#I don't know how to handle a car that goes fast

[clonerightsagenda]

Obtained a rental car and I am terrified. I'm inching through residential streets 5-10 miles under the speed limit like my vehicle is made of glass. Everyone else on the road wants to kill me

[hyewka]

I just read your public vibrator gyu. GOOD LORD I NEED A TYUN ONE, but like in the car where the both of you were supposed to go on a late night drive and every time the stop lights go red, the vibrator goes into its highest setting this goes on until poor little tyunnie is sobbing and needs to fucked dumb in the car PLS PLS PLS I NEED IT I NEED IT SO BAD I take one look at tyun and my brain immediately goes "I need to fuck him"

im obsessed with usually composed subs that get bratty when you start to push and push, taehyuns perfect for that lol

idk why but him specifically in work business attire, tie perfectly adjusted, black framed glasses propped up as he stirs the wheel with one hand is sooo attractive but whats even more attractive is getting him to lose his shit when hes not supposed to. i know this isnt exactly what you asked but i think an enemies with a fuck buddy situation going on would be sooo hot here, so easy to get him agitated

he shifts in his seat like it’s nothing when you turn it up a notch. “really?” he scoffs incredulously, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “you’re gonna try that again?”

you twirl the lollipop between your fingers, not even looking at him. “focus on the road, taehyun,” you say, sounding almost bored.

he barely reacts. barely. but you catch it from your peripheral vision-- the way his jaw clenches, how his fingers grip the steering wheel just a little too tight. he’s pretending—he always pretends like he can handle it, like he’s composed, but you know better.

first red light. you turn it up, and he immediately jolts in his seat, biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood. “s-stop… i’m trying to drive—are you insane?!” he grits.

“and doing such a good job of it,” you chuckle, leaning over to trace a finger along the line of his tie. "i'm just dying to know how long you’ll last like this.”

“fuck off,” he growls, but the effect is ruined when his hips jolt as you poke at his crotch. the gasp that escapes his lips is so sudden, so embarrassing, you can’t help but grin.

“what was that?” you tease, poking him again, watching his body spasm. “can’t handle it, can you? poor tyunnie.”

it's pissing you off slightly that taehyun's still holding onto that facade, eyes focused straight ahead like he’s actually going to make it through this. he's making this tougher than your patience allows.

the light turns green, and he slams on the gas a little too hard, jerking the car forward. you snort, watching his legs tremble under the strain. “you look so pathetic. can’t even keep it together on a simple drive. how’d you even get your promotion acting like this?”

“s-shut up—” he tries to snap back, but he's barely holding it together. you hate admitting it, but he's so god damn attractive it drives you up a wall. he keeps adjusting his tie and his eyes keep glancing around the road. he’s a mess, glasses slipping down his infuriatingly perfect nose and all.

next red light. you crank it up again. taehyun’s head drops back against the seat, his chest heaving, hips bucking helplessly as he lets out a low, broken moan. “shit—please, stop, i c-can’t—”

then, as if giving in to the desperate haze clouding his mind, his hand shoots down, fingers fumbling at the waistband of his slacks like he’s going to jerk himself off right there.

before he can even start, you smack his hand away, hard and fast, making him gasp and look at you with wide, desperate eyes.

“bad, bad boy,” you chide. “don't you dare touch yourself, keep your hand on the wheel.”

he stares at you, incredulous, his breathing heavy, but he’s too wrecked to come up with a response.

you tug on his tie, pulling it tight against his throat. "bite down."

taehyun surprisingly doesn’t hesitate, sinking his teeth into the tie, his moans muffled as he tries to grind down into the seat, his hips moving on their own.

when he starts driving again, your finger circles his crotch, enjoying the taste of the artificial sweet cherry flavor on your tongue (and of course, how loud he's shamelessly being). “you act like a brat at work because you like being put in your place outside of it, right? no wonder you’ve been such a pain lately. guess this is what you’ve been wanting all along.”

he chokes on his own breath, a strangled noise escaping him, his cheeks flushing red. spit starts to drip down his chin, wetting the tie he’s biting down on. you roll your eyes. "disgusting."

third red light. you turn the vibrator to its highest setting. his body jerks violently, a sob ripping from his throat as he slams the brakes, forehead resting against the wheel. “no, no, fuck, fuck—i c-can’t—”

you reach over and slide your hand down, palming the hard length of his cock through his pants, feeling the wet spot where he’s already leaking. “so fucking wet for me,” you murmur, your fingers pressing into him, making his hips jolt. “you’re such a fucking mess.”

he’s sobbing now, still biting on his tie, completely ruined, tears streaming down his cheeks as he begs, practically shaking in his seat.

you just smirk, watching him unravel. “poor thing,” you coo, leaning closer to his ear. “so desperate to cum, but you don’t deserve it, do you? look at you, sobbing like a little bitch.”

“plthse,” he slurs through the fabric, the words barely audible, muffled and wet. “i’ll b-be good—just lemme cum, plthse—i can’t take it anymore.”

you press harder against his cock, feeling him throb under your palm. “you’re not cumming until i say so,” you whisper, your hand sliding down to cup his balls through his pants, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. taehyun’s hips jerk up, chasing your hand like a dog in heat. “but keep begging. i like it when you beg."

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime (pt. 4)

summary: logan goes to your apartment late in the night to make things right. finally. pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader tags / warnings: angst - post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), no use of y/n. word count: 1.2k a/n: so i certainly wasn't going to go this route for this chapter (it was originally gonna consist of a lot of yelling and all of that, but there is a softness to logan and add this song... i just couldn't write it the way i originally wanted). but anyway! thank you to everyone who's read this story - it holds a special place in my heart. i think we have one more chapter left before i consider this complete! our bb logan deserves a happy ending and i don't think i can torture him anymore lol. stay tuned though bc i'm gonna continue writing more for this character (i'm so obsessed). song lyrics will be in italics btw song: you are the reason by calum scott prev. part - next part.

Of course it’s raining. 

Logan shouldn’t have taken his motorcycle, but he wanted to get to you as fast as he could. There aren’t that many cars this late at night, but he still does have to swerve between traffic to get to your apartment. He’s drenched by the time he approaches your street, parking his motorcycle on the first spot he sees along the curb. He strokes his wet hair away from his face as he feels the heaviness weigh on his chest – he doesn’t know if you’d even hear him out, but he has to try. 

It isn’t until he gets near your apartment that he realizes maybe coming to your apartment this late in the night wasn’t a good idea. But he stops in his tracks when he sees you step out, immediately getting drenched in your oversized crewneck and plaid pajama pants. Despite the heavy rain, Logan knows you’ve been crying. Can see the way you cross your arms over your chest as you bite down on your lower lip. He can hear your heart beating, can hear how you’re stifling your sobs, can hear you whisper over and over: I’m so tired. I’m so tired. I’m so tired.

He isn’t sure why you’ve come outside, why you’re standing in the pouring rain, but he knows that he wants to pull you into his arms. Logan slowly begins to walk towards you, careful not to startle you. As he gets closer and closer to you, Logan feels the sudden urge to reach out to you, to wipe your tears away, to tell you that he’s here. 

And that he isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t hear him and you’re so close to just yelling, screaming at the top of your lungs and asking the universe why? Why did it take your Logan away only to bring some version of him back? A version that wanted nothing to do with you? 

Your hands curl into fists, tears streaming down your face, hair and clothes completely soaked. You’re about to turn back around to go inside because you feel that if you stay out here another minute longer, you’re surely going to lose it. And you can’t. Laura still needs you. 

And you still need to be strong for her. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the handle of your front door, you hear his voice. It’s quiet, but it’s loud enough that you can hear it past the rain. You feel like your heart is beating out of your chest when your eyes meet his. 

Time suddenly seems to stand still as you stare into each other’s eyes. You��re standing on your front steps with Logan on the sidewalk, gazing up at you. You can see the look on his face, the complete vulnerability that he’s displaying as he stares up at you.

All of his guarded walls are down. For you. Only ever for you. 

There goes my heart beating 'Cause you are the reason I'm losing my sleep Please come back now

Slowly, he takes a step closer to you and you do the same. Neither of you say anything, the sound of the rain encompassing the both of you. You feel so overwhelmed with emotion and just like earlier that night, you yearn to reach out for him, to just be pulled into his arms. 

Logan can feel his own tears pool at the corners of his eyes as he keeps his gaze on you. He deserves this. He deserves you. He deserves a second chance to make things right. To be happy. To be loved. By you.

And there goes my mind racing  And you are the reason  That I'm still breathing  I'm hopeless now

As you take a step closer to him, so does Logan. Now standing in front of each other, mere inches separating your bodies, Logan reaches up to cup your cheek. You let out a shaky breath and shut your eyes momentarily, leaning into his touch as you bring a hand up to wrap around his wrist. Logan inhales sharply, your touch electrifying him once more. 

When your eyes flutter open, Logan steps closer, head dipping lower… 

I'd climb every mountain And swim every ocean Just to be with you And fix what I've broken

“In every lifetime and in every universe,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your lips. “I’m yours.” 

Your hand tightens around his wrist as your other hand comes up to rest on his chest. Tears pool around your eyes as the rain continues to come down. “Logan…”

“And with every fiber of my being, I will always love you.” Logan clears his throat, resting his forehead gently against yours as he brushes his nose with yours. 

Your hand on his chest clutches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him flush against you. Logan’s hand drops from your cheek to rest on your hip, lips pressing lightly on your cheek. 

And if I could turn back the clock I'd make sure the light defeated the dark I'd spend every hour, of every day Keeping you safe

It isn’t until your hands move to wrap around his shoulders that Logan snakes his arms around your waist to pull you flush against him. He holds you tightly to his chest, burying his face against the side of your neck. 

This… This is where he belongs. With you. 

He lets out a sigh of relief and tightens his hold on you when he feels your body begin to tremble with quiet sobs. This is as much of a relief for you as it is for him. This is your second chance and while your Logan will forever hold a special place in your heart, you feel lucky enough to be able to get another chance with a version of him. 

The rain continues to pour down on the both of you, not bothersome in the slightest. Slowly, he pulls back enough to look down at you. His eyes move lower until he gazes at your lips and then back up at your eyes. Logan brings a hand up to rest on your cheek, gently brushing the pad of his thumb against you.

I'd climb every mountain And swim every ocean Just to be with you

“I’d love you in every lifetime,” you repeat from the first night you saw him. “And that includes this one.”

“I’m here,” Logan whispers. “I’m with you, bub.”

You nod slowly, bringing your hands to gently push his wet hair away from his face. Logan’s lips turn upwards as his lips brush against yours lightly and it takes everything in him not to just kiss you because he knows that you both have a long way to go. 

But he wants you to know that he’s no longer going to run. 

He’s going to be here, right by your side. 

Just like how it should be in this universe, in his universe, and in every universe out there. 

This was right where he belonged. 

'Cause I need you to see That you are the reason

“Logan?” you whisper, eyes gazing down at his lips.

“Yeah, darlin’?” 

“Kiss me,” you say quietly. “Please…”

Logan smiles, his hand splaying on the side of your neck as his thumb brushes against your jawline. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and leans in to press his lips against yours. 

Finally.

--

taglist: @its-in-the-woods @mynatureworld @wadewnstonwilson @squishyfruitloop @maybedisaster

@kellyxo1 @m1cky-y-y @flowersforbucky @namikyento

[saltylemontears]

try again || ln4

summary: you and lando meet after many years with lots to talk about... warnings: none? i think? a/n: my first lando fic got over 650 notes (INSANE), so here's another, longer, as a thank you!

you weren't a big fan of racing. in fact, you had no clue what it was really about, until your brother brought you here.

the paddock is loud, way too loud for your liking, and you don't really understand. you see people wearing merch, carrying around signs and cutouts with big smiles on their faces, and it's actually kind of cute.

your brother gets into a passionate conversation about a championship with a fellow fan and decides to completely ignore your existence. how typical of him. your eyes wander to the big screen on your left.

names and pictures flash before your eyes, but none of them sound familiar. max verstappen, charlec leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris.

lando norris.

lando norris?

lando norris, your highschool sweetheart? no, that can't be. surely, it's just a guy with the same name. and the same face. and the same fucking curls. just a coincidence.

your thoughts begin to wander, and suddenly you're in highschool again, anxiously waiting for lando in the park, on your bench. but lando's not in sight. not a single trace of him, he didn't even text you that he's busy like he usually does. you left the park two hours later, tears streaming down your face, betrayal stinging inside your chest.

and it starts stinging again. your first ever love, your first ever heartbreak.

you never thought you'd feel like this on a random sunday in miami, and it's overwhelming, it's all too much and you need to go.

your brother turns back to you. "hey, where are you going?"

it feels stupid to tell him about lando and whatever feelings you're feeling right now, so you just sit back down. "nothing, nothing,"

you manage to zone out for a while, only coming back to your senses when the lights go out, the race starts and your brother screams in excitement.

the crowd goes insane every time a car passes them, making the whole place even louder, and to be completely honest, it's actually kinda fun to watch those cars go ridiculously fast.

as the race comes to an end, the fans get louder, specifically the ones dressed in orange and your brother stands up, cheering passionately.

"and lando norris wins the miami grand prix, for the first time in formula on-"

jesus christ. you just witnessed your first love win a fucking formula one race with your own eyes.

you watch the screen, seeing lando on the podium, looking so happy and relieved, and all of a sudden, you see the same kid you loved those years ago and it's way too much to fucking handle. you get up again.

"i'm gonna go pee," you tell your brother, attempting to leave as quietly as possible, making your way through the crowd.

hell, you don't even know where the toilets are. you just need to get out of there real quick.

and you run, you run until you don't know where you are, but you're standing next to a bunch of guys in orange, breathing heavily.

you feel tears streaming down your cheeks and you hide your face, trying to find a bathroom. those orange guys definitely have a bathroom there, right?

and now, you're completely lost, messy and lando norris is in front of your eyes, chatting with someone. you need to get out.

you wait for a while until everyone turns around and run out of there as quickly as you can and-

something taps on your shoulder, and when you turn around, it's him. you're not sure whether you should cry or laugh.

your eyes meet and it's awkward as hell, just like back in highschool.

"didn't think i'd see you again," he says quietly after a minute of just staring. his voice is a little wobbly.

"i wish you didn't," you reply softly, turning back around to make your way back, but he stops you again. he stays quiet.

"congratulations," you say when he doesn't reply, and you mean it. no bad feelings, just like your mum always told you. "you did well,"

lando's hand on your shoulder tightens and he bites his lip, as if he was trying to find the right words.

"i'm sorry." he eventually whispers, voice breaking in the middle, and your heart fucking breaks at the sight, as angry as you are. "i-i'm gonna explain, alright? i'll tell you everything, please,"

you nod in agreement. today just can't get crazier.

he gently leads you somewhere, and you feel your survival instinct kick in, but it's lando. it's always been him.

he closes the door behind you when you sit on the couch in his driver's room. your hands shake.

"go on then," you begin, "explain,"

he takes a deep breath. "listen, i didn't really have a choice. i had to leave, you know? to move up the ladder, and i dropped out, because i wanted to chase this dream," he says, eyes wandering over your face. "and then - then it started being more than a dream, and i left everyone behind, not just you, and i'm so fucking sorry,"

you tense. "you could've at least texted me,"

"and what was i supposed to text you? that i'm leaving the country to become a racing driver and that i'm gonna be living in monaco and flying around the world and might never see you again?"

"anything. you don't even know how i felt after you ditched me," you reply, bitterness coating the sentence.

"i didn't want to ditch you,"

"but you did, lando, and it fucking hurt!" you raise your voice a little, but it's shaky and unstable. lando reaches for your hand.

"i'm sorry, i really am," he whispers, "i thought about you every day, how you're doing, because i loved you. i loved you so fucking much, i wanted you to just forget my dumb ass,"

"i didn't forget," you say, hand brushing against his. "i thought you didn't want me anymore,"

the room goes silent and you can hear each other's breathing.

"i still love you. i never really stopped," you blurt out, not even realizing what you've just said until he pulls you into a much needed hug, whispering a "me too," in your ear.

you pull away, looking into his eyes. he smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"you think we could try again?"

[ruggiesbiologicalfather]

i've been struck by inspiration

here's my ranking of twisted wonderland students by how likely i'd be to let them behind the wheel of a car. this is gonna be a long one bc i'm including explanations of course. (and i know that in-game it's rare to be able to drive, we're ignoring that and pretending it's common to drive around)

1. Leona: canonically, he can drive and drive well. i feel like this was an easy one. but it makes sense!

2. Vil: he just has so many random skills that i feel like driving would be no problem at all. honestly, there's not much that i think vil CAN'T do

3. Trey: everything about him screams Responsible Driver. he would definitely play chauffeur for heartslabyul whenever they need to go somewhere. AND he'd have snacks in the glove compartment. 10/10 ride

4. Jamil: he can absolutely drive well - near perfect i'd argue. what's the alternative? let KALIM drive? get real. it's his duty to get where he needs to go safely

5. Jack: the self-discipline that this boy possesses is unrivaled. he would be locked in behind the wheel. he spent so long becoming the best driver he can be and by god, he's gonna prove it

6. Deuce: LISTEN TO ME, LISTEN! he's really good on that blastcycle which is more dangerous and difficult (said as a former bike/atv guy). a car is nothing to him. plus he's on his Honor Student streak so he's trying his best. my only worry is speed. slow it down, friend

7. Epel: similar to deuce. farm kids learn to drive really early in their lives. HOWEVER... driving safely?? hmmmm... his biggest flaws are going too fast and whipping around curves when no one else is on the road

8. Riddle: he would definitely follow all the road rules. to the letter. every trip would take an extra 30 minutes to an hour. no music, windows up, silence. he won't even let YOU be on your phone lest he become distracted. also ROAD RAGE. interstate driving would get very scary

9. Ortho: fuck it, let the robot give it a shot

10. Azul: i feel like once he figured out the mechanics, he would be fine on the road. however, if he got pulled over he would definitely argue with the cop and get us both arrested. so... i'm gonna pass

11. Jade: yes, we're getting where we need to go. but... nefariously. and there's something in the trunk. i feel like he'd also randomly go "oops" just to freak out his passengers. "what do you mean OOPS?" "don't worry about it :)"

12. Ruggie: there's a wildness to my boy that drove his ranking down. he would definitely drive a jeep with the doors off. music blasting, wind whipping around everywhere. it would be a fairly safe drive but not a particularly enjoyable one. also i would fall out

13. Silver: i don't know, i feel like he would be chill. i put him low bc briar valley doesn't have cars so his driving education would be quite scarce and he'd be a new driver. but he could get the job done. probably

14. Sebek: similar to silver but he needs to relax. malleus is fine, we're just going to walmart

15. Ace: he just gives off the vibe of "16-year-old kid in the car his dad bought for him." never lets anyone merge, hits curbs, can never figure out the speed limit, etc, etc. even worse if deuce is in the car! "ace, watch out for the mailbox!" "don't tell me what to- *BANG*"

16. Cater: gay people can't drive

17. Rook: distracted driver. god forbid there's wildlife around, he would turn 180 in his seat to look at it. this Oh Shit Handle is getting some use. also i KNOW his car would be shit. i don't care that his family is rich, he's driving a 2003 hyundai sonata

18. Floyd: LISTEN! there's a 50/50 shot that everything goes perfectly fine. like as long as he's in a good mood, he can get the job done. you definitely just have to check in before you buckle up. get ready to tuck and roll

19. Malleus: what is a car?

20. Idia: there's so much anxiety there i feel like one thing would go slightly left and he'd almost pass out. he's white-knuckling the wheel, praying that no one else is on the road. it's alright buddy, you can be a passenger princess

21. Kalim: No.

22. Grim + Yuu: okay, for this one it's a joint effort. yuu at the wheel and grim on the pedals. there's so much chaos and screaming. four-way stops don't exist. yellow lights are green and red lights are yellow. the horn has not stopped honking since the engine started. this is an emergency situation ONLY. like someone is bleeding out in the backseat and no one is answering their phones

23. Lilia: absolutely not. i will walk

[district4loading]

Thoughts on sana being the type to shut u up with a kiss

You talk too much

That's how it's always been ever since your first date with her. You were nervous because there was a beautiful girl in front of you, staring into your eyes with a smile that could light up the darkest night. So you just kept talking about really any and everything you could. Seriously, that day you managed to run your mouth so much that Sana mentioned it to you.

Her exact words were "You talk a lot" accompanied by the cutest giggle known to man. Of course, she stopped you right in your tracks and you almost sunk into the ground from embarrassment, thinking that you may have just blew it.

However, little did you know Sana found that trait of yours so endearing and even now after almost a whole year of being together, she still does.

You're nervous again, in the car dressed up all nice and presentable to meet her parents for the first time. "This is the place?" You ask, with a slight tremble in your voice.

Sana looks out of the window for a moment then hums "Yeah, you can park in the driveway." You nod and do as she said, then you turn the car off and you kind of just sit there staring at the car windshield. "Come on" Sana puts her hand on the door handle.

There's a smile on her face because she knows that you must be a minute away from letting all of your thoughts out at once. The only reason why you haven't said anything yet is because no matter how much Sana tells you that she likes it, you can't help but feel annoying when you start talking too much. So you try your best not to in moments where you feel nervous around her.

But it gets hard in times like these.

So you bite your tongue, then you open the car door and step out. Even the house looks intimidating because maybe you're imagining it but there seems to be a big grey cloud hovering over it.

Okay you're definitely imagining it.

You swallow as you finally make it to the porch and when you're at the front door, Sana reaches out to ring the doorbell and you stop her. "Babe, what's wrong?"

That's when you finally let it all go

"I'm meeting your parents for the first time and I really don't know if they'll like me. I mean, what if I say the wrong thing? What if I forget to bow? What if I say something rude or dumb on accident?" Sana sighs, just watching as you ramble on and on about things "Or - oh God - what if they ask me something about you and I don't know it? They won't do that though right?" You stop for a moment as Sana only stays there with the same look on her face "They'll think I don't care about you! and then they won't trust me and -"

Sana shakes her head as you continue to say a bunch of random nonsense so fast that she can't even begin to understand much of it at all. Either way, she can tell that you're beyond nervous so she quickly begins to think about how she should handle it because right now, you're a train wreck and it wouldn't be wise of her to let her parents see you like this.

She says your name once

"Y/n"

You don't hear her

Twice

"Y/n"

You're still going

Then she gets an idea

In a quick second Sana grabs your cheeks with both of her hands. The feel of her warm palms throw you off for a moment and you end up forgetting whatever you were going to say next. That's when you make eye contact with her and before you know it, she's pulling you down to her level to connect your lips.

The moment your lips touch, your mind goes completely blank. You both close your eyes at the same time and all you can really do is pull her closer and kiss back. Your lips move together with the slowest passion as you take all the time in the world to kiss her back properly like she deserves.

Sana's lips are so perfectly soft and plump. Just by kissing them you can feel your heart rate slow in real time. Then you begin to realize that you're having a full on make out session in front of your girlfriends parents house.

So you pull away and only stare at her as the taste of her cherry lip gloss lingers in your mouth. Sana just giggles, taking notice of your red cheeks and your embarrassed expression. She takes your hand in hers and interlocks your fingers "Stop worrying, everything will be fine. I'll ring this door bell, and we'll have a nice dinner with my mom and dad" She leans in to give you a peck on your lips "Then when we get back home, we can kiss some more"

You nod mindlessly "I like the sound of that"

-

A/N: Wahhh I don't know why I took so long with this one. When I first saw it I was super excited to get started on it but I had others to get to first. Anyways, I hope anon enjoys reading this cause I enjoyed writing it!!!

[sinsmockingbird]

Reader buying Xl condoms reactions but with Chameleon, Nightingale, zoya, and Bai yi

I feel like at this point I should just write something with all the PTN women reacting to reader buying those sized condoms for themselves in front of them.

CW: Smut under the cut!

✧ BAI YI

• Bai Yi can't even being to stop herself from being downright dirty in the store as soon as she sees you grabbing the XL sized condoms.

• She's holding onto your arm, caressing your body, whispering god awful dirty things into your ear, and even goes so far to grope your crotch in an aisle when no one is looking. She's holding a devious smirk on her face, biting her bottom lip as she feels you grow hard under her touch.

• She's clearly trying to push your buttons, and sadly it was very much working. You were getting unbelievably pent up as you continued shopping with her, your face a deep red from arousal and anger. You were trying so hard to hide the giant tent building.

• As soon as you get home, force Bai Yi into bed and either tease & edge the shit out of her with just your tip, or fuck her like an animal in heat, rough and fast with your entire length shoving into her. You gotta teach her a lesson after all what she did at the store.

✧ CHAMELEON

• Chameleon is sliding up behind you, licking her lips as she looks over your shoulder and watches you grab the XL sized condoms. She can feel a heat building between her legs as she begins to imagine how big you must be.

• She's tracing her lips across your neck, mumbling dirty little things for only you to hear. Telling you how she wants to watch your huge cock twitch and leak from her teasing, and wants to see the bulge you'll make on her stomach when your buired inside her.

• It has you breathing heavily, your cock twitching and aching in your pants as you try so hard to focus on finishing up shopping. Chameleon will leave you alone for the rest of the time, watching you struggle as you can't get the images of her words out of your head.

• It's adorable to see you become putty in her hands when you get home, so obedient for her as you try to stay still as she teases your giant cock, making tears spring to your eyes before you end up cumming all over her hand.

✧ ZOYA

✧ NIGHTINGALE

• Nightingale is a blushing mess when she notices you reaching for the XL sized condoms. She's letting out a little squeak, quickly covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes widen and she quickly turns away from you to continue shopping.

• She'll be biting and nibbling on her bottom lip until it's bleeding as she can't help but imagine how fucking big you must be for those condoms. She's trying to focus but failing miserably as her mind keeps drifting.

• Even all the way to the car, she has her head hung low, unable to meet your gaze in a sort of shame for having these thoughts. You'll have to interrogate her in the car to know what's going on, and she'll meekly reply with, "How is it going to fit?"

• Hearing that has you laughing, before you place a hand on her thigh and squeeze as you give her a smirk, promising you'll be extra slow and gentle with her as soon as you get home.

• Zoya is immediately thinking about how this is a challenge when she sees you grab the XL sized condoms. You must be huge to use those, but it's nothing she won't be able to handle, if anything she's going to make sure she can take you.

• She'll make a joke about how big you must be, saying she can't wait to see you use that monster between your legs on her. It has you flustered and embarrassed as you make sure no one heard her before hurrying away to finish shopping.

• She'll be laughing as she watches you hurry up, mainly because you don't want her to say anything else embarrassing like that. And she doesn't, instead tugging you close to her and whispering in your ear as you leave the store about how she can't wait to taste you.

• Expect a messy, but wonderfully satisfying blowjob from her before she's riding you with almost no trouble, quickly becoming addicted and accustomed to your large size.

[alpaca-clouds]

Why do people struggle so much with understanding pacing?

Okay, let me talk about my pet peeve when it comes to writing in any medium. Pacing.

People, who know me for long, will know that this has been the thing I have been complaining about since I was like 12. And there is a good reason for it.

See, when I learned to write, there was this guy who I greatly admired as an author. And after bugging him for a while (look folks, the internet was a very different place from what it is now) he did give me some recommendations on books on writing. And a lot of them went deeply into his pet peeve, which - you guessed it - was pacing as well.

And thus, I learned early on about story structure, and pacing, and how to pace out a story in a way grips the audience. This material I read went onto different techniques for different mediums, into how different cultures had a different ways of dealing with this, and so on, and so forth.

Some of my main take aways were, that a lot of very long stories struggled massively with pacing, and that a ton of people also very miscalculated their ability to handle characters in terms of pacing - because characters and pacing are two things that are very, very heavily connected.

I also learned something else, though: That a lot of western writing advice did not understand anything about pacing outside of the idea that stories were supposed to have three acts - or maybe five - and ideally from a certain fateful day in the early 2000s on, would follow the "save the cat" formular. (Mind you, I do not hate "Save the Cat", however, this formular has been created for movies. It works at times somewhat well for books, too. But it definitely does not for for pretty much anything serialized, because that is not what it was developed for.)

And I also learned another thing: Most people do not understand pacing either, because pacing is not a thing that is ever taught in normal school (like most things that are about creative writing are not). So, while some people might have a gut feeling that the pacing of something might be off, they rarely can actually say why. And this is only worsened by the fact that today's tiktok addicted society is so used to consuming ultra condensed media, that they will perceive anything less condenses than 1 minute tiktok videos as "too slow and boring".

So, please allow me - the guy who kinda hyperfixated on this specific writing skill - to talk about pacing. And this will be in the following points:

What is pacing actually?

How do characters relate to pacing?

Pacing, Streaming and the supposed "filler episode".

Pacing and Fantasy

Pacing in Action vs anything else

Pacing in books vs visual media

What Is Pacing actually?

Okay, I think one of the main issues when it comes to understanding pacing is, that a lot of people see pacing on a on a spectrum that goes from "I am bored" to "I can't follow the plot anymore". But that actually does not always have to do with the pacing - obviously.

Technically pacing is the speed in which the plot moves. Or, to make it more quantifiable: "How many plot points (beats) are covered per either time (in any timed medium) or per page (in anything you read)". Which makes sense at the first glance - but does actually often not line up with the subjective perception of this. Becau se here is the thing: No, fight scenes are not automatically fast paces. A lot of modern action movies have super slow paced - in terms of story pacing - action scenes. Because yes, during those action sequences a lot of STUFF happens, but nothing of it actually is in any way related to the plot.

Look, I freaking adore the Fast & Furious movies. But you could literally edit those movies down to like 45 minutes each and not lose a single plot beat. But of course, nobody would watch those movies - because yes, me and everyone else who adored those movies, is there to watch them lunch cars into space and see stuff blow up. I don't much care about the characters or the plot.

This is by the way also the kinda point that me and other people talk about, when we are unimpressed by "oh, but sex scenes don't add anything to the plot", while the same people would often not make the same argument about action scenes - even though there is a ton of movies and shows where the action scenes really do not add anything to the plot. A lot of people just do not perceive action sequences as slow pacing, because even if nothing that happens on the screen actually adds anything to the plot or moves it forward, it is undeniable, that STUFF is happening. So basically monkey brain will go: "Hehe, things go boom!"

Don't get me wrong: there absolutely are stories in which the action is moving the plot. Mad Max Fury Road is a great example. The movie is also about 60% action - but the action scenes actually add to the plot.

Meanwhile nothing tells you as much about how unimportant some of the MCU action scenes are, than the fact, that they are often done by a completely different team and will be done apart from the rest of the movie.

But yes, traditionally the idea was, that towards the "finale" of a piece of media, a lot more plot beats would happen over a shorter amount of time. You will see that also in a lot of beat sheets. There are more beats that need to happen in the third act of a story - if we go by three act structure. And often there is actually even more plot developments, as usually in a finale all the "plotlines" will kinda finish up in the end. So even plotlines where not a lot has happened to this point - this shows especially in serialized works both in TV shows and stuff like manga or comics - the important plot points will then often happen close to the finale, because it feels more "right".

In older serialized media - especially TV shows prior to streaming - you also had the same thing hold true towards the finale of a "story arc". In a lot of older shows, you would usually see a structure that looked like this.

The "rise" here technically has less to do with more stuff happening in later arcs or seasons - and more with the threat-level rising, and the convulutedness of a story. lol

But yeah, the take-away from this part should be: No, action does not equal fast pacing. There can be action-heavy shows with super slow narrative pacing - but it will to many not feel this way, because at least action is interesting to watch. Which also might be an explanation to why people are a lot worse in seeing the issue with action-scenes that are not adding anything in visual media, but might actually notice it in written stories. Because in books action scenes do not feel "fast paced" in the same way they feel in movies, where the often faster editing and the amount of motion on screen will create this effect.

Oh, and on the other side: Of course there can be slow paced plots that will leave you having problems following. At times, because they are badly written (aka: the media does not give you all the information you need) - and at times, because a piece of media might expect you to know a certain bit of information that you do not know. I can definitely think of a variety of scifi media, that just expects you to know stuff about computer stuff or space, and will not explain it to you. Which might make you need longer time to take plot developments in, and then leaves you reeling.

Another thing however that is also important is: If the pacing stays actually the same throughout a piece of media - rather than accelarating towards the finale (or finales if there are multiple) - it actually will feel wrong in some way. Often people (even I, who hyperfixates on this specific thing) struggle to point at it at first. But yes, this very much is an issue that also can happen. You want the pacing to accelerate towards certain points in the plot - and then slow down. If you had an important point, you want a few slower scenes/episodes/chapters afterwards, to allow the audience to somewhat absorb all the new things you presented them with.

How do characters relate to pacing?

Alright, now we come to the dicey part - specifically, because a lot of people (which includes narratologists, creative writing professors, and people professionally writing) actually kinda do not fully agree on this. So, fair warning: This is how I think.

A character arc in many cases absolutely is a part of the plot. Most media we consume these days are character driven, so the characters are absolutely centrally connected to the plot and the plot mainly exists to have the character move from point A to point B. Or, to make it more basic: To have a character realize that their WANT is not their NEED.

Sure, those characters will usually also accomplish something plot-related. But them accomplishing them is more often than not heavily connected to them fulfilling their character arc. (Please note: characters having a want but having to realize a need is something that is core of western storytelling. However, given that it makes for interesting character arcs, a lot of Asian media these days also will use this as a central driver for character development.)

In some pieces of media, the character arcs are way more heavily tied into the beats of the main plot, than in other. In adventure, action, and related a lot of fantasy and scifi, there is most of the time a character arc happening parallel to the main plot beats. Meanwhile often enough in more down to earth drama and romance, plot beats and character development beats are heavily interwoven. This is not a hard and fast rule - there absolutely is fantasy where the character arc is the plot arc, just as there is romance where the development does not play as heavily into the main plot - but you can generally observe it.

However, no matter how strongly the character development beats line up with plot beats, you cannot deny one thing: character beats are beats that also add to the pacing - even if they technically do not move the main plot forward. So, for example, if you have an episode in a show or a chapter in a book, where important beats happens in terms of a characters development (for example: they realize something important about themselves), this does not necessarily slow the pacing down - even if no actual plot beats happen.

What the fuck is a plot beat? What is a character beat?

This part of the essay was originally not included, but the people reading over it said I should include this.

If we say, that Pacing is basically the description of "Plot Beats per Time" or rather "Plot Beats and/or Character Beats per Time", then we also need to say, what exactly a Plot Beat is. I will fully admit, that this is one of those things in which I forget that this is not a thing taught in school.

I mentioned "Save the Cat" before. "Save the Cat" is a book about writing movies and specifically about pacing out a movie in a way that it is captivating. It mainly focuses on action, but you can absolutely use it for most other genres. And this comes with a so called "beat sheet", a collection of the main story beats that happen, showing when they are going to happen. It looks like this:

Basically a Beat is a scene, in which the plot (or a character arc) is moved forward by a bit. Basically anything that reveals something to the main characters, anything where the basic assumptions about the plot change, anything like that.

Examples for Plot Beats would be:

Character learns about something going on

Characters find out something important about the plot

Someone (either protagonist or antagonist) gets killed or injured

Characters get a new power or item that is important to the plot

Romance goes forward or a reason for the romance to happen is found

Characters find a hint for something they want to reach

And examples of Character Beats would be:

Character learns something about themselves

Character makes a decision for themselves

Characters realizes feelings about something or someone

Character overcomes trauma

And mind you, because I cannot fit this anywhere else: If you read these you might realize, why Musicals are basically a cheat for very fast pacing. Because you can put an entire character arc into a 4 minute song. This is why musical animated shows like Steven Universe or My Little Pony managed to pull some insanely paced episodes, like the Empire City episodes for SU, and the episode in which the Cutie Mark Crusaders finally got their Cutie Marks. Musicals are insane when it comes to this.

And something that you have to realize: While for movies and books certain Beat Sheets (Save the Cat is not the only one) work rather well, those Beat Sheets usually do not work well for Shows. And currently we are living in a time, where this becomes very noticable - because a lot of modern shows are written and aired as basically 4-8 hour movies, using often just the "Save the Cat" beat sheet (if you have read Save the Cat, you will see it EVERYWHERE, because it is so frequently used in western media), but... obviously, Save the Cat is made for something that has 2 hours, and as such a lot of modern media feels strangely slow and stretched out.

Pacing, Streaming, and the supposed "filler episode"

(Yes, this needed to be the gif for this. Because no filler episode has lodged itself quite as strong into my brain as this one.)

So, let me talk about the issue in modern media. Because oh boy.

As I said: I hyperfixated on this specific writing skill forever - and as such I was annoyed by "filler episodes" in TV shows. To explain for the youngest people (not that I am assuming a lot of those are on this hellsite lol): "Filler" was the name given to material that did not move the plot forward at all. So a "filler episode" was an episode, that was just there to fill the episode slot for the week, while no plot was happening. I am not fully sure whether the term originated with anime - but at least back in the early 2000s, before Shonen-Anime were done as 12-26 seasons that then allowed the manga to get ahead in between, "filler" was also the name used for those story arcs that the anime people made up for shows like Naruto, One Piece or Dragonball, that were not in the manga - and hence obviously also never added to any overarching narrative.

And what can I say: We did not appreciate the filler episode enough. Because this related very much to the last part: While filler episodes did indeed not add to the plot and usually by definition did not the character development, they actually still added something often enough.

They allowed the audience to get to know the characters a bit better and get a better feeling for the character relationships - and those episodes take out a bit of speed, which is actually important.

As said before: The pacing should not be even throughout an entire piece of media. In a TV series after an episode that was especially tense and pushed the plot or characters forward a lot, there should be ideally at least one or two episodes that move forward slower or even not at all. This allows the viewer to sit with the new developments for a bit - and of course the characters to have a moment to breathe and process whatever happened to them.

There is also the fact that those episodes usually give the audience a better understanding for the characters - and if you have an audience who at this point ideally care about some the characters, this will even be more successful.

And as I said. Back in ye olden days, a lot of people - me included - complained so much about Filler. But we were wrong. Fillers are amazing, as long as they do not overtake the whole show.

Pacing and Fantasy

Okay, let's talk about a thing, that is somewhat funny. A lot of fantasy - specifically written fantasy media - often has a pacing problem. And this problem comes from the Worldbuilding. Others forms of fantasy media (other than games - though pacing in games is whole different matter) have this too at times, but it tends to be worst in books.

Basically, when you are a fantasy worldbuilder, you have this whole world. And this leaves you with two problems.

a) You are afraid that people will not be able to follow the plot if you not give them a lot of information about this world and how it differs from ours.

b) Well, you build this entire world. And the people should KNOW.

So, a lot of fantasy media basically regularly will stop to explain to the reader or audience, whatever is happening right now. Some writers manage somewhat naturally put this in. Maybe they have a character that does not know a lot about for example magic or dragons, and they can ask questions and act as an audience stand-in. But even in cases, where the worldbuilding is somewhat brought in naturally (which by far is not all of them - because people usually do not naturally talk about stuff they both know, or think a lot about something they find naturally) those "explanation" pieces will make the plot come to a screeching halt.

So, the more worldbuilding you explain, the slower your pacing is.

And of course, pacing is not a reliable thing to keep people reading, and pacing will not always turn people off. But you know how people complain about how slow Lord of the Rings is? This is because of course, every time that Tolkien describes a piece of landscape over multiple pages, there is no plot happening on those pages. And while I personally think some of those descriptions are darn stunning, it is one of those things many people will not like.

However, this makes it a bit complicated. Because yes, worldbuilding explanations will slow down the pacing to a degree that can be problematic. But if you explain too little worldbuilding, people might struggle to follow the story. Which again is the most common problem if the pacing is "too fast" as well. Basically, people do not properly follow the plot and will struggle to understand what is happening and why.

But the opposite is true as well. I have read way too many fantasy books, where after the first 100 pages, I know a lot about the city the plot is set in, or about the magic system, but sadly have so far not been privy to any information what the plot is about, what the characters try to archive, or even who actually the characters are. And that, yeah... Is probably the most common reason why I put aside a variety of fantasy books in the past.

Pacing in Action-media vs anything else

Okay, let me talk about one other thing. See, the word "pacing" is at times used in some other context: In visual media, pacing will be used for the editing of what we see. Basically the amount of cuts that happen within a scene. Or, in a comic, the distribution of panels is also seen as a pacing element.

And anyone who heard people complain about how at times confusing the editing in action movies is, you know that this at times can get too much.

Still, in visual media action scenes feel usually fast - because the characters are moving around rather fast. In a visual piece of media, action scenes are often thrilling, because the characters are in constant danger of dying, and because a lot of stuff is happening. This often works better in visual media, than in written pieces. While it absolutely is possible to write thrilling action scenes, a lot of writers struggle with this, because they tend to overdescribe and that takes the speed out of the prose. But generally speaking, a couple of punches thrown - something that in a movie takes about 10 seconds - will in book easily end up in 200-500 words, which you will not read quite as fast. A bit more about that later.

And then there is the issue with the action scenes, that even is true for visual medial, is that they often really do not have any important plotbeats. Sure, if the characters have their final battle, that is a plot point. But in a lot of action media - especially TV shows - there are a lot of scenes included that really do not add anything, but just are there because folks love watching action scenes.

This goes so far, that people will think a show or movie with a lot of action scene will just be seen as "good fast pacing", even though if the actual pacing in terms of plot beats being spaced out is rather bad. As a good example I will once more nod at the Fast & Furious and the Mission Impossible movies, that often have horrid pacing and very confusing plots - but they do not feel really like it, because the movies are like 60% action scenes, and hence they do not feel like it when you watch them.

It can work at times. I spoke about my love of the F&F movies. Can I tell you a lot of the characters? Nope, but the action scenes are fun to watch!

But this also tends to mean, that in a badly paced movie or show, that is badly paced because the action scenes not adding any plot beats, everything tends to fall apart when the action scenes do not work. And often enough action scenes will still be prioritized over everything else in many of those pieces of media, making things fall apart easily.

Pacing in books vs visual media

I have hinted at this now multiple times: Written media is generally a bit harder to pace than visual media, because of the things you can and cannot control. While a writer in a book has full control over the scenario, a director of a show or movie had actually influence the timeflow of the things happening on screen. As a writer meanwhile you absolutely have no influence on the speed in which your reader will read.

Sure, you can somewhat influence it. Shorter sentences are easier read. An general lower reading level will allow people to read quicker. So simpler words, shorter words, shorter sentences will make parts appear quicker. You can use this for example in action scenes to have a bit more of this breathless feeling that an action scene on screen might have. Use short sentences. Do not link sentences up. Quick hits. Quick impressions. It can work - but it needs some training. Not to say it is fucking hard.

Generally speaking to my experience when you write a single novel, the "Save the Cat" Beat Sheet actually works rather well, if you are the kind of writer who is fairly good at planning things out. If I actually try, I will usually manage to plan out a story and predict fairly well how many words a chapter will have. So yes, for books I can very much use "Save the Cat" and it will work.

However, some things simply work a lot better when you have visual parts going on - but there are other things you can do better when you do not have the visual stuff. For example: A writer can do much more when it comes to motivation and introspection of characters. Yes, this slows down the pacing - but it is something that writing has basically over any form of media that is not a musical. (In a Musical you can characters do introspection through songs. Musicals are the ultimate way of cheating. I love them!)

Something I feel so many writers struggle with in terms of books is actually putting in a clear goal for the character from the beginning. Again: I have put too many books aside where I reached page 100 and did not yet have any goal for the main character.

That goal you give them does not necessarily need to be their final goal. Again: A lot of western storytelling deals with the incongruent nature of a characters "needs" (aka something that would actually help them) with the character's "wants" (aka what they think they would need). But at the very least the plot needs something that it can head towards from the very beginning - a hook to capture the reader.

There might be readers that are absolutely fine with just reading an exercise in worldbuilding - but you cannot expect them to be.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Red light

A/n: she just sees you with your abusive ex-partner.

Eilish has millions of red exclamation points flashing in her head blinking barely every second, and blue eyes fixed on you like the frighteningly mighty and cold glaciers of the Arctic. The only thing that seems to calm her down even a little is Finneas' presence nearby and the feeling of weight on her own knees. It wasn't just the charming bouquet wrapped in scarlet kraft paper: Shark, sensing his mistress's excitement, rested his massive bulldog face on her legs for support.

"What fucking right does he have to approach her?" - the look of concern centered in her concern is replaced with a sizzling one, the moment she shifts her focus of attention to the male silhouette standing across from you. - "After everything he fucking did!"

Finneas exhales tensely, clasping his palms tighter on the steering wheel of his red Tesla: the eco-leather creaks slightly from the tension. Eilish, frankly, envies him, because the desire is now behind the wheel, and not in the passenger seat, is off the scale, reaching maximum values. Several scenarios of how she presses the gas pedal to the floor, heading for your ex, flash through her head. And no, she's not ashamed, none of you three are ashamed of it.

Billie is a small nuclear suitcase with enormous destructive power, and you're the only one who can handle her. As the O'Connells pull into a quiet residential neighborhood to pick you up and go to Claudia's house together, the figure of your ex looms around the corner, heading toward you. Billie was ready to jump out of the car almost as she goes, and she doesn't give a damn about the pavement or the passenger seat she's strapped into. She'll rip that seat right out of the car and put it on her back, just so she can run up to you as fast as she can and become your shield. He's a whole head taller than you and two heads taller than her? She don't care! Your gesture is the only thing that stops her: your open palm, held out in front of her for a quarter of a second, and your gaze, which resembles in its seriousness the sharp metal plate against which Eilish scratches his wrists in his sacrificial desire to protect you.

"I want to run him over, Finn."

"I know." - Her brother touches her shoulder, squeezing her slightly while Shark whines. Wise blue waters, concentrated in his eyes, are also watching you closely. - "Just let her figure it out for herself, and if something goes wrong, we'll step in right away."

"His fucking presence here is already something that's going wrong." - A deep exhale squeezes her chest, and a dark bandana squeezes head. She sees you ball your palms into fists, and he smirks cheekily. Fuck!

Your lips move, dropping the scalding words she's trying so hard to read onto the pavement, and your opponent winds up waving his arms in anger and poking you in the shoulder with his finger. Forcefully and sharply. Eilish genuinely enjoys, imagining his phalanges crunching under her hands from the exertion.

"I'm going to fuck him up!" - her blue eyes burst with stinging lightning, and her hand instantly touches the metal handle on the door. Shark, feeling the muscles in his mistress' legs contract, immediately retracts his muzzle, brave at her. His deep eyes look childishly trusting, waiting for any instructions.

Finneas unbuckled his seat belt, fumbling for the button with his long, musical fingers (the beige strip immediately slides into place by the mechanism), and then grabs his little sister around the waist with both hands, pinning her to the chair. The door of the red Tesla slams close.

"Fuck, Finn, that's just impossible!", - Eilish was boiling like a teapot.

"Don't, Billie! Chill out!"

"Why do I have to sit here when some asshole is harassing my girlfriend?" - she throws his hands off her but stays where she is. Elemental brotherly-sisterly respect. Finn pokes at the display in front of him and all four doors click shut, locking. Billie takes offense and that's still putting it mildly, but both are well aware of how impulsive Eilish is when differentiated into the merciless, unforgiving garb of anger.

Your posture is calm, but also tense: she can see how strain your back is and how the tendons play under the skin of your neck. The man is almost spitting in your face, loudly spewing all the bile he has accumulated. Billie can hear the word "whore!" blowing through the windshield with the warm breeze. She turned her head expectantly, and saw Finneas instantly mirror her own gaze: blue eyes filled with a gray sheen, reminiscent of geysers. Him excellent upbringing is making itself felt, and Billie clings to it with both hands, bowling her brother's cold mind.

"Would you put up with such a thing if it involved Claudia...?"

Finneas is silent, and his nostrils flare: sometimes too good a creative imagination becomes a punishment.

"No." - Coldly, and with a note of impending anger.

"So let me out, be a good brother." - The voice drops to a trance-inducing muffled wheezing.

He exhales, filling the silence hanging over them in the moment. A chest heaves the floor of his white t-shirt, and his hands while face covers exhaustedly, when he weighing his options. Eilish knows he'll never let her down, so she watches calmly, even though everything in her stomach turns over with burning tension. The soles of her high jordans tap out a rhythm, trying to tame the impatience.

"Just don't make a mess of things, please, Bils." - His earnest, confiding plea.

The doors click muffled again. It's open. Kindred blueness meets for a second: her mute and sincere 'thank you', confirming his expectations, is legitimized by his nod. The red hair ravels beautifully in the sun.

And as soon as Billie has one foot on the sun-hot asphalt, you turn your head in her direction: the steel of your gaze meets her anxious seas. She freezes, clinging to the open door as Shark comes down with an amused tinkle of his claws. "Paparazzi," she reads from the curve of your lips before your nose meets head-on with the man's fist.

Eilish's mind was blown, and she seemed to forget for a moment how to breathe, even though she'd been doing it for twenty-two years without a break. Her eyes gleam a deadly murky sapphire, and her eyebrows converge on the bridge of her nose in a torn, streaky stroke of ink on paper, heralding infernal retribution. Now your words of warning carry no weight with her. Finneas is like a tall, graceful pillar, leaping out of the parlor in one merged motion. Running toward you with clenched fists, driven by a sense of righteous anger.

"Protect!" - Eilish's loud voice shakes the heat of the street and the pit bull snaps out of his seat, growling menacingly. - "Protect!"

She runs towards you and the pendants make a silvery clinking noise around her neck. She outruns everyone: her brother, her thoughts of consequences and reputation. It's now completely colorless and unimportant, the only thing ahead of her is the faithful gray dog that lives up to its name. The gray powerful back flickers, cutting through the air like a shark through the water. You only clumsily dodge another powerful blow, falling to the asphalt by inertia: the palm of your hand burns with the lingering pain of contact with the ground, revealing a thin bloody web, and your nose buzzes disgustingly. The dripping blood settles on your lips with a metallic taste as you squint, either from the pain or from the blinding sun, shielding yourself with healthy hand from another incoming blow.

You're the lord of the whole little army. Billie immediately snuggles you in his arms, diving almost bare-kneed onto the pavement with the ease of a phoenix; Finneas stands immovably across from you, covering you both with his broad back, looking like a vengeful archangel in his white T-shirt; Shark, like the devil from the snuffbox, who has caught hold of your ex-boyfriend's long pant and pulls the hard material toward him with a growl. The man shrieks, and all this three pairs of blue eyes give him a punishing coldness that gives him no hint of mercy.

"With me." - her strong voice excites you, giving you an adrenaline rush. The gray pit bull abruptly lets go of the cloth (causing the guy to almost lose his balance) and obediently sits down next to her, snorting.

"You Hollywood rich guys sticking up for that slu..."

"You shut your damn mouth now!" - Finneas stiffly cuts him off halfheartedly.

Billie rises slowly and strides toward them with such haughty superiority and a smirk that somewhere a whole cast of movie villains are weeping at their insignificance. Small, but so majestic. She abruptly grabs the guy by the collar of his solid-colored shirt, bending him almost in half: now she looks him straight in the eyes without raising her head a millimeter. The cold splinters in her eyes make a warning noise like a rattle on a rattlesnake's tail, making her "victim" almost whimper like a Yorkshire terrier.

"You come near her again, I'll wipe you out. Knuckle by knuckle, you understand?"

"You have no proof, I can turn it against you!" - his voice reminds you of the pathetic bleating of a lousy sheep.

And you laugh, literally sink into laughing, smearing the blood on your face with your fist. Everyone turns to look at you, but all you do is throw your head up in a fit of laughter. A smirk smeared with blood is your best accessory.

"You've remained a complete idiot! Did it never occur to you that you started to sort things out right in front of a lot of video cameras?"

You nod your head at the wooden courtyards one by one, and the man's confidence shatters. Finneas smiles contentedly, Billie immediately realizes the source of your confidence, immediately comparing the details of your scheme. And how sweet revenge becomes! Eilish pulls him back on top of him, regaining eye contact. The blue maelstrom halves him, spitting him out instantly. Her uber-confident smirk is the final chord on his microscopic dignity

"So I repeat - get out of here, you pathetic puppy!"

Shark barked contentedly.

×××

The four of you arrive at Claudia's house right after your visit to the hospital. Once they're all in the living room together, Billie doesn't let go of you for a second, hugging you defensively from behind and just sucking in your scent with her nose, nuzzling into your shoulder, neck, hair, whatever.

"I was so worried about you, underdog..." - the whisper burns the curl of your ear as you try to gently touch your slightly swollen nose with your fingers, oohing. A bruise, and that's glorious. Much better than a possible fracture. - "I'm not going anywhere from you now, ever."

"Billie," - you turn to face her, kissing the chiseled line of her jaw. The tip of your nose touches her neck, and you squeeze your eyes shut, multicolored sparks of pain scattering before your eyes. She immediately pulls away from you slightly, gently touching her palms to your face. - "You, Finn, and Shark are my best protectors."

"Careful, my girl."

You feel warmth and a slight tickle as she strokes your cheekbones with her thumbs. The previously restless blue eyes are now like a calm marina.

You giggle, and you're not entirely sure why, whether it's because of a silly thought or because Shark, who's lying next to you on the couch, grunted loudly in his sleep.

"Did I look like you in the 'bad guy' music video? You know, with all that blood on my face..."

Eilish chuckles, brings your healthy hand to her lips and bestows a flock of little kisses on each knuckle. You want to purr.

"Very similar."

And you smack her on the lips, rewarding her for every second she spent tense, watching you. You don't care if your nose hurts. It'll heal.

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

S.O.S.

König × Wife reader.

I'm the only big guy you need to handle. That's all you need dear y/n.

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Warning ⚠️: mentions of violence, weapons but nothing too dark or extreme. Grammar and spelling errors. I wrote it during my lunch break, so have mercy if it's not good.

You're in the kitchen washing dishes, checking if your husband's laundry is already dry, listening to music and dancing everywhere.

Your usual routine is interrupted by a stranger knocking on your door, visitors are unusual since you and König live far from the city and almost in the middle of nowhere.

König always does everything in his possibilities to protect you when he travels or goes on long missions. It's not precisely that you need protection, you can handle the danger very well, but he insists.

And with all the reason, now you're here with a knife from the kitchen, hiding it behind your back. You Open the door and there's two big guys wearing suits.

- Oh, Good afternoon, We're looking for... König?

- He's not here, sorry.

You're closing the door when one of them plants his foot in the doorframe.

- I understand, well, can you tell me when we can find him?

Exasperated and sighing loudly to show how annoyed you're feeling by these intruders, you talk again.

- What do you need from him? I mean, if you know where he lives, how is it possible you don't know at what time you can find him?

One of them is not happy with this attitude, so he lost his Temper.

- Listen To me you little fucker!

The other who looks more professional in his job, puts a hand over the chest of his partner indicating him he needs to calm down to mess up the whole plan.

- Pardon my mate, we had a long trip and we're thirsty, hungry and tired. If we can't find him at least can you serve me a glass of water?

All the danger and alarms in your brain are turned on, ringing uncontrollably, the adrenaline is increasing and running through your veins, it has been a while since you had combat, you're out of practice, so... Why not?.

You left the knife quickly at the flowerpot near to the door, opening it and allowing them to come in, playing fool, inviting them to take a seat while you go to the kitchen.

You're serving the water when you feel the presence of someone behind you. You know what will happen, you've been in this kind of situation before, more times that you can tell. So, it's quick, one of them tries to bring you down, fails, the other runs to you ready to stab you without mercy, avoiding the hit but somehow you feel like you didn't take the best decision, two guys almost tall and big as your husband against you, who's not very strong as before, bad idea Y/n.

So while you're still avoiding punches and trying to not die, you press the hidden button in your bracelet, yes, König idea and after you thought he was overreacting, now you're blessed you have it, basically the bracelet sends an S.O.S text with your location and periodically sends a message with your health status. König doesn't need more details, as long as you're still breathing, that's enough for him to find you and kill whoever made the big mistake to hurt or take what is his.

And it worked, König was landing at the base when his phone received a new notification he couldn't ignore. A red icon that he recognizes instantly. 'S.O.S Y/N'. He felt shivers running up and down, a cold sweat in his forehead and the palm of his hands, his heart beat increased. He runs to his car, driving as crazy while he tries to read about your health status, your location, thank god you're breathing, dehydrated and at home... Well, actually that's not good, how is it possible you're in danger if you're at home? He will know it as soon as he's at the house.

He doesn't know how fast he drove, he only cares about you. He needs to see you with his own eyes. As soon as he saw the house he parked, not exactly out of the house but also not so far, just at the right distance to not make much noise. Taking a different way to get in the house through the backyard, he can see you now, there's broken furniture, bullets in the walls. You have a purple eye, bathed in sweat but you don't seem badly injured. But these two guys are still pointing at you with their weapons, spitting on your face, hurting you, he can't, he can't stay there just observing how they disrespect his wife. His thoughts are interrupted by the conversation between you and the intruders.

- Where is König! You're making me lose my patience!

- I already told you. I don't know.

- You're stubborn. I'll change that soon, we have the whole day little one.

- Go ahead, try.

König always admired how good you are to keep your confidence and calm in this kind of situation. But his heart aches just to see how they treat his woman.

Once again and before he could move, he listens again, this time the conversation is not about him. The man who has been behind his comrade all this time, finally participates in your conversation.

- Wait a minute, I've seen you before, you worked for KorTac. Am I right?

- So what? (His comrade asks like if it wasn't important)

- Man, you were like a legend, a fuckin' pain in our asses during your years of service, how did they call you? Your codename... It was an animal.

- Maus.

- Yeah! That one, oh man! Now look at you, trapped after all those years escaping and surviving to all those explosions you orchestrated, now you're here. How does it feel to be with the claws against your throat?

You're trying to not get mad before responding when a black big shadow passes outside, you could see him through the window. Now you can relax, you're safe. So you can laugh at their faces with that mocking smile.

- Well... Who says it's me the one who's trapped?

Both look at each other concerned by your response, looking around the room searching for any danger, but there's nothing at the sight.

One of them points with his gun on your forehead.

- What do you mean? Tell me, NOW!

He's finishing the sentence when the gasp of his comrade fills the silence, then, the sound of his corpse hitting the ground.

The guy who's still pointing at you doesn't know what hits him, just a giant in black jumping on him, hitting over and over and over again, before the man can die, König demands answers.

- Who sent you? How dare you to point at my wife with your weapon, huh? In my fuckin' house! How did you find us?

The poor guy can't even speak anymore, his jaw is broken. König's anger can be controlled, once he starts it's difficult to make him stop. So he goes back to hit him over and over until his victim can't keep breathing.

König takes a few seconds to recover himself, you have never been afraid of his anger or in whatever he becomes when he wears his mask, he knows it and yet, he tries his best to not let you see that part of him, even if you already saw it like a thousand times before.

Once he's calmed he walks and starts to help you with the ropes around your hands and ankles.

- Liebling, geht es dir gut? (Darling, are you alright?) what happened?

- I'm okay Kö, It's my fault, I thought I could still handle two big guys... They were looking for you and I just thought I could... I'm Sorry my love.

While you're observing him with your puppy eyes, His eyes are full of surprise, but then he simply laughs. He certainly wasn't expecting that answer.

- Oh, Liebling. Wann wirst du es verstehen? (Oh sweetheart, when will you understand?) I'm the only big guy you need to handle.

He places his hands around your face and starts to kiss you, carefully to not hurt you but at the same time intensely to let you know how blessed he feels knowing you're safe. Of course he would find out who sent those guys and he will make them pay for what they did, no one comes to his house and hurts his pretty wife without paying for such disrespect.

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Message Received

jason todd x reader, sequel to Outgoing Call

Big warnings for this one folks. Reader is an addict who relapses, there is a long stretch of fierce self-loathing. Please know yourself and what you can handle. Also, reader's father has died. Again, know yourself and what you can handle.

Also, vomit and swearing.

I don't know how long this is

——————

The night wind whips by as Jason races to Jess’ apartment, ripping through Gotham on his motorcycle. He hopes to god you're still there. He's got one eye on the road, the other on the speedometer. Squeezing the accelerator, he lets the dial tick up five, ten, fifteen miles per hour. He tears past cars and trucks, squeezes into tight spaces, takes turns dangerously fast. It's some of the most reckless biking he's ever done, but he doesn't care. The stakes are high, high in a way they haven't been before. High because this is his fault. Jason has to get to you before you relapse, before you hurt yourself too badly.

Most of his focus goes toward controlling the bike, but he reserves some for trying to figure out how to explain showing up unannounced at your friend's apartment 24 hours after he broke up with you. Over text.

And he only has to come get you because he knows from a bug Bruce placed in Jess' apartment that his text made you fall back into an alcohol habit he didn't know you had.

Jesus. He really fucked this one up.

Jason shakes his head. The excuse is a problem for later. He’ll think one up. Or he won't. It doesn't matter.

The road melts away under his tires, and soon he’s barreling up Jess’ street. He cuts the ignition, jumps off the bike, and scales the fire escape before he even realizes what he’s done. Crouching down, he peers through the windows. Fifth floor, west, rear apartment. Jason’s in the right place.

Through the first window, he has a view of Jess sitting in front of a computer, back facing Jason. He quickly moves onto the next. It’s a living room, empty, and the window is cracked open. Jason gently opens it further and slips inside, landing on the rug. He peers into the bathroom and then the kitchen of the shoebox apartment, but you’re not there. Shit. You must have already left.

He’s back through the window and on the street in seconds. You can’t have gone far, and Jason doesn’t have to guess where you went. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hastily types “bar” into Google Maps. You’re at the first one he walks into.

Jason takes a moment to get his bearings. It's a dive bar, and mostly empty. Only five barstools are occupied, including yours. You're talking to the bartender animatedly, an easy smile on your face. You seem relaxed. To Jason's dismay, there's already a drink in your hand.

Fuck. He's too late. He has to stop you before you do any more damage.

Steeling himself, Jason moves toward you, silently positioning himself on your left side. It takes you a couple of seconds to notice him, but when you do, your eyes travel up his body slowly. When they meet his own your face is mean, your mouth set into a sneer. "Hey, sweetheart," you drawl, tone hard. You bring the glass to your lips.

Jason reaches out to stop you, laying a hand on your wrist. "Baby, don't. Don't do this."

"Fuck you.”

He winces. Not like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Let me take you home,” he pleads with you. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

You turn away from him, let him wait out the silence. Jason sighs, looks to the bartender. “How much has she had to drink?”

The bartender eyes you warily. “Seven shots of vodka in the last twenty minutes, plus that whiskey sour in her hand.”

Fuck. Fuck. He has to get you out of here.

“Sweetheart, we gotta go home,” he tries again, pitching his voice low. “Let me take you back to your apartment.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spit at him. Again, you try to take a sip of your drink, but Jason’s arm keeps yours in place. “Get off me,” you hiss at him. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Uh, ma’am, do you know this guy? Do you want him here?” the bartender cuts in, eyeing Jason. “Because if not, I’m gonna have to call the police.”

Jason almost rolls his eyes. Trust his luck to find the one bartender in Gotham actually doing a good job.

The bartender looks at you expectantly. So does Jason. Depending on your answer, things could get complicated. But he’s not leaving without you.

You roll your eyes, then wave a hand at the bartender. “Don’t sic the cops on him, he’s just my ex,” you mutter. Jason swallows down the easy way ‘ex’ had rolled off your tongue. Can’t get upset about that now. The bartender nods, then moves toward another customer, giving you some privacy.

Jason tries a third time. “I’m cutting you off, doll. You’ve had too much, too fast. Let me take you home.”

You glare at him, jaw working. Eventually, you sigh. “You’re not going to leave me alone,” you grumble.

“I’m not going to leave you alone." He won't.

“Fine. Whatever.” You hop off the barstool, flagging the bartender down to close out your tab. “Let’s go home, sweetie!” you say with mock cheer.

Jason follows you outside, briefly checking to see if you had brought a coat with you. You hadn’t, and it’s cold. Cold enough that you’ll feel it with your bare arms and t-shirt. Silently, he shrugs off his jacket, offering it to you.

“Are you fucking serious?” you say in disgusted disbelief. “Don’t make me laugh, Jason.”

Jason sets his jaw, turns onto the street to hail a cab. It’s too far to walk, especially in the cold, and odds are you’re not going to get on the back of his bike.

He observes you from his peripheral vision as he waits. You stare sightlessly at the pavement, expression blank, but your hands are curled into fists and the hair on your arms is standing up. You’re stressed, or cold, or both. Not a lot Jason can do to help.

A taxi pulls up, and Jason gives the driver your address before opening the door for you. You roll your eyes at him but slide into the cab. Jason follows, pulling the door shut behind him. You’re pressed against the opposite window, as far from him as you can get in the close space. Jason makes a show of putting on his seatbelt. You roll your eyes at him a second time before copying.

The driver pulls away from the bar, and you set your gaze resolutely out your window. Jason shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wondering what to do next. He’d gotten you out of the bar, but he can’t just drop you off at your apartment. What if you leave again, or god forbid you have some alcohol at home? No, he can’t leave you alone. He has to convince you to let him stay the night. How the hell he’s going to manage that, after he broke up with you, is beyond him.

Jason sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d really gone and made a mess for himself. Not to mention you.

“How did you find me?” Your voice slices into the silence of the cab. Jason’s not expecting you to talk, but he’s had time to think about this one. The bar was close to a safe house, the one he’d been pretending was his permanent apartment when you came over. The one you had seen through, apparently. “I was in the area, you know I’m just around the corner.”

You nod. “What were you doing at the bar?”

Jason holds his tongue. Here is an opportunity to lie again, to say that he just wanted to blow off some steam, or some other shit, and get you off his back. He chooses neither.

“I—I wanted to find you,” he admits. “I don’t know...how I knew,” he hedges, “but I was hoping you’d be there.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to—to talk.” You snort, turn back to the window. “Baby, please,” he starts, “I want to—”

“Stop.” You shake your head. “Stop.” Jason falls silent, stays that way until the cabbie reaches your building.

Immediately, you shuck off your seatbelt and slip out the door. Jason rushes to pay the driver and follow you, catching up by the time you’ve reached your lobby door. “This is your stop, Jason,” you say sharply.

He’s shaking his head before you’ve even finished. “Listen. I know. I know. But you’ve had a lot to drink, doll. Let me get you upstairs. Please. I want to make sure you’re okay.” This is unfair, and he knows it, but he can’t leave you alone.

You keep silent but step through your building's lobby and onto the elevator. Jason hits the button, and soon enough you’re on your floor, walking to your unit. Surprisingly, you don’t stop him from coming in, finding the click of the key of the lock and gently closing the door behind him.

“What do you want, Jason?” you say tiredly. “What do you want?”

He looks at you helplessly, tongue thick and heavy in his mouth as his words fail him. Sighing, you move toward your bedroom. Unthinking, Jason falls in step behind you, and you freeze, spear him with a look. “You’re a fool if you think I’m going to let you come in here again.”

Jason takes a deep breath. He's been dreading this. “Look, I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry but I—I can’t leave you like this. Please, baby, let me stay the night.”

“Why?” you say disdainfully. “You don’t care about me.”

Ouch.

“I know I said—what I said, but I was wrong. I was scared,” he admits.

You stare at him, narrowing your eyes, saying nothing. Jason takes it for the cue that it is.

“I was scared, and, and I’m scared now,” he says in a low voice. “You had a lot to drink, and on an empty stomach, doll.” And he has to make sure you don’t drink any more tonight. He has to.

You snort at him. “I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Jason keeps his eyes on yours. “Please,” he asks quietly. He’s not above begging, not for you. “Please let me stay the night.”

Staying still, you exhale slowly, breathing out through your nose. Your hard eyes don’t soften. “On the couch,” you order, then disappear into your bedroom.

Jason breathes a sigh of relief. At least now he can keep you safe.

—

You wake up in your bed.

There is no prelude. You don't get a soft, gradual ascent from your sleep. You aren't awake, and then you are.

Shame cloaks you like a vice.

More pressing, however, is the vomit you can taste in the back of your throat.

You stagger to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you and thumbing the lock. Your knees hit the cracked tile of the floor, the toilet lid smacks against the tank, and your face is in the bowl. You heave. The smell is vile, the retching tears your throat apart.

You cradle your head in your arms, elbows resting on the cool porcelain of the seat as your stomach empties itself. You don't move when it's over, although the smell fills your nose and the ends of your hair drip into the toilet.

Fuck. Fuck. You've gone and ruined it all.

Exhaling, you allow yourself to collapse to the floor, not bothering to flush. Curling your arms into your chest, you begin to sob. You'd gone and fucked it all up, just like you'd always known you would.

You knew, you knew, that you would end up back here. Sobriety was a sham. Everyone thought you could do it, but you're the one who has to sleep in your skin every night. You knew you didn't have it in you, that addiction was ground into your bones, a black hole emanating out from your center that you could never keep a lid on. You had always known that there was something awful inside of you that you would never quite be able to manage, and now here it was, crawling up your throat and spilling out into the toilet.

Quick as they started, your sobs leave you in a rush. You stay on the floor, smelling the vomit, staring at your bathroom ceiling. You were never going to be able to hack it.

The doorknob jiggles. "Baby?" Jason calls out cautiously.

"Don't."

That asshole. Of course he's still here, of course he gets to see you like this. It's not enough that he broke your heart over text, where at least you could hide, instead he has to show up in person and see what a mess he's made you.

The doorknob shakes again. “Baby, please—”

“Get out.” You squeeze your eyes shut. Please leave. Leave. Leaveleaveleave—

“No. Not until we talk,” he says stubbornly.

Fuck that. Suddenly, you’re furious, anger ripping through your gut. You greedily latch onto it, using it to distract from your self-loathing. That asshole thinks he can stay, thinks he has any right to be here, after what he did to you?

Fuck him.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment,” you snarl at him through the door.

“I’m not leaving,” he insists. You let out a shocked laugh, then inhale sharply, gritting your teeth.

Fine. Fine. Guess you’re doing this.

You pull yourself to your feet, survey your reflection in the mirror. Jason may have heard your retching, may have seen you at your lowest last night, but you will not, you will not let him see you like that now. You wash your face, run water over your hair to get the vomit out, brush your teeth. Flush the toilet. Your face is puffy but when your eyes are clear, you unlock the bathroom door and throw it open.

“What the fuck do you want?” you snap at him. As always, Jason looks gorgeous, even after spending a night on your couch. Hair a messy bedhead, clothes deliciously rumpled. You want him so bad it makes you sick. Then you think of your own appearance, last night’s clothes that reek of sweat sticking ugly to your skin, hair frizzy and unkempt, and you want to kill him. Fuck this motherfucker for looking so perfect while you look and feel like trash.

Jason holds something out to you. Pulling your eyes down, you realize he’s offering you a glass of water. You want to hurl it against the wall. Instead, you take it from him, turn, and dump it into the toilet. Handing it back, you stalk past him into the kitchen and get yourself a bottle of water. You’re not taking anything from him.

“Baby,” he follows. “Please, let me—”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“Wait,” Jason says. “Wait. I want to—”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“Sweetheart.” He starts to sound frustrated. Good. If he wants to stay, he's going to get the fight you're itching for. “Let me finish. I have to—”

“Get out of my apartment before I call the police.”

He’s angry now, you can see it on his face. You feel vicious. “You’re not listening. Listen, you have to listen to me.”

How dare he. “I don’t have to do anything!” you shout at him. “I don’t have to do anything for you, not after what you did to me!”

“I was wrong,” Jason presses on, raising his voice to talk over you. “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said that, I was sc—”

“I don’t care!” you scream at him. “You ended it! It’s over!”

“I still care about you!” Jason shouts back, “I care about you, I’m telling you I made a mistake!”

“I don’t care what you think of me now! Too late! I don’t care anymore! You broke up with me!” You will yourself not to cry as your anger surges. “You made your bed, now lie in it!”

“I’m telling you I shouldn’t have done it, I’m telling you I was wrong, I’m trying to apologize! Why can’t you—”

"You can't just take it back! You already did it, it's too late, I don't want to—"

"Shut up!" Jason roars. "Shut up and listen to me, I'm trying to apologize!"

"No!" You stalk towards him, and something in your face makes him take a step back. "I don't owe you anything! You already said everything you need to say. You already hurt me, now I'm never going to trust you again!"

Jason looks like you've knocked the wind out of him. Some part of you grins cruelly. You want to do it again. "You hurt me, so I'm never going to trust you again."

Jason exhales, remains of his anger sliding off his face. You're still breathing heavily, glowering at him, waiting for what he’s going to say next.

"You're right," he says eventually, voice low. "You're right, you don't owe me anything. I—I'm sorry I yelled at you. You don't owe me anything."

You stare at him through narrowed eyes, coming down off your own fury. Jason isn't looking at you, he's looking at the floor, jaw flexing as he chews on the inside of his cheek. He looks...he looks upset.

You slam your eyes shut before you can register the thought. Who cares if he looks upset, you think to yourself harshly. Who cares? The motherfucker deserves it, after what he did. Still, the savagery that burned bright inside you dwindles to a candle with a single wick, threatening to go out entirely.

Maybe he's just tricking you, manipulating you, you try and remind yourself, but you don't really believe it. That was never Jason's style. You crack your eyes open. If anything, he looks even worse now, but he's still not looking at you, not analyzing you to gauge your reaction, to see if his words had any pull. He's not pleading with you anymore, either. Jason must really be upset. Now you have to figure out what to do with that.

You sigh, clearing your throat. Jason flinches and tries to school his expression into place before giving up and meeting your eyes. He doesn't say anything, waiting for you to make the next move. The ball is in your court.

You stare at him for several moments, trying to work out what to do. Jason stares back silently. "I'll leave," Jason says, voice cracking. You open your mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say. "Do you still want me to go?" Jason's face is a mess, but his brow is furrowed as he tries to figure you out, figure out what you want him to do.

You run a hand across your face. Damn it. Damn this asshole for the hold he has over you. The same idiocy that has you reaching for the bottle moves you to offer him another chance.

"I don't want to talk here," you whisper. Jason sucks in a breath, but you talk over him. "We can talk later. Another time."

"Today?"

You shake your head. "No. In a couple days. I'll text you." You leave yourself an out you can slither through if you need it. You won't give him anything else.

Jason's looks like he's going to argue, but you give him a warning look. He shuts himself down. "Okay," he says quietly. "Okay. I'll wait for your text."

You nod, exhausted. "Get out of my apartment," you say, but without heat. This time, Jason goes. You shut the door heavily behind him, then rest your shoulder against it as the tears start to fall. You bite your tongue sharp enough to draw blood to keep the sobs inside you.

Fuck him, you think again, but this time with despair instead of anger. Fuck him for sending you back to that place, for shoving you a thousand steps backward. You're faced again with how you slipped last night, self-loathing threatening to pull you under. But you're not on the bathroom floor anymore, and you realize that cleaning yourself up has put you back in control, if only slightly. You take a deep breath, reaching for the strategies you practiced with your therapist. You force yourself into positive self-talk. It’s okay, you resolutely assure yourself. It’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes. Everybody slips. This doesn’t have to mean the end. It doesn’t. It doesn’t mean you’re going to fall back head over heels into addiction. You’re not twenty-two anymore. You’re not…where you were, when things got really bad. When you broke yourself on the alcohol because you couldn’t tell when a bad habit became a crutch, couldn’t recognize when a few drinks here and there became active addiction. Your family is much closer now, your mom and your sister are back in touch and they know what you’re struggling with. Your friends and family have supported you before, they’ll do it again.

You put your face in your hands and take deep, measured breaths. You’ve pulled yourself out of active addiction before. You can do it again. That doesn't mean you'll have to, but you can. If you need to.

You stand up off the floor, pick up your water from where you left it on the counter. Take a long drink, then wipe your hand over your mouth. You can do this. You can do this. You can take a shower, find some breakfast, go to work in the morning, and move on. You can text Jason. Maybe.

But first, you need to get through the next fifteen minutes. You pick up your phone and call your mom.

—

Jason sits on a park bench, drumming his fingers anxiously on his thigh. He’s ten blocks south of your apartment, in one of those fancy new city parks Bruce had funded. It’s a cool, crisp fall day in Gotham, and Jason was supposed to meet you here thirteen minutes ago.

He’s been here for nearly thirty minutes. He was fifteen minutes early, nerves driving him out of his apartment and onto his bike. Since he left your place last week he’d waited anxiously for you to text him about meeting up, but after 72 hours of radio silence he’d nearly given up hope. Your text had almost come as a surprise, a terse message telling him when and where. Jason had fired back a reply instantly, he had no room left to be suave. He was just grateful you’d decided to give him a second chance.

And now here he was, searching for your face in the people that walk past, waiting again, hoping you didn’t stand him up.

But no, there you are, moving resolutely toward him with a face that gives nothing away. Jason stands almost before he decides to. As anxious as he is, he’s thrilled to see you again. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says, unable to stop the grin from splitting his face in half.

You nod. “Sorry I’m late.”

Jason waves you off, sitting back down. You eye him before sitting down carefully, perched just close enough to have a conversation with him but no closer. You look at him expectantly.

Right.

Jason takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I—I’m so sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have sent you that text.” He digs his fingernails into his palms. “I—I really care about you, and I got scared, and—”

“If you’re about to tell me that you were scared by how much you care about me, I’m walking out of here right now,” you interrupt with a warning. “I won’t be manipulated.”

“I’m, I’m not trying to manipulate you,” Jason says gently, afraid that you think he ever would. He lies to you when he has to, and he's not proud of it, but he’d never mess you around like that. “I’m not. I wouldn’t do that, doll. I’m telling the truth.” You stare at him, gaze hard. “Honest,” Jason adds, hoping you believe him.

“Are you saying you regret breaking up with me over text, or you regret breaking up with me?” you demand.

“I regret breaking up with you!” The words tumble out of Jason’s mouth. “I messed up, I was a fuckhead who got scared of my own feelings. Not trying to manipulate you,” he adds hurriedly. “Just telling the truth. It’s—it's been a long time since I’ve been serious with someone. Actually,” he takes another deep breath. “This is the only time I’ve been serious with someone. Being with you is the longest relationship I’ve been in to date.”

He stops here to see how you’re taking his words, and to give himself a break. He's doing so shockingly well at sharing his feelings with you, he's almost surprised.

He's glad he showed up for himself. You're worth it.

Jason peers over at you from his side of the bench, trying to gauge where you're at. Your eyes haven't softened, but the line of your mouth has loosened, jaw more relaxed. Jason pushes onward.

"I—I've got some shit, sweetheart," he says quietly, carefully. "I grew up in Crime Alley. My dad wasn't around, and my mother was a druggie. She died when I was ten." He closes his eyes. Jason is so far removed from that life, so distant from that distant past, but it doesn't get any easier to talk about. It's—it's hard. It's still hard.

"I went into...foster care," he says. He has to lie here, he can't chance you putting together the Jason Todd that went to live with Bruce Wayne and the Jason Todd that died tragically two years later. He isn't ready to tell you about that, not yet. He figures he's allowed this much. "At first, it was great with my foster father, but then...it wasn't. I ran away a few years later." Jason maneuvers around the snarled timeline. "I was on and off the streets for a bit there. I got into some...bad shit. But things are better now. I'm trying to be better," he finishes stubbornly. He is, despite what Bruce might say.

Jason can't get himself to look at you, not after depositing all that shit into your lap. Instead, he glares emptily into the horizon until you sigh, then clear your throat.

"Thank you for telling me that," you say evenly. Jason whips his head up to stare at you. "I appreciate you..." You pause, sucking on your teeth as you choose your words. "You giving me some background."

Jason is silent, still. He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to breathe until you've finished. Until you tell him...what you want to do next.

If you're even considering staying with him, after all this.

You sigh again, swallow thickly. "I've...you're not the only one who has shit." You go silent, looking away. He waits patiently, guessing at what's coming.

"I'm a recovering alcoholic," you say, matter-of-fact. Jason winces, even though he already knew. Still, he has to ask.

"Does that mean...last night..." he trails off.

You look at him steadily. "Yeah. That's what that was."

"Fuck, princess, I'm...I'm so sorry," he says brokenly, guilt spilling out. "I'm so sorry I did that to you."

"Thanks," you say quietly. "Look, I, I want to explain. Uh..." you look away, blinking. "It got really bad when my Dad died. It was really sudden, car accident. Hit and run."

Shit. Jason grips the sleeves of his jacket, tension rippling through his forearms.

"My family just kind of...fell apart, after that. My sister and my mom got really distant, and I was away at college and I just...yeah." You suck in a breath. "A couple of years later, I got into a car accident. It was a DUI. I was okay, but it kind of...woke my sister and my mom up, I guess. They helped me recover."

Jason waits a couple of moments after you go silent, making sure you're finished. "Thank you for telling me," he says, copying you. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, that you lost your father like that," he says gently. "That...that sounds really bad."

You shrug. "We all have our shit, you know?" Yeah.

The two of you fall silent, chewing through your confessions. Jason runs a hand through his hair, across the back of his neck. He didn’t realize you were carrying all that on your shoulders. It makes him view you differently. You’re…tougher, than he thought. You’re made of stronger stuff. He needs someone like that, he thinks. Someone who might understand. Maybe the two of you are well-suited for each other.

That is, if you’re still willing to try.

He clears his throat, and you glance at him. “So, what, uh,” he coughs awkwardly. “What happens now?” Jason holds his breath.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes narrow. Then you sigh, slide over to him. “Now,” you let your shoulders bump against his, “you’re going to take me to the coffee shop across the street and buy me an overpriced latte. As an apology.”

Jason’s heart soars. “Not one of those stupid flavors,” he snorts through a grin.

“Yeah, one of those stupid flavors. It’s going to be a large, and I’m going to add, like, four extra flavor pumps, because you were being such an ass. And I’m getting a cookie.” You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him to comment.

Jason stands up, offering you a hand. “Anything for you, doll.”

You accept his hand, but then surprise him, pulling hard enough to make him stumble, legs hitting the bench. He regains his balance as you laugh at him, hopping up. “That’s right,” you look at him meaningfully over your shoulder. “Anything for me.”

Raising his eyebrows, Jason nods at your challenge. Yeah. He can do that.

Satisfied, you slip your hand in his and lead him towards the coffee shop.

----

anyway. that was fun. i hope you had fun.

tagging: @candlewitch-cryptic @somenerdydancer

[sungjinhos]

WESTERN WIND

Vernon is on the verge of freaking out - Vernon is chill, Vernon is calm, but everyone has a limit, and Vernon's limit is when he complains 3 consecutive weeks about his front wing and the engineering team doesn't do a thing about it.

✦ genre: F1 Alternative Universe, almost enemiers to lovers (but really just have a fight in the workplace now we are weird), smut, they do it without protection so - be safe guys love you.

✦ word count: 8.9k+ ✦ title inspired by Carly Rae Jepsen - Western wind

✦ Thea note: okay, this was a challenge!! This was written for a friend who enjoys the f1 world and isn't a carat - but we are working on it. I write for me and I write what i like to read and to me, Vernon screams lazy sex so that's that - that's really nothing more on this subject. reminder 1: i am not an english speaker so i am very sorry about any mistake but you don't need to be a bitch about it. Also, I may try to write every member but gooooood some are harder than others, and vernon was hard for me so i am sorry if the characterization is weird or when you are reading this you think shit this is not Vernon lol I reached a point where i was like yeah i'm giving up.

Vernon has always been obsessed with the idea of flying. 

Not taking an airplane-flying, but actually flying. The closest he got to this was behind a steering wheel. And he got so obsessed with the feeling - first the wind against his face, then the whiplash of going too fast.  He loved it so much that he just made a career out of it. 

And Vernon was good at it, one of the best really, first drive in his new team and all. But it is the seventh grand prix and the car still lacking and there is so much he can do with pure strength and strategy. 

He can't fight aerodynamics. He can't, and to be honest, he shouldn't do what the engineering team was supposed to. But he is one step away from getting out of the car and breaking the damn front wing with his bare hand in the middle of the box. Vernon, a lot of people don't know, but he has this kind of superpower when he gets incredibly mad his face is still calm, and nobody knows he is on the verge of freaking out.

But Vernon just handles the steering wheel to the guy next to the car and jumps off it without making a scene. On a scale of Fernando Alonso to Kimi Raikkonen Vernon leans more to Kimi's side, even though right now he may pull off a Nico Rosberg or psychological warfare like Michael Schumacher against the engineering team, he is not above it today. 

He is no Kimi Raikkone though. Vernon does prefer just being in the car. He enjoys being on the circuit running laps. He is chill with being on the go, traveling around, jumping on airplanes, and Vernon developed a near to perfect packing method - he travels with just a backpack, thanks god. Vernon doesn't love press tours, sometimes they are just insufferable. He doesn't love to have a run down when his week has been shit - trashed car or broken really. But otherwise, Vernon is cool with it, he laughs a little, he goofs with other pilots, he has friends - sometimes he goes out with Lee Chan the Haas pilot. Sometimes he cracks jokes with Mingyu and Wonwoo - the Red Bull duo. So sometimes press is actually fun, and even tho Vernon is an accomplished guy in his field pole and race win on his name he also still has idols on the paddocks because he is against names like Choi Seungcheol and Hong Joshua.

So Vernon enjoys his life really, he isn't one to overthinking about what choosing this type of life made him lose. He gained so much that it would be unfair to do that, to wonder what it could be.

But when Vernon feels like his team is not even hearing his complaint about how the aerodynamics of the car is fucked up Vernon wants to just crash the car and scream in the box. What the fuck? Fix the gooddamn wing for fuck's sake. 

But Vernon doesn't scream in the middle of the box, it wouldn't be good for the press, and Vernon is calm he is chill, but he isn't dumb. He does this when the engineering team, himself, and Choi Minho, his team principal, are in a more private area.

"What the hell? I've been complaining about the front wing since the Australia GP."

"We have been working on the wing." The engineering girl slash prodigy answers.

"And why the fuck is not working properly? This car will fly out of the track if a single drop of rain falls." Vernon continues because he is the one putting his life on the line really. Why no one is giving a fuck about what he has been saying.

"We are trying, you know about regulations we cant-" You try to say as if everybody doesn't remember that FIA is actually the worst ever and it is your job to care about regulations too.

"Oh my fucking God. I gonna crash this car in the first fucking lap I am not even kidding." Vernon says pacing around the table, he hates the whole can't do won't do FIA-related frustration. 

"Ok, Vernon you know we can't really do anything about it right now," Minho says arms crossed. "So stop bitching about it, and no you will not crash my car in the first lap you are not stupid." And now Vernon knows he can't really crash his car but he feels the urge to do it nonetheless, Minho can scrap his bank account he doesn't care, he can go fucking penny less but he will have his front wing fixed up.

 "You," Minho says pointing at you and you are actually relieved, you can take the screams of the team principal - even tho Minho is not near screaming, but taking shit from the pilot? Not gonna happen "For fuck sake take his complaint and actually do something about it for the next GP, you have like 5 people that could have been working for NASA in the team if he complains again about this mothefucker wing again I gonna have a stroke," he says leaving the room.

"Why do you guys only act when I bring Choi Minho to the room?" Vernon asks feeling dumb and to be honest disrespected. He knows he is young, he knows he is new, but he was brought to the team for a reason.

"Not that it matters," You say already picking the things around the table, probably from a previous meeting. "But he is my boss, not you Vernon."

"I am the one inside the car," Vernon says trying to attain some kind of respect or authority.

"Ok, that's not relevant to me whatsoever. I work designing a car that if we put a dog behind the wheel is gonna be fast so-" You say because you are tired this front wing nightmare has been going on for more than the australia grand prix actually, it's always the same problem, again and again, your team fixes it but it always comes back to life like a zombie or something.

"Did you just say that I am not relevant? Are you kidding me?" Vernon actually scoffs because of course he knew when he arrived in Mercedes that the team is bigger than him, he knew what all the critics said, but being treated that poorly by a co-worker? Fucked up man.

"That's not what I meant-"

"Yeah yeah yeah like Im just a dumb kid on the wheel, that's what you meant. I really thought we could build a nice relationship and all-" Vernon cuts you already opening up his overall because it is hot as fuck, like one step away from dying hot. "I guess the civil war thing going on wasn't in my plans but if you guys on the engineering want that I have no problem whatsoever in being a fucking dick."

Vernon says almost dashing to his trailer, fucking stupid overalls dangling around his waist because if one of the journalists asks him something about his wing or his time or how Kim Mingyu got the pole, Choi Minho is not the only one who will have a stroke. Health care plans and his life insurance will skyrocket.

After Vernon takes a shower, he realizes how dumb and idiotic he is. This happens a lot. Vernon doesn't really know how to deal with his rage, so when the anger dissipates, he just ends up regretting everything. 

Regretting is not even close to the proper word. When Vernon analyzes the chances of him fucking up his entire year because you simply do not rage war on your engineering team - that was like a rule, not a rule scratch that, it was a dogma. A rule you can break, if you try that shit on a dogma, you will root in hell. The hell being Vernon's worst nightmare - having the team ask him to pull aside to the other driver because he can't keep up, the reason? His shitty ass front wing.

But when the actual race comes and Vernon starts the race in third and finishes up in 5th place, he doesn't know who will drop dead first, him or Choi Minho. 

"Do we need a meeting between grand prix to fix this hellhole you guys have been calling a car?" His boss asks and Vernon can see you just rolling your eyes. Dude, that's crazy. Did you just roll your eyes to Choi Minho? That was insane. 

And Vernon coped the only way he knew - developing a wealth obsession fueled by hatred, all because you didn't give him his wing and a roll of your eyes at Choi Minho.

Before that, Vernon really didn't have a problem with you. Since he moved to Mercedes everything was great! Great team! New and more powerful car! Great teammate - Lee Jihoon, who actually took Vernon under his wing. The pre-season was great, and he didn't have problems with you whenever you two had to talk about the development stage of the car. 

Actually, Vernon finds you interesting really, that's not a lot of women in F1, and the majority of the women actually deal with public relations or team management like Kwon Boa. He always saw you around, really, always in jeans, tennis, and a Mercedes shirt. Sometimes with glasses, sometimes with a cap on. Always chatting with someone, sometimes writing things down on a notebook, sometimes explaining something. 

He didn't actually have any problems with you. He didn't have a reason, but now? Now Vernon can't really back off, can he? God, he was not a fighter and neither a hater, but he wasn't a coward either. 

So when his one-week break is cut short and people send him to Northamptonshire Vernon is angry because really: 1st he could use a few days off, 2nd between the Emilia-Romagna and the Monaco GP he had booked a crazy Airbnb in Cannes.

Now he was stuck in this hell hole of a place, in a way too cold meeting room, with like the whole engineering team and his boss. Not ideal. So Vernon's mind just wonders really, he thinks about how he needs to catch up on his favorite TV show, maybe he can check on his family later, or call his friend Boo Seungkwan - maybe he would call Seungkwan to Monaco is bouge enough for Seungkwan.

“And that's why we try to fix the front wing, but it seems like the aerodynamic problem is always back. Lee Seokmin actually did design another front wing at the start of the pre-season but you guys said that this one had a better grip” You finish the whole ppt-presentation, sometimes you hated your job so much, and by sometimes you meant the whole ppt presentation of a problem that we can`t actually fix because of regulations and because you guys main driver didn't do proper feedback in the first place. And now you have a problem in your hands, that to begin with, it wasn't even yours. 

“So the best thing we can do is?” Choi Minho asks and you laugh because right now you are not the one treating Vernon like a damn child on the wheel, it is Choi Minho, but Vernon is too engrossed in his own mind to notice or he feigns ignorance because it is Choi Minho who is talking, not you the mere translator girl for the engineering team. 

“We can try always the wet tire even if it's just light, and we can always use the soft tire at the beginning of the race it is the less durable but if he is in a good position to start with we can always call him back-”

“So, we did this three-hour meeting” Vernon actually checked his watch. It was a tree hour meeting for god`s sake. “for the resolution being soft tire and pray for a good pit stop? Are we crazy?”

“If you heard about FIA rules we cannot-” You try to speak but really, you don't even know why you start when you know you gonna be ignored by the man in the room and it’s F1 there is always a man in the room, always.

“Ok ok,” Vernon interrupts. “Just so you know that’s crazy, everything about this wing situation is crazy, we are just handling the championship, we are not even close to being - I don't know? 5th fucking place.” 

“We need to make the legal team re-analyze the rules,” Minho says contemplative and not really angry, and to be honest you wouldn't be either because it is true, but Vernon could be less bitch about it because it is not your fault either

“Just that? Ok,” Vernon says and he gets up because when Minho talks about the legal team it`s gonna take 4 to 6 days to actually find a loophole in the damn manual, but hey ok, it's fine, Vernon it’s chill, but not chill enough because the next moment his mouth is moving. “Maybe you could ask for the engineering team to work on that too I don't know just a thought” 

And you laugh, loud and clear. And Vernon is truly spooked. What the heck? Are you going crazy? Has the excruciating work and the insane hours with the weekly jetlag made you crazy? 

“Yeah Minho,” you say, picking up the papers. Why do you always pick up? Are they top-secret papers? Vernon never thought about corporate espionage, but it may be a thing. “Maybe you can ask your drivers for proper feedback when I ask them about grip and wings and start making them say whole sentences, not it's bad and a sad emoji. If we did send a form about this shit we wouldn't have this problem,” You actually leave them room, but Minho and Vernon continue listening to your voice down the hall. “Oh Vernon, how it’s going with the car. Make them say 4 whole sentences and not it's chill. Maybe that would help” and then you scream. “Just a thought."

“I mean” Choi Minho starts getting up too. “Nothing against a rivalry in the workplace, dang in my times, it was worse. But if I get an actual complaint - Humans Resources or Legal Team involved - I am so firing both of you, and I am not even caring about labor law or whatever.” 

And Vernon thinks it's weird how he was the first one to get up and the last one out of the meeting room.

So when Vernon actually arrives in Monaco - Boo Seungkwan, his best friend since birth, on his side, the civil war in his team is still going on at full speed. The tire strategy is still in place. Choi Minho still looks at him every five minutes like a babysitter. You still give a side eye every time you both share a room, Vernon is even more aware that you roll your eyes at everyone. Are you just discontent with everything?

But he doesn't think so when he sees you and Jeonghan, the team strategy, and Jun, one of the mechanics, laughing while eating lunch. Vernon is puzzled really why the fuck is he, Choi Minho, and the whole team getting side eyes and Jeonghan and Jun receiving beautiful smiles and even laughs? That's weird, more than weird, that's unfair really.

"What's going on in your head?" Boo Seungkwan asks, actually stealing a bite of Vernon chicken's breast. 

"Just, you know the whole war in the team. That's the girl that is actually making my life hell." Vernon says voice low like he is telling Seungkwan a secret, trying to be discreet. 

"That one?" Seungkwan asks loud and not caring about the top secret war going on, apparently. "Oh, Vernon, she is pretty."

"And?" Vernon thinks puzzled because really he never stopped to think about it. "Ok, ok, stop looking," Vernon says when he sees Jeonghan looking back at his table, grabbing Seungkwan and almost getting up and turning Seungkwan`s head himself. God.

"You didn't tell me she was pretty." Seungkwan acts like it was the most important thing ever. Missing the point, really, because the most important thing ever in this whole ordeal was Vernon's career and the probability of it ending abruptly. 

"Yeah, because it is not important, I mean…" Vernon trails off because again, he never stopped really, but thinking about you are pretty. Or at least not recently. Vernon thinks back when you two met in the pre-season and he may have blushed once or twice talking to you in the first days, but he wouldn't call it a crush.

"Hey Vernon," Jeonghan says, stopping at his side. "We will go over the strategy at 3 pm for the first free practice, so if you need anything, just give us a heads up before."

"Oh, sure man, actually I was thinking about the ty-" Vernon starts.

"Bye guys, if I hear one more driver talking about how they don’t want to start with a soft tire today, I'm gonna jump the nearest cliff." You say, lacing arms with Jun and just dragging him.

"Oh, she is feisty today," Jeonghan laughs. "Okay, anyway, you can bring everything to the team, right? I need to actually get some information with her so-" 

"Sure, sure man, no big." 

“Yeah," Boo Seungkwan just laughs, and laughs, he actually almost falls backward type of laughing “When was the last time you got laid?"

"Hm?" Out of nowhere? What the heck was going on in his friend’s mind? But Vernon actually needs time to think about it, fuck, when was the last time? Vernon didn’t even remember with whom. "I don't know a few weeks?"

"Months right?" Seungkwan answered in a heartbeat, chewing on a long French fries.

"Maybe dude, you know it is hard when I am always on the go." And it was hard, Vernon wasn’t lying. He didn’t enjoy the whole no-string attached really, and after he got a little famous - in a very niche type of famous he knew that, he was no rockstar type of guy, but still, he enjoyed it even less.

"Yeah didn't peg you for doing in the workplace kind of guy, always talking about how it is precious and nothing can disturb the paddock’s energy,” Seungkwan says making Vernon almost choke on his food.

“First, that is the rule that applies when you want to bring your boyfriend Kwon Soonyoung because last time he almost broke my trophy,” Vernon can actually feel the chill going through his body just remembering the scene that his traumatized brain conjures up, it was his first grand prix win and Seungkwan boyfriend almost knocked it down. “second we are not doing anything. We are actually enemies” 

“Oh,” Seungkwan stops, truly stops, dropping his fork and knife, and he stares at Vernon, but Vernon knows it is not a stare, Seungkwan is analyzing Vernon like he always did. “Well, that's even worse, because when it happens - see not if, I said when it's going to be a nuclear bomb, thanks good I am not going to Spain with you and me and my lovely boyfriend will be having a few days off in Monaco so…” 

The problem was that Seungkwan was always annoyingly right. Seungkwan was right when he said Vernon's last relationship wouldn't last more than 3 months. Seungkwan was also right about Vernon's first love and second. Seungkwan had this superpower really, Seungkwan was always there to see the picture better before Vernon did.

But Vernon always just shrugged and went to his next task, now free practice. And Vernon did slightly better than he thought - 4th place. So he wasn't actually totally dejected after the press asked him about the probability of rain. Everything was fine until Vernon saw the little orange cat hiding in the corner of the Mercedes trailer.

Vernon squatted and tried to call the little kitten really, it was tiny and made Vernon's heart break a little because when the cat was approaching him Vernon saw how he was limping, front paw looking hurt. Also, the little dude looked muddy. He may hate Vernon for it, but he needed a good wash.

"Hey," You say looking at Vernon who just started stroking the orange cat fur. "I was just-" You point at the water container.

"Ah yeah," Vernon says, giving you a nod. "I was thinking of finding something so this little guy can eat but-"

"We don't know anything around, same." You say squatting on Vernon's side and putting the container on the ground, little dude giving you both a meow.

"Could we-" Vernon starts but you just cut him.

"Make a trainee do the hard work? Make them go to the nearest supermarket, " you say, laughing a little, like you laugh with others. And Vernon thinks that maybe your brain is too fast, two-step forwards already, ahead of everyone, always.

"Yeah, I was thinking about asking someone or even the Grand Prix organizers to even get a vet around. I think something is wrong with his paw." Vernon points at the cat, and he stops for a minute thinking about how he is so used to being in the paddock but not really knowing his way around it. He strokes the cat again, almost feeling the urge to pick him up and go around asking if anyone knows a vet.

"You shouldn't be touching him." You say and Vernon feels a little offended. Did you enjoy telling him what to do? Vernon could take it, he didn't like it, but when it was about the race he could take it, but about a cat? Really? "Like, for health reasons." 

"Yeah, I was thinking about taking him to the trailer, but if he has fleas, that would be a nightmare," Vernon says hand still scratching the little cat like the rebel he was. 

"Can you-" You trail off, looking around, and Vernon can almost see your brain working inside your skull.

"What?"

"Look, we have like two options.” You say getting up and fixing your pants. And Vernon thinks that Seungkwan was actually right shit, you are actually and objectively pretty. “You can be an asshole and make someone do the job just because you are throwing a i am a star fit"

"Or?"

"You could totally do your I am a heartthrob bit on the communication team newbie, she kinda has a crush on you, so she would totally find Seb a vet place. Just don't let Minghao know.” Vernon just feels like a lot of what you just said goes over his head because it really doesn’t make sense to him, Heartthrob what? Crush who? Seb? 

"Are we calling him Seb?"

"I mean he just gives me Sebastian Vettel energy all around you know, he is kind of shy and orange," you say trying not to sound dumb, feeling a little anxious - because Vernon always made you feel this way, an uneasy feeling paired with his low voice.

"Yeah, I can see that” and Vernon smiles, dude the cat really looks like Sebastian. God - in that exact moment Vernon knows that his life is fucked up, he is picking a stray cat when the next 3 weeks he will be jumping from airplane to airplane. But look at him, Vernon can't leave Seb in a freaking paddock, in the end of the week everything will be gone.

"So? Which one? I'm pretty sure we can try just telling Minho you went rogue as the third option but…"

"The heartthrob one just-" Vernon can feel his forehead itch and the beginning of a headache. He can't do a heartthrob bit. What is he talking about? "Just show me the way."

"I need your keys," you say to Vernon, hand open in his direction "First we need a box and a towel. We can't let little Seb on the loose."

"He is a little difficult, though. Pretty sure he won't stay in the box," Vernon tells you already giving you his key.

"I think I can steal a few eggs for him on the way. If they are boiled, it won't be a problem. He seems hungry enough."

And Vernon actually plays with Seb until you arrive, a box filled with Vernon's towel - probably the one he used this morning, and a plastic plate full of eggs. And then you are already dragging Vernon around to the second task - the heartthrob bit. And Vernon thinks about how quick on your feet you are - figuratively, and literally, you walk really fast. Later, you tell him that is a job thing, not a you thing. Apparently to be an F1 engineer you need to think fast, walk quickly, and solve everyone's problems.

Vernon did the heartthrob bit - it actually ended up with the newbie taking Seb to the vet, you gave her a to-do list (1 - check his paw, 2 - check for fleas, 3 - don't forget the shots!!!) and Vernon's credit card. But Vernon still with a weird taste in his mouth. How did you know the newbie had a crush on him? That's totally weird.

But hey the trainee actually found a vet, and she brings Seb back with shots and a bath. And now Vernon is staring at his cat, thinking about how if he needs to call the hotel to check about the animal policy, maybe he could do the heartthrob bit to the hotel manager. Or he could leave Seb unattended, he could eat something, chew his race boot, or - then Vernon hears a knock, which is weird of course because Vernon doesn't actually receive visits in the motor home, people know that Vernon is sensitive about that - no fans, no press, no knocking when he is in the motorhome.

"Hi," you say as soon as Vernon opens his door, "just came to see the little guy."

"Oh, yeah sure," of course it was you, the only person who doesn't actually care about Vernon’s word and maybe well-being, but Vernon kind of understands, Seb is cute, "he looks tired tho."

"It's okay, I just came to give him some love." You say one digit going between Seb’s ear, squatting on the floor, letting Seb chill in his place, "Are you going to the hotel?" 

"I don't know,” Vernon scratches his kneck because it is true, he doesn’t actually have any idea what he is about to do, maybe he can take his race boots and everything essential so Seb doesn't chew on it, "I need to go but I can’t leave him alone but also I can’t sleep on the couch, it will fuck up my neck and also can’t just not sleep."

"You can go, I can sleep here on the bed, not a problem." You say sitting on the floor, Seb little groggy but wake, you pick him up and put him on your lap, and he just purr. What the hell? His cat is purring? For another person? What?

"I can’t let you do that,” he can’t because his cat is already in love and because he also knows that his motorhome bed is just uncomfortable. 

"Don’t worry, we are just-" you say finally looking at Vernon’s eyes, "co-parenting" You say and Vernon feels like a bomb just dropped, and the whole humanity just vanished, he can hear a pin drop.

"Co-pareting? A cat?" Vernon says like his brain is not really functioning.

"Yeah Vernon,” You start, and Vernon can see a small smile across your face, “people have different family arrangements. You, me, and Seb, divorced people with a kid, it's okay." 

"Divorced?" Vernon actually lets out a laugh, a scoff really. Why are you trying to mess with him ? This is not even close to normal.

"Yeah we are not on great terms but we sacrifice for him."

Vernon leaves - not because you said he could, not because you found a solution, but because it was the right thing to do for his performance really. Vernon leaves because his neck is a prized possession, and because he needs to sleep , he needs his best reaction time. And Vernon is an athlete. People may say that driving a car is not a sport, but people don’t know how much the g-force makes his neck almost break. But when Vernon lays in bed with his special pillow, Vernon can’t actually sleep. His mind goes back to his motorhome, to his just-for-stretching bed, and never actually sleeps. His mind, Vernon finds out, is going back to you sleeping in that awful bad, to the way you treat the little cat like it can break, and the way that every time your hand goes against the cat's fur Venon can actually feel the love.

Vernon is so fucked.

He starts to think that Seungkwan is actually right.

And Vernon can't actually sleep because you are tormenting his mind and Seungkwan's voice telling him 'I told you so' echoes in his mind.

Even tho not getting the eight-hour sleep Vernon gets what his system needs to be quick on his reactions -  Wonwoo and Seungcheol actually crash in front of him, debris over his head and Vernon has control enough to just not crash in the crash in the narrows streets of Monaco. Nightmare, really. Vernon finishes in third because of it, and even tho he is in the podium, he can't actually feel happy about it.

Maybe that's really why Vernon can't have his car with a fucked up wing because it can mean life and death. Later that day he makes sure to go check with both drivers - halo is ugly as fuck but saves lives.

Vernon is thankful that he doesn't have time to actually think about life and death because you are shoving him into a funny bag and telling him to put Seb inside and telling him that you actually are about to sit next to him. So Vernon ends up with a cat bag on his lap, Seb strangely chills about everything, your hand going inside the bag just to stroke his fur.

He ends up sleeping the flight, which is only about 1h40 minutes, but Vernon feels like he needed that nap.

The perception of time in the world of F1 is really truly bizarre. Vernon is always running, always thinking about how he can go faster, even when he is doing the press talk. Minghao walks faster, and explains everything for Vernon in 3 sentences, if it is a sponsor or if it is a journalist, if he needs to actually talk about the car, or if it is a 'content' bit. 

But when Vernon is going around the paddock and see you leaning against Jeonghan smile bright and full Vernon actually stops on his track, it is late, and everything is figured out in the paddock why the hell are you and Jeonghan laughing about?

"Come on, Vern," Minghao calls him, making his neck turn. "Come on, we have three more, and if I don't arrive in time for my dinner with Mika, she is going to kill me."

So Vernon lets Minghao drag him across the paddock. But his mind is still on the scene, you leaning and smiling against Jeonghan, and Vernon doesn't want to, but he feels jealous. He wants to be Jeonghan so fucking bad.

Vernon really doesn't have much time to think about it, he needs to sleep, watch his water intake, and think about his neck - his neck is his most important body part as a f1 driver, and he did think his neck was feeling a little funny. But every time Vernon sits and has time to himself, his brain conjures the image of you and Jeonghan in his eyelid.

Vernon doesn't think it was because of his neck or because his sleep was extremely shitty but the next day, his car crashes against a brick wall. Not great. Not ideal. Not fun either. So Vernon does what he needs to do. Even if he feels fine and got out of the car on his own, he needs his trip to the hospital. Turns out a few hours later, the medical team is sure that Vernon is not dying, but he may have a concussion.

When Vernon is back in his motor home to pick Seb back to the hotel (this time he actually made sure it was okay with the hotel's policy) he founds you lying on his useless motor home bed.

"Hey," you say getting up the bed "are you okay?"

"Yeah yeah," Vernon drops his bag on the floor and sits down by your side. "Just a concussion."

"Okay," you say, looking at Vernon, like actually looking at him searching for something. "I was scared it wasn't a pretty scene, Vernon."

"I know, but I'm okay," but Vernon is so so tired, he is okay and he feels okay but he feels the urge to just lie in this horrible bed and just stay in it, he doesn’t even care about his neck really - he can call for physiotherapy or something. 

"Still, the whole team was worried, you don’t need to act like it wasn’t scary,” you say and Vernon just feels so heavy, like his whole body is made of bricks, even tho he is ok with it, he is used to it really, but the crash still takes a tool on his body "and you should have gone directly to the hotel"

"I was just picking Seb up," Vernon just lies on that horrible bed and it doesn’t really seem that bad, or he is just so tired that even lying on the floor seems like a good option now. His mind is tired too - Vernon can’t even think.

"You didn't need to do that. You could've ringed me up, you know, co-parenting,” you say, voice small, and Vernon's hazed mind almost doesn’t catch it.

"Yeah," Vernon scoffs. Really, he didn’t even think about texting you,  "I don't think I have your number"

"Oh shit," You say picking up Vernon's phone and putting it in front of his face to unlock his phone, "ok gonna save my number you need to send me Seb pics I don't think you should bring him up, we have a week off you are probably going back to England right? You should hire someone to go see him daily or-" 

Vernon just feels the urge to actually kiss you. You are just there, cat on your lap, thinking about how Vernon shouldn't bring Seb around anymore, you are so so worried about his health and if he is getting stressed, and you go on about how Vernon just needs to let him rest in his place in England even tho it would be super hard for you because you are getting used to distress, every work day you pop up in Vernon motor home to say hi to the cat - and to Vernon, it all feels like a freaking lullaby, he actually nestles himself in the bed, searching for the better position to just sleeps. 

"See," you say to Vernon when you see how dozed off he is "you never pay attention." 

"I am paying attention," Vernon answers, eyes still shut but not actually sleeping. 

"You are not. You are zoomed out," You say, lying on his side, legs dangling out of the bed.  "What were you thinking?"

"Nothing really," Vernon says because he is not really thinking about anything concrete really, his brain is all over the place.

"Vern," you actually whine, "I thought we were becoming friends parenting the same kid"

"We are becoming friends" Vernon laughs because that is weird right? “I have your phone now we are definitely friends”

"See? So tell me, what's on your mind lately?" You try again, but Vernon just hums."You seem actually stressed lately. Is Minho bothering you? I  know the results are not great, but i promise we are trying" 

"I know, I know, don't worry about that." And Vernon feels actually bad because it is the first time he can feel that you are a little guilty, no scratch that, tired? Vernon can’t really catch the feeling, but he knows that you care. 

“I am not worried about that, I care about the results but you crashed today, the med team said you may have a concussion, and I don’t know if you are just zooming out in an ok way or zooming out in a concussion-induced way.” 

“It’s not the concussion the hospital let me go, it is just, I’m just tired” Vernon feels your hand on his hair, petting him, almost like you do with Seb, and Vernon just let himself sleep feeling the affection in the way your fingers travel in his skull. 

The thing is, even when Vernon is in his house in England he doesn't really feel at home, because it is a company provided apartment, and to be fair Vernon didn't put a lot of effort in it. So in his week off Vernon tries to focus on his physical training, on his neck, on his diet, on sleeping, but every time his phone vibrates Vernon just feels giddy and excited because 80% of the time it is just you reacting to Seb's pics Vernon sent.

Vernon tries not to think about how fast you answer his messages or how sometimes you send audio snips, and Vernon doesn't feel angry - he always hated audio message god. Vernon also hated calls but one night he actually video calls you and you are already in bed but you said you wanted to say goodnight to Seb but you and Vernon spends more than an hour chatting about nothing and everything. 

When the time comes, Vernon ponders; leaving Seb behind or actually flying with the cat. So he just calls Boo Seungkwan to babysit Sebastian - the hours of flight and the jetlag would just make him stressed, even tho Vernon thinks he is the worst person ever adopting a cat to just let him stay in an empty apartment even tho Seungkwan will make sure he is eating, and Vernon actually begged 3 times to Seungkwan check Seb's litter box.

To everyone's surprise, Vernon actually gets a pole position. To be honest, even to Vernon and his team it was a surprise, too. But it was a good one. You congratulated him, and that night, you and Vernon called Seungkwan and spent like 45 minutes talking to a cat and cooing together - like parents on a holiday.

Vernon thinks it's kinda weird really - how you two fell into this dynamic of sharing a pet, and in a way, you two turned into friends too. So when Vernon is ready to get out to his car you are the last one to greet him, and Vernon is not really superstitious but he thinks he will make sure that this turns into a new team ritual.

When Vernon crosses the finish line, he feels it - the feeling that Vernon always chased in a way. When he hears the screams and laughs on his radio, he feels he can actually let go and just enjoy. He did. He won a grand prix again.

And when Vernon is showered with champagne, hears his national anthem, and jumps to the crowd he thinks about you. He tries to find you really but Minghao just directs him to the press area.

“Hey,” you say, popping your head in the door crack after knocking on his door. “Heard you were looking for me.”

“Yeah yeah.” And Vernon feels sticky. His whole body is covered in champagne. He is looking like a mess, but god, he is so so happy. “Didn’t see you in the celebration.” 

“I was around. Saw everything, don't worry" You move and close the door acting like you guys didn't accomplish the best thing in the whole world because that's how Vernon feels like he is on top of the world. 

“No no-” Vernon's smile is so big, and he touches your arms, and he actually stops, and he looks at you. “We did! We actually did it!” 

“You did it" you say almost shoving him, but Vernon's hands don't leave your arms - hot and sticky against your skin, "don't need to be humble it was a great race on your side-”

“No no no listen, we both did it. We did it together. We are sharing this," Vernon says - smile still big across his face, he is so sweaty why do you think that seeing Vernon happy is the best thing ever? “Come on, say it”

“We did it” You say smiling, not even because you are happy with his win - you are, you are happy for the team, and you are happy for Vernon, but Vernon is so happy and in a way is so infectious you just can not smile like him.

“We sure did,” and Vernon hugs you, head dropping on your shoulder, “god-”

“What?"

“You smell nice," Vernon says voice muffled.

“Thank you, you smell like really nice champagne," you say with a laugh, god Vernon is so happy, and there is only one thing that would make him happier -

"And-” He tries to master his courage to say, “and I wish I could kiss you.”

When Vernon kisses you, he almost feels the breeze, almost feeling the physical sensations that involve flying, because, in his head, he is already 10 thousand feet high. He feels so out of it that Vernon just let you take what you want for him. God, you want so much. 

Vernon can feel it. He feels in the way your fingers hold his jaw. He feels in the way your mouth goes together, like two pieces made to fit each other. He feels in the way that you react when his hands hold your hips so tightly, whimpering in his mouth.

Vernon is not one to complain about speed, but when his whole world is spinning and everything is going so fucking fast he wishes he could stop the time, make it go backward, make it go slower. 

His whole life, he fought against the clock. If he was two seconds faster if he didn't waste milliseconds in the second curve. Vernon was always running, but now, fuck Vernon wishes he could go slow.

So Vernon chooses to take his time, not hurry. He kisses you slowly. The way that he trails his lips against your jaw is slow, and the way that his hands travel to your ribcage is slow.

"Vernon," you try to call his attention, to make him hurry, to make him speed up, but the only thing that Vernon gives you is a non-committal noise.

And Vernon thinks you are in a fucking trailer, with a not-great bed, and he has one better - bigger and with his trusted neck pillow but everything just shatters when someone knocks on his door.

And when Vernon opens the door and sees Minghao he thinks two things: Minghao is his worst enemy really, Minghao must hate him. The second one? Vernon asks himself how many wins he needs in his career to do a contract clause saying he is never doing press again, if someone asks him to do an interview or youtube content he is allowed to change teams before the end of his contract.

Vernon goes back to everything needs to move fast behavior. You two jump on a plane, and again, Vernon has his week off - while you need to go to Austria to check everything related to the engineering team. So when Vernon arrives and Seb purrs against his leg, he films it and sends it to you. When Vernon is chilling on his bed and Seb acts like Vernon's body is his personal pillow, he films it and sends it to you. When you say you are crying because you miss the cat, Vernon calls you and says you can knock on his door anytime. 

When Vernon arrives in the paddock the first thing he does is ask Jun where you were - meeting room, you had a meeting with Jeonghan and Minho, but when Vernon knocks on the door you are alone.

"You really did it." It's the first thing you say to Vernon.

"Yeah" He shrugs. "it was a promise."

"It looks good on you," you say, sitting in front of him at the table, hand touching Vernon’s hair, feeling the urge to ruffle it. 

"So, like, my last meal was airplane food, so I was thinking about taking you to dinner," Vernon says, and you just think how it is unfair that even tho he is not conscious of it, he is doing the heartthrob thing, the lazy eyes, the small smile, the unkept hair - now blonde.

"Hm-" you try your best to not just throw your papers and forget you have an actual job just because Vernon smiled at you, "I don't know if I am free, actually Minho was talking about going over the strategy with you so-"

"Yeah? Ok, I can call him and say the airplane gave me a headache so," Vernon picks his phone up and starts typing something, "I don't know Austrian food that well but we can always go to an Italian."

"Italian, I prefer Italian," you say, chin resting on your hand and just admiring Vernon. You are pretty sure if you were a cartoon, they would draw you with heart eyes.

"Nice."

You let Vernon wine and dine you. The restaurant was nice, and it was even nicer that you and Vernon sat side by side in low light, and you can just rest your head on his shoulder because you were truly tired and because every time you did that you could actually sniff Vernon a bit, and he smells so so good. 

You guys just chat about everything, and at some point, Vernon actually unlocks his phone and just lets you browse his gallery (90% of it is Seb's pics or videos, and the other 10% were the pics you sent him about your day - a coffee, a building, anything silly that made you smile), and looking at it made your heart melt.

In a silent agreement, you just hop in Vernon's Uber and end up on his hotel bed, with Vernon on top of you. 

Vernon kisses you slowly like he has all the time in the world - and you are weak enough for him, so you don't complain, you don't hurry him. To be honest you don't want him to hurry either, you are enjoying the way Vernon is nested between your legs, the way you can feel his weight on your body, and the way that his hands feel against your neck.

The way Vernon touches you makes you feel treasured, makes your heart full, and makes you want to make him feel the same way, and you try your best.

You try when your hands travel to his biceps, squeezing it the way his hands tighten against your hips. You try when your hand goes through his hair when he kisses your neck. You try when Vernon's hands travel under your shirt and you kiss his cheeks because it's the only place you reach.

Vernon doesn't think, and he doesn't try. He just does, and he accepts what you give him.

When Vernon outright grinds on you and you whimper, Vernon accepts it. When your hands claw at his shirt, he accepts, and when he gets off, you take his shirt off and see you doing the same. Vernon thinks that maybe you gonna give him more than he can take.

You don't rush him, you let Vernon watch you, but you feel rushed, so you get up as well, mouth. chasing Vernon's while you take off your bra. 

The way Vernon holds you makes your mind spin. The way his firm body feels against yours, and how his hands feel against your back. And even though you try, Vernon still kisses you slowly.

Vernon holds you when he makes you lie on the bed, "baby lemme just-" he says, giving your hips a small kiss, and opening the button of your pants, when he takes your pants off you can feel his digits traveling against your leg and you are sure he can feel the goosebumps on your skin.

Vernon's fingers close against your ankle, and Vernon brings it against his mouth, "Vern " you try to call him, and you feel dumb enough that you just beg. And Vernon kisses you again, one hand on your chest and the other grabbing your hips.

And you think you can take slow when Vernon is on top of you, legs tangled, his lips now on your neck. Every time your hips move together Vernon hums against your skin and you wish he was naked already. But when Vernon's lips find your chest you can't really complain because you feel so lost, he takes one of your nipples in your mouth, and he gives attention to the other one too, taking your nipple between two fingers and toying with it

When Vernon releases your breast with a pop you remember to call him, "Vern please"

"What?" He says hands toying with your panty line, digits hot against your hips.

"Your pants," you say, feeling your mouth dry, body buzzing.

"Oh right," Vernon says and you already feel remorseful when Vernon detaches his body from yours. 

You try to reach Vernon with your hands, palms against his skin, on his chest, on his abs, on his thighs. Everywhere - trying to placate the lack of the feeling of his body against yours. 

When Vernon finishes getting his pants off he holds your head, hand against your nape and jaw and he kisses you, and you feel a little better thinking he suffered like you did in those milliseconds that your bodies have been apart from each other.

And Vernon did, and when he stops to look at you, to really look, tracing his thumb against your mouth and you open just enough for your tongue to lap at his digit Vernon thinks he is going crazy. 

God, you are just so pretty on his bed, hair messy, trails of his kiss against your skin. Vernon knows he is so fucking lucky, and if he could he would stop the time, he would treasure every second - he would go so fucking slow he would make the clock go backward. You, however, don't really care, you just touch Vernon, hand under his underwear giving his dick a few pumps while Vernon's hands leave an imprint on your ribcages.

Vernon helps you a little, one hand on your hips and another one lowering his underwear, his dick finally free. When Vernon looks down, he can see how red his skin is - a blush coloring his chest, he can also see how your thumb just goes smoothly against his cockhead and Vernon thinks he might go insane.

"Do you need to-" Vernon asks while trying to return the feeling, hand going to your clothed pussy, pressing against it and making you whimper.

"No, no, I am ok," You say, almost in a way to make Vernon hurry up, "You can just fuck me."

"Yeah yeah ok," Vernon says, and you can feel the way his dicks enters you while Vernon's tongue lick his lips.

Vernon fucks you slowly, body pressed against yours, one of his hands holding your head - almost pressing you against his, his lips never leaving your cheek. And it is almost excruciating - the way Vernon fucks you, so slowly and yet so fucking good.

You try to tell him in the way your hands hold his neck, the way you feel his shoulder blades under your hands, the way you want to touch the expanses of his back. 

It's good, and you could live like that - in Vernon's warm embrace. But you are feeling desperate enough so you just beg, "Vern, faster", and not a second late Vernon is fucking you harder. He picks himself up, knees on the bed, holding your legs on the side of his waist. And god he hits you so deep, you just need a little more.

"Fuck you are so hot," Vernon says almost there when he sees your hand toying with your clit.

"I am so close," You say to him and you can feel how his hands tighten against your thighs, how he picks up his pace, how he fucks you harder.

And then it washes over you, and it hits Vernon - because of the way he continues to fuck you after it, but then you can feel his body against yours, his mouth chasing yours, and you just laugh between kisses because yeah, Vernon is a lazy kisser, that just how he is, but goddamn you love it.

In that weekend Vernon makes a ritual of kissing you, he kisses you every time he can really, but he makes a point of stealing a kiss before the free practice - in his motorhome. He does it again before the race, he ends up in second place. He kisses you again when you jump at him saying that he is the best - and he wants to argue because he just ended in second place, but it's you so he just takes it.

When Vernon is showered, clean, and not sticky from champagne he sees you sleeping in his horrible motorhome bed, and he just can't let you - you guys have a flight to catch.

"Hey, come on let's go home, Seb is missing you," Vernon says trying to wake you up.

[deafeningbasementcolor]

Go Ahead and Fall- Yandere! Alien x Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Nonhuman, Mind Control, Bodily harm for reader, Violence, Alien Invasion, Mentions of parental estrangement, Reader breaks a leg

Please do not interact with my works if you are not over the age of eighteen.

"Somethings wrong, Daddy. I know you don't want anything to do with me, but I need you to-" The pleading words are cut off by a smile gracing your father's face. "Of course. I am your father, after all. Come on inside, I will keep you safe." A shiver goes down your spine.

That wasn't how your father would respond. He never would talk so formally for one, nor would he have such a kind paternal look to his face as he moves aside to allow you to enter his home. The inside is suspiciously free of the drug paraphernalia that was scattered across the coffee table last time you dared to visit. Instead, on the coffee table sits two cups of coffee. They're full, freshly made. Your father lives alone.

"Nevermind." You mutter, taking a step back. That serene smile is still on his face.

"Nonsense. I insist you come in." You take another step back. He follows. You take off running. He's about to catch you when you reach his truck at the end of the driveway, grabbing the handle. The door opens for you, the truck not locked, and you slam the door into him. You climb up and in, and you aren't super religious but someone up there is on your side because the keys are sitting in the ignition still. You turn the truck on before he can get the driver door back open, rearing out of the driveway.

The second you turn out of his neighborhood, you can't help but feel a sense of paranoia. You turn out to be correct in that, because a minute later three police cars begin to follow you. They turn on the sirens and yet follow you at an almost polite pace. More mind controlled zombies then.

You had been dealing with this all day, people with odd interactions trying to lure you into their arms. It had culminated into this.

You felt like this was a bad dream, as you turned onto the bridge. Your friend Isaac lived like a hermit right by it. Maybe he wouldn't be a puppet. Unfortunately, to get to him, you'd have to get past the damn two-way bridge that went over a fast flowing river. Not the smartest move, but in your defense you didn't have much time to strategize.

The police cars stop behind you, blocking off the road in case you try to backtrack. There's no other cars on the bridge. Ahead, you see three new police cars turn at the other end of the bridge, turning sideways and blocking the exit. What the fuck.

You stop, putting the car in park. Neither side has cops getting out of the cruisers. They seem to be satisfied just in the fact that they've blocked you in. You climb out of the car and run to the side of the bridge. Down below is the river. It's a scary drop, making you swallow bile as you consider it.

Suddenly, the cops climb out of their cars, walking calmly down the road towards you. "Do not panic." They call out to you.

"A-are-....are you gonna hurt me?" You ask, and you're surprised they can hear you. "No, of course we will not hurt you. We are just going to bring you to your mate. He has been waiting for you. Do not be frightened."

That just makes you panic more. You climb the rails of the bridge, tears pricking your eyes as you look down at the rush of the water. Is it even deep enough for you to jump without breaking something? But you feel like the only choice you have is to chance it.

Just as you climb over, clinging to the outside of the rail and preparing yourself to let go, you hear the sound of...something below you. You chance a glance down, palms sweaty against the rail as you crane your neck.

Something is in the river. You see it, the water beginning to part around whatever is there, and suddenly it stands. It's taller than any possible human, wider too.

How the fuck was it hiding in the river?

It holds out two blobs from it's formless body, and they turn to arms and hands. The hands are large enough to wrap around your body, held with their palms upwards for you to land into. A gigantic face is created, with human features....besides the fact that the eyes are pure black and the smile that forms is all sharp teeth.

"Come, my little mate. You have given me quite the chase. It is time to let me love you."

You scream, trying to haul yourself back over the rails and back onto the bridge. It's too late. The cops are there. How did they get there so fast? They smile serenely at you as they all reach down to peel your hands off.

You fall backwards, with a rush of air around you. You're too stunned to even scream, landing in one of those gigantic palms painfully. One of your legs lands beneath you. Agony burns through you, and you begin to wail in pain. The angle its in is all wrong. You don't think you could even get up to try and run, if the fingers of the hand weren't curling up to keep you contained in the palm.

"Oh, poor little human. You have broken one of your legs. Such a fragile thing. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

[oneofthetorturedpoets]

Casual (part 2/?)

You genuinely thought you would just be able to have a one night stand with Melissa and move on, but one night turned into three and now you were having to return to your regular life, unsure of where you and Melissa stand.

-

You turn your car off, grabbing your bag before getting out. You pull your shirt down and prepare yourself for the day. You look up and see Melissa doing the exact same thing a few parking spots away from you, she turns her head, spotting you. You give her a shy smile and wave in her direction, she returns the smile and wave before shutting her car door. You both walk towards the school entrance, not saying a word. You manage to walk fast than her, beating her to the door. You grab the handle, pulling the door open for her. She slightly quickens her walk, muttering a thank you. You both walk towards the break room. The awkwardness eating you up inside.

"So-" You both start at the same time, you laugh.

"You go first" You glance over and see her nervous expression.

She looks over to you. "So" She smiles at you, making your heart speed up. "I had a lot of fun last weekend and... I'm just wondering if we can keep it between us? I don't want the whole school knowing my business."

You wanted the same thing, why should your dirty laundry be spread across the elementary school? "yeah, of course. I was thinking the same thing."

She pats your shoulder with a tight lipped smile. "Great."

-

You hear a knock on your door, Melissa walks into your class. "Hey, y/n" She walks over to you, setting a Tupperware in front of you.

You smile, knowing exact what was in the dish. "I've been craving this all month."

She nods. "I know, I made it the other night and forgot that I had it in my fridge."

"Thank you, Mel." You stare up at her, unknowingly driving her crazy. She squeezes her thighs together

She can't take her eye off you and neither can you. The eye contact goes on for longer than reasonable. "Do you want to come over tonight?"

She never invites people over to her house, except for Barbara. "Sure, yeah, that sounds fun."

-

"This is amazing- you are amazing." You say as Melissa runs her warm fingers gently up and down your arm. The light from the sun turning her hair into a fiery red.

She smiles at you. "Me too"

You roll over, snuggling closer to her. She wraps her arms loosely around your torso. "Y/n?"

you hum. "You've been an amazing friend and I don't want that to change."

You can't help the frown that forms on your face, luckily you were facing away from her. "You want to stay just friends?"

"well, yeah? I mean we haven't really talked about it, I just kind of figured. You know I'm not dating right now, I just need to let off some steam." She states, matter-of-factly.

You fight back your tears of disappointment. "Yeah, you're right"

"We can still have fun, I like the idea of having a friends with benefits relationship with you." You get up, trying to cover your naked body, you felt too vulnerable. "Hey, where are you going?"

You throw your shirt on. "I just think it's wrong to lay in bed with you if were just friends"

"We don't have to be 'just friends' though." Once your clothes are on you reach for the door but Melissa stops you. "Why can't we just keep it casual?"

"I'm just not that kind of person, Melissa. I thought you would've taken that into consideration before bringing me into your bed."

-

You haven't seen Melissa in two weeks, she went on a trip to visit some family and you didn't realize how much you crave to just see her, even from a distance. You know you left abruptly the last time you saw her but you wished she would've texted you while she was away. You get a notification that she posted on her instagram story, you click the notification faster than you'd like to admit. The post is a picture of a dish she's cooking in her kitchen. You look at the time she posted it and it said 'an hour ago'. You jump up, throwing on whatever coat you find and rush over to her house.

Once you pulled up to her house, you sat for a second, contemplating your actions. You weren't the kind of person to have a no-feelings relationship, especially when you already have feelings for her. Was it selfish of you to want to go with want she wants so you can have just a part of her? Before you knew it, you were already walking up to her door. You knock on the door. A few seconds went by... Then a minute... Then two. Maybe it was the universe telling you it was a bad idea. You defeatedly march back to your car, as you went to open your car door, Melissa pulled up next to you in her car. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.

She got out, walking over to you. She admired the way your ears and nose were red from the winter winds. You pulled your coat tighter, shivering from the cold. "Y/n.. hey." She pulls you in for a quick hug. "Look.. I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable in any way, I should've talked to you about my intentions before sleeping with you. I really love being friends with you and I'm sorry if I screwed that up."

You shake your head. "No, I get it. I mean we're both great friends and maybe it would be fun to add some benefits to it" She smiles widely, excitement taking over her features.

"I'd like that..." She pauses. "Do you want to come in? I was trying out a new dish but fucked it up so I went out to buy some cheesesteaks. I got two, one to put away for tomorrow but if you're hungry, I don't mind giving it to you." You nod, following her up the path to her home.

[vani-ash]

Kim meets Porchay while Chay is working his minimum wage job in fast food or something, he instantly finds Chay adorable and keeps going back to Chay's work, trying to talk to him/work up the courage to ask him on a date. Kim is so down bad, he even gets a job there. It's disgusting and Kim lasts exactly 1 hour, but in that time he manages to ask Chay on a date.

During that time Kim worked in the kitchen, and he was okay making the food until he realized the deep fryers were messing with his hair and his skin started to feel disgusting so he kept complaining and not wanting to go near the deep fryers, he was then moved to try working the cash registers, but he couldn't handle having to be nice and eventually Chay had to stop him from jumping over the counter to fight a rude customer.

Eventually Kim manages to get a date with Chay, their first date is low-key and easy, they go see a movie or something easy. They easily talk and get closer.

Then Kim decides he wants to take Chay out on a really fancy and nice date so he sets up a reservation for one of his families fancy restaurants, and on the way there in the car Chay is like, 'why are we going to the fancy part of town?'

And Kim's like 'oh I wanted to take you somewhere nice'

and Chay's like "I hope it's not one of those fancy restaurants where everyone is all dressed up I can't stand rich people"

Kim breaks out into a sweat 'What.'

Chay starts going on a whole rant about how he hates all rich people and eat the rich and whatever,

and then Kim has to find a way to tell Chay how they are going to one of those fancy rich restaurant and when they get there, and they are served quickly and Chay can see all the staff giving him a look as he isn't dressed right for the restaurant but Kim tells him to ignore them,

But Chay gets kinda suspicious and is like why are they being so nice to you? omg are you one of those rich people?

Kim has to make up some lie about how he won the reservation in a contest or something, and Chay believes him, for the moment.

And then when they order food the menu is all in English or French or some other language and Chay cant read it so he starts making fun of rich people and Kim's is like yeah haha I also definitely have no idea what this menu says…

Chay has to use the bathroom and the waiter comes while Chay is gone so Kim just orders what he thinks Chay would like, he also orders a really expensive and fancy wine.

When it comes Chay is like is this part of the contest too? Because he knows from Porsche that the wine is expensive, and Kim has to be like uhhhh yeah it's part of the contest don't worry

Anyway they get their food and start eating and Chay is making fun of all the cutlery and is like who even needs this much cutlery omg rich people are so stupid lmao and Kim is like yeah ha ha, but in his mind he is dying cause there is no way he is going to be able to pretend he is poor forever he could barely handle an hour in a minimum wage job,

What if he wanted to invite Chay to his place? Where do poor people live? Does he need to buy a run down apartment complex? and Chay hadn't questioned Kim on his car cause Kim only access to one of his cars at the moment which was thankfully his most normal one but did that mean Kim wouldn't be able to drive any of his fancy cars with Chay?

Anyway Kim uses the wrong cutlery on purpose to match Chay and not expose himself as rich but for some reason Kinn is also in the restaurant that night.

Kinn sees Kim eating with the wrong cutlery, and he just HAS to get up and come over to Kim, and he just starts going on this whole thing about how Kim is acting like a savage for using the wrong cutlery and how Kim is embarrassing himself and then Kinn also noticed Kim is dressed in like jeans and goes on about that too, the whole time Kim is just glaring at Kinn trying to telepathically communicate that if Kinn fucks this up for him he will be sicking Thankhun on Kinn.

Somehow, Kinn never reveals that they are related despite thinking Kims death glare was just his normal face, In Chays mind he thinks a random rich guy came up to them and started lecturing them about proper dining etiquette unprompted.

Once Kinn leaves and Chay is like 'omg this is why I hate rich people, they always think they are better than everyone else, promise me if you win another contest not to take me to another fancy restaurant.'

Anyway, Kim spends months pretending he is poor, for the first few months he just always insist they go to Chay's instead of his. But then he does end up buying a run down apartment complex, and even when he gets to pick the nicest apartment in the building its still horrible. He tries to make it look lived in but he doesn't really know what to put in it that a poor person would have so he leaves it mostly unfurnished.

Anyway because of all this Chay thinks Kim is even poorer than him and so Chay always insists on paying for Kim on dates (when Kim manages to pay before him Chay gets upset cause he thinks Kim is spending too much on him that he should really be keeping for himself!), or he'll buy Kim like little trickets and things or something but then Kim keeps all of Chay's gifts at his actual apartment so Chay thinks Kim keeps getting robbed or something.

Eventually Chay finds out Kim is rich and he does not take it well.

But once they work it out and get back together Chay takes full advantage of Kim's eagerness to buy everything he wants but to Chay that just means like being able to order more then one thing or something other than the cheapest item at a restaurant,

while still pretending to be poor Kim gets Chay like designer clothes or really nice jewelry or something for Chay's birthday and Chay lowkey thinks Kim is either a really good thief or a scam artist or something but also he's into it

[fashionteahouse]

I just wanna start with saying Im absolutely obsessed with out of your league!!🤍🤍

I keep seeing these videos on TikTok where the girl will put stickers all over the guy and his car or rhinestones everywhere and I think its so cutie😂 so could I please request a Paul x reader where they go in a road trip and she does that and she also likes to do all kinds of girly stuff with him like face masks and his makeup?

omg thank youuu I appreicate you!! yes you can <3 hope you enjoy :)

keep driving - paul x reader

One hand was on the steering wheel as the seat of the driver was leaned back, and the car rumbling beneath you both. Signs, trees, and life itself fleets fast as the windows pass it by. Whizzing by with a blur.

Leaning forward, you rummage through the bag that was resting by your feet in the passenger seat. You shift through the items, lifting up a sheet of freshly bought stickers. You tear it open as you look over the fun designs.

Not knowing what else to do, you decide to peel one off, letting the sticky side stay stuck to your finger. You keep your eye on the sticker that's on your finger as you place it next to the vent of the car. Another goes on the door handle. You look and grin to yourself as the stickers stood out and proud against his car.

Flickering his eyes between the road in front of him and you, he smirks as he catches the sight of more stickers being out up. Huffing out a quiet laugh, "What are you doing?" he asks you with curiosity dripping in his throat.

You don't say anything but show a small smile as you carefully place a sticker on his cheek. You smooth it on with the one finger as you both chuckle at the action, while he shakes his head.

The road still was lengthy as you both started ahead. You put the entire sticker pack on the dashboard. You began to think about how stickers would look on the radio. You pull out a different sheet of stickers and place them on the radio buttons and the exterior.

Tearing your eyes from your work, you notice the plain, white shirt that Paul has on. You place the last sticker on the sleeve of the shirt. He looks down at what you did, chuckling at the placement once more.

"You gotta do the other side." he teases as he looks at you and lifts his arm a little.

"When you get gas. Keep driving." you say to him, not wanting him to be distracted, even though, you freshly decorated the interior of his car.

With no more stickers left, you decided that you wanted to have some type of care to your skin since you weren't at home. Wanting to buy some more when you guys make your stop, you pull out a hydrating face mask. You figured with this long trip, your skin could look and feel good.

"Want one?" you say to him, pointing a finger to your face.

"Don't make me crash."

"Never." you tell him and he slows down as you hurry up and put it on.

Peeling yours off, you pull down the mirror and inspect your skin. You were glad you did it. You peel Paul's off and lean back and enjoy the rest of the ride. Arriving at a stop to get some gas, you take in the scenery of your surroundings.

You put lip lubricant on and you glance over at Paul as you mush your lips together to spread the serum. You notice his lips. He gets the money out and goes to open the car door but you place a hand on his arm.

"Your lips." you say, smoothing the lubricant over his set of lips, a glimmery shine is now evident to hide the slight chapped lips.

You open the mirror to show him and you look closer at his lips. You take a finger and take the smudge away from his face and gently tell him, "You would look good with an overline."

"What's that?"

You take a wet wipe and glide it over his lips, and pull out your lip pencil. You concentrate closely as you trace the accurate line of his lips and when you are finished, you place the gloss right back over his set of lips.

"Like that." you tell him. Paul peers in the mirror and takes a look at it. Tilting his face to check out the work you've done. He gives you a look and huffs out a laugh. You lean in and pull back with a loud smack and he places a hand above your chest.

"What?" you ask him, wanting to know what's wrong.

"You're going to mess it up." he says to you like he's surprised that you didn't get the idea.