock #sam and colby #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #oc #sibilings #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #ff #fanifiction #fanfic #sturniolo fanfic #best friends #friends to lovers #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic

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