#I think Bad tried to explain too much too often

[cazzyf1]

The other day on my tiktok I created a simple post about how James Hunt is more than just the Playboy persona that is associated with him. This flew over someone's head who commented about how he was a Playboy. I responded explaining the point of the video but instead they doubled down saying that James didn't care about F1 only about partying.

So today I went through some of my books and gathered a load of quotes to show the James Hunt that most people do not know about, the one outside of the Playboy perception. I've posted it on tiktok but figured I'll upload it here as well so the true James Hunt can reach more people and slowly we can dismantle the reputation 'Rush' gave him ❤️

TW: Depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms/addictions

When you think of James Hunt you think of the 'playboy'. The guy who partied, drank lots, took drugs and slept with lots of women. Its true he did that, and a lot but to dismiss him as just that is wrong. He was a good driver, a person who tried his best, a kind man who cared for human & animal rights.

The next few slides I've compiled quotes from a few books and website to show what kind of person he actually was and what he went through in life and that less people will dismiss him as just a Playboy.

James Hunt's first marriage was rocky because James was already very involved in his addictions and he knew he didn't love Susy because he felt that he wasn't capable of love. But he felt responsible for her and wanted to look after her. Here is his own opinion from his book ->

"It was really THE problem. I thought that marriage was what I wanted and needed to give me a nice stable and quiet home life, but in fact it wasn't and the key mistake was mine. I really wanted to go racing on my own, and it wasn't much fun for Susy to sit at home and wait for me all that time. It was also a terrible hassle for her to come racing because race meetings were probably the most relaxing time in my schedule. The rest of the time you tend to be leaping on aeroplanes once a day and that made it even worse because it's bad enough organizing one person to get on an aeroplane. Organizing two gets to be twice as much hassle. It got to the point where it was a problem for Susy to come travelling and a hell of a deal for her to stay at home. It was making life miserable in the extreme for her and since I felt responsible for her it was making me miserable too. So we had agreed to split up and then Richard Burton came along and solved all the problems. We had had an immensely successful marriage because I learnt an awful lot about myself and life and I think Susy did too. We all ended up happy, anyway, which is more than can be said for a lot of marriages" - p14 Against All Odds

Much is said about James Hunt and the ladies he kept company, and without knowing anything about James you might assume the worst, but here's some quotes about what he was actually like with the ladies ->

"I don't usually have sex before a race because I am very definitely concentrating -I find that it is the communication between two people that makes it worth- while, and before a race I am pretty uncommunicative. However, if say I have an hour or so to spare before dinner on the night before a race then I can enjoy the physical release. But I will only do it with someone who is fully understanding" - p15 Against All Odds

"He was always attentive to his partners needs. Indeed much of his satisfaction came from giving pleasure. The only problem, some of them confessed, was that his desire to please often out-stripped their needs" - p264 James Hunt: The Biography

"I was sure he was gay, because he never made a move on me for so long" - p278 Jane Birbeck, long time partner, James Hunt: The Biography

"He missed the actual skirmish - he was inside getting drinks at the bar - but had to be forcibly restrained from going after the policeman who hit his girlfriend" - p284 James Hunt: The Biography

James Hunt had many affairs in his time, because he had become an addict to many things including women (more on this later) He was aware of his and it plagued James that he couldn't control it ->

"One evening she returned to their London home to find James in tears. He was tormented by feelings of guilt caused by his lust for other women. He confessed the full extent of his unfaithfulness, that it was unfair to her and that for her sake they couldn't remain a couple. It wasn't that he was bored with her, but that his desire for other women was insatiable and uncontrollable. He held Jane in his arms and they both wept" - p320

One thing that helped James in his life time was his love for animals especially his pet dog Oscar. Here are some quotes about his love for animals and how far he would go to help protect them ->

"I think in a way Oscar was the child James never had at that stage. He was a remarkable dog, no question, but James thought a lot about animals and their requirements and was very concerned about their needs. He gave Oscar the very best treatment and also was keenly intrested in the welfare of other dogs. He would look at a dog, wonder if it's owner was treating it well and bringing it up properly and if the dog was getting everything out of life that it could" - p281

"Before he came to know James better, the journalist Nigel Roebuck was pleasantly surprised by an incident involvinged stray dog. It was late in the evening after a Grand Prix and tha teams were packing up to leave when James, while talking to Roebuck, saw the dog wandering around the paddock, shiver-ing and obviously very hungry. Roebuck, also sensitive to the needs of an animal in distress, went with James to several of the team motorhomes where they got food and fed the dog. But that wasn't the end of it as far as James was concerned. He insisted that they should take the dog up to the race control centre.

Roebuck: 'He took the dog in there and would not leave until he was sure it would be looked after. James actually made this official sign a piece of paper saying he would take care of the dog and see that it was housed and properly cared for. I was very impressed with this. James was probably one of only a handful of people on this entire planet who would even give that sort of thing a second thought." - p281

"He also thought the wild animals residing on his estate should be left alone. If vermin had to be controlled it should be done in the most humane way possible, and he strongly dissaproved of blood sports. The very thought of fox hunting he found horrible and he vowed not to allow it on his property" - p308

James was also incredibly caring towards the young people in his life such as his sons and his younger siblings. Here’s an extract from his first GF about James and his siblings ->

".. the way he expressed his concern for the emotional youngest members of his family:

He really enjoyed looking after them, and just seeing the way the behaved with his little brothers and sisters you knew was instinctive in him. He was always going to be a good father.

One evening he invited her home where he was babysitting Jo Jo, Dave and Tim. When James had tucked them in he left Ping to read them a bedtime story. When Ping came downstairs James asked her if she had helped them say their prayers. When I said no, James said: "Right. You've missed out hugely there. Come on, we'd better go and do it." So they did. His attitude was that he was taught to do that by his parents and it simply had to be done.'

But he also practised what he preached, and he believed in the power of prayer. In the troubled years to come James would pray to God for strength and help, and he eventually passed on the bedtime prayer ritual to his own two boys, to whom he became completely devoted.

During his time with Ping he had talked about having children, and she thinks fatherhood earlier in his life would have prevented James from sinking into his period of decadence.

I felt so sorry for him then because I knew underneath it wasn't the real James doing this. I think he was trying to make life happy, the wrong way. If he had settled down earlier, had a more normal home life with children of his own when he was younger, one could have seen a totally different James.' - p26

James Hunt cared for human rights especially taking a stand against the Apartheids in South Africa. The Apartheids in short was a system of racial segregation. In protest most sports were not going to South Africa but Formula One still was, and James Hunt made it clear his thoughts

->

“We were once covering the South African Grand Prix during the days of apartheid. All of a sudden, and for no particular reason, he launched into an attack on apartheid.

“It was nothing to do with the Grand Prix, nor would it do British-South African relations any good. Our producer pushed a piece of paper across saying: ‘Talk about the race!’

“And then James blurted out on air: ‘Thank God we’re not actually there!”

But simply calling out Apartheid on the air wasn’t enough for Hunt. He sought to have his race commentaries blocked from being broadcast in South Africa, but was unsuccessful.

When that didn’t work, he instead — and secretly — gave financial support from his income as a race broadcaster to groups struggling to end Apartheid in South Africa."

"His deeply compassionate and loving nature was something that, unfortunately, wasn't adequately conveyed to the public, who only ever heard about the sensational side of James Hunt" - p282 John Watson

As mentioned earlier James Hunt was an addict. His playboy lifestyle was his addictions and this is all rooted back to the fact that James Hunt had depression which grew stronger and stronger. He relied on his additions to get rid of his depression which meant he kept doing more and more. Here are some quotes about his struggle with it and eventually how he overcame it ->

"At home James became increasingly introverted, uncommunicative and reclusive. He gave up golf and spent more and more of his time in the aviary tending his budgies. While the parties continued he would often leave the guests to Sarah and closet himself in the aviary for hours on end.

It became obvious that James was very troubled, but only Sarah and his closest friends knew the full extent of the anguish and despair James suffered during his bouts with what he called his 'dippers'.

Black dog' was the term Winston Churchill used for the recurring 'depressions which afflicted him throughout his life. Bubbles Horsley thinks James was 'born with a "black dog" on his shoulder. His racing pushed the "dog" away far enough so that it was no longer visible. But underneath that wonderful joie de vivre, the laughter and enjoying life, he was given to black moods. He was fearful of them and maybe it was that fear that drove him on. Perhaps without it he would never have been World Champion.

'And I think after the initial "honeymoon" of retirement from racing the black dog came and sat on his shoulder and wouldnt go away. So he became more fearful and sought distraction in various ways, through sex and drink and drugs and rock and roll, as it were." - p323

"At home Sarah watched her husband's condition worsen and desperately sought to help him. She thought his depressiond might partly be due to a chemical imbalance that James was born with, a theory that James explored himself. Then, too, to keep his dippers at bay he consumed too much alcohol and marijuana, both of which can temporarily bring relief but over the long term on have depressive effects.

Like others, Sarah felt that another reason for his 'dippers' might have been because he cut off his emotions early in his life and never learned how to open up to people, or to need them. He was essentially a lonely man and his inability to form close relationships made him despair. His depressions further deadened his feelings, and when he was unable to respond emotionally to marriage and children he grew progressively more despondent.

Sarah: 'He was at war with himself. His depressions became Intolerable and towards the end he stopped trying to fight them coming on because he knew they would take over for two days or week. His face would go black and he would take to his bed and stay there, even on Christmas Day. He'd gone to bed two days beforehand and we had Christmas stockings for the boys. I said, Come on, Beast, the boys are waiting." And he said, "Beast, i can't do it." And he was crying" - p333

"When James felt a "dipper" coming on he would go on two- or three-day benders, mostly drinking vodka. He would just keep going and going, which was always a bit terrifying, and after these deep, dark blank days he would suffer real self-loathing. He could forget his trouble with drink, but it always came back.

For many years trying to get rid of his depression was his major concern, which is why he got the budgerigars. He thought it would be such a huge amount of effort that it would distract him and they became an obsession rather than a hobby. He would sit in the aviary for hours, but he would come back still in the grip of gloom. And for a long time he was so down it was very hard to even converse with him." - p326

"He tried different treatments acupuncture, Chinese herbal medicine and looked into every possible theory. He went to different healers, therapists, psychologists, psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, the lot, to try and find the root of his depression. And in the end he cracked it" - p337

"He began to become more diet-conscious and to eat healthy foods. He also consumed information, in books and magazines, on overcoming addictions, and sought more professional help.

He knew he should stop smoking cigarettes and reduce his marijuana consumption, and he told some friends he thought he might be an alcoholic. He worried that his need for women was another form of addiction and feared he might contract AIDS and infect someone else.

John Hogan: 'So he stopped it all. Straightened himself out by absolute willpower. The strength of character of the man enabled him to get out of it. He cut out the cigarettes, the dope and drugs. the booze and the womanising and his sense of priorities became more well-balanced.' - p338

As he started healing himself of his addictions he became serious about F1 again. He always cared for the sport, doing everything he could to race when he was younger and now though he was retired he still commentated and took part in other ways to stay close to the sport ->

"James became serious about strengthening his position in the media side of Formula 1 racing. He took on an internationally syndicated newspaper column and spent many hours gathering information for it. Working with a journalist he applied himself conscientiously to making sure that every word was written to his satisfaction" - p338

James started to heal his relationships as well, becoming an amazing parent to his two boys and finally meeting a woman who helped him feel loved and be able to love after so long of not being able to ->

"The boys were real handfuls to look after but he was awfully good with them and he really fathered and mothered them extremely well. He was always up early in the morning cooking their breakfast and then the four of us would go off salmon fishing. James would fish properly and I would fool around fishing with the youngsters. And then in the evening we used to settle down and he would tell them stories." - p343

A letter James sent to his girlfriend Helen:

"I went to the parents' 50th in a totally negative frame of mind, feeling very much an outsider and wanting the floor to swallow me up. As the day went on, although I remained 'out- side', I could see and feel lots of generous, undemanding love around me. Something changed for me there with my family. Everyone was exuding love and I saw the wonder of it and want to be part of it, but firstly with you.

I realise now that the feeling of not being loved as a child made me close up to any incoming love projected onto me. I do see that I cannot live on without love. You brought it home to me when you pointed out how well I'm doing with the boys. Well I have had to work at that and I've got better at it and I have to do it with you. You are the girl of my dreams. Without you I have no future. I want to make you happy and continue to do so until I die.

All my love for the love of my life,

James"

- p350

Finally James was happy. He was healed from his addictions, in a healthy relationship, had two lovely sons and a job he loved. And best of all he was able to be open with Helen ->

"James confessed to Helen that he was unable to be faithful to anyone in the past because sex was for him just another addiction and he needed women to get his highs. He disliked social gatherings and only had parties or went to them to pick up women. Helen was willing to forgive and forget what went on before, but told him she wouldn't tolerate it in their relationship and he agreed to be faithful to her." - p350

Helen went away on a girls holiday before her and James were going to start trying for children. James proposed to her over the phone on the holiday to which she said yes. But she would never see her finance because he passed away from a heart attack. Unfortunately the previous life he lead caught up to him.

Thank you for reading all of this and I hope you now know more about James Hunt than you already did! It's sad that James is best known now for his unhealthy coping mechanisms for his depression, especially with the film 'Rush' romanticising it. But even if just one person reads all of this it means one more person knows the truth of James Hunt and that makes it worth it ❤️

[shadowslocked]

The worst part about CC!Bad pulling away from the political lore is that he was genuinely so excited for it. Bad WANTED to start beef with Forever, he was practically kicking his feet and giggling about it last stream. He was teasing the chat about wanting angst, and the drama of miscommunications and not understanding each other, and in general was really looking forward to it

And now he's decided to drop this lore thread because of the fandom

It hasn't even been that long since his stream ended.

I hope he sleeps on it and reconsiders, at least decides to do a more lighthearted conflict with Q!Forever, maybe something more petty so he's not just completely abandoning his character's morals but man this just sucks

[elytrafemme]

it’s so strange how many people think i am like an open book about my life? because i feel like that mostly comes from me telling people extremely mild (imo) information and them taking it as a large confession. and like yes i have vaguely alluded to some heavier stuff but it’s like. i don’t know i wish people didn’t go around thinking oh mare doesn’t shut up about her trauma when it’s like the vast majority of events in my life i have never been able to fully tell anyone who wasn’t my therapist and likely never will be able to do that again.

[snekdood]

bitches prolly out here psychoanalyzing my old art on behalf of my abuser to cushion their belief that im a Horrible Person but then dont see the irony when I point out the shitty things my abuser has drawn and how I see it as clear evidence of their mindset and beliefs (of what's okay to do and how to treat people) descending and pairing that along with everything else they've done and it paints a clear picture of how this person got to the point of thinking it was okay to abuse me the way they did and then the people looking for reasons to hate me through my art will act like "they're just drawings !!!" about their art. which one is it. does someones art say something about them or not? or does it only say something about them if you hate them?

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[rosielovesf1]

spilling secrets on stream | LN4

what better place to hard launch a relationship than twitch?

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none!

author's note: it's been so fun thinking up little story ideas and this is the product of one of them. fair warning that it's been forever since i've played fortnite so probably not very accurate when it comes to that 🤦‍♀️ thank youuu for reading and have a great day!!

also my requests are open if you would like to see a certain story/driver!! 🫶

“Hi guys, sorry I’m late,” Lando said, adjusting his headphones as he started the stream. There were a surprising number of people online for this Thursday afternoon, but he had posted on his story that Max would be joining him, so that could explain the popularity. Not that he would ever tell him that. 

“Max is joining now.” He stretched his arms over his head, smirking when the chat quickly noticed the sliver of skin he’d exposed in the simple motion. Oops. “Is Max with you right now? No, chat, I’m in Monaco. How’s offseason? It’s good. I’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.” 

Lando read through and answered a couple more questions until Max’s face popped up on his screen. 

“Hello hello,” Max said, waving to the camera. “How are we, chat? What are we playing?” 

After a couple minutes of debate, they decided on Fortnite. The first round was short lived- Lando got shot pretty much immediately. Now, him and Max were two of ten players remaining, but the sound of the front door opening caused him to turn his focus away from the game. 

“y/n?” Lando called out after muting himself, turning away from the screen to see if his girlfriend had just arrived home. 

“Bro, what are you doing?” Max protested, his character running circles around Lando’s still one. Two other characters spotted them over a nearby hill and started firing immediately, with Max left alone to defend them. “You muppet!” Within seconds, Lando had died, and Max didn’t have enough time to resuscitate him in the midst of defending himself. 

“My bad.” Lando turned back to the screen, laughing at Max’s distress. 

“That was entirely your fault.” Max responded, pausing to look at his phone alert from Lando. 

I think y/n just got back and she doesn’t know I’m on stream. Can you stay on until I get back? 

Even though Lando and his girlfriend were practically living together at this point, staying at each other’s homes almost every night during the offseason, they were yet to make it official in the eyes of the public. Max knew this better than everyone- often having to cover for the couple when they weren’t cautious enough- and smirked as he typed back a yes. Lando took that as a sign to communicate his exit. “Be right back, chat. Don’t be too mean to Max while I’m gone.” 

He opened and shut the door to the room behind him, padding down the soft carpet runner of the hallway. “y/n?” Her bright pink trainers were by the front door, and seeing as he could hear the shower down the hall, she must’ve just come back from a run. 

All of a sudden, music started blasting- a Doja Cat song, Lando knew from y/n's time on the aux whenever they were in the car together. 

“y/n,” Lando laughed, knocking on the bathroom door, “I’m on stream darling.” It wasn’t that he minded the noise, or that the chat would know very quickly that there was a girl in his house (he wasn’t really the Doja Cat type). If it were up to him, he would’ve posted y/n the day they had made it official, four months ago. But they’d decided to wait a bit and enjoy the privacy. 

No response still. He tried the bathroom door handle but it was locked. She must’ve not known he was coming home, Lando thought cheekily to himself. Otherwise, it would’ve been open. He gave up and retreated back to the room with his setup, shooting a quick text over to y/n that he was home. 

Lando settled back into his chair, turning the camera on. “Alright, chat, I’m back. Sorry to leave you with Max.” 

Max raised an eyebrow at the music that filtered in through Lando’s mic, choosing not to comment on it. The chat wasn’t as sly though, with every other comment questioning the source. 

“Didn’t know Lando was a Doja Cat fan. I’m not.” The ambiguous comment sparked even more questions, and Lando just shook his head jokingly as they started another game. As he died for a third time, Max cursing and threatening to find someone better to play with, the music cut and the distant sound of the shower running stopped. 

“Lando?” y/n called out, freezing as she read over his text in the hallway. Lando’s eyes widened and he quickly muted himself, sliding his headphones off. As he stood up he heard y/n's footsteps nearing the door and managed to shut the camera off just in time. 

Lando pulled open the door and the scent of coconut and hibiscus floated in. y/n looked up at him with wide eyes in sweatpants and a stolen Quadrant t-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that you were streaming.” She peeked over his shoulder and her eyes widened at the rapidly scrolling chat, the viewers going crazy about the distinctly female voice they’d overheard. Max had given up at pretending to ignore them and had shut off his camera as well, only adding to the viewers assumptions. 

He pulled her into a hug, mumbling “You smell good.” into her hair as a way of greeting. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly, rocking back and forth. 

“Did they hear me?” 

“Yeah.” They shuffled over to the computer together, her almost afraid to read the chat that was still scrolling at a million miles a minute. Lando read out one comment that said “can Lando’s girlfriend fight?” and raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl next to him. 

“Heck yeah. Look at these muscles. Try me.” She bounced back and forth on her heels, hands up in a boxing stance.

Lando laughed at her, locking her in a headlock that she quickly wiggled out of. “Not fair,” she whined. “Caught me by surprise.” 

He pulled her in front of him to straighten out the locks of hair he’d mussed, and kissed her forehead before looking down at her. “What if we told them about us right now?” 

“You think?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he ran a gentle thumb over it to get her to stop. 

“I think they’re going to love you as much as I do.” She leaned into him at that statement, and he watched her eyes as she seemed to process his statement. 

“Alright,” she still looked hesitant, but brightened up as she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m already wearing the right shirt and everything.” 

“Quadrants #1 fan.” He smiled, pulling her over to the computer. They split the chair so that both of them could sit, and she draped her legs comfortably over his. He rested one hand on her thigh, using the other to restart the stream. “Ready?” 

She nodded, and all of a sudden they were back online. 

“Hi, chat.” Lando smiled, laughing as the comments started pouring in. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to someone. This is my girlfriend, y/n.” 

“Hi, everyone,” y/n said, sporting a smile to match her boyfriend’s. “How are you doing?” 

“Finally.” Max let out a sigh, clicking his camera back on. 

“Thanks for covering for us, Max.” The trio sat and talked for a little bit, y/n answering questions for her from the chat that Lando pointed out every once in a while. They eventually turned the game back on, y/n holding her own and often outranking Max and Lando. In the midst of waiting for a new game to load, Lando wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her side. 

“I’m so glad I get to show you off now.”

@landonorris: kiss me more 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

@y/nl/n: cat’s out of the bag 🤭

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT-

A oneshot where the rest of the hazbin crew finding out that Alastor already owned Reader's soul?! Fluff btw!

Like like

"Some overlord owns your soul?? Who?!"

Reader: "hahaha.. I wonder who.."

Husk: "you don't wanna know."

Alastor sipping his tea on the other side of the room (obviously listening in)

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

[ SFW ] + [ FLUFF ] [ SLIGHT LANGUAGE WARNING ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

The Hotel was abuzz with life; Charlie rushed around checking in with everyone as they worked on various tasks, and said occupants tried their best to focus amid her constant scurrying.

The Princess of Hell had decided a Grand Opening event would benefit the Hotel.

You didn’t think it was half a bad idea, recently a resident of the newly improved establishment yourself and a sinner with a rare knack for helping others. The promise of redemption did seem silly to you, but the idea was fresh, and you desired to see if it was possible before completely disregarding the Princess’s dream.

You gave a helping hand whenever asked, smiled as kind as ever, and had a genuine nature subtly, inviting the others closer into your friendly aura.

Angel referred to you often as the “sweetest doll in the shop,” poking fun at your generous endeavors, but truly a fan of your presence nonetheless. Vaggie came to you for advice often, needing a calmer voice of reason when Charlie’s overbearing tendencies became too much for her, and you’d give your time graciously. Husk and Niffty, you knew all too well before you arrived at the Hotel, generally comfortable in their company and able to enjoy a drink with them occasionally.

Everyone cherished you in one way or another, which showed significantly in their approach to you.

Angel, as vulgar as he was, tended not to tease you as often as the others. Though there were times he couldn’t resist a good jab at your modesty, amused by how quickly you blushed while attempting to stutter out an equally snarky remark.

The two of you were at it now, taunting one another while giving a once over of the hotel's new advertisement flyers, but your focus was nowhere near the polished posters as you tried to retort Angel's last statement. He’d made another comment about your avoidance of the hotel's resident facilities manager.

Alastor…

The mere sound of his name made you skittish and visibly flustered, and Angel took notice of said reactions very quickly. “You sleepin’ around with him, aren’t ya toots?…” He snickered as you froze up, ears fluttering down as your eyes widened in his direction, “N-no!? Angel…you shouldn’t say things like that!” You puffed your cheeks out, the tip of your ears turning bright red as the spider demon cackled across from you, “Hah! You aren’t denying it either, doll face, so now I know it’s true!..”

“No, it’s not Angel!…” you grumbled childishly, glancing around the room apprehensively as if the overload would emerge from the shadows at any moment, and he very well could…

However, Alastor remained hidden, shadow lingering on an armchair in the dimmest corner of the room, and his attention fully fixed on your exchange with the raunchy spider as it progressed.

The deer demon was intrigued by the interaction, mildly curious about how you’d handle Angels prying, and quietly prideful of his effect on you.

“You can’t fool me toots. I see how you look at ‘em’ when he’s in a room. He breathes, and you’re a mess! It’s actually kinda cute how much you like him!” You glared at Angel, ears standing straight as you seethed at him, “I. Don’t. Like. Him…”

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward with a coy smirk, “Really? So it’s just a coincidence you get all nervous around him but do everything he says without question?… “ Angel was unfazed by the quiet growl you responded with, “That doesn’t mean I fancy him-“

“Okay, so how else would you explain it then?” Angel sat back, arms folding over his chest and torso as he peered at you expectantly.

By this point, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk were listening to the rift between you two. Although, Husk lost notable interest when he realized the subject of discussion while the others subconsciously chimed in without warning.

“He’s right, though..” Vaggie stared at you intensely, trying to piece together clues you swore weren’t there, to begin with, and Charlie soon joined her in the friendly interrogation. “Did you know Alastor before you came here or something? You do act a little off when he’s around…”

For the love of Satan!

Why couldn’t they just let it go?!?

You huffed and hung your head, agitated with so much attention being thrown onto you and becoming uncomfortable under pressure.

The matter of your soul belonging to Alastor was a subject you weren’t fond of breaching for several reasons.

1. Everyone would want to know why and how the arrangement occurred.

2. You were afraid they’d look at you differently, as less than worthy of being treated as a friend or reduced to being Alastor’s property and nothing else…

In reality, you meant much more to the overload than that, but no sinner needed to know such a thing, and to an extent, you weren't aware of his affection either.

Alastor preferred it that way.

It gave the overlord a vague thrill to leave you clueless about his infatuation while enjoying the way you couldn’t hide your adoration for him…

He chuckled to himself watching you squirm under the group's collective curiosity, admiring the deep rose color that set into your cheeks as you pouted.

Precious little thing…

The stag’s grin grew as the thought settled in his mind, eyes hooding over as a hum filled his chest, and though the sound was quiet, you still heard it.

He was there.

In the same room.

Waiting and watching…

Fantastic…

A small groan fell from your lips as you lifted your head, gaze shifting around the room to pinpoint where Alastor was, but there was no trace of him…

Or so you thought…

“My, my, you all are a nosy bunch! Leave the poor dear alone …” Alastor appeared behind you, mic in one hand while the other came to rest on your head.

He petted your hair softly, silently comforting your frazzled state, and you welcomed the gesture with a soft sigh.

Angel raised a brow at the sight, gaze shifting from your content expression to Alastor’s satisfied one as he caressed your ears. “See, this is what I was talking about. You act as if he owns you or something-“

Alastor whipped his head in Angel's direction, startling him and the others a bit as he interjected the observation. “That’s because I do own her, my good man. Mind. Body. & Soul…” The air grew thick with static, an uneasy wave of tension drowning the hotel lobby as Alastor glared daggers at everyone.

However, you still sat obediently under his touch without anxiety clouding your demeanor.

Charlie laughed nervously while Vaggie’s eyes widened as the revelation dawned on them both. Angel's mouth fell open, and Husk grumbled before rolling his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious…” the winged feline mumbled to no one in particular, refocusing on organizing the bar's alcohol arrangement as the conversation carried on.

“A-Alastor owns your soul?” Charlie asked, clearly shocked but actively masking it with a light-hearted tone. You nod slowly, choosing not to speak as his claws scratch behind your ears tenderly.

Vaggie shrugged, “Now, it makes sense…”

Angel finally clasped his mouth shut, stifling a laugh as he leaned further back into the parlor's sofa. “So I was right!” He shouted triumphantly, which earned a side glare from you. “Oh, shut up! Just because he owns my soul doesn’t mean I like him…”

Alastor gave you a quizzical look, humming thoughtfully as he processed your words, “Is that so, my dear?… You feel nothing for me at all?…”

Oh….maybe I shouldn’t have said that-!

Your mind raced to find a suitable reply, but all you could manage was a shaky laugh. “W-well, I wouldn’t say…’n-nothing’…”

His smile grew, “Would you like to elaborate on your true feelings for me in private, then?…”

“Sounds kinky…” Angels mumbled cheekily while flashing a closed-eye smirk, but neither Alastor nor you offered the remark a response.

“Wait, where’d they go?!..” The spider demon sat up pin straight as he realized you two were no longer in the room. The only sign left of your disappearance was the lingering tufts of black shadows swirling the spot he’d seen you and Alastor occupying a moment ago.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, turning on her heel to return to the task she’d left undone moments ago, “Not my business…” she sighed.

Charlie followed after her, stuck between confusion and giddiness over the newfound information, “I would’ve never thought Y/n belonged to Alastor. Wait, do you think she can still be redeemed, or are there strings attached…?”

Her rambling continued on as everyone found themselves busy again.

Everyone except you and Alastor…

You found yourself all alone with the owner of your soul, hidden in his infamous Radio Tower with the beginnings of a confession poised to slip from your tongue as he sat you in his lap.

“Now, I believe you were going to tell me exactly how you feel, darling….” Alastor lowered his head, hands resting on your waist to keep you flush against his chest, and your heart nearly flew from your chest as he did.

“You have my full attention, sweetheart.”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx

I rewrote this five times….all because of writer's block :( ❤️ someone please send help -I'm hanging on by a thread rn…

[ NO BONUS CONTENT - ]

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

this has been sittin in my drafts for so long lol

chewing my fingers off like bubble gum thinking about childhood best friend katsuki scaring off all the other guys he thinks have a crush on you bc in his mind you’re already dating. (he’s also too shy to ask you out.)

in his defense, you’ve been together for so long you might as well be dating. katsuki prides himself in the fact he knows quite literally everything about you : how you like your eggs, what you like on your toast, your favorite tv show and movie, not to be confused with your comfort movie, which he also knows. your exact order from the coffee shop down the street from your apartment complex and your favorite flavor of chapstick. he knows all of these little things and even other insignificant facts by heart, but he’s so proud of the fact that those other pricks could never know you better than he does.

he bets those losers who ogle you like cavemen don’t even remember your name, lest they even know it in the first place. just thinking about you dating anyone that isn’t him makes him grimace, has him gritting his teeth n’ veins popping.

he damn near acts like your boyfriend too and it’s definitely not by accident. katsuki knows he wants you and he wants you—and others to know he does, too. he walks you to and from class, drapes his arm around your shoulder, makes you lunch and he’s overall just very clingy. you’ve had to explain multiple times that he in fact was not your boyfriend, much to your chagrin. (and his too) simply claiming you’re really close because you’ve known each other since you were in diapers. katsuki calls bullshit, ever since he was 5 he knew you were the one for him. he’d go around telling your parents you’d get married when you both grew up and he sure as hell plans to keep his word.

and katsuki knows it’s bad, he knows he shouldn’t, but he waits for the guy he seen you talking with after school. he’s been talking to you more often, even offering to walk you to class, so fuckin’ chivalrous. thankfully for him, you didn’t seem to like him much.

“hey.” he grunts, placing a hand on the guy’s shoulder, watching his face contort as steam comes out of from under his hand “yn doesn't like you, fuckface. so i suggest ya back off an’ quit whatever the fuck you’re tryin’ to do with her.” he’s gripping onto his shoulder harder unconsciously and the guy tries brushing him off, sputtering and desperately looking for an excuse and katsuki’s having none of it. “listen.” he growls “cut the bullshit. i know you want her, can tell from a mile away ya fuckin’ do.” he snarls, lip curling up in disgust “ but do that shit from a distance, f’ i see you lookin’ at her like that again i’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth in."

he shoves the guy away and he’s already off like nothing happened. he’s already wasted enough time with this loser and he can’t wait to see you because tonight’s movie night and he knows you’ll just watch your favorite movie for the umpteenth time, but he really couldn’t care less, whatever makes his baby happy.

[loveinhawkins]

”How do you do it?” Eddie asks.

The question slips out far too late at night, anxiety thrumming in his chest—he’s not escaped the feeling ever since the boathouse, when he simply couldn’t sleep, felt like a fox just waiting for hound dogs to get his scent, ready to run—

Steve doesn’t need him to explain further, as if he can somehow hear a whole lot of what Eddie’s not saying: like when he picked up the phone an hour ago and hadn’t even let Eddie tie himself in knots, had just said, so easily, “I’ll come get you,” like it wasn’t a huge inconvenience, like he’d been the one to call Eddie instead.

He’s considering Eddie from where he lies in bed, leaning on his elbow, and he’s still got the covers off pointedly—and that’s a big thing, Eddie thinks, a big thing he doesn’t know what to do with, because they’ve not talked, not really, not got much beyond the dizzying relief of still being alive.

But even fraught with profound lack of sleep, Eddie doesn’t think he’s misreading the look in Steve’s eyes.

I know, those eyes say, illuminated by the warm light of the bedside lamp. It’s okay, there’s no rush. I’m right here.

Eddie’s never seen that kind of look before. Not towards him.

“Sometimes Robin sleeps over,” Steve says thoughtfully. “And sometimes the kids are around, and they’re so annoying and I get, like, three hours, tops.” He says it with all the fondness in the world. “And sometimes I’m alone, and it’s fine.”

“What about the other times?” Eddie can’t help but whisper.

If it were a reasonable hour maybe he wouldn’t dare to ask at all, but exhaustion’s worn down the filter in his head—at this point it’s practically see-through.

Steve shrugs. “Yeah, they’re shit,” he says with such honesty that Eddie nearly asks it again, how do you do it?

“But then it’s, like, a new day,” Steve says slowly, like he’s carefully weighing up what to say, “and I can… drive.” The pause tells Eddie he means go to someone. “Or, like… call, if it’s really bad.”

Hey, I’m glad you called, man, Steve had said when Eddie got into his car earlier, like they were just going to the movies or something normal—like Eddie wasn’t shaking, forehead pressed against the passenger window.

Eddie feels his throat close up a little. Tries to sniff as quietly as possible.

“Eddie,” Steve says patiently. He moves back in the bed. Gives Eddie space. “C’mere.”

Steve keeps the lamp on which helps; this isn’t the boathouse, Eddie thinks, and the slightest bit of tension leaves his body. Even that feels like a miracle.

He’s just resigning himself to lying there, staring up at the ceiling so at least Steve can get some rest, when Steve turns and catches his eye, still wide awake.

“Tell me about The Lord of the Rings,” Steve says.

The tightness in Eddie’s chest loosens; he laughs in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Eddie turns so he’s facing Steve properly, attempts a casual shrug, knowing already that it’ll be too rigid. “I don’t know, man. We, uh. We kinda lived through Mordor already.”

His hand twists in the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had…

Steve’s hand reaches across, eases Eddie’s grip on the sheets, like he’s saying, neither did I. Just give it a shot.

“The shire, then,” Steve says.

Eddie smiles. “Steve Harrington,” he says, suddenly finding enough lightness to tease; he’s missed it. “Are you asking me for a bedtime story?”

“Nope,” Steve says. “We’re just gonna lie here and talk.”

And they do.

Steve asks questions which works out for the best—Eddie can’t quite remember the last time he read the books. To tell the truth, anything that happened before March often has a kind of fog over it.

He’s sure he’s dropped at least a couple of plot points somewhere along the way, but Steve never once complains that he’s not making sense, just gently prompts Eddie until… until…

“Mm, I know what you’re doing,” Eddie mumbles through a yawn that catches him unawares.

“Oh, do you now?” Steve says, sounding smug. God, Eddie loves him. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Eddie says. His eyelids are heavy. “Um.” He yawns again. “Where… where was I?”

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Steve says. It sounds like he’s smiling—Eddie would check, but it’s suddenly impossible to keep his eyes open.

It’s okay, he thinks hazily, melting into sleep without even thinking about it. He can ask Steve in the morning.

There’s no rush.

[doritochoi]

Office punishment| C.S

pairing: fem!reader x boss!choi san

genre: pure smut, 18+

warnings: explicit sexual content, public sex, rough sex, oral sex, eating cum, dominant language + much more

The day starts in total panic. Your phone's alarm had been ringing for a long time, but you only now manage to open your eyes. In a quick leap, you get out of bed and head for the bathroom. Your mind wanders to the important meeting at 8 o'clock and the inevitable reaction of your boss, Choi San.

Choi San, the young billionaire, was a true magnet for all the women in town, including you. But even though you've always admitted that you find him charming, you've tried to keep a professional distance. His piercing eyes and protruding jaw often appeared in your thoughts, but you tried not to let these fantasies affect your work. You quickly put on the first outfit you can get your hands on: a shirt and a skirt, both slightly wrinkled. "I don't have time to iron anymore," you say to yourself, glancing desperately at the clock. You rush to grab a coffee, but in your haste you spill some on the kitchen counter, but you don't have time to clean up right now. You call a taxi and wait impatiently in front of the block, kneading your fingers. “I hope I make it in time, I hope he's not too upset,” you think as the taxi finally arrives. You quickly get in and tell the driver the address of the company, begging him to hurry. On the way, you check your phone and see that you have some unread messages. One is from your friend, thanking you for coming to her party last night. The others are from your colleagues, who inform you that Choi San has already arrived at the office and does not seem in a good mood.

Arriving at the company, you took a deep breath, trying to regain your confidence. You entered the doors of the building with your head held high, even though you knew you were late. All the employees were looking at you with curiosity mixed with a hint of reproach. As you walked down the hall, you wondered why everyone was acting strange. It was clear there was more than just you being late. You made your way to the office to talk with Jongho, Choi San's efficient and always knowledgeable secretary. You leaned into him slightly, trying to look calm. "Jongho, do you know what's going on? Why is everyone so tense?" you asked him, trying to keep your voice calm. Jongho looked at you with a serious expression, stopping from typing on the computer. "It's about the morning meeting," he said quietly. "It didn't go well and Mr. Choi very upset. - "The meeting? I'm late, but… I didn't think it would be this bad..," you said, feeling your stomach tighten. "Yes, you're late, but that's not the only problem. Mistakes were made in the presentation and the customers were not happy at all. Mr. Choi was counting on you to correct some mistakes, and the fact that you weren't there made it worse, Jongho explained, looking into your eyes. "I didn't know it was so important..."

You walked away from Jongho with fear mixed with determination. You knew San could take drastic measures – either fire you or do something even worse. But you were determined to take responsibility and apologize. You entered the elevator and pressed the button for the floor where San's office was, feeling the tension rise with each floor the elevator went up. When you arrived at his door, you smelled the sweet and inviting smell of vanilla, his signature scent that always reminded you of his charming presence. You felt your hands sweat and your heart began to pound in your chest. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Come in," he says, his voice deep and commanding. You take a deep breath and push open the door, your eyes immediately drawn to his handsome face. He's dressed in a suit, looking every inch the successful businessman, with an aura of authority that fills the room. "You're late," he says, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel as if he's peering into your very soul. You can feel your body trembling as you muster the courage to apologize, your voice shaking. "I'm sorry, I'll make sure it won't happen again," you say, your eyes fixed on the ground, too ashamed to meet his piercing stare. "Look at me when you speak," he commands, his voice softening but still carrying an edge of authority. You raise your eyes to meet his, and you can feel your body responding to his gaze. His eyes, dark and captivating, hold a mixture of disappointment and something else that makes your heart race. He stands up from behind his desk, slowly making his way towards you. The scent of his cologne, a tantalizing blend of vanilla and sandalwood, becomes more pronounced, wrapping around you like an invisible embrace. You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing. "You know how important this meeting was," he continues, his voice low and almost gentle now, but with a hint of flirtation that sends shivers down your spine. As he speaks, his hands come to rest on your small waist, his touch both comforting and electrifying. He gently caresses your sides before his fingers move to adjust your skirt, smoothing it out. He glances down and notices the wrinkles, a playful smirk appearing on his lips. "You really should take better care of your appearance," he says, his tone teasing as his eyes meet yours again. "A wrinkled skirt doesn't quite match the professional image we're aiming for, don't you think?". The tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating. San's eyes remained locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster. You could feel the heat rising between the two of you, the air charged with an electric current that made your skin tingle. His hands, still resting on your waist, gripped you a little tighter as he leaned in closer. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating that made your knees weak. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, "You know, I've been very patient with you." Your pulse quickened at the low, seductive tone of his voice. "I-I'm sorry," you stammered, trying to maintain your composure, but it was getting harder by the second with him standing so close. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and dangerous, filled with something that sent shivers down your spine. "Sorry isn't enough," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You need to prove to me that you understand the gravity of your mistakes."

Before you could respond, he moved suddenly, pinning you against the wall with a force that took your breath away. His leg slid between yours, his knee pressing against your core in a way that made you gasp. The hard length of his arousal was unmistakable as it brushed against you through the fabric of his pants, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan. "Do you think this is a joke to me?" he asked, his tone dripping with dominance as he looked down at you, his lips curling into a smirk. His hands slid down to the hem of your skirt, and with one swift movement, he hiked it up, exposing your thighs to the cool air of the office. You could barely think, barely breathe as his fingers trailed over your skin, teasingly light as they made their way to the curve of your ass. He cupped it, squeezing just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I think you need a little reminder of who's in control here." Your body responded to his touch with a mind of its own, your hips pushing forward instinctively as his knee pressed harder against you. The pressure was maddening, driving you to the edge of sanity. You felt his fingers trail down the curve of your ass, his hand slipping beneath the fabric of your panties. The rough, teasing graze of his fingertips against your sensitive skin made you shudder. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured against your neck, his voice thick with lust as he began to caress you more firmly. You couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on you tighten in response. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face, your parted lips. The satisfaction in his expression was clear as he watched your reaction. Slowly, deliberately, he began to unbuckle his belt, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a thrill of anticipation through you. Your hands, trembling slightly, moved to help him, undoing the buckle and sliding the belt free. You glanced up at him, your breath catching as you saw the hunger in his eyes. You pulled down his zipper, feeling the heat radiating from his body as you exposed him fully. His erection was already glistening with precum, and your mouth watered at the sight. You knelt in front of him, your hands wrapping around his length as you looked up at him, seeing the way his eyes darkened with desire. He watched you intently as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip, tasting the saltiness of his arousal. The groan that escaped his lips was deep and primal, and it spurred you on, your movements becoming more confident, more eager. You felt him throb in your mouth, and his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as you moved up and down his length, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him deeper. His breathing became ragged, and you could feel the tension in his body as he fought to maintain control. But it wasn't long before you felt the first pulse, his release spilling into your mouth as he groaned your name. You swallowed, savoring the taste of him, but a bit of it dribbled from the corner of your lips.

He wasn't done with you yet. In a swift motion, he pulled you to your feet, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he kissed you hard, his lips claiming yours. You could taste the remnants of his release on your lips as he kissed you, the intensity of it making your head spin. San moved with purpose, carrying you to his desk and bending you over it, your skirt still hiked up around your waist. His hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your wetness with ease. He teased you for a moment, rubbing slow circles that made you moan softly, your body arching in response. "You're soaked," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I bet you've been thinking about this for a long time, haven't you?" You couldn't find the words to respond, too lost in the sensation of his fingers playing with you, teasing you mercilessly. He pulled his hand away suddenly, and you whimpered at the loss, but the sound turned into a gasp as you felt him position himself at your entrance. He didn't hesitate, driving into you with a force that made you cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support. The fullness of him inside you was overwhelming, your body stretching to accommodate him as he began to move, his thrusts hard and deep. The pleasure was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with sensation as he took you, his pace relentless. You could hear the sounds of your bodies colliding, the slickness of your arousal, the heavy breathing and moans that filled the room. The thought of your coworkers hearing you, knowing exactly what was happening behind the closed doors of his office, only heightened the intensity. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the pleasure building to a climax that you coudn't hold back. San's hand round its way between your legs again, his fingers rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body trembling as you cried out, the pleasure too intense to contain. He followed you over moments later, his body tensing as he buried himself deep inside you, his release filling you as he groaned your name, the sound of it echoing in your ears as you both collapsed onto the desk, exhausted and satisfied. The room was filled with the scent of sex and the lingering sweetness of his cologne. You lay there, your body still trembling, your mind reeling from the intensity of what had just happened. San's hand trailed lazily up your back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “Don’t think you’ve escaped so easily", he murmured, his voice soft and teasing. "But I think we can discuss your punishment later." You couldn’t help but smile, despite the lingering soreness in your body. You knew you were in for a lot more than just a warning, and the thought of it sent a delicious thrill through you. As you gathered yourself, smoothing down your skirt and trying to regain some semblance of professionalism, San stepped back, watching you with that same smirk on his lips. He looked every bit the dominant, powerful man you had fantasized about, and now that fantasy had become your reality. And as you walked out of his office, your legs still shaking slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder just how far he would take this game of dominance and submission. One thing was certain: the office was about to become a much more interesting place.

[thehmn]

I finally got to watch Viften (Empire) and it’s such a fascinating movie. It was written by Anna Neye who also plays Anna Heegaard, a rich free black woman who’s dating the Danish governor of the island.

It’s sold as an absurdist comedy and I think there’s no other way to describe it. There aren’t any real jokes but you often end up laughing at the absurdity of it all.

It’s extremely honest about the horrors Danes put the black population through but thankfully it only shows it in quick flashes of art as seen in the trailer. I once watched a video where they explained why most women aren’t into slasher movies and why black people generally don’t rewatch movies about racism and slavery. It’s because the the horrors shown are very real fears and a fact of life so the only people who can really enjoy watching a woman get horribly murdered as entertaining are men and only white people can watch a black person getting whipped to death with cinematic lighting and have a fun night out. By showing the horrors in art they get to be clear about exactly what is going on without coming off as exploitative.

But it’s also very honest about the ways a society based on slavery fucks with everyone. Most of the servants at the manor are slaves except the cook who bought her own freedom years ago. She tells the housekeeper Petrine that some day she too will be able to buy her freedom and get her own slave. That’s right, the freed black people aspire to get their own slaves because that’s the sort of values a society like this instills in people. And Anna tries to be as nice as possible to her own slaves but doesn’t take her own success for granted and is more afraid of an uprising than her white lover and ends up doing some really horrible things to her slaves to keep them down.

It also touches on how people viewed being black or white back then. That it wasn’t all about skin colour but also status. That’s why all the white people treat Anna as one of them. She’s a rich, educated lady so of course she’s “white”. Even Anna express contempt at being called black because she doesn’t work in the field. The poor freed black people also call Petrine white because she dress and acts like a Dane. Not as in “you are pretending to be white” but as in you are white.

And hats off to the director Frederikke Aspöck. There’s a scene where a woman buys her freedom and they put on a symbolic slave auction where she gets up on the podium and bids on herself. All the white neighbors have come to witness it because it’s seen as this joyous day and they all clap, she’s offered to drink with them and she’s all smiles. The director managed to make the scene wholesome while highlighting the absurdity of it and all you can do is chuckle because what the fuck? The white people think it’s a good thing that she’s free but continue to keep and mistreat their own slaves, and she no doubt dreams of getting her own down the road. It’s very much depicted as institutionalized racism and not just “a few bad eggs”.

And I didn’t know where to put this but there’s a lot of interesting symbolism going on with Anna’s dresses. She always wears dresses that match the colors of the rooms she’s in, establishing her as fully part of the system, but as she begins to realize that the Danish state will never see her as fully equal her colors start to clash with her surroundings.

I watched it on Netflix and it has English subtitles so it should be somewhere for English speakers to watch if you feel so inclined.

[rogueddie]

It takes Steve an embarassingly long moment to realise that the spray isn't doing anything. He tries shaking it… nothing. He even checks by spraying it on his hand, shaking it again. Nothing.

He tries listening as he shakes it again and, though he's sure there's some product still left inside, nothing will come out.

He reluctantly throws it in the little trash can, just next to the toilet door. He doesn't bother rooting through the draws or cabinets either; he'd used the last of his emergency powder kit yesterday. There's nothing left.

He huffs, folding his arms, glaring at his reflection. Specifically at the very overgrown, bright blond roots of his hair.

It brings up the same anxiety he's been having for the past month. It's taken him a long time to save up for his usual hairdressers. He hadn't thought it would take so long but, with the kids and now Robin and Eddie, it shouldn't be that surprising.

Robin often pays a good chunk for things too, often paying him gas money, but it's usually him paying for everything. And now that he's paying rent in his own little appartment? He's not often left with that much at the end of the month.

He's starting to think it's not worth the trip. But he isn't going to start using box dye or anything cheap. He's spent a long time taking care of his hair, spent just as long struggling to find the right products too.

He doesn't even care that the kids and Robin mock him for it, he has great hair and, screw it, he's proud. He's not going to damage it by getting bad hair dye.

He's already booked his next hairdresser appointment for the next day, already saved up gas money too. He might as well ask for bleach instead, go back to his natural color and save himself from anymore days with overgrown roots.

He almost regrets the idea when he gets to work.

"Holy shit, you're a natural blond?" Robins grin looks almost painful with how wide it is. She's a little too excited for his comfort. "I don't know how I didn't guess before. This explains so much. How have you kept this hidden for so long? It's so light!"

"Don't you have work to do?" He bats her hand away when she, again, reaches for his hair.

"Not anymore. Why do you dye it? How did it grow out so much? When did you start hiding it? Did someone pressure you into it? They didn't make fun of you, did they? Because I will hunt them down and-"

"No one made me dye it or bullied me into it," he huffs. He can feel his attempt at a cool demeaner soften with how quickly she jumps to his defense. "I just... I never liked it. I don't think it suits me. Brunettes are cute."

"Are you dyeing it again?"

"Probably not. The hairdresser I go to isn't exactly cheap."

"You can get box dye at-"

"I'm not using box dye."

"It's not that bad, and if you really hate the blond-"

Steve swats at her when she reaches for his hair again. With a heavy sigh, he braces himself for the shift full of questions and jokes of 'betrayal'.

Like he suspected, they don't get much work done.

When Eddie comes in, towards the end of their shift, Steve is almost relieved.

"Stop bullying him without me," Eddie complains.

"Thank you," Steve says, whilst Robin boos. "What is it tonight? Movie night with Wayne or some of the kids?"

But Eddie is frozen, staring at his hair.

"I think he's broken," Robin says after a pause.

"You're blond?" Eddie blinks. "When did you go blond?"

"Always have been," Steve shrugs. "Just... not dyeing it anymore."

"Oh."

Steve and Robin stare at him. They share a glance after a moment.

"You here for a movie?" Steve asks.

"What? Me? No, I- just stopping by. And you're... yeah. I'm gonna- I've got to go. Wayne is waiting and... you know. Bye."

He turns around and practically runs out the store. His wheels squeal a little as he drives out, most likely breaking the speed limit.

"Did he just..." Robin starts, trailing off with a frown.

"Unbelievable," Steve shakes his head. "Just when I give up, he realizes that he likes me too! What the hell, Bob. Is he only into blonds or something?"

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Bad for Me — Cassian x Reader

Hi! I found this in my drafts and thought I’d share it while I’m finishing up the next part of Bluebird. I’m not sure why I never posted it 🤔maybe because I don’t think it’s very well written. Also, it seems I was using a prompt list for parts of dialogue in this, but I can’t for the life of me think which one it was 😅but anyway, enjoy an angsty piece with an angsty cliffhanger ending 💅🏻

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: None.

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“What the fuck is this?”

There wasn’t a part of you that didn’t shake with anger as you stormed your way into the sitting room. Anger that had built up and festered as the day had faded into night.

It was late. You’d waited up — waited for the telltale, arrogantly loud footsteps that had announced Cassian’s return. Where he’d been all day, you didn’t know nor care.

Sure enough, you found him in his usual chair by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey rested on the arm and his eyes closed. His fingers rubbed circles into his forehead — a positive sign that he was sporting a particularly gruelling headache.

Good. You would yell into his ear until he launched himself off one of the verandas and flew far, far away.

“What is this?” You repeated, chucking the item you held straight onto his lap.

His eyes slowly opened, and he glanced down impassively. “That’s a piece of paper. It’s useful for writing, or drawing, or—”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

It had surprised you, to say the least, to wake up to the folded note on your bedside table — in Cassian’s rough scrawl.

Find yourself a pretty little dress. Don’t make any plans for Friday next. We’re going dancing. Cassian.

“Explain.” You demanded, your tone clipped. Brash.

You didn’t want to go dancing with Cassian. Or walking, or running, or…anything.

It was bad enough living under the same roof as him. Working in the same circle as him. Bad enough having to be civil in the name of a unified front.

But you were professional. You could pretend to get along in front of people.

That didn’t mean you had to socialise with him, though.

With a sigh, he sat up straighter, brushing his hair back. “Rhys is having me play courtier again.”

Your head cocked to the side. “But you’re so terrible at it.”

The minuscule pause and tick of his jaw told you you’d landed a sure blow. A nervy spot, for Cassian, was certainly his abilities off the battlefield. Why Rhys insisted on sending the General on certain courtier expeditions was beyond your comprehension. And beyond Cassian’s, too, judging by how much he hated it.

You took no small amount of pleasure in that fact. A little payback for all the ways he’d torn you down over the years.

“Hilarious.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Whatever. Rhys is having me represent him at a fucking ball in the Hewn City and I need a plus-one, so — you’re coming.”

Your shoulders tensed. “Absolutely not. Ask somebody else.”

“There’s no way I’m putting Mor through that. And she’s in Vallahan, anyway.”

“So take Amren with you.”

“Be real, Y/N.”

You stared at him, clenching your jaw. You hated him. Hated him so, so much — loathed him — that you swore your veins turned to ice around him. Ever since you’d met him, and you’d taken one look at him and thought he was the most beautiful male you’d ever seen. 

You’d sworn never to fall in love again, when you’d joined Rhysand’s Inner Circle — and seeing Cassian go through flings like you went through books only solidified that decision.

Hate was a good thing. Hate was something you could pour all your anger into and throw at the person that seeped into your thoughts a little too often.

And dish that hate out you may, but gods Cassian gave it back just as fiercely.

“Ask one of your many lovers.” You spat. “You have your cock in a different female every week. I can’t imagine you’re short on admirers.”

Cassian stretched his arms over his head. “And how many admirers do you have, Y/N?”

You tried your best not to flinch. To let him see the effect his words had on you was as bad as him thrusting a dagger into your gut. You willed yourself to give nothing away.

“Just find somebody else.” You said. “There’s not a fucking chance I’m going anywhere with you, of all people.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond. You turned on your feet and stalked from the room, leaving the note on his lap and your barbed words hanging heavy in the air.

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Three nights later, your bedroom door burst open so abruptly that you dropped your book on your face.

“Pause your masturbation for five minutes.” Cassian’s deep, arrogant voice filled the room. “I have your dress.”

You sat up, your entire body tensing the way it always did in his presence. “What.”

He kicked the door shut behind him, and even in your considerably-sized bedroom, his domineering figure seemed to take up most of the space. He strode to the foot of your bed — and paused, just for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of your nightgown, your unbound hair.

You didn’t have a chance to remark before he straightened himself out and launched a flash of pale pink fabric at you.

“For the ball.” He said. “I checked your size and asked the shopkeeper to pick it out, so…if you don’t like it, I don’t really give a fuck.”

Your eyes fell down to the dress in your lap. Undeniably pretty, with its rosy hue and flaring skirt, thin straps and tiny, beaded jewels. A dress you would probably choose for yourself, if the occasion called for it.

You’d always loved clothes; dresses in particular. The intricacies of certain garments fascinated you, and the thought of creating your own made your heart skip a beat.

You thought you’d feel pretty in this dress; prettier than you usually felt, in your leathers or shirts and breeches. It wasn’t all that often that you had an occasion to dress up for.

But even this gown wouldn’t convince you to accept Cassian’s invitation. Or, rather, his order.

You pushed the dress away from you, though your fingers lingered within the soft fabric. “You’re absolutely fucking insane if you think I’m going to that ball with you.”

Cassian’s eyes fell to where your hands stroked the skirts, before climbing back up to meet yours. The bastard knew what you were feeling. He fucking knew.

“Oh, you so want to.” He smirked. “I can see it in your eyes.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “So it’s a nice dress. I’m sure one of your many sexual escapades would appreciate it.”

The General’s head tilted, a few strands ripping from the loose knot his hair was tied into. “What is it about my sex life that bothers you so much?”

That you’re free to even have such a sex life without judgement. That you will never know what it’s like to be ostracised just for exploring such things. That you can fuck who you like with no repercussions. That it isn’t me you’re—

“Don’t mistake me for someone who gives a shit about anything you do.” You bit. “I just wouldn’t want such a nice dress to be wasted.”

“It won’t be. Because you’ll be wearing it to the ball on Friday.”

“No.” You threw the dress back at him. Picked your book back up. “I will not.”

“I’m going to hang it on the door.”

“Don’t bother.”

He ignored you, of course. The dress was hung. “We’ll be leaving at seven.”

“No we won’t.”

“We will.”

He pulled your bedroom door open, slipping out.

“Cassian?” You called, and there was a strong pause.

He poked his head back in. “What?”

“I’m not going to that damned ball with you.”

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You were going to that damned ball with him.

High Lord’s orders, your ass. You’d kill Rhys for this.

The dress was a perfect fit, clinging to you like a second skin. And as you stared yourself down in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the fabric, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this pretty.

A long, long time ago. A night of passion. A night that would ultimately ruin your life.

You shook the past from your thoughts, straightening yourself out. It was imperative that you wore an unbreakable mask to the Hewn City. One that was steeled and sharp and revealed nothing of the person that lay beneath.

A thump fell on your bedroom door. “We’re going to be late.” Cassian barked.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from the mirror. The beads of your dress swished as you moved, and you focused on that, rather than the oaf that was currently trying to break into your room.

Just a few hours, and this would all be over.

“Simmer down, General.” You pulled the door open, stepping out. “I’m ready.”

Cassian stepped back. And stopped.

His hazel eyes slowly traced the length of your body. And despite the fact that he’d griped about being late, he took his sweet time drinking you in.

You waited for the snide remarks. For whatever fault he would surely find with your appearance. But when his eyes landed on your face again, you couldn’t puzzle out his expression.

“Good.” Was all he commented. “Let’s go.”

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“Can you quit your fidgeting?”

Cassian scowled beside you, rolling his shoulders. “The collar on this thing is too tight.”

Your eyes travelled the sculpted length of his body — not for the first time — before you forced them away. He looked…undeniably breathtaking.

His comfort, you knew, was in leathers and body armour. Only on rare occasions like Starfall or Solstice did he swap his usual attire for more casual clothing like button-up shirts and trousers. You couldn’t recall a time you’d actually seen him decked in a tailored suit.

Until now.

The material was of deepest burgundy, outlining — accentuating — every last muscle it possibly could. There was something thrilling about the thought of so many deadly weapons hiding within that dashing attire. Something thrilling about knowing the Lord of Bloodshed walked beside you.

Right now, though, he was the fucking Lord of Complaining and Whining. You rolled your eyes, turning to him.

“What are you doing?” He watched as you pushed up onto the tips of your toes.

“Shutting you up.” You adjusted his collar, ignoring the feel of the backs of your fingers brushing his neck. “Better?”

“Suppose so.” He rolled those shoulders again. He wouldn’t be content until the suit was off him completely.

“Then let’s go.” You currently stood outside the towering gates of the Hewn City, the air always unpleasantly cold in these parts. You took a step forward, your dress swishing along the ground—

A warm, rough hand landed on your arm. Stopped you.

“What?” You glanced at Cassian over your shoulder.

“Rhys is expecting us to represent him.” He said, his hazel eyes strangely fierce. He always got that look when there was a task at hand. “I know we hate each other. And that’s more than fine. But just for tonight, can we pretend that we…don’t?”

You stared back at him pensively. A petty part of you wanted to shrug him off and scoff. To tell him that the unpleasantness with which he’d always approached you had long laid any potential alliance to waste.

But he was right — Rhys was counting on you both. And Rhys had done a lot for you since you’d turned up on his doorstep with barely a coin to your name. For him…for him, you would pretend to enjoy Cassian’s company.

“Whatever.” You shrugged the General’s touch off, turning back around. “Fine.”

It wasn’t going to be easy, though.

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You made sure, in your life, that you never had to spend any extended amount of time with Cassian. You tolerated him when you had to, and avoided him the rest of the time.

But you’d been for nights out in the same group, of course. And you’d forgotten how many females tended to flock to his side and fawn over him.

This ball was a sure reminder of that.

You’d barely stepped into the room and grabbed yourselves a drink before groups of females were glancing over and chatting excitedly, shrill giggles floating over to you. It was a mere five minutes before one of them mustered the nerve to ask him to dance, leaving you standing on your own.

It was during that first dance that you decided — you weren’t just going to be civil with Cassian.

You were going to be so sickeningly over the top that he’d have no chance of skulking off with any of those females and leaving you by yourself while he got his cock sucked. Not a chance. If they thought he’d been claimed by another member of Rhys’s Inner Circle, they’d back off; if a little begrudgingly.

So you watched. Waited for that dance to end. Rhys hadn’t given you any specific orders, besides attending on his behalf and keeping an ear out for any gossip. You drank your wine and enjoyed the music, and the second Cassian had an empty space before him, you dipped in before anybody else could.

It seemed to surprise him. He blinked at you, before straightening himself out. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing with you.” You grabbed his hand, fastening it on your waist.

“Rhys never said we had to dance together.”

“You want us to get along, Cassian?” The music began, tugging you into movement. “Then let’s get along.”

With the other couples beginning to dance around you, it left no other option than to follow suit and avoid causing a scene. Cassian’s jaw ticked, but he grabbed for your other hand and began to pull you around the dance floor with him. He was no seasoned dancer, by any means, but he displayed more skill than you’d expected.

Another thing you loved — dancing. Feeling like your feet were floating. Once you started dancing, you wanted to keep going and going into you fell off the world and tumbled into a blissful beyond. Nothing else mattered besides the music, the moves.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” Cassian commented, echoing the thoughts you’d had about him.

You shrugged, not misstepping once. “I was forced to take lessons as a girl.”

“I didn’t know that, either.”

“Why would you know? It’s not as though we like each other.”

He spun you around. Dipped you in his arms. “And why is that?”

Laughable, that he was the one to ask that question. “You tell me. You never tried.”

“Is that how it went?”

“It is.”

He stared at you, expression unreadable. No other words were exchanged as one dance came to its end, and the music flowed into the next piece. But you didn’t need words to carry out your plan.

The second you caught a glimpse of hopeful, waiting females in your periphery, you pulled Cassian closer to you once more, your bodies flush against each other.

You may have felt a teensy bit ridiculous as you slipped your fingers into the strands of his hair and brushed it out of his face.

“I like your hair like this.” The words were heavy on your tongue. Not untrue, but…painful to say out loud.

Cass stared at you. “…thank you.”

But his thanks was lost in your satisfaction as the awaiting female disappeared from the corner of your eye, skulking off to sulk, no doubt. It was an effort not to smirk. Still, you righted yourself and continued with your plan.

You made certain that yours and Cassian’s bodies met in all the right places. Very close. Very dangerous.

Perfect — because there were still hopeful, simpering females watching. Waiting for you to walk away.

“Dance with me again.” Your breathy tone wasn’t entirely for show — nor was the hand you trailed down his arm for emphasis.

But Cassian frowned at you. “What are you up to?”

“Me?” Your eyes glittered. “Nothing at all.”

He kept his gaze on you, following you into your second dance. You could have sworn you saw the slumping of many shoulders as you spun around the floor, Cassian’s hands like a burning brand on your skin.

You weren’t even really paying attention to him, simply following the steps mindlessly, until he spoke again.

“That isn’t how it went.” He said.

Your brow furrowed as you spun around. “What?”

In one swift move, he was pulling you against him, pressing your fronts together. “You said I never tried to know you. I refute that.”

You shrugged. “You treated me with the same contempt as the bastards I ran away from.”

“You treated me like I was dirt beneath your shoe and I didn’t deserve the time of day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. That simply was not true. He had always been cocky, and arrogant, and difficult. He acted as though mud wouldn’t stick to him, as though he could do what he liked, when he liked.

Suddenly, you didn’t want to be dancing with him anymore. Didn’t want his hands on you, simpering females or no.

He could go to hell.

“I never thought you didn’t deserve the time of day.” You contested tersely. “I—”

“I know.” He interrupted. Spun you around again. “I worked it out eventually.”

“Excuse me?”

“What your problem is.” Another dip.

You didn’t like this conversation — it’s direction. It would be easier to run away, to avoid it.

Easier, but cowardly.

“Pray, tell, General, what do you believe my problem is?” You stared at him.

He leaned down, just as the music faded. Poised his lips at your ear. “Jealousy.” He murmured, the word seeming deafeningly loud. “Sometimes the way you look at me makes me think that perhaps you don’t hate me that much.”

You knew your body stiffened between you. And as he pulled back and smirked, you also knew that he knew he’d won.

Whatever it was that glittered in his eyes was…knowledge. Knowing. An understanding. And that couldn’t mean anything good for you.

“Cassian?”

The two of you looked up upon the intrusion, only realising then that the music had stopped, and the dancing with it. A doe-eyed girl stared at the General with bright, sparkling hope in her eyes.

“I was hoping I might have the next dance.” She said.

You didn’t care anymore. You barely spared either of them a glance as you let go of Cassian and pushed out of his arms.

“He’s all yours.” You said.

And then you went to find some fresh air.

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“I’ll be sure to tell Rhys that you spent the evening skulking around on your own whilst I did all the posturing.”

You glanced at Cassian out of the corner of your eye. You weren’t interested in a verbal sparring match right now. The night air was pleasant on your skin, and you allowed it to cool your face, your neck. Allowed it to wash away the tension permanently coiled within your veins, if only for a few stolen moments.

“Go ahead”, was the only reply you offered.

Eyes pierced into you as you bathed yourself in the moonlight. Even with your own shut, you could sense Cassian watching, waiting. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of anything beyond vague acknowledgement. Not now.

That seemed to fucking torture him.

“What—no smartass response?” He quipped.

“No, Cassian,” you sighed quietly. “No smartass response.”

He paused — seemed genuinely knocked silent for a moment — before he scoffed. “I don’t believe that for a second. Even in silence, I know you’re up to something. That scheming brain of yours—”

“This scheming brain of mine is exhausted.”

As your eyes flew open, you caught the way he faltered, a slight misstep, the barest ruffling of his wings. For all he was the General of War, the Lord of Bloodshed, you’d also observed him to be a profoundly emotional person. And that emotion sometimes won as he fought to hide it.

This emotion…it was ire. Gone was the sharp-edged teasing. He found issue with your words, and his jaw gave a telltale tick.

“What could you possibly be exhausted by?” he scoffed. “You need only turn up looking like a fucking goddess and people respect you. You’re not some lowly, bastard-born brute. You don’t get sneered at simply for breathing—”

“You believe people respect me?”

“Of course they do!”

“You don’t.”

He stumbled — actually stumbled — and it was only that which alerted you to the way he’d been inching towards you. But his steps faltered, and he gaped at you like your revelation was entirely out of pocket. Like you had no reason to feel that.

“You have never respected me.” You held firm on your point, even if your voice was a tad quieter. “I fled a fucking viper’s den and ran to Rhysand’s court, hoping to find a sense of…of belonging. But you…” A soft, rueful chuckle shuddered out of you. “You have made it your mission to ensure that would not be the case.”

Slowly, Cassian’s brow pinched. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, seeming to search for the right words. “That…isn’t how it went…”

“It is,” you shrugged. “You said I treated you like dirt — perhaps, unintentionally, I did. Perhaps it was a defence mechanism, because I never expected to flee absolute hell and come face-to-face with a male that I immediately wanted.”

There they were — the words out in the open. The truth wedged itself between you like a glaring, unmissable sign. You had never hated Cassian. Quite the opposite.

“I thought that I would never want another male in that way again.” You revealed hoarsely. “I thought I would live a life content with just…being me. With friends and nothing more. But that first day I met you, I walked in and I…I knew. I felt it.”

Cassian blinked, slowly shaking his head. “What…”

“And then you were so hostile, and I thought that maybe that was a good thing. That it would discourage me from feeling things. But I must be a fucking glutton for punishment, because no matter how cold you were towards me, my feelings only grew. And I tried…I tried so hard to shift them into hate, but I couldn’t. I’ve never been able to. I simply…can’t.”

The way he stared at you…so hardened, so severe…you couldn’t get a read on the reaction. But then…had you ever really been able to get a read on him?

“You were right…what you said about me being jealous,” you swallowed. “I was. I am—”

“That was…just a joke…I was just being a dick—”

“No,” you shook your head. “You were right. I was jealous in there, and I’m always jealous when people flirt with you. When I see you smile at them and joke with them and I shouldn’t wish it was me but I do. These feelings are constant. And that, Cassian…that is why I am exhausted. It’s exhausting for me to know you.”

Silence.

It should have been a relief, to have finally shifted such heavy feelings from your shoulders. But they were like tangible beings, fogging the air around you, wrapping you and Cassian up in a situation that was complicated and ugly and not at all ideal.

You knew he would do nothing with your feelings…except maybe sneer at them, laugh at them, throw them back in your face. You expected nothing from him. And the longer the silence went on, the more you began to wish that you could steal your confessions back. Shove them deep back into that narrow part of your heart that was still capable, somehow, of feeling such things.

You cleared your throat, tweaking the pretty, delicate gloves that covered your hands and forearms. “We should…head back inside.”

You breezed past him, suddenly desperate for the mindless chaos of the throne room. But you’d only managed a few steps forward before Cassian was gripping onto your arm and yanking you back.

Your dress fanned out as he spun you around, and a breath pushed out of you as he slammed you against the nearest wall, the cold brick biting into the fabric of your dress.

Before you could say anything, he was dipping down, his mouth sliding over yours.

Cassian kissed you deeply, punishingly, his lips moulding to yours perfectly. You gasped against him, and his tongue slid into your mouth to dance with yours, his rough, rugged taste invading you.

You’d thought about this moment a ludicrous amount. You’d imagined what the weight of his lips might be like, how perfectly his tongue might duel with yours. Nothing — no amount of imagining — could prepare you for the reality. The sense of rightness as his hand coasted up to clasp the back of your head, his fingers sinking into your hair. He gave a gentle tug, and you moaned in immediate response.

Air, it seemed, was not important. Not as you kissed him back feverishly, gripping at his shirt in an attempt to pull him as close against you as he could possibly get. The press of his hard body against yours was pleasure in itself. You nipped his lip, desperate for more, more, more, and he groaned in response.

This — this could very well spiral out of control, and you would welcome it. You wanted him to tear your clothes off and take you against this wall. You wanted him to make you feel like he wanted you, like it wasn’t exhausting to know him—

But there was suddenly emptiness and coldness. And it took your mind a moment to catch up and realise that he had pulled away.

Not far. Just enough to stare down at you, his deep hazel eyes flaring and furious. His panting breaths sawed out of him, landing directly on your lips and making you desperate for another taste. You tilted your head up—

He shook his head. Stepped back.

“No,” he murmured, voice gruff. “No. You…you are very bad for me.”

Your entire body turned cold at the words. Words that sliced at you, reminiscent of ones you’d heard before. “What?”

“You’re bad for me,” he repeated. “And I am very bad for you.”

“Cassian—”

“Don’t—don’t even say my name.”

With a swiftness that sent a gust of wind rustling the skirts of your dress, he turned, wings flaring and launching him into the star-speckled sky above you. You gaped at his retreating figure, flying off into the night, leaving you alone not only in that courtyard, but in the fucking Court of Nightmares.

Your mouth had turned dry, your skin cold. You lingered out there long after Cassian had flown off, waiting to see if he would come back. Pathetically hoping he would.

He did not.

And as you conceded, slipping your courtier mask back into place and turning to retreat back inside, his words rang like a deafening klaxon in your head.

You are very bad for me.

[kisseobie]

p1harmony and the coquette boyfriend trend

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: none

based on this tiktok trend

a/n: just a cute and silly little reaction (while i work on tumblr girls) inspired by @yunhoszn 𐙚 this trend is sooo over but who gaf if i wanna put a bow on my piwon’s biceps i should be able to like… also piwon as a whole give me the vibes of that picture of the rotc kid saluting with the caption “me when a bad bitch tell me to do something” so i tried to emulate that here too LMAOO

౨ৎ keeho

i already know kyo’s chornically online ass was made aware of this trend even before it actually took off, was going to bring it up to you, but being the stubborn man he is, opted out of doing so because he thinks it should be you begging him to let you tie him up in a little bow!! and he’s so real for that!! goes as far as reposting every single video following the trend he comes across, and starts humming the lana del rey song whenever your near so he can hopefully telepathically send you signals that he wants you to put a bow on his bicep and show him off!! his approach is a bit unconventional but low and behold it somehow works, and when you do ask him to film that tiktok he annoyingly pretends he didn’t even know about the trend in the first place, as if you didn’t pick up on his very obvious signs. says shit like “why a bow? but omg you’re soooo obsessed with me!” (and you are!)

౨ৎ theo

i imagine you bring it up to him and he’s just confused as to why that’s a trend and what its supposed to mean, and even when you explain it to him he still doesn’t get it. you show him examples and he still doesn’t get it. ask you meaningless questions like “why put a bow on me? what does the bow represent? i’ve never heard of this type of couple trend?” but his questioning doesn’t mean that he’s opposed to it!! quite the opposite actually, he’s very endeared over the fact that you want to make a tiktok with him despite your relationship being fairly new. i do think he would rather have little bows in his hair rather than the usual tie around the bicep, please put him in pigtails and call him your pretty princess because it’s what he deserves! you two end up laughing the entire time you style his hair and film the video, and it’s little moments like these that make your relationship oh so sweet

౨ৎ jiung

literally will do anything you ask for him because once he’s locked in, he’s locked in. when you timidly bring it up to him he’s gonna nod at you with big eyes and his little concentrated pout, reassuring you with no hesitation that yes, he would love for you to wrap him in a pink bow, and no, you don’t have to be embarrassed to ask him for anything. i honestly think ji has a bit of a possessive side if his radio conversation with keeho about his future gf dancing up on other men is anything to go off of, and the fact that you want to claim him as your on the internet, even if it is for a silly little trend, makes his heart happy and feeds into that quality of his. once you’ve filmed the tiktok, with one of his pretty fingers adorned with a singular pink bow, he gives you a kiss on the cheek and keeps the bow on for the rest of the day, even if he has practice later. this experience leads him to spending more time on tiktok despite his grandpa personality, and he searches for other couple videos you two can make together in the future :] just so sweetie pie

౨ৎ intak

honestly just like keeho he’s on tiktok all the time and gets behind trends pretty quickly, so when intak begs you to do this new trend he keeps seeing on his for you page you aren’t surprised. honestly, you had also been wanting to participate in the trend, partly because it’s cute and partly because tak has gorgeous arms, but you kept it quiet because you wanted him to work for it! it’s pretty amusing actually, he ends up forcing you to come along with him to the gym when he works out much more often just so he can lift heavy weights and flex his arms for you. he just wants you to deem his biceps worthy of being wrapped in a bow!! please don’t tease him for too long because he will have a permanent sad puppy look on his face for the rest of the month. when you finally cave and wrap his arm in a bow he is sooo cheesed. had this goofy grin on his face and flexes his muscles which results in him accidentally splitting the bow in two, which both pisses you off and turns you on at the same time?

౨ৎ soul

literally is so pliable under your hands, much like jiung he will let you do anything to him with little to no complaints or even acknowledgement. he simply exists to make his girlfriend happy! you don’t even ask him to film the video because you already know the answer will be yes (in the form of a strange sound), so you get to work as soon as you make way into his dorm room. you stay true to shota’s reputation of being slightly abnormal by wrapping the entirety of your roll of ribbon around his entire body, mummifying him from head to toe and topping it off with a delicately tied bow at his ankles. he doesn’t complain throughout the entire process, even if you’ve interrupted his gaming sesh with seob. when you film and publish the ridiculous tiktok, you point your phone towards him so he can appreciate the fruit of your labor, and when he finally does get to see the video for himself he lets out the biggest laugh that puts an equally big smile on your face

౨ৎ jongseob

you both actually discover the trend together! you two have a routine of cuddling up and scrolling through one of your for you pages, alternating phones each night depending on your battery levels. tonight, jongseob has your back against his chest as he scrolls through your tiktok when the trend first pops up on the screen, and you both get intrigued and scroll through the let the light in sound on tiktok to watch more. you don’t say anything to him but seob can tell you want to participate, and he ends up sweetly informing you that “we can do this trend if you want! i don’t have ribbon on me right now though..” and with that your eyes light up. the two of you end up buying ribbon at the craft store the next day for the sole purpose of filming that video, and you both rush to his dorm afterwards to film the tiktok. you end up settling on wrapping the dainty ribbon around both of his arms and torso, the pair of you refilming several times to get it “just right”. just like the other boys, seob is just happy to please his pretty gf!

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

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