#Jesus fucking Christ on toast

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | pranking your husband with your kid

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by 🫐 anon) : your little one confidently drops an “stfu” in front of their unsuspecting father, chaos ensues...

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : tws : children cursing ୨ৎ : word count : 1699

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : quite literally one of the funniest things ive wrote LMFAO also cant believe i just stayed up till 4am to watch the sprint ... being a US fan is tough.

ʚ・max verstappen

mornings in the verstappen household were usually calm and routine.

max had his coffee, you had your tea, and your little one sat in their chair, happily munching on toast while the three of you chatted about the day ahead.

it was peaceful.

until it wasn’t.

because this morning, you had decided to spice things up a bit.

as max sipped his coffee, barely awake, your child, with the confidence of a seasoned pro, suddenly turned to you and said,

“mom, shut the fuck up.”

max froze mid-sip.

for a second, he didn’t move, his blue eyes going impossibly wide over the rim of his mug. you watched as he processed the words, his brain short-circuiting in real-time.

and then—

“hey! what did you just say to your mother?!”

max nearly knocked over his coffee, slamming the mug down so hard it rattled against the table. his full attention was now on your child, who sat there completely unfazed, swinging their legs innocently.

max’s jaw tightened, his usually relaxed morning demeanor shattered. “that is not how we talk to mom,” he scolded, his voice stern.

at this point, you couldn’t hold it in anymore, your shoulders started shaking with laughter.

max’s gaze snapped to you, bewildered.

“what—why are you laughing?” he demanded, looking between you and your unbothered child.

your kid, bless their little mischievous heart, grinned proudly and clapped their hands. “we got you, daddy!”

max blinked. “…what?”

you gasped for air between laughs. “it was a prank, max!”

his whole body deflated, his shoulders slumping as he sank back into his chair. he ran a hand down his face, shaking his head, still in shock.

“a prank?” he muttered, exhaling deeply.

“yep.” you grinned. “and you fell for it perfectly.”

your child nodded enthusiastically. “we got you good, daddy!”

max groaned, still looking visibly distressed. “jesus christ,” he muttered under his breath, before looking at you dead in the eyes.

“never scare me like that again. both of you.”

you and your kid shared a victorious high-five, while max sat there, sipping his coffee in defeated silence.

because, honestly? you would definitely be doing it again.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

it was the perfect start to the day.

until your child, with all the confidence in the world, casually dropped, “mom, shut the fuck up.”

lewis instantly froze.

his fork stopped mid-air, his jaw went tight, and his eyes flickered between you and your child with calculated precision, as if trying to assess whether he actually heard what he thought he did.

slowly, deliberately, he set his utensils down.

“where did you learn that language?” his voice was calm, firm—the kind of dad voice that reminded you of even your own father.

your child just blinked up at him innocently.

you bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to crack. the silence stretched as lewis continued analyzing the situation, likely recalling every conversation, every movie, every song your child had ever been exposed to.

finally, he looked at you. “babe?”

and that’s when you burst out laughing.

your child giggled right along with you, clapping their hands. “we got you!”

lewis blinked, processing the betrayal in real-time.

“wait.” he leaned back, shaking his head. “this was a prank?”

you nodded, wiping tears from your eyes. “you should’ve seen your face.”

your little one beamed, still thrilled with their performance.

lewis sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before shaking his head. “you’re both unbelievable.”

you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “but you love us.”

he huffed out a laugh, wrapping an arm around you before gently tapping your kid’s nose. “that’s right. but don’t think you’re getting dessert tonight, little troublemaker.”

your child gasped dramatically. “not even ice cream?”

lewis smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “nope. actions have consequences.”

you and your little one shared a mischievous glance, already plotting the next prank.

ʚ・george russell

george russell prided himself on being a refined, well-mannered man.

which is why, when your sweet, angelic child, sitting perfectly at the breakfast table, suddenly deadpanned—

“oh my god, mom, just shut the fuck up.”

—george absolutely lost the plot.

he gasped so dramatically, it could’ve been a shakespearean performance.

then, in the middle of his gasp, he nearly choked on his tea, sputtering as he set his cup down with an urgency that sent a teaspoon flying across the table.

his eyes were wide with absolute horror as he looked at your child, then at you, then back at your child.

“excuse me, young one?!” his voice rose an octave, his posh british accent making it all the more ridiculous. “that is absolutely unacceptable!”

you bit your lip, trying to hold it together, but your child's stone-faced innocence was making it so much harder.

george blinked rapidly, clearly spiraling. “where—who—why—how do you even know that phrase?!”

you couldn’t do it anymore. the laugh ripped out of you, and your kid cracked immediately, bursting into giggles.

george’s expression did not change.

he just stared at the two of you, utterly betrayed.

“oh. oh, funny, is it?” he sat back, arms crossed. “you two almost gave me a heart attack!”

tears streamed down your face as you gasped between laughs. “your reaction was...perfect.”

george sighed, rubbing his temples. “i can’t believe this. i thought i was raising a russell, not a red bull garage menace.”

your kid, still giggling, leaned into him. “sorry, daddy.”

george huffed, shaking his head. “mm-hmm.”

you smirked. “come on love, be a good sport...i guess we won’t tell you about the prank we have planned for next week.”

george froze, eyes narrowing. “next week?!”

and just like that, his morning was ruined.

ʚ・carlos sainz

dinner at the sainz household was usually filled with laughter, playful teasing, and carlos passionately explaining why bread is the superior food group.

but tonight? tonight was different.

because in the middle of enjoying his meal, your sweet, sweet child suddenly looked up from their plate and casually threw out—

“mom, shut the hell up.”

carlos stopped chewing immediately.

slowly, he set his fork down, his usually warm brown eyes narrowing in silent disbelief as he turned his full attention to your child.

“what did you just say?” his voice was low, steady—that kind of calm that wasn’t really calm at all.

your kid fidgeted, but to their credit, they stayed in character, glancing at their food like nothing had happened.

carlos inhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw.

“apologize. right now, por favor,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

you had been doing an admirable job holding it together, but the sight of carlos going full dad mode while your kid desperately tried to avoid eye contact was too much.

a laugh bubbled out of you, breaking the tense silence.

carlos' sharp gaze snapped to you.

“why are you laughing?” he asked, clearly concerned that you weren’t treating this as a disciplinary moment.

your kid finally cracked, giggling uncontrollably. “it’s a prank, daddy!”

carlos' shoulders slumped in instant relief, his head dropping into his hands as he let out a deep sigh.

he shook his head, clearly trying to process his near-stroke, before pushing his chair back and pulling your child into his arms.

“dios mío,” he muttered, pressing a firm kiss to their head. “you scared me, mi corazón. never again.”

your child wrapped their arms around his neck, clearly pleased with their successful prank.

carlos pulled back just enough to look at them. “you know i love you, sí?”

they nodded, still giggling.

he nodded too, expression softening—but then, with a dramatic sigh, he glanced at you.

“you. you i do not love right now.”

you smirked, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “aw, but i love you, cariño.”

carlos groaned, dramatically rubbing his face.

“i should’ve known,” he muttered. “you are just as bad as lando.”

you laugh, "well who do you think i got the idea from, amor?"

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles leclerc was many things—a world-class driver, a monegasque heartthrob, a man with an occasional temper behind the wheel—but at home, he was a complete softie.

especially when it came to his little girl.

so when you suggested a prank, your daughter was all in—and naturally, charles never saw it coming.

it started innocently enough. dinner was almost ready, and charles was sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to what was about to unfold.

you stood by the stove, pretending to be annoyed, sighing as you turned to your daughter.

“you always take your papa’s side,” you huffed, crossing your arms dramatically.

your daughter, in full character, rolled her eyes. “because he is right most of the time!”

charles looked up, blinking in confusion.

“what are you two talking about?” he asked, already sensing tension but completely unsure why.

you shook your head. “forget it.”

“yeah, mama, seriously, just shut the fuck up!”

silence.

absolute, stunned, deafening silence.

charles' phone nearly slipped out of his hand.

his eyes widened to saucers, darting back and forth between you and your daughter like a tennis match, his mouth slightly opening and closing—but no words came out.

he finally managed to stammer, softly, “mon ange… where did you learn such a word?”

his voice was so soft, so betrayed, you nearly broke character.

your daughter held it together impressively—until she turned to you, and you both burst out laughing.

charles' entire body sagged in relief.

“oh, thank goodness,” he exhaled, rubbing his face. “i thought we had some serious parenting issues.”

you giggled, walking over to kiss his cheek. “did we get you?”

charles shot you the most unimpressed look. “i nearly had a heart attack.”

your daughter giggled, climbing onto his lap and wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. “sorry, papa. we were just playing!”

charles sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around her. “i don’t know who is worse—you or your mother.”

you winked. “probably me.”

charles huffed out a laugh, shaking his head before kissing the top of his daughter’s head. “no more playing like that, okay, mon ange?”

she nodded, grinning mischievously.

but from the way charles still held her tight, he wasn’t taking any chances.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[passiveagreeable]

I can’t find it because searching tumblr sucks and google search quality has seriously just gone kaput, but I’m thinking about a post I saw that was like “don’t let cultural or societal standards force you into eating certain things for breakfast. Any food can be a breakfast food and traditional breakfast foods can be anytime foods.”

Cuz, just. When I was in high school on special days, we would have fried eggs on toast, but now years later, my dad has caught the avocado bug while I’ve been away and so that’s become avocado on toast with fried eggs. So this morning he pops his head in my room and says we have an avocado so how about some eggs. I tell him there’s some leftover rice so I’ll eat that with the rice and he can put it on toast. He’s like okay, whatever, then a moment later he pops back in to say I can do rice and he’ll eat a bagel so I can use our remaining two pieces of bread to make a sandwich for work. Yeah, alright, sure.

So I come out to the kitchen to cut up and season the avocado, as I always do, and he’s slicing a cinnamon raisin bagel, because his other option was parmesan and when we purchased the bagels yesterday, he told me in no uncertain terms that he does not think that parmesan is a breakfast cheese. And he’s getting ready to put avocado and fried eggs on a cinnamon raisin bagel because that is literally how against parmesan for breakfast he is, apparently.

[wordsofwhimsy]

ᴄᴜᴛ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʚ♡ɞ - Brunch Edition!

Pairing: Lenless [No Goggles]!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: More smuttt for my people!!

Tags: More of that fucked up toxic bullshittt but we love it don’t we? Mark makes reader jealous, lots of juicy brunch drama

Word Count: 2,664

Chapter Synopsis: Next morning brunch with the girlies! Only make it unhinged, make it hot 👏

a/n: i literally had this wrote up last night after i finished the first part & was dying to post it this morning lmaoo. had so much fun writing this

Part One

The air shifts before you even see him.

You don’t know how—maybe it’s the way Sadie suddenly stops mid-sentence, mimosa halfway to her mouth. Or maybe it’s the pit in your stomach that drops like a stone.

And then—

“Oh my god,” Maya whispers. You turn, already knowing. And there he is.

Mark.

In a black tee and dark jeans like he didn’t just threaten murder and make you see stars less than twelve hours ago. Hair a little messy. Bite marks still faint on his neck. He smirks when he sees you—like he planned this.

“Hi, besties,” he says, sliding into the booth next to you like he belongs there.

The silence is deadly.

Lauren stares like she’s watching a car crash. Sadie physically recoils. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Mark says, reaching across the table to snag a piece of bacon from Maya’s plate. “Figured I’d stop by. Catch up.”

You’re frozen. Mouth open. Praying to disintegrate like dust in the wind. And then—he does the worst possible thing. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. “Missed you, baby.” Lauren chokes on her coffee.

You can feel the tension spike. It's so loud you swear someone at the next table over flinches. Lauren mutters, “What in the actual fuck…” under her breath, stirring her coffee like it's laced with poison. You elbow Mark in the ribs, whispering,

“What are you doing here?” He grins, unbothered.

“Thought I’d meet the people you’re willing to throw scissors over.”

Sadie slams her fork down. “You’re joking.”

“Oh no,” Mark says smoothly, picking up a menu he clearly doesn’t care about. “Dead serious. Though, between us?” He leans across the table just slightly, smirking at her. “I dunno why she acted like that. I mean, you’ve clearly already made up your mind.”

Sadie blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t like me, Sadie. I get that. You think I’m dangerous, manipulative, unpredictable—”

“You are all of those things!”

Mark raises your glass of water like a toast. “Exactly. And yet…”He tilts his head, eyes dragging down her face—slow, deliberate. “You stare at me like you want me to prove it.”

The table goes silent.

Sadie’s face flushes so fast, you swear steam rises from her mimosa. “You’re disgusting,” she spits, crossing her arms. “You’re not even trying to be subtle.”

Mark shrugs. “Why would I? You think about me when you’re alone, don’t you?” You kick him under the table. Hard. He winces—but doesn’t stop smiling.

“Jesus Christ,” Lauren mutters. “He’s like if a red flag gained sentience.”

Maya—completely unbothered and already two mimosas deep—leans over to you and whispers, “Okay but like… he is kind of hot when he’s being evil.”

“MAYA!”

Mark raises a brow, absolutely delighted. “See? At least someone at this table has taste.”

Sadie’s glaring at him like she’s two seconds from launching her croissant at his head. Mark’s just sitting back, arm draped behind your chair, sipping water like it's champagne. His eyes never leave her.

“You know,” he says, casual as hell, “I used to think you hated me because you were such a good friend to [y/n].”

Sadie scoffs. “Used to?”

“Mmhm.” He sets the glass down slowly, like he’s warming up for something. “But now I think maybe you just wish it was you I had pressed up against the wall last night.”

You choke on your drink. Lauren’s fork clatters to her plate. Sadie turns bright red—rage red.

“Excuse me??” she says, voice low and incredulous. Mark leans forward slightly, all fake innocence and devil-smile.

“You’re always looking at her like she’s in trouble when I’m around,” he says. “But I see the way you look at me. Like you’re trying to figure out what it’d feel like if I bent you over a table and made you scream my name instead.”

The table goes silent. The kind of silence that rings in your ears.

Your stomach flips, heat pooling low in your gut—half rage, half something you don’t want to name in front of the bottomless mimosa crowd.

“Mark,” you hiss, gripping his arm. “Shut the fuck up.”

He doesn’t even blink. “I bet you fantasize about it,” he says to Sadie, voice lower now, silkier, dangerous. “About what it’d be like to give in. Just once. Let someone wreck you and not say sorry after.”

Sadie’s hand slams down on the table.

“Say one more word,” she hisses, eyes glassy and full of murder, “and I swear I will gut you right here with this butter knife.”

Mark grins. Like she just made his entire week. And you—sitting there between them—feel like you’re about to explode. Jealousy is clawing up your throat, bitter and burning, but so is something else. Something worse.

Desire.

Because watching Mark push Sadie like this—filthy, unbothered, completely in control—it’s doing things to you. Things it shouldn’t.

He turns back to you, finally, and sees it in your face. Oh. He knows. His eyes darken.

“You mad at me?” he murmurs, dragging a knuckle down your jaw, completely ignoring the others. “Or just mad you weren’t the one I was talking to like that?”

You could slap him.

You could also drag him into the back alley and let him absolutely ruin you.

You’re not sure which you’re going to do yet.

But either way—

He’s winning.

You don’t even realize you’re moving until the bathroom door slams behind you, hands gripping the edge of the sink like it might save you from a public breakdown.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Lipstick slightly smudged. Hair wild from your hands combing through it with pure anxiety. Your face is flushed—and not from the champagne.

You're furious.

Not just at him. At yourself.

Because no one should be that turned on by watching their maybe-psycho not-boyfriend flirt graphically with one of their best friends.

And yet…

A knock on the door. Lauren peeks in, arms crossed tight, eyes sharp. “Okay,” she says. “What the hell is going on?” You sigh, still avoiding your own gaze.

“I know it’s insane.”

“Oh, do you?” she snaps. “Because I just watched that man talk about bending Sadie over a table while your fucking mimosa got warm.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I didn’t think he’d come here!”

“But you knew he was like this.” Lauren’s voice softens, just slightly. “And babe... I know you like danger or whatever, but this? This isn’t just hot anymore. This is toxic. This is red-flag city.”

“I know,” you say, voice cracking.

“So then walk away,” she says gently. “Right now. Don’t go back to that table. Don’t let him sink his claws in deeper. You deserve better.” And for a moment—you almost believe her. You take a deep breath. Straighten your dress. Numb yourself.

You’re ready to let go.

Until you step out. And you see him.

Mark. Now sitting next to Sadie. Closer than necessary. Elbow on the back of the booth. Whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh—real, flushed, flustered.

His hand is on her thigh and damn if Sadie didn’t look like she was enjoying the attention. Something snaps in your chest. You walk back to the table calm. Collected. Smiling.

You slide into your seat and grab your water. Take a slow sip. Mark glances over. And you look right at him. Then, under the table, slowly slide off one of your heels.

His brow lifts. Your foot drags up the inside of his leg, slow and shameless.

His smirk dies.

You press your toes higher—just enough pressure, just enough suggestion—and keep sipping your drink like you’re bored.

His hand tightens on Sadie’s thigh. But he’s not looking at her anymore. He’s looking at you.

You mouth one word:

“Outside.”

One minute later

The alley behind the brunch spot is warm, reeking of dumpster grease and sin, and the second the door swings open—

Mark’s on you.

“Fucking crazy,” he growls against your lips, hands yanking you in by the waist. “You’re gonna touch me under the table while I’m with your friend?”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t putting on a whole show in there,” you snap, grabbing his collar and dragging him down to your mouth. “You wanted me to break.”

“You jealous?” he smirks, teeth scraping your throat.

You shove him against the wall. Hard.

“Seething.”

He groans like it turns him on.

“I love when you snap,” he breathes, hand sliding up your thigh, under your dress. “Love when you act like I’m the only thing that matters.”

“You are,” you hiss, nails dragging down his back. “And I hate it.”

“Then take it out on me.”

Mark's mouth is on you like he’s starving—teeth scraping your jaw, tongue dragging over your pulse point, breath hot as his hands grip your thighs and lift. You don’t even pretend to resist—you wrap your legs around his waist, back slamming against the brick wall, your dress hiking up around your hips like it wants this to happen.

“You’re so fucking messy,” he growls, grinding against you. “You storm off like you’re done with me, then come back and pull that little under-the-table foot trick like a fucking slut.”

Your hand fists in his hair, yanking his head back to look at you. “You’re the one who started it.”

“Oh, baby,” he pants, grinding his hips harder into yours, “I haven’t even started.”

He yanks your panties aside with one rough pull—no teasing, no games, just access. His fingers slide through your slick like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You’re so wet,” he snarls, eyes dark and wild. “You liked watching me touch Sadie, didn’t you? Liked getting all jealous and filthy under that table like a little freak.”

You gasp as he slides two fingers into you, curling just right. Your head slams back against the wall, breath stuttering.

“Fuck you—”

“You wish.”

He presses his forehead to yours, mouth inches from yours as he starts working you open, fucking you with his fingers like he owns you.

“You gonna cum like this?” he murmurs. “With my fingers in you, in a back alley, while your friends sit inside wondering where the hell you went?”

“Mark—”

“I bet you want them to hear you,” he hisses. “Want them to know you’ll always choose me.”

You cry out as he crooks his fingers just right, and he groans, pulling them free.

“Turn around,” he growls.

You don’t hesitate. Hands hit the wall, legs shaking, your breath fogging the brick in front of you.

You hear the sound of his zipper, the rough drag of denim, and then—fuck—he’s inside you in one harsh, unforgiving thrust.

You both gasp.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice ragged, “so tight—like your pussy missed me.”

You moan, high and wrecked, as he starts to move—deep, punishing strokes that send your body slamming against the wall with every thrust. One of his hands fists in your hair, the other sliding around to your throat, fingers pressing just enough.

“You’re mine,” he hisses. “Say it.”

“Y-You’re—fuck—Mark—”

He slaps your ass, hard.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out. “I’m yours, I’m—fuck, don’t stop—”

He loses it.

Thrusts getting rougher, faster, his mouth dragging over your shoulder, biting down like he needs to leave every trace of himself possible behind on you. You can feel yourself unraveling, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your stomach, and he knows.

“You gonna cum on my cock out here like a dirty little slut?” he growls. “Do it. Show me.”

That’s all it takes.

You fall apart around him, body shaking, eyes screwed shut as the orgasm rips through you. And he follows seconds later, buried to the hilt, groaning against your skin like you just saved his fucking life.

Silence.

Just your ragged breathing. Your body still trembling. His hands holding you up. And then, softly:

“…Think they’re still on dessert?”

You wheeze out a laugh and smack his chest. “I was dessert.”

He grins, teeth wicked. “Damn right you were.”

The second you step back into the restaurant, the air feels different. Or maybe that was just you.

Your hair is a wreck. Your lipstick? A memory. Your thighs are still trembling and you can feel the heat between your legs like a living thing. Mark’s behind you, looking completely unbothered—shirt rumpled, hair wild, lip definitely bitten.

Smug. Glowing.

The man has never looked more pleased with himself in his life.

You’re halfway back to the table when Maya sees you first. She stops mid-sip of her mimosa. Her eyes flick to your flushed face. Then to Mark. Then to the way you're walking like your soul just got pounded out of your body.

“Oh my god,” she chokes. Sadie looks up. And stares.

Mark slides into the booth again, reaching for your water like this is just another Tuesday. “So, what’d I miss?” Lauren is frozen. Fork in hand. Horrified.

You take your seat like you’re not dying inside. “...Someone pass the syrup.”

“Are you serious right now—” Sadie starts, voice sharp.

“Oh c’mon,” Mark interrupts, eyes sparkling. “Don’t act surprised. You wanted her to go after me, didn’t you?” Sadie goes silent, jaw clenched.

You stare at him, voice low. “You’re an asshole.”

He leans in, grinning. “You love it.”

Maya just fans herself dramatically. “Okay, but real talk? That was the hottest exit and re-entry I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

Lauren finally breaks. “You guys seriously just—in the alley? Like a couple of feral raccoons??”

You pick up your drink and sip it with a completely deadpan expression. “I mean, I wouldn’t describe it like that...”

Sadie slams her napkin down. “You’re insane. You let him humiliate you in front of us and then—then you go and just—!”

“What?” Mark cuts in, eyes locking with hers. “Get fucked so hard she forgot why she was mad?”

Pin drop silence.

You don’t look at her. You don’t have to. You can feel it clear as day—the tension, the heat, the way her nails dig into her thigh under the table. Like maybe, just maybe, she wishes it was her.

Mark smiles like he knows it too.

You finish your mimosa in one slow sip, set the glass down, and say, “Check, please.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, but this is actually insane,” Lauren says, standing now, arms crossed like she’s about to launch into a TED Talk on Red Flags and the Girls Who Love Them. “You can’t seriously leave with him after this. He’s manipulative, he’s inappropriate, he literally—you had sex in an alley!”

Before you can even open your mouth, Mark cuts in.

“Oh my god, can you shut up already?” He doesn’t even look at her—just leans back, arm resting on the booth like he owns the place. “You’re so annoying. This is why I like Maya better.”

Maya chokes on her drink, a loud pfft sound spurting past her lips.

Mark points at her casually. “You at least support your friend’s slutty decisions.” Lauren makes a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a scream.

Sadie is just staring at you. Like she can’t decide whether to pity you, strangle you, or beg to be next.

You snap, grabbing Mark by the wrist and yanking him out of the booth. “Okay! We’re going! Brunch was so fun, love you all, gotta go—bye!”

He’s laughing as you drag him toward the door.

“Aw, we’re leaving already?” he says over his shoulder, waving. “Bye, besties! Don’t wait up!” You don’t look back. You can’t. You’re too busy trying not to let your knees give out from sheer humiliation and adrenaline.

[cronchytoast]

tumblr is rlly beating the nsfw bots to it with these character ai aids huh

[lostinlovingrevery]

Stressed old man Logan + reader + glory hole

Jesus Christ 🙏🫦

Unraveling

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

Logan overhears a conversation between you and your coworker....

A/N: Nonny when you sent this ask in I immediately was like...Oh my god. Oh my god???? Jesus. Hope you like this! (also this gif...ungf)

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, blowjobs, glory hole, drinking, Logan being perverted and desperate, suggestive ending (i mean.. its' obvs?)

It has been the fucking shittiest, fuck-all, goddamn day.

All Logan wanted to do was have a drink at his favorite bar, and talk to his favorite girl. 

Well, he got 1 out of 2.

You, who was not actually his girl (much to his dismay), were busy with customers. It seemed like all the fucking idiots in the city decided this bar was going to be the setting of their tomfoolery. He had to clench his fists and resist the instinctive feeling of popping his claws out and stabbing them into the arm of the drunken asshole next to him, who kept laughing and yapping and knocking into his (very sore) shoulder. 

The jokes aren’t even that funny. 

The night might be salvageable if he could at least get one of your pretty smiles shot his way. You haven’t even been able to come to refill his shots, one of your coworkers doing the job instead, since you were being drugged along table after table full of men shouting about their fantasy football and demanding refills and their seasoned basket of french fries.

There may have been a time when Logan would have been one of those. A group of friends, all laughing and having a good time over something trivial. Smacking one of them on the back and nearly knocking his glasses off; telling jokes that make one spit her drink out; arm wrestling with another and winning, every. Single. Time. Toasting their drinks, to a good future. 

Well, that was a long time ago.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. T’was getting late. Should probably head back home soon. Especially if he wants to resist the urge of slamming the fuckers head next to him onto the counter and staining the polished wood with his blood. Course, he wouldn’t want to create more work for you.

He glanced around the bar, searching for you. He couldn’t spot you, but he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye yet anyway. 

You’re my favorite

You would whisper to him sweetly across the bar, a flirty wink, and a smile that made his heart flutter. He knew you were merely trying to make an old man, a regular to the bar, feel better about himself. You were just so kind, genuine about your words. It grew hard for him to not get a little crush on the young, pretty thing you are. A reminder of his youth. Shit, if he’d met you in his prime, he would have wasted no time in making you his.

Now, that’s just a fantasy. Something he thinks about as he lies awake on top of his ratty mattress, as he strokes his cock to the memory of your laughter, the curve of your painted lips, and the way your ass looks in those jeans. 

It’s pathetic, he’s created some sort of imaginary relationship in his head with you. So starved for any sort of affection, platonic or romantic- that he tries to imagine that you would ever want anything to do with him outside of being a regular at your bar. 

His glass was empty. 

He sighed, getting up from his stool and moving to the other side of the bar, where one of your coworkers was filling drinks up. It got him away from the assholes giving him a headache and got him the chance to get his glass filled up. He watched the whiskey being poured, small bubbles floating at the top, as he brought the glass to his lips, a courteous nod to the bartender before taking a drink. 

It was then he picked up something curious. 

It was you, and one of your coworkers, talking in the hallway around the corner that led to the bathrooms and the kitchen. It was none of his business, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. 

“Don’t you want to live a little bit?” 

“Well yeah!” You responded. “I don’t know if I call this living though…” 

“It’s fun! I swear.”

“How often have you tried it?”

“Like…4 or 5 times?”

“Woah. and you haven’t gotten an STD?” 

“Uh, no? Why would I get that? It goes in the mouth?”

Logan curled a brow, the silence from you was deafening as your friend- who’s voice Logan recognized as another bartender, a woman with platinum blonde hair who has implied more times than once that she wanted to have sex with him, to his face, waited for your next words. 

“We’ll need to have a talk about that another time.” You say gently. 

“Whatever. Are you going to keep being a prude?”

“I’m not a prude!”

“And when was the last time you got some dick?” 

Logan raised his brows in surprise. He waited for your answer, the silence then telling him what he needed to know. 

Admittedly, it surprised him. You were a pretty girl, boys flirted with you left and right. Yes, boys, because none of them could really take care of you- not the way he could. Course, he’s not really doing a top-notch job taking care of himself, or someone else….

“It’s just a glory hole. Just try it once, and it won’t be like anyone will know it’s you!”

Logan nearly choked on his drink. Glory hole?

The fucking glory hole!

The nasty shit in the last stall at the end of the men's bathroom. A hole someone drilled into the plywood to separate the women from the mens. He had seen it a few times, hell, even been tempted to give it a try. A moment of weakness just to get his whistle wet after who knows how long (He rather not think about it). He’s always chickened out though, stepping away from the nasty thing, preferring to just get himself off in his car or bed. Especially since lately, he could only think about you to get himself off. 

He listened to you sigh. 

“Okay…” You say. “Wish me…luck, I guess?” and a small laugh escaped you. 

He wasn’t even thinking. He stood up from the stool, a loud screech across the noisy bar, barely registered by anyone inside, as he moved to go down the hallway, brushing past your friend who glanced at him with a confused look, before watching him push the door of the men's bathroom open and step inside. She smirked knowingly, before turning to go back to her shift- and cover you for at least the next 10 minutes. 

The music and raucous laughter were muffled as he stepped into the dingy bathroom. The fluorescent light, blue-tiled floor covered with scuff marks and pieces of paper towels, and dingy, speckled white painted walls would be a mood killer for most. Logan though, felt his cock hardening every step he made to the back stall- praying to god some other asshole didn’t manage to get in there before he did. 

He pushed the stall open. Empty.

He stood there for a moment. The tent in his pants became more prominent as he considered the implications of what he was about to do. Fuck, he knew it was going to be you on the other side, you would have no idea it was his cock you’re sucking. Fucking felt wrong as hell. 

Then he thought about your pretty lips. 

He stepped inside, shutting the stall door behind him and locking it. He glanced over where the hole was located. 

Not huge, just big enough to stick his dick inside. Written above it with several arrows pointing towards the hole in Sharpie was GLORY HOLE in all caps. As if it wasn’t more obvious what the damn thing was. 

People used to be discreet. 

There was graffiti all along the wall. Crude drawings of dicks and stick figures having sex in various positions. Numbers and ‘Call me! <3 <3 <3’ written in multiple spaces. A ‘go fuck yourself’ written right at Logan's eye level in pink sharpie. 

He stood there for a minute, his fists clenching and unclenching as he listened to the muffled rock music in the background. Loud cheers turned his head to the stall door. He let out a small breath and inhaled through his nose- where he caught a whiff of your scent. 

He froze. Glancing at the glory hole before bending over, and peering through it. 

He knew he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t help it.

You were sitting on the toilet, bouncing your leg, looking everywhere but the wall, like you were avoiding the fact that it existed. He found your nervousness cute. He thought of all sorts of ways he could have you. This certainly wasn’t one of those ways. This was all sorts of fucked up. He was a perverted old man, who jumped at the chance to secretly get his dick sucked by you, the bartender he’s had a crush on for nearly a year. 

He’ll take what he can get. 

He unzipped his pants.

Shaky hands pulled himself out, cock in his hand, he gave himself a few strokes. He hadn’t gotten hard this fast and this painfully in forever. He was throbbing, that thick vein that ran up to his tip, red and swollen as precum beaded and slowly dripped down his length. 

He took a deep breath, stepping forward, and he entered himself into the glory hole. His other hand came up, pressed against the wall as he braced himself, staring at the pink message telling him to go fuck himself. 

Oh. My. god.

Whoever this guy was, he’s fucking huge. Biggest you’ve ever seen. The sight of it made your thighs clench together as you felt your arousal slicken your panties. Your mouth watered and you felt your skin heat up by the fact that you were completely turned on right now. 

This was so nasty. 

You examined his cock, inches away from your face. Thick, a prominent vein from his tip, ran down his shaft. Pre-cum beading from his slit. He looked painfully hard, poor guy must be pent up. 

You bit your lip. 

Let's help him feel better.

Your hand came up to grip him, firm, but not too hard. You could feel him throbbing, as you leaned forward, and ran your tongue over his slit, tasting the beady pre-cum on your tongue and rolling your eyes- resisting the urge to moan. 

Logan bit down on the knuckle of his thumb, so hard he broke skin, as he tasted something metallic flood his tongue. He couldn’t care though, not as he felt your wet tongue practically lap him up like someone dying of thirst in the desert. Your hand slowly, carefully began to jerk him off, using your spit to lube him up. He let out a shaky breath, tipping his head back as he placed both hands against the wall, tipping his hips forward and pressing himself flush against the drywall. 

You leaned forward, taking his tip between your lips, as you twirled your tongue around him, hollowing at your cheeks and bobbing over it a few times. He was already huge, and you were doubtful of your ability to take him in fully. You tipped your head in forward, pushing him deeper into your mouth, and savored the weight of him. 

Fuck, you’re good.

Logan let out a pant, almost akin to a quiet whine when he felt you take him deeper into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat, as you began pulling your head back and forth, swirling your tongue and lips over him expertly. Goddamn this stupid ass wall. Exactly why he didn’t like glory holes. He wanted to see those lips of yours wrapped around his cock. He wanted to see you look up at him with those pretty eyes. He wanted to grab your hair and face fuck you and watch tears stream down your cheek and kiss them away once he was finished. The way you were sucking on him like he was something desirable. You didn’t even know it was him.

Dirty girl.

Drool began to dribble over your chin, as you continued sucking on him mindlessly. Your brain was going fuzzy, your eyes rolled back as you enjoyed the heady taste of this man. You had no idea it would be this good to suck dick before. 

His hips started involuntarily thrusting against the wall, desperate for more, for the pending release that he had been holding back, completely surprised that he had lasted as long as he had. He bit back another groan, a small whimper escaping him as he continued rocking his hips against the wall, tipping his head back again. His claws pricked the skin of his knuckles, small red beads forming at the base. His nails dug into the dinghy paint, leaving crescent shape marks, leaving his permanent mark in the bathroom stall. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, as he let out a harsh groan. 

“Fuck”

You almost stopped at the sound. The familiar gruff voice that you’ve grown to be fond of. The older gentleman who has been coming into your bar, every other night, gets the same drink, and gives you the same warm smile, with the same gruff “mhms”

You thought he was the cutest thing. Tall, dark, and handsome. Not to mention extremely mysterious. He never told you much about his life, after that he drives a limo- you’d tease him about giving you a free ride at some point since you have never ridden a limo, and he’d just smile and give you this look you couldn’t quite read. 

He never talked to anyone. Well, he “talked” to you, if you want to call it talking. He responds to you more than anybody else who works here. Even Angela, the one who pushed you into this damn thing just so you’d quit complaining about having no sex life. You never saw a guy resist her charms and tits but Logan could’ve cared less for her. 

It gave you a bit of a complex, admittedly. 

Angela is convinced his dick doesn’t work anymore cause surely who could resist her?

Definitely nothing wrong with his cock.

You had no idea he was the type of man to use a glory hole of all things though. What would he say if he knew you were the one slobbering over his cock? Fucking your throat with him, becoming mindless at the taste of him and already dreaming of sucking it again in the near future. He’d feel amazing in your pussy too, although by his size your jaw was aching and you knew you were going to need a lozenge after this by taking him down your throat; you’re not sure if you would be able to survive getting fucked. 

He was thrusting in and out of your throat, and you could tell by how he throbbed he was getting close. You pulled your mouth off him, stroking him furiously with your hand to get him there closer. You wanted to watch him cum. 

You faltered for a moment when you swore you heard him groan your name. 

Quickly returning your pace, you stick your tongue out, running it over his slit, when you are finally rewarded. 

Ropes and ropes of cum painted your tongue and face as you stroked him off. It seemed never-ending the way your face was being covered by his spunk. 

Sure was pent up, wasn’t he?

You stroked him through the last of it, noticing how your lipstick stained all over his base and feeling a strange sense of pride. You wrapped your lips around him one more time to clean off the remaining cum leaking out, making his softening cock twitch, before he quickly pulled himself out. You heard a zipper and a belt being done up before a door gets pushed open.

You sat there, blinking a few times. An urge to say, “Thanks” rests on your lips. Yet you keep your mouth closed. You pulled your phone out, looking at the mess you’ve become. His cum covered you, forehead to chin, spit dripping over your lips, and your mascara was runny. Even your hair had managed to get ruffled during the process. 

You spent the next five minutes cleaning yourself up, first wiping everything down and then when the evidence was less obvious. You washed your face in the sink, the girls walking in the bathroom oblivious to your earlier antics. A wave of clarity hit you as you began to wonder, 

How the fuck am I going to look Logan in the eyes now?

You dried your face off, fixed your hair, and checked your outfit before you opened the door and stepped back into the noisy bar- only to be greeted by Logan. His hands in his his pockets, face looking down at the ugly stained carpet that has been here since the 90s, his ankle crossed over the other. He looked up at you and your eyes met and you could see it.

He knew it was you on the other side.

He pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward and you swallowed, the taste of him still strong on your tongue. Staring up at him with wide eyes, he looked down at you like a predator eyeing his next meal. 

His cheeks were flushed, the tips of his ears red, his hair a bit mussed. He towered over you, making your heart beat fast. 

“You want that free ride now sweetheart?”

[mallowsweetmiri]

I am foaming at the mouth after Potter!Reader x Remus. Like I’m literally obsessed, perfect characterisation.

I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are, would you mind doing a part 2? Maybe more of them sneaking around or James finding out or something I don’t know.

Secret Potter!reader x Remus pt 2

Summary: Remus can’t stop thinking about you, you can't stop kissing him, and Theodore Pompous needs to hide from James

Warnings: smutty, mentions of consent, slight corruption kink

Word count: 3.5k

—————————————————————————

Remus woke up the next morning and sat up in his bed for a full minute thinking, what the fuck have I done? He had fucked his best friend's little sister, and the worst part was, he wanted to do it again. Remus rubbed over his eyes as he got up to use the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and tried to justify what had happened. It wasn't his fault that you teased him all weekend- with a surprising amount of stealth considering James was almost always around the two of you- and then made him feel your soaking panties when he tried to ask for your consent.

"Jesus fucking christ," Remus cursed, grabbing the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. He had to get a grip. By the time he had brushed his teeth, showered, and gotten dressed, it was lunch hours. Remus and the marauders strutted cheerfully down to the Great Hall, despite being at a party the night before. This was routine. Soon they'd be scarfing their faces with toast and sausage and sandwiches.

You had woken up a few minutes later and ended up walking to the Great Hall with Marlene and a few other girls. You were mildly hungover, though by this hour, you were ready to eat. When you walked through the doors, you spotted Remus immediately. He was already watching you as you walked towards the table, sitting down next to James as you did every morning.

"Mornin'," James greeted you, smiling through a mouthful of toast. You raised your brows and tried not to laugh for two reasons. James was staring at you like an idiot, and Remus was staring at your tits.

"Good morning," you laughed, hiding the smile on your lips. You started to fill your plate, intentionally looking away from Remus. He seemed to be nervous. Then you felt James fingers pull back your hair away from your neck.

"Y/N, do you have a hickey on your neck?" James sputtered, moving in closer to stare at it. Your eyes shot up to Remus who was currently looking away from you and your brother.

"So what," you scoffed, fussing his hand away. "You're the one who reminded me of my crush on Theodore. Now you're mad at me for it?"

Remus had to admit, you were a quick thinker. James' face turned a violent shade of red as he shot up to locate Theodore Pompous at the Ravenclaw table. When Remus met your eye, the two of you almost burst out laughing at James' reaction before you sprung up to grab his arm.

"James," you scolded, trying to stifle a laugh. "Seriously, stop. You can't just berate Theodore. That's so rude and there's no reason to." James shook his head at you with an incredulous look.

"No reason-"

"James," Marlene shouted, standing up as well. "Stop it. All of us are tired of you being such a dick to Y/N. You don't see her reacting like this when you have a bit of fun." The other girls murmured in agreement as James' eye twitched.

"Yes, but thats different-"

"Why?" Marlene raised her brow, "Because she's a girl?" The was a series of oooh's and cackles from Sirius and Peter before James begrudgingly sat down and passed a dirty glance your way. At least he was settled for now. James wouldn't continue to press you with Lily and the other girls at your defense.

Lunch went on and Remus came to the conclusion that he was utterly obsessed with you. He wondered if you were still teasing him or if it was just your body taunting him as his eyes kept finding their way to your chest. You had always been drop dead gorgeous. This was fucked. There was no way he’d be able to keep his eyes from wandering to you, and there was even less of a chance that he’d be able to go to whole week without fucking you at least once. He tried to feel bad about it, but that wasn't the case. He wanted you, and there really wasn't anything that was going to stop him from seeing you again.

Remus decided to approach this logically. If he wanted keep fucking you, he'd have to court you. He wouldn't mind that. You enjoyed literature, you were funny, and you were one of the most talented witches in the school. And you were his best friends brother, if he wanted to fuck you today, he'd have to do it in secret to avoid an interfering and angry James.

That's why when he found you studying alone in the library that afternoon, he took the opportunity.

"Hello," Remus cleared his throat, approaching your desk. "Mind if I join you?" Your eyes peered up from your papers momentarily, just enough to acknowledge his presence.

"Sure," you hummed, dipping your quill in the inkwell. "As long as you don't distract me from my work."

Remus huffed out a laugh and pulled a chair up to your table. Even sitting down, his frame towered over yours. You tried to continue writing, but the task felt futile as his knee rested just inches from yours. You sighed and put your quill down, turning to face Remus. His face wore a smile as he threw his hands up in defense.

"Hey, I wasn't even doing anything," he chuckled, watching as you rolled your eyes. A smile crept up to your lips.

"Yeah, yeah, Remus," you grumbled. "Did you want to talk about something?" He huffed out another laugh and you felt his breath on your face, the close proximity making your stomach do a flip. In the low lighting, he looked heavenly.

"Yea, actually. I did want to talk to you about something," his voice lowering as he leaned in. You narrowed your eyes at him as the smirk on his face stayed put. He thought he was hot shit and maybe he was right about that, but you wouldn't let him play with you.

"Hmm, and what would that be?" you asked innocently, looking up at him with your signature doe eyes. He scoffed out a laugh.

"Well, love. To be honest, I can't stop thinking about you," he purred, his arm slinging over the back of your chair as he leaned in even closer. You stifled the urge to press your legs together as his hand played with the hem of your t-shirt, rubbing it in between his fingers.

"Can't stop thinking about how good the sex was?" You teased, leaning in with a mischievous lip bite. This made Remus laugh and you blushed at his genuine smile.

"Straight to the point then," Remus chuckled, looking around the library. "Listen, I don't want to be disrespectful-"

"Okay, let me cut you off right there," you said sternly, pushing your finger into his chest. "If you're going to be scared of my brother, then this isn't going to work. I'm looking for someone who will fuck me and not hold back. If you can't do that, then we shouldn't do this." You finished, turning back to sit properly in your chair. Remus' hand stopped you by the shoulder.

"Love, if I cared about your brother right now I wouldn't be here telling you how badly I need to fuck you again," Remus whispered quickly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second. Your face flushed immediately as the want between your legs throbbed again.

"Oh," was all you could make out. His smirk annoyingly made another appearance as he chuckled lightly at you, again. His thumb rubbed over the cap of your shoulder as you looked at him with a permanent blush, your lips parted slightly. The smirk slowly faded off his face as he stared at you. He couldn't focus while you were looking at him like that. With that blush on your cheeks, and those plump, pink lips.

"So what's your plan then?" You said, snapping Remus out of his trance. He sat up straighter.

"Meet me in the prefect's bathroom at 9:30," he instructed, his hand moving off your shoulder as he stood up. You smirked up at him as he moved his chair back to the table next to yours.

"I'll be there," you replied, turning back to your notes.

"See you then," Remus smiled, leaving before he lost control and bent you over the table.

Later that night

You padded lightly through the hallways. Curfew wasn't for another 30 minutes, but you tried to stay quiet. Your body buzzed with excitement as you padded up the staircase to the fifth floor. It turned you on that Remus was using his prefect privileges to fuck you in private, and it turned you on even more knowing there was a giant bathtub in the middle of the room. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you came onto the floor, Remus leaning against the wall near the statue. His eyes found your hips as you approached him.

"Hi," you whispered, stepping softly towards him.

"Hi beautiful," he muttered, pushing off the wall to come towards you. You weren't expecting him to kiss you, so a gasp escaped you when he surged forward to press his lips against yours. He grabbed your cheeks to deepen the kiss hungrily. You moaned into him as your fists clasped the front of his shirt, his prefect badge moving with the fabric.

"We should go inside," you gasped, pulling away from his irresistible lips. He hummed in agreement, not quite looking at you. His hands were gripping tightly on your hips like they did the previous night, as if he could barely contain himself. It took a moment but Remus led you through the doors and into the bathroom, dimly lit from the moon and enchanted colored lights. You bit your lip as you watched the water run from the faucets and into the bath, filling the room with steam.

"Let's take this off," Remus purred, coming from behind to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh of relief as he sucked down on your sweet spot, his hands running under your shirt to lift it over your head. You happily obliged and felt Remus groan into your neck as he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You knew this would drive him crazy, and hearing him groan in your ear made you pool between your legs. He pulled your shirt off and spun you around, leaving no time before dipping down to kiss you again. You could hardly think as Remus wrapped his arms around your body, burying into the kiss like he didn't need air. It was mesmerizing, the way your body fit against his. The two of you kissed like that for a while, the steam eventually pooling over both of your skin. It took a few minutes for Remus to stop kissing you, humming multiple times into your mouth before he finally pulled away.

"Rem," you groaned, tugging on the buttons of his shirt to take it off. He was practically soaking through his shirt anyway.

"Let's get in the water."

The two of you stripped and sunk slowly into the bath, Remus' hands pulling you into his lap. When your backside made contact with him, you gasped. His length pressed against you and you were suddenly reminded of how he stretched you out last night. You were glad to be soaking in a hot bath. You barely had time for another thought when he connected his lips with your skin, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as he massaged your thighs.

"Fuck," you groaned as his hands came up to grasp your breast. He hummed in response and bit your earlobe, earning a roll from your hips. His fingers slipped down between your legs, teasing you gently.

"Y/N," Remus breathed, pausing his kissing and earning a hum from you in response. "I want to eat you out."

He didn't wait for your response as he lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the tub, dropping down to his knees and moving between your legs.

"Remus- oh," you moaned as his mouth connected with your clit. You instantly gripped his hair, your head thrown back in an intense wave of pleasure. Remus was making you feel good, and by the way he was groaning into your core and wrapping his hands around your waist, you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself too. You couldn't form words and ultimately found yourself on your back. Remus shifted up higher to kiss your clit deeper, his tongue licking and dipping into your core. His hands stayed put on your hips, his mouth working overtime to send you over the edge.

"Fuck, please Remus," you gasped, you legs locking over his shoulders and bucking up into his face. He only huffed in response as his hands snaked under your back, pulling you deeper into his mouth. You twitched in his grasp, an orgasm teetering as his tongue swiped over your clit.

"So close, Rem," you whine, gripping his curls tighter. Remus could feel you pulse under his tongue, and it took every ounce of control for him to pull away. "Wh-what?" you whine, immediately sitting up to see Remus. He sat there with his arms linked under your legs, his smirk covered in slick down to his chin.

"You want to come for me, Y/N?" Remus teased, leaving wet, open kisses on the inside of your thighs. You whined and he chuckled, looking up at you wickedly through his kisses. "Do you?" He prompted again, moving to the other leg. You groaned with desire.

"Yes, Remus. Please," you cried, tugging on his hair to come towards you again. He hummed out a chuckle into your skin.

"Tell me how badly you want it," Remus challenged you, moving his kisses closer to your center.

"Please, Remus. I want you so badly. I need you. So badly, Remus. Please," you whined, falling on your back and continuing to grasp at his head. You felt the vibrations of his chuckle next to your clit.

"Such a good girl," he mumbled, planting a kiss right onto you. You let out another guttural whine as he continued to tenderly lap at your clit and your entrance, slowly savoring your wetness. You felt your orgasm building once more, sending jolts through your body that increased in force with every movement of Remus' tongue. Your hips were bucking badly, and Remus tightened his grip on you to bury himself once again.

"I'm going to come," you gasped, barely lasting a second longer before spilling into his mouth. The intensity felt doubled this time, and Remus ate you up graciously. You were almost embarrassed by how hard your orgasm had hit you, but Remus didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was moaning into your core as he finished you up.

"You taste so fucking good," Remus groaned as he climbed over you, his tip pressing against your entrance and slipping in momentarily through the slick. You gasped and felt yourself clench around him, still sensitive from his mouth. Remus' hand found the back of your head as he pushed himself into you fully. You gasped and whined simultaneously, digging your nails into his biceps. "Fuck, Y/N. You feel even better." He began to move in and out of you at a torturous pace, his tip burying deep within you. Just when you thought he had bottomed out, he bucked into you with force and moved even deeper inside of you. You let out an unprompted noise which seemed to please Remus as he started pounding into you, forcing noises out of you that were uncontrollable.

"F-fuck, R-remus," you said, your words bouncing with the pace of his thrusts. It was unrelenting, but you were so soft from his mouth that you started to near another orgasm. Your fate was sealed when his thumb came down to find your clit, the pressure of his cock adding to the pleasure immediately.

"So pretty, Y/N," Remus moaned, dipping to press a kiss to your lips. You hungrily returned it, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths as Remus' thrust slowed and deepened. "So. Fucking. Beautiful." He pounded into you, clenching his jaw as he fucked the life out of you. You were tightening, and tightening, and tightening until the coil in your stomach snapped and a rush of release pulsed through your walls. Remus groaned loudly as you felt him collapse into you, his thrusts deep and followed by spurts of warmth inside of you. He thrusted into you lazily, kissing you and rubbing your hips with his thumbs. Like much of the night, the two of you stayed kissing unhurriedly like this. It was only when someone knocked on the door that the two of you moved from your position.

"Thank Merlin you locked the door," you muttered, pulling on your pants after casting a dryer spell over you.

"Heh, I actually didn't. It's just common practice after prefect rounds," Remus laughed sheepishly. "It must be the end of the next shift." Your eyes widened at this as the two of you finished pulling on your clothes and drying off perspectively. You kept close to Remus' back as the two of you moved to leave the bathroom. You heard Remus say something to the other prefect but you didn't look up as you followed Remus out. He ushered you towards the staircase and muttered in your ear, "That was Theodore Pompous." You stifled a laugh as the two of you climbed the stairs. Remus was grinning at the coincidence and teasing you about your old crush. The two of you laughed and blushed and talked quite comfortably next to one another as you neared the Gryffindor tower.

"Do you think anyone will be in the common room?" you asked, lowering your voice and letting go of his hand. Remus shrugged and walked behind you, guiding you to the portrait hole.

"I don't think so. There's an early quidditch practice tomorrow and it's already past curfew," he muttered, giving the fat lady the password and climbing through to the common room. Remus' face hardened when he saw James sitting on the couch, his head turned towards them. He stood up when he saw you enter behind Remus.

"Y/N, what were you doing out past curfew? I was worried. I waited up for you," James frowned at you, his eyes filled with genuine concern. You felt your face flush red, realizing why you were out late. You might as well have been wearing a sign that said we just fucked. Thankfully Remus was exceptionally good at drying charms. 

"I found her sneaking around Ravenclaw Tower," Remus said with a nonchalant nod of the head. "Thought I'd bring her back." 

"Wasn't your shift done thirty minutes ago?" James questioned, stepping closer to Remus who showed no signs of embarrassment or concern.

"Yes, but I told Theodore I'd take his shift in exchange for him doing mine on Sirius' birthday," Remus shrugged. Your mouth formed a straight line as you looked at him. Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? James looked at Remus incredulously.

"Why would you trade shifts with him," James hissed, narrowing his eyes towards him. You started to walk towards your dorm.

"Well, I'm back," you dismissed James with a yawn. "Goodnight, Jamie." James huffed and stepped in front of you, grabbing your hands.

"Y/N, you know I love and respect you," he stared, causing you to roll your eyes by instinct. "But I just want you to be safe. Don't stay out late for some prat who you've hardly even talked to before." You sighed as he looked at you with those James Potter eyes that reminded you of home.

"I know. I'm sorry I worried you," you apologized, looking sympathetically to him. "I'm gonna go to sleep now. Okay?" James let out a sigh of relief as he gave you a hug.

"Goodnight," James called as you went up the stairs.

"Goodnight," you called back, sending Remus a wave. Remus waved subtly back to you before sighing and rubbing his eyes. He hated lying to James, and he hated even more how much he felt like he was corrupting his best friend's little sister. He knew it wasn't true though. You had shown him how badly you wanted him, how much of a slut you were for him... Fuck. Remus wanted you for himself and he wanted you for a long time. He made a vow to ask you out by the end of the week, and to do it with James' blessing.

"Sorry I got a little heated, Moony," James said, turning to face Remus. "I just can't stand the thought of her alone with some random git. Thanks for bringing her back." Remus hummed and nodded.

"It's no problem."

The two of them went up to their dorm and crashed respectively onto their beds. Sirius and Peter were already asleep. Remus laid awake again thinking about you. He thought about your face when you came, and the way you blushed when he teased you. He fell asleep dreaming of you during the summertimes when you would read outside with him and woke up the next morning with a plan. 

[yearsbecomingcool]

bury me at makeout point | jason hochberg

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | jason hochberg x f!reader

synopsis | after sticking up for jason you learn he's never been to makeout point, you won't let it stay that way.

warnings | some minor spoilers from the movie that are just dialogue spoilers!!, minor physical violence, making out, bullying, sexual references, tooth rotting fluff, jason is an adorable loser and we love him for it.

word count | 5.1k

a/n | if you are able to make it out to the theater to see hell of a summer please go see it!! it's so funny and such a good time, it leans more on comedy than horror and could've definitely gotten a pg-13 rating if it wasn't for all the swearing. think of it like gateway horror! it's such a fun time, especially with some friends. please let this fic influence you to go see it, there's some really cute stuff in it with jason and everyone gives amazing performances. fred and billy are standouts in the film and i really hope i portrayed their characters well in this!! these next few months are probably going to be filled with hell of a summer fics from me because i have more planned for jason and some for bobby as well!!

taglist | @kawaii1kitten @samslvrgirl @circuslxcysplace @spookyscarydemonbabe @slaytheusurper @orangecheeks00 @boo8008

“Seriously? Another fight with Demi? You’re a grown adult and you can’t stay out of conflicts for five minutes?” John rants at you from across his desk. You sit in the chair across from him, feeling like a child sent to the principal's office. It’s no surprise to anybody that you and Demi had another fight; what was a surprise was the fact that you had gotten in her face and pushed her hard enough to knock her on her ass. 

“It was stupid of you to escalate it like that, you do realize she could get the police involved, right? You could lose your job for this,” Kathy says, sitting next to John with her arms crossed in disappointment.

You sigh and shake your head, “Listen, I know I shouldn’t have gotten physical with her but she was being, excuse my language, a fucking cunt. The way she talks about the other counselors and about the campers is bullshit. The shit she was saying about Jason was unacceptable, she should feel lucky I didn’t slap the shit out of her instead.” 

John and Kathy sigh, looking at one another before looking back at you. “We know that she isn’t exactly the nicest person all the time but you cannot get violent with her. We’re gonna talk to her too but we’re gonna have to punish you. You’re on dish duty by yourself for the rest of the week.”

You sit there slack jawed, “By myself? Jesus Christ, just fire me instead…”

Kathy snorts and shakes her head, “We could’ve done worse, just take your punishment and don’t get into a fight with her again. We really don’t wanna have to fire you.”

You groan, “Fine I’ll take it off property next time…” You get up from the chair and head out of the office to go to the mess hall where everyone else is eating breakfast.

You feel grateful they didn’t just fire you or do something like make you clean the bathroom with just a toothbrush. You push open the doors of the mess hall, heading to the empty line to grab food. “Hey! I grabbed your breakfast for you already,” Jason calls from his table. He’s sat with Claire, Shannon, Bobby, and Chris. You head over to the table, sliding into the seat next to him.

“Thanks, Jason.” He slides the tray over to you. He’s memorized your breakfast order already.

“So, how’d it go with John and Kathy?” Asks Claire, taking a sip of her orange juice.

“Better than I thought actually, I’m on dish duty by myself for the rest of the week. I mean it’s still not great but it’s way better than like getting fired I guess…”

“Wow, maybe you really are their favorite.” Claire laughs.

“Bullshit, we all know it’s Jason.”

He turns to look over at the two of you, “Hm? What about me?”

You take a bite of your toast, “You’re John and Kathy’s favorite.”

He blushes, smiling shyly. “Oh, I don’t know about that…I wouldn’t say-”

“I would. Claire, what about you, do you think Jason’s their favorite?”

She smiles and nods, “Definitely.”

Jason rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to defend himself but you grab an apple slice off his place and shove it in his mouth. “Shut up and take the compliment.” He chews obediently. 

Bobby leans over from across the table, Chris and Shannon deep in a conversation of their own. “So, what did you and Demi fight over this time? Trying to decide who gets me?” He asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

You roll your eyes, “Bobby I can promise no one in camp is fighting over you. Unless they’re fighting over who gets to kick your ass first.”

He glares, “Uh you don’t know that.”

“I do. I promise.”

“But seriously, what was that fight about? It had to have been pretty serious for you to have to knock her on her ass like that.” 

You sigh, trying to decide the best way to explain things. “Well, Demi was talking shit about someone who didn’t deserve it so I had to put her in her place.” 

He chuckles, Claire and Jason leaning in to listen to the conversation. “What’d she say that was so bad? Did she say something about me, did you defend my honor?”

“When have you ever had honor?” You roll your eyes.

“Just tell us what she said that set you off like that, c’mon don’t leave us waiting!”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, you know if you told them everything Jason would get his feelings hurt. “She said something shitty about Jason. It’s not important.”

Before anyone else can ask more questions to bell rings signaling that breakfast is over. “Looks like I’ve got shit to do, I’ll see y’all later.” You head towards the kitchen, dumping the rest of your breakfast in the trash. There’s already a stack of trays and plates waiting for your attention. You groan at the sight, grabbing an apron off the hook along with a pair of gloves. The rest of the counselors round up their campers, Kathy taking care of yours till you’re done with the dishes. You lean back against the counter and watch as everyone piles up their plates and trays as they leave for the day's activities. Jason’s last out of the mess hall, he looks over at you with a pity smile and a wave. “See you later, yeah?” He calls as he exits the mess hall.

“Don’t get your hopes up Hochberg, I might just drown myself in the sink and put myself out of my misery!” You yell back, watching with a smirk. His cargo shorts do nothing for his ass but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable to watch him walk away. 

He peeks his head back in, “Don’t, please! You can’t leave me with Bobby all summer!”

“You’ll live!” You playfully blow him a kiss before he heads back outside, you can’t see it from where you stand but his cheeks turn red from your gesture. 

You turn back with a sigh to face the massive pile of dishes everyone has left for you, you’re gonna be here awhile. You grab the old radio from the storage closet and turn it to a pop station to try and make things a little more bearable. You hum along to the music as you start to clean, starting with the trays first since they’re the easiest and least messy. You find yourself falling into a rhythm, now caught up in your work as you hum along with the music. You’re so caught up with it that you don’t even notice Jason slipping back into the kitchen to join you. After hearing that you’d stood up for him he couldn’t help but feel like he owed you some help as a thank you. 

He slips into the mess hall, hearing the radio playing from the kitchen. You’re busy and focused on your work, it makes him happy to see that you aren’t completely miserable. He sneaks his way behind you, quickly grabbing your waist. You jump about a foot in the air and scream like you’re being murdered. Jason backs away and starts to laugh until it hurts, tears streaming down his face as you try to compose yourself. You back yourself against the sink, gripping the counter behind you as you watch him laugh. 

“Is it really that funny Jason? Really?” You ask in annoyance, narrowing your eyes at him.

He slaps his knee cartoonishly, “It’s a knee slapper!”

You quickly reconsider your friendship with him. You’re convinced that the universe makes him do something cringe every ten seconds to balance out how hot he is. “You’re the worst.”

He smiles playfully, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I think I might be the best actually, I came to help you after all…buuuutttt if I’m the worst I could always just go find something else to do…” He threatens jokingly.

You spring forward and grab his wrist, “Please stay…if I can only listen to pop music all day I might go insane, a familiar face would be nice even if it comes with corny jokes.”

“You love my jokes, you always laugh.”

You roll your eyes and don’t even bother to bite back your smile, “I do…”

“Mhm, you know you do…I’ll be nice and give you some more help. I heard you stuck up for me and that’s why you’re stuck doing this, is that true?” He asks as he grabs some gloves and an apron, suiting up to help you tackle the seemingly endless pile of dishes.

You turn back to the sink, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, uh, you don’t owe me for it or anything. I just wasn’t gonna let her talk about you like that.” You pick up a nearby dish and continue with your work.

He slides up next to you, reaching over you to grab a plate. His arm grazes your chest and your breath hitches, you feel your cheeks heat up as he pulls the plate back over to him. “Did Demi really say something bad about me? I thought we were friends…she was probably just kidding!” Jason has always been naive, bless his heart. That poor boy would apologize to the pole he ran into.

You remember arriving at camp at the beginning of the summer and seeing Demi with her nice car stocked full of her suitcases and watching in anger as she let Jason carry them all to her cabin by himself. You’d grabbed a few from the car so that it wouldn’t all be left up to him. You’d followed him to her cabin, watching as he stumbled bringing them in.

“Can you be careful with those…” Demi snarks, rolling her eyes as she scrolled on her phone. 

“Sorry, Demi!” Jason laughs as he tries to set her things down gently.

You shot her a glare and rolled the remaining suitcases in a bit too rough, she looked up from her phone to return your glare. “Oops…” You deadpan, staring her down. Jason remains oblivious to the tension, leaning up against the doorway.

“Well uh…see ya…” She says dismissively, waving her hand at him to make him leave.

“Yeah, it’s great to see you too!” Jason smiles, a bit out of breath. “It’s just so good to be back.”

Demi ignores his existence but he doesn’t take the hint. “You know what they always say! You can’t spell Pineway without eway.”

Demi finally looks up from her phone, giving Jason a confused look. “What?”

Jason continues on with his joke, “Because I can’t stay eway from this place!”

Demi looks annoyed by his mere existence but shoots him a pity smile, “Okay cool.”

You take that as your cue to save that sweet boy from anymore embarrassment, you turn back around with a smile. “You wanna help me and Claire get settled, we’ve got that cabin with the difficult door handle.”

He looks at you like a puppy looks at a new toy, if he had a tail it’d be wagging. “Of course, uh, Demi don’t forget I’m cooking lunch in a bit! I can make a mean burger!”

Demi nods and you drag Jason out of the cabin by his wrist, muttering under your breath about what a bitch she is. Jason is off in his own world telling you how excited he is to be back.

“I don’t think she was kidding this time, J. She didn’t seem like it at least…I mean I wouldn’t get in her face and push her like that over a little joke, I was ready to really kick her ass…”

He turns to look at you in shock, reaching down to grab your wrist. “It was that serious, I mean I’d heard you gotten physical but I didn’t know…what did she say?”

You sigh, “You really don’t wanna know, it’s for the best if I don’t tell you.”

His expression hardens, “I do want to know. I deserve to know if it was about me.”

“Jason seriously it was-”

His grip on your wrist tightens unconsciously, “Please, I’m an adult I can handle it.”

“Fine…” you sigh, “I’ll tell you.”

You were coming out of your shared cabin with Claire, the morning sun shining down on the camp. It was early, too early, the dew was still fresh. You were dressed in a green tank top, a flowy linen button down thrown over top, and a pair of denim shorts that hit a bit above your knee. You make your way to the rec room hoping to watch an old movie before everyone else wakes up and claims the tv. You pull open the wooden door, the hinges creaking loudly. As you walk inside you see Demi sitting on the couch, an old teen magazine in hand. The tv is off so you take your chance to use it, going over to the stack of vhs’s, sorting through the available films. You mentally curse Kathy and John for only keeping a supply of family friendly films, the best you can get out of the stack is Poltergeist. You thank the ratings board for not introducing the pg-13 rating until two years later, giving you a loop hole into having an actual horror film to watch at camp. You take it out of the case and pop it into the vcr. You grab the remote and plop down onto the couch and sit down next to Demi. She glances over at you in disgust and scoots away. “Sorry, you worried you’re gonna catch something?”

“I don’t know what weirdo disease you carry around from hanging out with Hochberg,” she retorts.

Your brows furrow in anger and annoyance, “What the fuck? It’s six in the morning, it’s too early for you to be an asshole like that!”

She rolls her eyes, not looking up from the magazine. “I don’t get why you hang out with him, you’re like actually pretty y’know. He’s such a fucking loser, what do you see in him?”

You turn to face her wearing an angry expression. “He’s not a loser, he’s sweet and he actually gives a fuck about his job. He’s nice to everyone, even you, and god knows you don’t deserve his kindness.”

She laughs, “More like oblivious. You could punch him in the face and he’d take it as something sweet.”

She’s not wrong but she doesn’t get to say that about him. “Yeah, he can be a little oblivious, sure. But at least he’s kind, at least he’s always positive. Do you know how much the kids look up to him? They love him.”

“Yeah, they’re the only ones…” She scoffs.

You clench your fists, “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

She tilts her head, finally looking up from her magazine. “Oh honey, you don’t know? Jason has zero game, like none at all. It’s sad honestly, he’s probably gonna be alone forever. It’s pathetic. You know makeout point?”

You nod in response, confused about where this is going.

“He’s never been. I heard he doesn’t even know it exists. He’s gone to this camp since he was a kid and he’s never been anyone's camp crush, never even gotten a pity kiss at makeout point. He’s nothing but a fucking loser, he’s gonna be alone forever.” 

Sadness fills your chest, bubbling up to your throat. You imagine teenage Jason being left out by all the others, people whispering behind his back, girls asking him out as a joke. It breaks your heart into a million pieces. “And that’s funny to you?” Your voice shakes.

“It’s hilarious. He doesn’t even know how much of a loser he is. He’s a clumsy dorky loser, you know it’s true. He’s twenty fucking four and he still goes to summer camp,” she replies ruthlessly.

You jump to your feet in anger, “As a counselor.”

She stands in response, “Does it matter? He’s still trying to rehash his glory days that weren’t even glorious, he’s pathetic. You need to hang out with someone better like Ari, Bobby and Chris aren’t doing you many favors either.” 

You get in her face, anger fueling your every move. “Fuck you and your superficial bullshit, Demi. I don’t care what you say, I’ll never see him as pathetic.”

She laughs in your face, “Yeah, well maybe you can take him up to makeout point and be his first kiss. He’d probably cum in his cargo shorts,” she snorts. 

You don’t know what comes over you but you shove her back hard. She hits the ground, the breath getting knocked out of her from the force. She gasps and the door slams open, Kathy walking in angrily. She looks down at Demi on the floor and then back up to you. “Wait outside, now!” She yells. You sigh knowing you’re about to get yelled at, walking out the door. You fight the urge to spit at Demi as you walk past. Kathy helps her up and onto the couch and Demi starts to tearfully give her side of the story. You can hear her playing it up for Kathy and you clench your fists again. Your fingernails leave deep indents in your palm as you angrily grind your nails into your delicate flesh.

You think back to Jason, you’ve been shamelessly crushing on him ever since you met last summer. Last summer he was cleanly shaved, his wavy hair a bit shorter than it is now. You remember how he greeted you with a toothy grin and a dorky pun, offering to help you with your bags and walk you to your cabin as he introduced himself to you. You were new to the area and decided to take the summer job as a way to make some friends, he made you feel so welcomed that you became friends immediately. You resented the way the other counselors spoke to him, you and Claire were really the only ones who were kind to him. It never bothered him, he was kind to everyone and strode past the rude remarks almost as if he didn’t hear them. You admired him for it and also pitied him, you knew he deserved better treatment and you had no problem making that known to everyone else. Every time he looks at you it sets your body ablaze, every time he touches you it feels impossible to do anything but lean into it. You’re whipped and you’re not ashamed to say it.

When Demi finishes giving her sob story Kathy grabs you by the arm and leads you to the office, a few campers and nosy counselors who are already up peek out of their cabin windows, already gossiping about what trouble you could’ve gotten into.

“She…she said all that?” Sadness washes over his face, he looks down at the floor as his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. He lets go of your wrist, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. No one had ever said anything like that to his face, Demi technically hadn’t but somehow hearing it from you made it hurt worse.

“Jason,” you reach over and grab his hand, grasping it tightly in embrace. “I don’t care that you haven’t been to makeout point. It’s a dumb little makeout spot with a cheesy name, it means nothing.”

He takes a breath, “It does to everyone else. I mean, she’s right I didn’t know it existed until me and Claire went on a hike. She told me she recognized a tree, I made fun of her for it, and then she said she recognized it because it was makeout point. I felt so stupid…all these years, over a decade and I didn’t know it existed…I mean, maybe Demi’s right, maybe I am pathetic…”

You pull him into you, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Fuck that and fuck her. She’s an uptight little bitch with a Tik Tok career she can’t even get off the ground, what does she know?”

“She knows where makeout point is apparently…”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck makeout point. It doesn’t matter, Jason. I don’t care that no one ever took you, well no I care a little, it breaks my heart that no one ever took you. You’ve had to deal with bullying for decades at this shit hole and that makes me so mad.” You start to tear up and try to blink it away, “Do you know how great you are? I was so worried when I got here last year that I wouldn’t make any friends and there you were with that adorable smile to greet me. You were so nice, so welcoming. God I thought it might’ve been an act at first but you never stopped being kind, not even to those assholes who made fun of you to your face and said even worse things behind your back. You’re not pathetic, you’re not a loser, you’re so kind and funny. I love your dorky little jokes, I love how I can’t fight off my smile when you hit me with a pun. You’re like the embodiment of sunshine and nothing Demi ever says is gonna change my mind about that, okay?”

He stands there in silence taking it all in, your grip on his face has him unable to look away from you. He watches the tears rolling down your cheeks after your passionate speech. “You really think that about me?”

You nod, letting go of his chin and wiping away your tears. “Yeah, I do. I regret not saying it sooner because I feel like all you ever hear is this vitriolic shit from everyone else and-”

He interrupts you, “Can I take you to makeout point?”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked, you stumble over your words as your body heats up, “What?”

“I wanna take you to makeout point…if you’d like that…” He says shyly.

You couldn’t fight off your smile if you tried, “I would like that…what about my punishment though, John and Kathy are gonna flip their shit if I don’t get this done before lunch.”

“Well it’s a good thing you have an assistant, huh?” He smirks, picking up the plate he’d been cleaning before.

You smile, “I couldn’t ask for anyone better…”

The work goes by quickly with Jason by your side, the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm. You listen to him tell stories from past years at camp and occasionally sing and dance along to the songs on the radio. Jason’s dorky dance moves make you laugh harder than you thought you would today. He always has a way of making things better.

Finally you’re putting away the last dish when Jason comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you against his chest and settles his head on your shoulder. “You ready to go to makeout point with me?” He teases, his breath feels warm on your neck. You wish you could kiss him right here right now but you’ll let him have his fantasy.

“Mhm, you have me all excited. I feel like a teenager sneaking off at a party,” you laugh. Jason reaches around you and takes the plate from your hands, setting it on the pile for you. 

He turns you around, untying your apron for you. He pulls it off your body, removing your gloves next before throwing away the gloves and rehanging the apron. “Let’s get going before Kathy and John realize where we’ve gone.” 

You smile and take his hand, letting him lead you out the door. “Do you remember where it is?”

He moves like he’s on a mission, “Mhm, it’s not hard to find now that I know where to look. I know these woods like the back of my hand.”

“I like a man who knows his way around,” you tease.

“You must be obsessed with me then,” he laughs.

He leads you through the woods with ease, pointing out some pretty spots until you make your way to makeout point. It’s a small area off in the trees, a boulder sits as coverage for couples. You let him lead you behind the boulder, sitting next to him on the ground, your knees touching. “So this is it, huh?” He says, looking around the area. “Not that impressive.”

You chuckle, “I don’t think many people come here for the scenery.”

He cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Oh really? Mind educating me on why they come here?” You watch as he smirks, feeling pretty proud of his line.

You stare at him wide eyed, your mouth agape. “Jason Hochberg, did you just flirt with me?”

His cheeks turn pink, “I…um, did you not like-”

You grab his chin and turn his face towards you, leaning over quickly and cutting him off with a kiss. Every ounce of restraint you’ve had this summer melts away as your lips melt against his. He’s slow to kiss you back, taking his sweet time to register what’s happening. You can tell he’s inexperienced and out of practice but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable. He pulls away after awhile, resting his forehead against yours with a smile. “So you liked it?”

“Of course I liked it, you fucking dork.” You peck his lips playfully.

“You think you would’ve brought me here if we’d gone to camp together?” He asks. He pulls away from you and leans against the rock, spreading his legs.

You take that as a signal to slot yourself between his legs, leaning back into his chest, “Of course I would’ve. I bet you would’ve been all nervous and red, adorable…”

“I’ve gotten better at hiding my nervousness,” he mumbles. He wraps an arm around your chest, holding you against him. He leans his head forward and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I wanna kiss you again.”

You turn back around, sitting on your knees as you face him. “So kiss me then.”

He cups your face in his hands, taking a minute to admire your features, “You’re so pretty.”

Before you can try to respond he kisses you, he clearly took notes from the first kiss, it’s sweet. He kisses you like you’re his first love, and maybe you are. It doesn’t take long for you to deepen the kiss, your hand moving to his hip to push him back against the rock. Your other hand going up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer to you. He whines softly into your mouth and you run your tongue across his lower lip. He parts his lips, letting your tongue slip in. He’s never kissed like this before as he struggles to keep up, what he lacks in experience he makes up for in passion. You tug softly at his hair and smirk into the kiss at how he whimpers. His hands go to your hips, pulling you against him. You’re just about to roll your hips against his when you hear footsteps. You pull away from Jason with wide eyes, “Someone’s coming.” Now you really feel like a teenager sneaking around.

You and Jason work quickly to adjust each other's appearances to look more presentable. The sound of two voices becomes more and more audible.

“C’mon Mike this is the only chance we’ll get, I have to get back to my campers in like 30 minutes.” It’s Demi. You look at Jason with a smirk and he’s starting to crack a smile. 

“You wanna fuck with her?” You ask, leaning back in.

He nods and pulls you back in for another kiss, this time it’s more passionate and desperate. His fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, pulling you in closer against him. You tangle your fingers back in his hair, pulling harder to get him to make the sounds you love oh so much. He whines pathetically against your lips and you slip your tongue back in his mouth. His hips involuntarily buck up against yours and now it’s your turn to whine. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire. You almost forget what the plan was until you hear a loud gasp from behind you.

“Oh my god…” Demi exclaims from behind you.

You pull away from Jason, fingers still tangled in his hair as you turn to face her. “Sorry Demi, it’s occupied right now…” You tease.

“Why the hell aren’t you still doing dishes? Did you skip out to come out here with him?”

You smile up at her, “He helped me finish early actually…” Jason snorts at your innuendo. 

She groans in annoyance and frustration, gripping Mike's hand. “Whatever, it’s contaminated now. We’ll just use the rec room…” She starts walking off, pulling Mike along with her. She makes sure to shoot you a glare before disappearing into the woods.

You look back at Jason and burst into laughter, falling into him as you do. Once you compose yourself you lay back against his chest once again, draping his arm over your chest and playing with the bracelets on his wrist. “She’s such a bitch…” you mumble.

“I wouldn’t say that. She just…doesn’t like us…”

You can’t help but smile as he continues to try and see the positive in her. “You’re too good for Pineway, I’m packing you up in my suitcase and taking you home with me.”

He looks down at you with a smile, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Promise.”

“Pinky promise,” you giggle, linking your pinky with his.

“We should probably head back before John and Kathy get suspicious…”

You groan, holding his arm tight against you. “Do we have to? I think I have some more makeouts left.”

He chuckles, “We’ll sneak off again later, I won’t leave you high and dry.”

“Good boy…” You mumble, going to stand. He sits there with pink cheeks as you turn back around and offer your hand to help him up. He slings his arm around your waist as you start to walk back to camp. “So Hochberg, what's your review of makeout point now that you’ve gone?”

“Hm…I think I see the appeal now. I think we’re going to spend a lot of our free time here.”

You cock your eyebrow at him, “Oh are we now?”

“Mhm, I just decided that for us,” Jason retorts, pecking your cheek again.

“For once I won’t argue.”

Jason decides to bold and slip his hand into your back pocket. He leans into you, whispering in your ear, “Good girl.”

[kathlare]

intervention

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie and Lando's cozy morning is hilariously derailed when a few familiar faces burst into their hotel room with chaotic energy and a very unexpected plan.

Wordcount: 4.0 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

April 15th, 2025 - Sakhir, Bahrain

Sunlight poured into the hotel room in Bahrain, warm and golden, soft against the tangled sheets and lazy limbs sprawled over the bed. Amelie was nestled into Lando’s chest, their legs tangled under the covers, her hand splayed across his bare stomach while his fingers lazily traced the curve of her spine.

—Lan,— Amelie murmured, voice thick with sleep, —I’m hungry.—

Lando cracked an eye open, squinting at her through messy curls. —We literally haven’t moved. You wanna order room service, sunshine?— he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.

Amelie nodded sleepily, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze. Her hair was a mess, eyes half-lidded, lips pouty in the way that made Lando’s heart physically ache.

—Yes please. I want pancakes. And fruit. And maybe toast. Oh, and that weirdly good hashbrown thing you liked yesterday.—

Lando chuckled, reaching over her to grab the hotel phone. —You mean the one I told you not to eat because it was mine, and then you stole it the second I looked away?—

—Sharing is caring, Norris.— she grinned, kissing his jaw before flopping back onto his chest like a content cat.

They ended up ordering half the menu — pancakes, French toast, hashbrowns, eggs, croissants, even a smoothie Amelie insisted sounded fun. Lando didn’t argue. He was weak for her, and he knew it.

The knock on the door came just as Amelie was feeding Lando a bite of her croissant, giggling as he deliberately missed it with his mouth, nipping her finger instead.

—You’re such a menace,— she muttered, swatting at him playfully.

—You love it,— he said with a cheeky grin, licking a smear of strawberry jam off her fingertip. She rolled her eyes, her cheeks pink, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Lando was about to tug her closer again, ready to drag her right back into the duvet cocoon, when another knock echoed through the room. Louder this time. Urgent.

—Who the fuck…— he muttered, reluctantly untangling himself from her. Amelie groaned dramatically and flopped back on the bed.

—Tell whoever it is we’re dead. Or naked. Or dead and naked,— she called out, voice muffled by a pillow.

Lando padded over to the door in just his boxers and one of the hotel robes hanging off his shoulders, his hair an absolute mess of curls. He opened it without thinking.

Big mistake.

Because the second the door cracked open, it was violently pushed the rest of the way as George, Charles, and Alex burst into the room like a chaotic hurricane of testosterone and betrayal.

—SURPRISE, LOVEBIRDS!— George yelled, already halfway across the room before Lando could process what was happening.

—Jesus fucking Christ,— Lando grunted as Charles clapped him on the back, pushing past him.

Alex waltzed in last, sunglasses on, a devilish grin on his face. —Oh my God, were you two shagging? At breakfast time? That’s bold, mate.—

Amelie sat up in bed, hair a tousled halo around her face, the duvet tucked under her arms. She blinked at them, completely unimpressed. —You three are so dramatic. What are you even doing here?—

—What are we doing here?— George scoffed, flopping onto the edge of the bed without invitation. —What are you doing here? We texted you hours ago. You’re supposed to be getting dressed!—

Lando scratched his head, still trying to catch up. —Getting dressed for what? We were gonna hit the beach or something today.—

Charles dropped into a nearby chair, arms crossed. —Yeah, well, change of plans. We’re going karting.—

Amelie groaned immediately, pulling the duvet over her head. —No. Nope. Not doing this again. Last time we did this, Charles body-checked me like a maniac and I ended up with a broken rib.—

—It was an accident!— Charles yelled through laughter. —And that was, like, four years ago! You raced me again after that and you survived! So get your ass up.—

—Also,— Alex added, stealing a slice of toast from the breakfast tray like a gremlin, —we haven’t properly hung out as a group since someone went all soft on us.—

He shot a look at Lando, who was still blinking in stunned betrayal.

—You mean since Lando started getting laid? Yeah, we noticed,— George added with a smirk, snatching a strawberry off Amelie’s fruit bowl.

Lando threw his hands up. —Are you lot actually insane? We’re on holiday. You can’t just bust into our hotel room and kidnap us for karting.—

—Actually, we can,— Charles said smugly. —Because we booked the track. And because you two have been disgustingly inseparable and we’re staging an intervention.—

Amelie finally popped her head back out from under the duvet, squinting at the three men like they were wild animals. —What do you mean intervention?—

Alex, already munching on a stolen croissant, gestured dramatically between her and Lando. —No more pet names. No more kissing. No more cuddling. No calling each other ‘sunshine’ and ‘baby’ and ‘my love’ or whatever the hell you two have been doing. Just friends. Just like old times.—

—Absolutely not,— Lando said immediately.

—Seconded,— Amelie mumbled, already pulling the duvet back over her face.

George yanked it off her again with a grin. —You two need to be humbled. For the sake of nostalgia. For the group. For the drama.—

—And because it’ll be funny when one of us overtakes Lando and he’s too busy making heart eyes at Amelie to notice,— Charles added.

Lando looked genuinely wounded. —I do not make heart eyes.—

All three of them spoke in unison.

—Yes, you do.—

Amelie burst into laughter, flopping back on the bed with a dramatic sigh. —I hate all of you. So much. You couldn’t just let us have our cozy little beach day and pancakes?—

—Absolutely not,— Alex said, already pulling open her suitcase like he lived there. —Now, get dressed. We leave in twenty minutes. And remember the rules: no making out, no being in love, no touching, no private jokes, and definitely no lap-sitting. Got it?—

Amelie groaned as Alex dramatically tossed a random pair of leggings and a cropped top onto the bed. —You forgot “no breathing the same air,”— she deadpanned.

—Oh that too,— George chimed in. —No sharing oxygen. You two are too powerful together.—

Lando crossed his arms, unimpressed and entirely too shirtless to be taken seriously. —You three are actual lunatics.—

—Lando,— Charles said, pointing at him with the utmost fake seriousness, —put on some fucking pants before I start crying.—

Amelie giggled into the sheets as Lando flipped Charles off before reluctantly trudging over to his suitcase.

—You know,— she called after him, —I wouldn’t be opposed to watching you kart in just your boxers. For the memories.—

—No flirting!— George shouted, lobbing a pillow at her.

She ducked it with a grin, stretching languidly as the duvet slipped down to reveal her bare shoulders. Lando, halfway into his hoodie, paused to ogle. Unapologetically.

—Eyes on your trousers, Norris,— Alex said, not even looking up from where he was rummaging through Lando’s stuff now. —Jesus, it’s like you’ve never seen her naked before.—

—I have, actually. Quite extensively,— Lando replied, voice casual as hell.

Amelie choked on her orange juice. George screamed into a pillow. Charles looked like he regretted everything.

—You’re all awful!— Amelie said, laughing so hard she nearly dropped her glass. —Why are we friends? I want to return you.—

—Too late,— George said. —You’ve been locked in.—

—Like a bad Netflix contract,— Alex added, tossing Lando a pair of joggers with zero aim that landed on the lamp instead. —No exit clause, no refunds.—

Amelie finally climbed out of bed, still wrapped in the duvet like a dramatic Roman empress. She made a show of sipping her smoothie while narrowing her eyes at the three intruders.

—So let me get this straight,— she said, voice laced with sarcasm. —You break into our room, steal our breakfast, insult our love, and now you want me to race for the sake of group bonding? After I literally almost died last time?—

—You didn’t die,— Charles groaned, tugging at her arm.

—You broke my rib,— Amelie said flatly, taking another sip of her smoothie. —Because your competitive ass can’t handle being passed by a girl.—

—You didn’t pass me,— Charles argued.

—Because you slammed into me, you absolute twat,— she snapped, raising an eyebrow.

Lando chuckled, now dressed in joggers and pulling a t-shirt over his head. —She’s got a point, mate. You were feral that day.—

—Thank you,— Amelie said, sending Lando a proud little smile, before turning back to the idiots in front of her. —And now you expect me to get in a kart again like I haven’t been through trauma? What happened to being kind to women?—

—We are being kind,— George said, popping a grape into his mouth. —We’re giving you a chance to reclaim your karting glory.—

—No. You're giving yourselves a chance to laugh at me when I inevitably spin out and cry in the pit lane,— Amelie said, deadpan.

—Exactly,— Alex grinned, —but in a supportive, character-building kind of way.—

Amelie groaned, head tipping back against the wall like the world’s most long-suffering saint. —You’re all the worst. I was going to nap. And maybe force Lando to do face masks with me. Now I have to put on actual clothes and relive my karting trauma for the sake of “group bonding.”—

Lando crossed the room to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a soft smile. —You’ll be fine, sunshine. You’ve raced Charles since then and didn’t kill him. That’s progress.—

Amelie eyed him suspiciously. —You’re awfully calm about this. You’re not gonna make fun of me too?—

—Never,— he said, kissing her forehead. —But I am going to win.—

Her eyes narrowed. —Oh, it’s like that?—

He grinned. —It’s exactly like that.—

—You two are FLIRTING AGAIN!— George howled, pointing dramatically like he was in a courtroom drama. —Rule violation number seven! Stop being hot and supportive in front of us, it’s making me emotionally unstable.—

—Right, come on,— Charles said, herding them all like unruly sheep, —let’s move, or we’ll miss the slot we booked. And I refuse to pay a cancellation fee just because Amelie wants to cuddle in bed all day.—

—Jealous much?— Lando muttered, slinging his arm over Amelie’s shoulder.

—STOP. TOUCHING,— Alex barked from the doorway. —That’s it, ten-second penalty on the grid for hand-holding.—

Amelie and Lando exchanged a glance, both silently plotting chaos.

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

liked by lanmelieupdates, f1gossipgirl, and others

ameliedaymanfans: Amelie via George Russell's Instagram story! Looks like the Twitch Quintet is back together and went racing in Bahrain! 🏎️💥

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f1_queen45: Omg, the dream team is back 😭 the energy is unmatched!!! → charles_leclerc_lover: @f1_queen45 Literally, this group gives me life every time 💖

landos_tea: Sooo does Amelie still hang out with Charles when Lando’s not around?? 👀 → ameliesteam: @landos_tea 🤣 They’re all friends, calm down!! Don’t make it weird.

mclarenmood: Can we PLEASE get a real “Twitch Quintet” merch line? I need it for my soul 🫶 → ameliedaymanfans: @mclarenmood Get in line 😂 same! A merch drop would be iconic!

loveforlando1: I don't understand why people are acting like Amelie is the problem?? Why can't they just be friends???

lanfan420: okay but Amelie definitely smoked all of them on the track → charlotteschaar: @lanfan420 Charles: screaming in Monégasque → oscarpias3: @lanfan420 imagine getting lapped by your friend’s girlfriend

daymansunshine: this is the real f1 content we need. not strategy calls, just vibes. → formulayum: @daymansunshine Netflix could never capture this

haterhoney: she’s not even a real driver why is she there → norrisbaby: @haterhoney why are YOU here lmao → amelienation: @haterhoney go touch grass 😭😭

nandosmile: the whole twitch gang together?? this is healing my 2020 trauma → alexfanflops: @nandosmile someone stream this immediately. I need chaos.

meliecam: am I crying over a blurry Insta story? yes. do I care? no.

sundayscariez: THEY’RE BACK OMGG TWITCH QUINTET NATION RISE 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ → lanieluvbot: @sundayscariez i screamed like a lil victorian boy who just saw ankles → tireprincess: @sundayscariez this feels biblical tbh

maxie_willdrive: okay but who won??? my money’s on Amelie dusting them all

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

The karting track in Bahrain was buzzing with energy as the group lined up, the scent of fresh rubber filling the air. The bright sun beat down, casting long shadows over the brightly colored karts parked in neat rows. Amelie adjusted the fit of her racing suit, tugging at it just enough to make sure it wasn’t too tight, and then grabbed her helmet. She slipped it on slowly, her movements deliberate, a quiet calm before the storm.

Lando, already suited up and seated in his kart, watched her carefully. As she fastened her helmet, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he shot a quick, almost imperceptible look at George, Charles, and Alex. The three men froze for a second, exchanging knowing glances. The message was clear: if anyone even thought about bumping Amelie in a way that wasn’t friendly, they were going to answer to Lando. He might’ve been joking about a lot of things, but when it came to her safety, he wasn’t messing around.

Charles raised his hands in mock surrender. —Don’t worry, mate, we know the drill,— he said, giving Lando a teasing grin. But the tension was real, and everyone knew it.

The track was alive with excitement, and even the playful banter between Lando and his friends couldn’t quite mask the intensity hanging in the air. Everyone knew that karting was one of those things where competitiveness ran high, especially when it came to Amelie. She wasn’t just there to join in—she was there to win.

As the karts revved to life, the group lined up on the starting grid, the engines rumbling like the prelude to a battle. Lando’s kart, painted in bright hues of green and black, sat at the front, while Amelie’s kart, equally sleek and fast-looking, was just behind him. The rest of the group filled in behind, but all eyes were secretly on her.

—Ready to get your ass kicked, sunshine?— Lando called over his shoulder, his voice a mix of teasing and anticipation.

—We’ll see who’s kicking whose ass, Norris,— Amelie shot back, her voice muffled by the helmet. She wasn’t about to let him get too cocky.

The signal went up, and the green light flashed. Everyone shot off, their karts darting into motion. Lando immediately took the lead, like he had every intention of keeping it, but there was something different about Amelie today. She wasn’t just out for fun; there was a fire in her that burned brighter than ever.

The first lap passed quickly, with the group jostling for position. Lando could see her in his rearview mirror, close but not too close—just enough to remind him that she wasn’t far behind. Charles was trying to make his usual moves, Alex was focused, and George was already pushing hard, all while making some ridiculous comments about Lando’s driving.

But all Lando could think about was Amelie. Her kart was glued to the track, her movements sharp and confident. She wasn’t just a casual driver; she was determined. Every time he checked over his shoulder, she was right there, keeping pace with him, making him work for that lead.

As they rounded the final corner of the last lap, Lando’s heart rate kicked up a notch. He could feel her gaining on him, the pressure mounting. But he wasn’t going to let her win that easily—not without giving her a proper challenge.

—You’re not getting past me that easily, sunshine,— he muttered to himself, shifting his focus, pushing harder.

But little did he know, Amelie had one last trick up her sleeve. With a controlled burst of speed, she took the final straightaway with precision, inching closer to his rear bumper. Lando tried to block her move, but she wasn’t having it. With a well-timed maneuver, she shot past him, narrowly taking the corner and sliding into the lead.

—No fucking way,— Lando muttered in disbelief as she zoomed ahead, crossing the finish line a fraction of a second before him.

The sound of her kart’s engine faded as she hit the brakes, a triumphant grin on her face beneath the visor of her helmet. Lando pulled into the pit, shaking his head with a mix of admiration and disbelief.

Amelie yanked off her helmet in one swift motion, her long hair spilling free, and she didn’t hesitate. Without saying a word, she jogged straight toward Lando’s kart, a fire in her eyes.

She was smiling like she just won the World Cup, and Lando couldn’t help but grin back, feeling the heat of their playful competition flare between them.

She didn’t even slow down.

—Fuck the rules,— Amelie declared, voice still breathless from the race as she reached his kart. And before Lando could so much as respond, she dropped her helmet to the floor with a loud thud, grabbed him by the front of his suit, and crashed her mouth into his.

It was immediate. Intense. Joyous chaos.

Lando let out a surprised sound against her lips, but it melted into a low groan as his arms wrapped tight around her waist, hauling her halfway into his lap as they kissed like a pair of hormonal teenagers in the back of a movie theater. Her hands threaded through his curls, messy and triumphant, and Lando pulled her closer like he hadn’t just lost to her by a millisecond. Like she wasn’t rubbing it in with every sharp, smug press of her lips.

—Oh for fuck’s sake,— Charles groaned, throwing his gloves dramatically onto the pit wall.

—We said no making out!— Alex yelled, pointing at them like they were committing a war crime.

George threw his arms in the air. —They’re worse than Love Island! I feel like I need a chaperone just standing near them.—

—They’re not even sorry,— Charles added, looking genuinely offended. —Look at them. Tongues down each other’s throats like we didn’t just race. Like we’re not here. I hate it here.—

Amelie pulled back just enough to pant against Lando’s mouth, breathless and smug and still riding the high of victory. —I won. Admit it.—

Lando was still half-dazed, lips kiss-bruised and grinning like a man completely and utterly destroyed by love. He tucked a strand of hair behind Amelie's ear, eyes full of nothing but her.

—Yeah, you did,— he admitted, voice rough and low, still catching his breath. —You fucking smoked us.—

Amelie laughed, still straddling the side of his kart like it was a throne and she was the undisputed queen.

—What was that about being calm and taking it easy on me?— she teased, tapping a finger to his chest. —I should’ve known you were going soft.—

—Excuse me,— Lando scoffed, though the smugness was all hers now. —I wasn’t going soft. I was being respectful. Big difference.—

—Sure, baby,— she cooed, leaning in again, clearly about to resume their inappropriate-for-public snog session.

—NOPE! Absolutely not!— Alex barked from across the pit lane, covering his eyes like he’d just witnessed a crime scene. —Can we not? There are innocent people here.—

—Like who?— Amelie called back over her shoulder, still perched in Lando’s lap. —You three? Please. You’re the definition of corrupted.—

—This is blatant PDA,— George whined, tossing his helmet to the ground. —I feel like I just watched an R-rated movie—

—They didn’t even make it to the damn trophy ceremony and she’s already climbed him like a tree,— Charles muttered, pouring water on his face like it would cleanse his soul. —We get it! You’re in love! Go write poetry or something, Jesus.—

Lando nuzzled into Amelie’s shoulder, voice unapologetically smug. —Someone’s bitter.—

—Someone’s lucky I don’t crash into him next round,— Charles muttered.

—Careful,— Amelie sing-songed, finally sliding off Lando’s lap and sauntering back toward the group with the same strut she used on red carpets. —I’ve already got one broken rib courtesy of your trauma-induced driving. I’m not afraid to sue this time.—

—It was one time! Four years ago! Let it go!— Charles yelled after her.

She flipped him off without looking back, hips swaying in triumph. Lando was trailing behind her like a kicked puppy and a proud boyfriend all at once, helmet under one arm, smile stupidly wide.

Back at the main building, everyone was still sweaty and slightly dazed from the intensity of the race. They were packing up, unzipping their suits and sipping water, trying to cool down—except for Lando, who only had one thing on his mind.

Amelie.

She was glowing from the win, a wild sparkle in her eyes, her cheeks flushed, hair a little messy from the helmet, and her lips still swollen from kissing him like she hadn’t seen him in a month.

Lando didn’t even try to play it cool.

He reached for her hand the moment they stepped inside, lacing their fingers tightly and pulling her toward the elevators with a determined pace. Amelie squeaked out a laugh, stumbling after him.

—Whoa, where’s the fire?— she teased, though her grin said she knew exactly where this was going.

Lando didn’t even look back at the rest of the guys as he threw over his shoulder, —If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have victory sex with my girlfriend.—

A collective groan erupted behind them.

—OH MY GOD,— George gagged. —Did you really just say that out loud?—

—He really did,— Charles muttered, rubbing his temples like this whole day had given him a headache.

—Victory sex? He actually said “victory sex.” Out loud. In public.— Alex looked personally attacked. —There are children on this earth, you know.—

But Lando didn’t care.

He was already hitting the elevator button like a man on a mission, practically dragging Amelie with him, both of them laughing breathlessly. The doors dinged open, and he pulled her inside. Before they could even turn around, his hands were on her waist and her mouth was back on his.

The doors started to close.

—DON’T DO IT IN THERE!— George shouted.

—DON’T PRESS THE EMERGENCY STOP!— Charles added frantically.

But the last thing they saw before the doors shut was Amelie wrapping her arms around Lando’s neck as they kissed like the world had ended and their only job now was to make up for lost time.

—God, they’re like horny teenagers,— Alex mumbled, staring blankly at the closed elevator like it had betrayed him.

—No, worse,— Charles sighed. —Teenagers have shame.—

George looked down at his phone. —Ten bucks says they don’t even make it to the room.—

—Ten? Bro, triple it. They’re probably stopping on the fifth floor just to get a head start.—

They stood there in resigned silence for a beat, then Alex muttered, —We need new friends.—

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

liked by charles_leclerc, oliviarodrigo, and others

ameliedayman: sand & chaos

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lando: sand, chaos, and the best view in Bahrain 😮‍💨 → ameliedayman: @lando is that what we’re calling your tan lines now? → lando: @ameliedayman baby pls we said we wouldn’t talk about that on main 💀 → georgerussell63: @ameliedayman pics or it didn’t happen → alex_albon: @ameliedayman no pics. pls god. no pics.

alex_albon: delete the gym pic RIGHT NOW → ameliedayman: @alex_albon no → alex_albon: @ameliedayman this is slander → georgerussell63: @alex_albon i look phenomenal. don’t let him gaslight u. → lilymhe: @alex_albon i want that printed for our hallway

charles_leclerc: i let you win → ameliedayman: @charles_leclerc u did not → charles_leclerc: @ameliedayman😐

sydneyluvsquad: THE BLUE DRESS PHOTOS I’M SCREAMING → lanmeliesbrainrot: @sydneyluvsquad it’s giving bahraini royalty → safeforlan: @sydneyluvsquad lando is FOAMING behind the camera don’t lie

sunbedslut: she’s actually insane for that brown dress pic like. how is that LEGAL → ameliefiles: @sunbedslut i just know lando was going through it. → beachymel: @sunbedslut fr he probs needed a cold shower after taking that

joshrichards: lando’s photography arc kinda popping off → ameliedayman: @joshrichards had to train him like a sim → jadenhossler: @joshrichards oh he’s definitely maxed out the “boyfriend camera skill” bar now

f1wagscentral: i need a breakdown of every dress she wore immediately → quadrantgirlies: @f1wagscentral fashion ICON. → lanfanficcentral: @f1wagscentral her suitcase was elite. no crumbs.

coconutcoded: how does she still look expensive sitting on a sun bed like it’s a Vogue shoot??

dualipa: i know a serve when i see one → ameliedayman: @dualipa queen supporting queen 🫶

[thecapricunt1616]

Pearls - (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Baby! Happy birthday- I’m sorry I musta woke you” he comes over, hugging you to his chest and kissing the top of your head “I got coffee all ready for you” he said and led you over to your usual spot at the island and setting down your mug, pouring you a cup and grabbing your favorite creamer from the fridge. It was creamer he made for you, fresh toasted hazelnuts and Indian vanilla beans that he made sure to take a few home whenever the restaurant got them imported. 

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pearls are associated with feminine energy, intuition, and nurturing qualities. Some say they can enhance a woman's natural grace and elegance, and connect her with her inner femininity. Also, In many traditions, pearls symbolize love, wisdom, and inner beauty. They are often exchanged as gifts to express deep affection and admiration. ♡ Summary: It's your birthday, and your man pulls out every stop to show you just how much he loves & worships you in every way. ♡ W/C: 4,600 ♡ Posted Date: 06/06/24 ♡ A/N: Hello! This is for my darling love @carmenberzattosgf - everyone say ' HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIRTY OLIVE MARTINI!!! ' RN!!!! She truly is the love of my tumblr life, I hope you enjoy this my sweetest moot!! I hope you also had a wonderful wonderful birthday. For all you folks that have asks rotting away in my inbox (STILL) i'm sorry :( I am still working I promise, But special days like this only come once per year we have to celebrate while we can! I hope you all enjoy this in the meantime :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT - Incl. but not limited to *ehehem* *cracks knuckles* ; Cockwarming, Spanking, Praise Kink, Choking (hands & arm), (kinda) bondage (it’s just gift ribbon so not really? But still restrained), Daddy!kink (this is mostly for dirty olive martinis reading pleasure & no one elses really in mind, kay, it’s martinis birthday, but you can read it if it’s yours - anywhore, if you don't like the d word SCOOT ALONG) it can be avoided though im not obnoxious w/ it, heavy cavity inducing fluff & aftercare, lowkey sugar daddy!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N, Fem!Pet names (Babygirl, Sweetheart, Babe, Baby, Princess, Good Girl, Bunny/Kitten ETC), Established relationship, Unprotected PIV sex, Creampie/Breeding kink, & Other BDSM themes.

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

365. Another 365 days had passed, and you were another year older. Another year wiser and all that. It wasn’t usually a day that was out of the blue extraordinarily different then any of the other 364 days of the year, but Carmen made sure that now that you had been official for just about 8 months - it was a day to remember. 

He had this day marked in his apple calendar from the day you’d told him, which was your second date. He felt a bit … creepy doing that so soon. But he just brushed it off as telling himself he was bad with numbers, you were the first person to bring him out of his years-long dry spell, he’d seen you more then once, and didn’t just hook up and dip afterwards, so he figured if it did go anywhere, it couldn’t hurt to make sure it was documented. 

But the day had come, and Jesus fucking Christ was he nervous. He felt stupid for being nervous, you would probably laugh if you knew he was nervous. Tell him to cut it out, that it’s not that important - to which he would give you one of his little laughs. He had big plans for the day, which started with the day off of work, but him getting up at 5 am anyway to make you a gourmet Michelin starred breakfast in bed. 

He tried being quiet as he could, but so many years screaming (and being screamed at) in a commercial kitchen, and all the clanging of pots and pans - his hearing had been a bit dented. So you did wake up to the pleasant smell of coffee and bacon, and came out to see him standing there shirtless making some kind of caramelized French toast. “Shit” he hissed as he touched the pan on accident,  shaking his hand momentarily before continuing as he always did. 

He didn’t water burns anymore unless they bled, it was just a waste of time to him otherwise. “I’m surprised you still have tattoos on your hands” you said, causing him to jump a bit, startled, and turn around to face you, dropping his spatula on the island 

“Baby! Happy birthday- I’m sorry I musta woke you” he comes over, hugging you to his chest and kissing the top of your head “I got coffee all ready for you” he said and led you over to your usual spot at the island and setting down your mug, pouring you a cup and grabbing your favorite creamer from the fridge. It was creamer he made for you, fresh toasted hazelnuts and Indian vanilla beans that he made sure to take a few home whenever the restaurant got them imported. 

“I told you you didn’t have to do anything baby it’s just another day” you said and he mixed it up with a spoon, tapping it on the rim before dropping it off in the dishwasher. 

“That’s bullshit baby you know it- it’s your day, should be a national holiday” he joked, setting another piece of the home baked brioche bread in the vanilla caramel custard mix he’d whipped up with heavy cream and setting it in the pan, sprinkling some cinnamon on top. 

“Mm right. The national day of me where everyone has to bring me presents, and you have to cook me my favorite food. Is that-“

“Your creme brûlée French toast princess, it is” he finished for you and flipped it. The smell was mouth watering. You saw on the counter a bowl with buttery white fluff in it and knew he must have made the whip cream for it too. 

“How did I manage to land the best boyfriend ever?” You muse, taking a sip of your coffee he made you that was perfect per usual. He always made sure to memorize just how you like your food and drink, among other things about you that you were sure to come later. 

It wasn’t long before there was a plate being set in front of you with bacon and eggs and amazing looking French toast that was fucking filled with strawberry filling when you cracked it to cut it, you didn’t even know how the fuck he did that. He brought the dishes to the sink, rinsing them between nibbles of his own naked French toast. 

That was how it usually went, he cooked, then insisted on cleaning, after he made you a perfect and beautiful plate of food that was so stunning you hardly could handle eating it, all while he was nibbling the leftovers or the ‘failed portions’ he called them. You still enjoyed yourself, the food was so delicious how could you not. After you’d finished breakfast it was all up to you how you wanted to do your day. 

You were already over the moon he had taken the day off to be with you, so for now in the early 8 am sun you were sat out on the balcony, smushed together on a sun chair. His arms were wrapped securely around your back as you just sat, enjoying each other's silence. It was so nice to have him this way. 

“Do you want your gift now, or later?” He asked gently, continuing to drag his fingers up and down the length of your back. Your head popped up, fuck. The sun made his eyes impossibly blue. You didn’t think eyes could be that blue until you met Carmy. He was stunning, absolutely gorgeous. Like he was carved from stone. He always got all blushy when you told him that, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose doing that sweet pink you loved so much. 

“You got me a present?” You asked, happiness lacing your tone. You did tell him specifically you didn’t want or need anything, that you’d be beyond happy if he could just get the day off of work and spend it with you, and so when he told you he would be able to do that -  you were over the moon. 

“Maybe- I might have made reservations for dinner, too. So, how about that present sweetheart?” He asked and a smile curled on your lips. 

“You’re a sappy bear” you teased and kissed his lips lovingly before getting up, taking his hand with you and he followed leading you to the bedroom. 

“I love spoiling you, what can I say?” He reached under his side of the bed, pulling out a black and white bag from under his side of the bed that made you gasp a bit when you read the font. 

Chanel?

“Carmy- Carmy this is really-“

“You don’t have to wear it, if you hate it. It’s vintage, I called in a few favors with a friend I made in my time in Italy when I was doing some shadow work in the pastry side of things. It’s uh, so it’s the 97’ spring collection” he took out a black dress bag and your heart thumped against your ribs. You hadn’t ever owned something so high end before - let alone vintage. 

“So it’s kinda reflective of the more business chic look? I guess, that’s what she said was popular at the time” he unzipped it and you watched as he peeled back the fabric to reveal a stunning black dress with pearl buttons that were breathtaking. 

“Oh- Carmen” you whispered, stepping forward and touching the soft but thick fabric, it was stiff, nearly perfect. This wasn’t…a thrifted piece “Carmy who’s dress is this? I- I mean… you got it second hand, right?” You look at him, fingers grazing over one of the smooth buttons 

“No- no babe it. Yeah, this is…I guess you can call it one of a kind? They never put it into production not…not enough companies bought the design I guess, it’s been worn by one model one time baby, for like 10 minutes. It’s practically new-“

“That’s not-“ you shook your head “I don’t care if it was thrifted that feels kind of stupid to say, but you mean that I’m the only one to have this dress? Like…like, where did you even get it?” You questioned and he chuckled a bit. 

“I didn’t. I just got to see the photos of it, well- I didn’t have the time to go to the retired fashion house with my friend and look but she FaceTimed and I picked from what they had in your size. You don’t like it? Shit…” he muttered to himself looking back at the dress and you could practically hear the negative gears turning in his head

“I fuckin love it” you inturrupted and took the hanger from him, walking over to the mirror “holy fuck I’m like-“ you giggle “I’m look like I’m straight out of gossip girl- can I try it on? No! No. Later. Later- what time is our reservation?” You turn to him and he smiled at your enthusiasm. 

“It’s at 6- but you have other gifts not just that one baby” he took a box from the bag as well as a smaller box. 

“More-“ your jaw drops, walking over to the bed. You see the ribbon tying the bigger box together and bit your lip to contain your grin at your less than pure ideas. “I think you gave more than just the gift in the box” you undid the big luxurious bow, the tendrils of ribbon cascading all the way to the floor. There was plenty of it to use for activities later. 

“Is that so?” He held you from behind, chin on your shoulder as you flipped open the lid of the box, tugging open the tissue paper and gasping. 

“Are those-“

“More pearls” he held up the bag, by its handle, tugging off the dust bag to reveal sleek crocodile leather and a ‘Chanel’ logo clasp you could have only dreamed of when you were younger. 

“Holy fucking shit” you held it in your hands, nearly feeling like you should be wearing gloves because of how beautiful and precious the bag was. “You remembered that” you said as you thumbed over the pearls on the handle and he huffed a chuckle, patting your hip. 

“I try my best to remember everything I can about you, it’s kinda my job now” he kissed your cheek “so…y’like it?” He questioned. You were in shock, really. You didn’t even want to breach the thought in your mind of how much it might have costed him, over a birthday - just one day, just your day. 

You knew Carmy was fairly frugal, the man didn’t even invest in an extra dresser to store his beloved jeans in, until you moved in, of course. When you moved in - his apartment became much more alive in a literal sense and emotional one. You had put up artwork you’d found on your trips together to thrift stores, he told you that you had an eye for it, and of course he found you the cutest outfits in return for your decorating skills. 

You had found a total of 3 bear ash trays, 5 bear coffee mugs, a Smokey the Bear T shirt (he only wore it to bed since apparently, you teased,  he was too ‘cool guy’ to wear a printed shirt in public), a set of fourteen bowls, cups, and plates that were printed with what you both assumed was the California state bear  because there was absolutely the California state flag on one of the serving platters - but it was… hand painted? You both laughed until your ribs hurt when you found it, because what the hell was it doing in Chicago? Plus, the bears looked so silly. They became your favorite plates, the very ones you had your breakfast on a few hours prior. 

“No - I..I love it. I love it - I can’t believe you remembered my birthstone.” You said gently, looking at the beautiful gold clasp. You opened it, to see the embossed stamp inside ‘made in Italy’ your heart fluttered at the sight. “I love you” you turned around and hugged him tight. He rubbed your back, enveloping you in one of his big warm hugs, his strong arms rubbing over your back and he kissed your neck gently. He hadn’t shaved yet today, so his stubble scratched at your jaw as he kissed down, over your shoulder. 

You still hadn’t changed out of the velvet robe he’d gotten you a month or so ago, he loved that robe. He saw one just like it while you were snuggling In bed one night. It was hot pink, juicy couture. Something one of Natalie’s friends he crushed on would have worn back in 2005 at a sleepover. He had hunted all over the internet for it until he found it, $90 on depop but he bought it anyway since he’d absolutely scoured the sleepwear section at every thrift in Chicago for it, no dice. 

He tugged the shoulder down, kissing over the bare skin gently before resting his nose in the nook of your neck and holding you close. “I love you bear, so much” you manage to say without sounding as tear filled as you were. “You treat me so special” you sniffled a bit, pawing away your tears quickly so he wouldn’t have to see them. He hated seeing you cry. Even when they were happy tears, it made him want to cry - and he hated crying. 

“Open y’last gift- well, second t’last we’re picking up the last on the way t’dinner” he pecked your lips sweetly and urged you to sit on the bed, setting the small box in your palm and kissing your head. “Open baby. I think you’ll look amazing” he said as you untied the box and tugged it open to reveal 2 stunning mother of pearl earrings encased in gold. 

“So- they’re vintage. Like everything else, cause I know you like it more like me y’know - quality and all that shit. But, ok so” he picked one up and showed you “they’re from the 80s, but I thought the gold was super fuckin sick. So I got em- didn’t realize they were clip on- and I called them and the lady said that was the style? Er whatever? And that they’re heavy, so it’ll be more comfortable for-“

You interrupt him with a kiss, taking the box with fumbling hands and putting it to the side, cupping his cheeks. He hummed gently into you, his hands finding yours and giving them a light squeeze. You pulled away after a few moments of intense kissing, mostly tongue and teeth and small moans coming from the both of you. You pant softly, eyes flicking down to his now red kiss bitten lips before looking back up into his ones that you could only describe as resembling his birthstone. 

“I want you to tie me up, and fuck me like you own me, that is what I want for my birthday afternoon” you toss the ribbon from the purse box at his chest and it flutters down into his lap to which he watches it and looks back at you. 

“That seems like something I should get for my birthday and that’s not for 2 months. But okay - can’t tell y’no on your birthday” he untied your robe and tugged it off, brows raising when he realized you didn’t even bother to put on panties after last nights activities. “Fuck-” he mumbled, kissing down your neck and gently nipping at the tender skin. His mouth sent trails of fire down to the pit of your core, mouthing over you in a way that made you whimper beneath him prettily. 

“Need you so bad daddy” you laid back, hair splayed over the pillow beneath you. The way his eyes raked over your naked frame would have made you insecure if it had been any other hookup you had before him. With Carmy it was different, he was observing you, trying to decide which part of you he wanted to worship first - taking his time with you was his favorite thing to do. It was never mean, never teasing, but moreso savoring the moment, he savored every single second he had of you this way like the first time, every time. 

“I gotchu babygirl” he kissed down your chest, tongue swirling and dancing over your sensitive skin, while his warm palm - so warm, so - so warm, so warm that if you were made of sugar you’d be melting into him - well, you might as well should be considering how pliant you were to his touch - was kneading at the plush fat of your thigh as he ravished your top half. “So soft” he muttered into your skin, sucking little bruises into the flesh of your breast. You watched him, mumbling soft praises into each part of you as if he was telling each body part of yours individually how perfect and meant for him they were. How you were so, so beautiful. Flawless, that was a word he often liked to use. It honestly made you blush, but over the months it made you much more confident in yourself, the negative voices you heard in your mind were usually replaced by his real voice of praise. 

“N’smell so good kitten” he nuzzled his nose in the hill of your cleavage, inhaling. “Mmm- how’d I get so lucky t’have you, hmm? Such a pretty girl wanting to spend her special day with me” you smiled at that, your cheeks felt like they were on fire, so did your cunt- clenching and clit twitching at every praise. He knew what It did to you, how wild it drove you. 

“I ask myself how I got so lucky every day, take care of me so good” you took his wrist, moving his hand needily towards your pussy that was basically crying for attention at this point “please take care of me daddy” you said gently, voice wanton and needy. 

“Oh, princess, f’course- already so wet f’me huh?” he ran his fingers through your folds, earning a pretty moan out of you, your head falling back to the pillow in bliss. “Always so responsive t’me, so well behaved” he mused, easily finding your clit and rubbing light circles over the swollen nub. Your hips buck at the contact, a whine peeling from your lips absentmindedly and hand reaching up to roll your nipples between your fingers as he kissed down your sternum, and ribs, and stomach, trailing down to where you were needing him the most.

“S-so wet” you breathe, spreading your thighs wider to make room for him. 

“God- I could spend the rest of my fuckin’ life between these legs” he kissed the same plush of your thigh he’d been pawing at earlier, spreading your nether lips with his fingers and just admiring. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen- jesus” he leaned in, his mouth finally making contact with your warmest part, licking a stripe up with the pad of his tongue. The feeling of the pressure as he padded his tongue over your throbbing, sensitive bud, could only be explained as something otherworldly by the way fireworks sprayed behind your closed lids and back arched to the sky. “Taste even better” he mumbled, it was barely audible but you absolutely felt the sensation, as it caused your hips to grind against his face and other hand that wasn’t stimulating your nipples to find the back of his head and essentially ride his face from the bottom.

You felt his tongue lapping at your entrance, before lapping back up and kissing at your clit - basically making out with your pussy, it felt so incredible your brain felt like it could melt out of your ears. “H-holy fuck” you babbled, tugging at his hair in a way that made him groan. He wasn’t exactly a masochist, but he’d told you before he loved it when you left scabs on his back for a week and when you tugged his hair so hard that it hurt the next day it made him hard thinking about it- so you made sure to give him that whenever he made it possible. 

“Yea? Like that daddy?” you breathed, you loved this game you got into. You were there to serve, he was there to praise, the perfect duality for your mixture of kinks. 

“Always so good princess, y’know exactly how t’get me off” he placed a wet, intemerate kiss on your thigh, his chin leaving a print of your glistening creamy arousal and making a click noise at the soaked contact. The action made you clench, which in turn made him smile into your heat, nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit in the way that made your hips thresh beneath him. He chuckled into you, the vibration causing a pathetic whine to leave your lips. “Jumpy bunny, mm?” he mused before continuing

Your jaw fell slack orgasm closely approaching as his middle finger broached your entrance and he sunk in to his palm, curling his finger in a come here motion, as if he was beckoning your orgasm - and It was working. Each brush of the pad of his finger against your sweetest spot made a sweet whimper leave your lips. His lips attach to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against it like there was no tomorrow. Your spine arched to the sky, and his other arm came across your hips, holding you firmly in place. Since you could no longer wriggle away from the heavenly stimulation - you resorted to pathetic whines and cries. 

“I-I’m cumming- ohhh- oh daddy- fu-fuuuuhuuuck- shit- ah!” you squeak, mind going fuzzy and thighs quivering as unbeknownst to you you soaked your shared sheets, little hums and ‘oh’s’ stuttering from your lips. 

“Always takin’ me so good, mm babygirl? Even on your day” you came back to him grabbing your hips and rolling you over, looking over the hill of your shoulder as his knee held your thighs down and he grabbed the at least 4 feet of Chanel printed ribbon tugging your hands behind your back and you clasped your fingers into open-fingered fists due to your manicure Carmy always made sure was no more then a week old, smiling to yourself as you mushed your cheek against the mattress while you pull your knees underneath yourself to support your upper half. “Y’lucky Mike forced me into that year of cubscouts” he muttered as he tied a decently tight reef knot into the ribbon. You giggled a bit considering the memories he told you about that year of his life. His dad was the ‘den dad’ which was his ultimate demise as his dad thought masculinity was the end all be all - so made Carmy be the first kid to kill a rabbit during their hunting exercise. But, the other memories were quite funny of him getting lost in a canoe, his first time grilling a hot dog over a fire and setting it (and a tent) on fire, you both got a good kick whenever he talked about it.

Like Richie, which was unsurprising since he was basically his second older brother - Carmy loved to tell, and retell - and retell - stories about his beloved older brother. You had figured it was because of just how much he missed him. In between getting lost in your thoughts of why you loved your boyfriend so much, you felt a sharp smack on your ass. “Answer when I talk t’you, you know the rules” he said and you whimper at the sting to which he leans down and kisses the offended cheek, thats new.

“S-sorry Daddy- I didn’t listen, please- m’sorry, say it again” you beg, looking back at him while laying on your shoulder, eyes pleading. 

“M’only gonna be nice cause its y’r day. I said, D’you want me t’stretch you out or you want another?” he brought his dominant hand to your clit, middle and forefingers pinching the pulsing nub between and tugging it back and forth with a small click, click your wetness introduced with the motion. 

“No- no- stretch me, I want it hard” you plead, wiggling your ass towards him pathetically “Want bruises daddy” you begged and he bit his lip harshly, the already red abused flesh going white with the action. 

“No - Maybe when we get home, m’not leavin’ y’black and blue before a dinner like this, the food’ll be too good f’you to be whining ‘bout it hurtin’ n’wantin’ t’come home” he spanked you rough enough to leave a stinging mark. You whimpered at the force of it

“Ok- okay- yes sir” you agreed, “N-need your cock. Please- “ you begged. He tugged you up by your wrists, carefully of course, supporting most of your weight by your ribs with his forearm and his hand trailed up your body, finding your neck and gripping just hard enough for that yummy, light feeling to grace your head. Natures high. 

“Yeah kitten? Need it? Say it again, I love hearing you beg” he tightened his hand, a small smirk coming to your lips. He always gave you exactly what you needed. 

“Pl-please, Daddy, Need you so bad- need your cum - please” he brought his lips firmly to yours, swallowing your moans as he pushed inside of you, just his tip causing you to shudder in pleasure and whine into his mouth. He squeezed your throat harder, fucking up into you relentlessly. His heavy balls slapped against the meat of your ass, kissing along your hairline as he went on an expedition to chase your next orgasm. If anything, the man was determined in bed. 

“Yeah? Need me t’fill this pretty pussy up? Yea?” he growled in your ear, smacking down on your left cheek with his other hand as he continued. You fell slack against you, not minding he was holding you by the throat and fucking up in to you like a sex doll, it felt good to be used, by him anyway.

“Fill me- please fill me up daddy- Need it- n-need your cum” you whined out. Your voice didnt even sound like yours anymore, it was horse, fucked out, needy, whorish. “So bad- so bad daddy” you added. He grunted, his forearm replacing his wrist and pulling you back as he buried himself to the hilt. He was grunting, and whining, and moaning in a way that made your cunt squeeze his cock like a vice. You gasp as he started instead of thrusting in and out, pulling his hips up and down - bringing a sensation that was making you dizzy with pleasure.

Blood roared in your ears, your g-spot was being assaulted by his tip in such a way you thought you may die from how good you felt, and his hot, raspy moans and praises about how wet, and warm you felt, along with how your pussy was sucking his cock inside - you could have died right then and it would have been more then a satisfying death, and life considering all the joy you’d run into since you’d started seeing Carmy exclusively. Without warning, you soak the sheets and Carm’s thighs. 

The noises you were making were straight up pornographic, and that wasn't lost on Carm either. The orgasm that washed over you - you swore was nearly drug-like - you’d never done them, but you swore the full body orgasm that washed over your being was something akin to a fentanyl high. It was so good,that when you came to - you were untied, and Carmy was coaxing the straw of your lilac colored Stanley bottle to your lips. “Drink, hmm princess? Y’shakin, and that was a big mess, need y’water” he cooed, gently stroking your hair with his other hand. 

“Hmm?” you sit up, a bit afraid of how much time had been lost, that had never happened before. “What - wh-what happened?” you asked a bit worried. Carmy pulled you back to his chest, kissing your temple. 

“Baby, princess, shhh- shh- here, have some water mm?” he coaxed and brushed your sweat stuck hair from your skin, bringing a relief to your boiling hot neck. You finally obliged and took a big gulp, looking up at him with worried, but trusting eyes. “S’only been 10 minutes, y’were shakin then you closed y’r eyes f’r a bit, s’ok, y’r okay sweetheart” He assured and grabbed your hairtie from your wrist, carefully tying up your hair. 

“Thank you f’takin care of me” you mumbled, resting your cheek on his sweat-sticky chest, as perv-like as it was enjoying the scent of your mixed arousal in the bedroom and rubbing your hand over his chest lovingly.  “S’my job angel, Happy birthday baby girl”

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 9/12)

HIIII HERE SHE IS!! i hope u enjoyyyy <3

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you have questions and eddie needs to get something off of his chest

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, angst, feelings feelings feelings, and eddie going through a crisis <3

word count: 5.1k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie’s gonna be sick.

There’s a sweet smell of pancakes and coffee wafting through the air and a dizzying chatter dancing amongst the table, and Eddie’s going to be sick.

He’s not sure why because all he’s had was a cup of throat coat, half a French toast, and a cigarette, but he has a feeling it has something to do with the empty chair across from him. Or maybe it’s the guilt that’s been churning in his gut since the moment he stepped out of your room last night. Or maybe it’s the realization of the truth that Eddie was forced to admit when Richie found him at the studio early this morning.

Eddie’s not sure who told Richie or how much of the story Richie knows, but Eddie hates feeling like this— feeling out of control. It’s a sick feeling Eddie had been used to when growing up, but now that he’s older and has his career and money, Eddie does everything in his power to never get into situations like this— and nine times out of ten, these situations only come with things like the press.

And it’s upsetting— the way this has spun out— because Eddie knew this would be the result, and he was so desperate to avoid it in the beginning, but he’s not sure when that persistence vanished. Somewhere along the line, you managed to find the split in Eddie. The part that needed fixing the most. Eddie’s not sure where that split is, but he feels it, and the change— you— has seeped too deep into his skin to dig out, and Eddie is panicking.

He’s been panicking since yesterday— since he fucking pulled out of you, and you looked at him like he was the only person you’ve ever really seen. Like you were seeing him in color for the first time.

He couldn’t think because all that tossed around in his mind was you.

He couldn’t speak because all that would form on his tongue was your name.

He couldn’t breathe because all he would inhale and exhale was your scent.

He was drowning in you yesterday. Sinking like a stone, quicker than he’d ever intended to— because, believe it or not, Eddie was ready to take the plunge. 

He was ready to try and figure out his path of redemption from being the asshole you (rightfully so) hate to someone you could maybe forgive and tolerate. The first step to that was supposed to be the song from the show, but fucking James ruined that. 

It was all fucked. Everything was fucked. The way Eddie was going to apologize was flipped upside down, and you both moved too quick, and now Eddie’s in way over his head— because jesus christ, Richie grilled the shit out of him this morning.

Eddie’s going to be sick.

“Anyone know what’s up with Rich this morning?” One of the crew members asks. Jeff shrugs, tossing a grape into his mouth, “Beats me. He’s always upset about something, though.”

Eddie tries to muster through the rest of breakfast, but when Richie comes back into the room without you in tow, Eddie decides he can’t sit here a moment longer with that empty chair staring at him.

Although Eddie practically begs Richie to let him skip out of the group interview, he still finds himself walking down the hall of the hotel. The interview is being held in Richie’s suite and was originally planned to be a few days after the residency was over, but a change of plans with photoshoots in LA caused some last-minute alterations to the planned schedule.

Eddie spent the day holed up in a friend's studio. He hasn’t seen you since breakfast, and the day is almost over now, so it’s safe to say the initial shell-shock feeling of the sticky situation he’s tossed you both into has somewhat dissolved. Eddie didn’t record anything at the studio; he only wrote, and the change of scenery, with the added peace away from his friends/bandmates, gave him a more open space to figure his thoughts out. 

So, when Eddie sees you walking out of your room, he immediately knows now is his chance to do what he’s been milling about in his head all day— because when Eddie said sorry and when he spent hours fucking you into your bed to show you just how sorry he was, he meant it— and he needs to tell you that before things get misconstrued as they always do.

You’re not paying attention, too focused on sorting through the questions you’ve prepared for the band, so you’re face is riddled with shock when Eddie places a hand on your shoulder.

“I think we should maybe talk…” 

Eddie’s not sure what he expected you to say, but he sure as hell didn’t expect you to turn to him and nod, “Yeah, I think we should.” Eddie nods as well, taking a breath and opening his mouth to speak, but you’re cutting him off before he can even fully form his thoughts, “Where the fuck have you been?”

And that’s not what Eddie thought you would start with, but it’s better than he expected. “Um—” 

“I’ve been signing papers all fucking day thanks to you,” You stress, “And the only person that has any answers to the millions of questions I have is you, but you’ve been missing in action all fucking day, so what the fuck?” You snap.

Eddie’s face pinches in confusion, “Signing papers? What papers?”

You scoff, sarcastically shrugging, “I don’t know, maybe the fucking NDAs Richie piled onto me, again, because of you,” You’re tone is dripping in irritation, and Eddie only finds your disgruntled look to be cute. “Thanks for that, by the way. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m not here to ruin your life, but the last thing I want to do is tell the world all about how I was dumb enough to let you fuck me.”

You don’t exactly care that a cleaning maid is just a few doors down, but Eddie does because this is precisely how shit gets into the press. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, wrapping a hand around your arm and tugging you off into the small ice room off to the side. “Would you lower your fucking voice?” Eddie grumbles as he presses you into the open space beside the vending machine, creating some sense of secrecy from anyone passing by.

Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance as you glare at Eddie, “Why does it even matter when you’ve been practically screaming it from the rooftops?” You point out. Eddie waves a hand and squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in dismissal, “I didn’t tell Richie shit.” He argues.

And it’s the truth. Eddie didn’t tell Richie anything— he hasn’t told anyone anything aside from what little to the story Jeff and Gareth know. But they would never say something to Richie about it, right?

You snap Eddie from his train of thought, “Then where did you go last night, Eddie?” You ask.

And well, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ready to confess that he practically had a panic attack when he realized he likes you— like, really, really likes you. He’s not ready to admit that he spent the night at the studio, scribbling down words and mixing sounds, cutting clips of his voice, and perfecting it until he passed out from exhaustion. He’s not ready to admit that.

Eddie goes silent, gaze dark and filled with hesitance. His jaw ticks, and he replies with a snap, “It doesn’t matter.” He shifts to turn around and leave— because that’s what he does best— but you reach out to wrap a warm hand around his wrist, and Eddie— god, Eddie’s heart skips a few beats.

“If I had to sign a goddamn NDA, the least you can do is tell me where you went.”

And you’re right. God, isn’t this precisely what Eddie was just writing about? 

It’s not difficult, Eddie says to himself. Just tell her you went to the studio— maybe even offer to show her what you were working on.

Eddie thinks he would rather chew bricks.

Before Eddie can fully prepare a response, Gareth pokes his head into the room, glancing between the two of you as you quickly drop Eddie’s hand. Gareth fails to hold back a grin at the scene before him, and Eddie’s shoulders stiffen from the tense situation between you that Gareth fails to catch onto. Gareth points over his shoulder, “Unless you want Richie to start flipping out from wasted time, I suggest you guys head back to the room so we can start.”

“It’s chaotic.”

“Your known sound or the new sound?”

“Both.”

You laugh, shifting in your seat as you twirl your pen between your fingers. Jeff expands on Gareth’s comment, “I would say our past music is chaotic in general, but the newer stuff we have coming is more of an… orchestrated chaos.”

Gareth snorts at Jeff’s answer and mumbles something along the lines of melodrama before Eddie pitches in, “There’s more of a structure to this record. Our past albums have been like… multiple stories in one, and it can be overwhelming, but it’s also exciting because you never know where you’re going next,” Eddie talks with his hands, jewelry clinking with each wave as he glances at you, “And I think this album still has that type of excitement, but it’s more… interconnected. Like there’s bits and pieces of every track within the next one, and it’s just… it’s a fuller experience.” 

It’s beautiful— how Eddie thinks and speaks and forms his thoughts about music. It’s so captivating that you could spend forever listening to him talk about music. Gareth is saying something, but you’re hardly listening because you can feel Eddie’s gaze on you, and it makes every hair on your body stand. 

When you finish writing a note, you clear your throat before glancing back up at the boys as if your heart isn’t beating out of your chest. “In relation to this topic, do any of you have a specific idea or sound you’d like to explore in the future, maybe?”

Jeff hums, “I grew up listening to a ton of Janis Joplin— and shit like Jimi Hendrix— so I've always had a love for that kind of clash between rock and blues. So, maybe something along those lines." It's utterly off-track from what Corroded Coffin sings, but Jeff, you've come to learn, is the most mellow of the group, so you're not as surprised as most would be.

The boys each answer the question, eventually blending into each other to create one extensive conversation. You ask them what they plan to do when they’re old enough to retire. Gareth wants to venture into the art world; unbeknownst to you, he’s had a knack for art since middle school. Jeff wants to do something with producing, and right before Eddie gets the chance to answer, Richie steps in, clearing his throat and reminding you of the time. 

You seem to have lost track of time in your conversation. The boys have a line of press interviews today, but you have more than enough content to complete the article. You thank the boys for giving their time and being compliant, and as you file out of the room, Gareth turns to you, “Are you coming to the dinner tonight?” He asks. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Dinner?”

Jeff steps up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you all step into the hallway, “Of course, she’s coming to the dinner, dumbass; it’s for the entire crew.” He flicks at Gareth’s shoulder. Gareth bats at Jeff’s hand, “Sorry, I didn’t know if that included journalists.” He bites back with a light shove to Jeff’s shoulder. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know this dinner you’re talking about.” You chip in. Gareth and Jeff glance at each other before Jeff clears his throat, “Uh— Eddie didn’t tell you?”

Of fucking course, it reflects to Eddie. You shake your head, glancing around the hall, only to see that Eddie is nowhere to be seen. Jeff nods, removing his arm from your shoulder and shrugging, “Well, there’s a dinner tonight, and we have some family and friends coming in from Hawkins, so you’re obviously invited regardless of Eddie’s lack of communication skills.” Jeff jokingly concludes. You nod with a small smile, “I’ll most likely be working through this,” You raise your journal, “But I hope all goes well.”

You don’t stick around to see the looks Gareth and Jeff exchange because you’re too busy trying not to be bothered by the fact that Eddie purposely didn’t tell you about the dinner. But then again, can you blame Eddie? You’ve only known each other for a month, and that entire month has been full of mixed feelings, arguments, and selfish kisses. 

Still, you find yourself feeling estranged and saddened— because, despite your complicated relationship, if the roles were reversed, you know you would’ve extended the invitation.

Eddie glances over himself in the mirror for what seems like the millionth time.

It’s stupid, the nerves coursing through his veins, but then again, what Eddie’s about to do could potentially put him on his ass if it goes wrong. Wrong, meaning you say no, curse him out, and tell him to fuck off for the rest of his life. He’d deserve it, sure, but that doesn’t mean it would lessen the sting either way.

There’s a cassette tape in his hand as he walks up to your room, 403, the numbers that seem to be engraved in his mind at this point. He taps the thick band of his ring against the clear case of the tape, teeth digging into his cheek as he knocks on your door.

The silence is deafening as he waits, and Eddie debates if he should just make a run for it before he makes a fool of himself, but then you open the door. And you’re so pretty, and Eddie’s fingers tighten around the tape for a split moment to ground himself because— fuck, what does he say? Why is he here again?

You’re staring at him with a blank gaze, bored and intimidating enough to have Eddie wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

Eddie clears his throat and shifts in his spot, “Are you busy?” You blink, glancing down at the tape in his hand before looking back at him. “Why?”

Well, there’s no going back, Eddie thinks. He raises the tape into your view, “I just need an hour. Just one hour so I can explain.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning against the door, and boredly blink, “Explain what?”

Eddie shrugs, heart racing in his chest as he subtly shakes his head, “Everything.”

Eddie didn’t think you would say yes.

Honestly speaking, Eddie thinks you’re slightly insane for saying yes, but he doesn’t take it for granted— because now, Eddie is walking down Barclay St with you right beside him. It’s busy now that everybody’s 9-5 shift has ended, and there’s a slight breeze kicking in as you trek through the sea of people. 

You’re dressed in sneakers, jeans, and a light sweater to keep you warm— and Eddie thinks it’s adorable how the sleeves drape over your hands and how you fuss over it occasionally.

Transit is quicker to where Eddie is taking you, and the subway is always crowded and hectic, so Eddie doesn’t think about it when he grabs your hand as you trot down the subway steps. Your hand is warm and soft beneath his palm, and it feels so natural when you shift your thumb across the back of his hand, trying to keep up with his far strides.

Somebody bumps into you, and Eddie instinctively pulls you closer to him, gazing down at you as he asks if you’re okay. You nod, and Eddie squeezes your hand before continuing on the path to the train.

When you and Eddie get settled on the train, Eddie thinks you might hold onto his hand for the entire ride, but he’s sadly mistaken when you slip from his hold to fold your hands in your lap.

Eddie ignores the pang in his chest.

Eddie has dragged you all the way to Manhattan to stick you in a booth near the back of an old diner called Keens Steakhouse. You’ve never been here, but you’ve heard of it in passing; however, you wish Eddie had told you to wear something nicer instead of this oversized blanket of a sweater you have on.

Eddie is wearing jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket, so you didn’t think much about what to wear— but that’s Eddie. Eddie Munson, the famous rockstar. Why would he care about the clothes he wears to some diner he’s probably eaten at a million times before?

The diner has dim lighting, but the tables are well-lit with a candle. Your waiter hands you two menus and a bottle before leaving you both to scan over the food items. You don’t bother to open your menu, watching Eddie fill your glasses with a rich wine. Eddie glances at you before clearing his throat, “The chef makes a mean filet mignon, by the way,” He begins as he sets the bottle aside, “And I’m not a big seafood person, but the shrimp is good.”

You say nothing, waiting for Eddie to stop beating around the bush and tell you why he made you trek across the city for wine. He glances at you, faltering for a split moment as he speaks, “We can change tables if you—” You shake your head with a wave of your hand, “It’s not that, Eddie, it’s just—” You huff, “Why are we here? Like, why did you bring me here?”

Eddie shifts in his seat and clears his throat, tapping his finger against the table once before taking a slow breath, “I think… I think it’s best if I explain my side of things before shit spins out of control.” He’s struggling to start, but the words slip from you before you can stop it, “You don’t think it’s too late for that?”

Eddie’s eyes are soft and pleading when he glances at you, pretty lips tucking between his lips as he shrugs, “I was hoping not…”

God, it’s weird seeing Eddie like this— teetering on the edge of vulnerability as he practically begs you to hear him out— if you weren’t so keen on hearing if he has something genuine to say, then you would’ve left a long time ago for the sake of his sanity.

Because you’re selfish and hope to hear something good, you nod, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie fidgets with the rings on his fingers as he begins to speak, “First things first, I just wanna get this out of the way,” He gazes at you, “I didn’t tell Richie anything. If anything, my guess would be someone from the crew told him, but I won’t list off any names.” He waves off.

You know he means James because who else would Eddie be talking about? But even though you strongly feel it wasn’t James, you don’t counteract Eddie’s silent claim. However, you’re not strong enough to hold back a quick roll of your eyes.

“And secondly… about last night.” He falters, and you take a deep breath before shifting in your seat. “It’s fine if you regret it, Eddie. You didn’t need to drag me here to say that; we can just forget it ever happened.”

You’re unsure if that’s what Eddie wanted to say, but you would rather be the first to call it out to save whatever dignity you have left. But Eddie quickly shakes his head, brown eyes wide and soft as he squashes that idea, “No! No, I don’t regret last night at all. I— that’s not why I brought you here.” And Eddie looks at you like he won’t ever get a chance to fix what he destroyed.

A steady exhale and the curling of his fingers into his palm, and you wish you were closer to him, even if he’s done nothing but push you away. You want to feel him. And sure, the flicker of his gaze down to your hand might imply that he wants the same, but you drop your hands to lay in your lap instead of the table, willing him to continue talking.

He clears his throat, “I shouldn’t have left— and honestly, I didn’t even want to leave,” His admission has your head ticking in confusion, “I wanted to stay with you, and I wanted—” He takes a breath, earth soaked eyes locking onto yours, “I left because I knew I didn’t deserve to stay.”

Well fuck, your heart is practically the wings of a hummingbird in your chest. It’s the most open Eddie has ever been with you aside from the time you shared alone in the dressing room, except now you are finally facing the truth of what is unfolding between you. 

Wayne’s words spin in your mind for a split moment, “Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice… He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

And you wonder why? What happened to create the beautiful mess sitting before you, waving his torn and stained white flag, calling off his troops to meet you in no man's land? And there’s a vast field behind Eddie that you have yet to discover, and there’s the same behind you, patiently waiting for whoever is willing to take the time and map out the intricate paths and valleys. You selfishly want it to be the man in front of you.

“I don’t know how to treat the people who selflessly care for me. I never got that, and it’s weird and new to me, and I didn’t understand how you could do that for— not just me, but practically everyone you meet. But I want to learn how to.”

It’s dizzying, really. The complete 180 Eddie has seemingly made— and is it wrong for you to hesitate to believe him? Is it wrong that you’re still unsure even though Eddie looks like he wants to practically crawl out of his skin? Because Eddie is so far from home, and it doesn’t even take years of knowing him to see that.

You shift your gaze to the table, sinking further into your seat as you tilt your head, and there’s an echo of how you felt last night that rings in your chest as you ask, “Where did you go, Eddie?”

Eddie is so pretty under candlelight. He’s defined and soft, and his hair looks like a golden mane when it catches the light. His eyes, always big and brown with honey-soaked pools of curiosity, they’re softer than they’ve ever been before. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and tortured with the jagged crowns of his teeth as he silently stresses. 

“I went to the studio.” He finally admits.

And you can’t seem to think of a single reason why Eddie would ever be this nervous to tell you he went to the studio— that’s his job, is it not?

Eddie shifts in his seat to reach into his jacket pocket to pull something out. “I brought you here so I could—” “Excuse me, Mr. Munson.” A waiter interrupts.

Eddie pauses, both of you turning your attention to the pristine man in black. The waiter clasps their hands behind their back, leaning forward as they speak, “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a group up front claiming to be a part of your reservations. I didn’t see any more seats on the list, but they insisted I check with you.”

Eddie shoves whatever is in his hand back into his pocket as he looks over his shoulder, your gaze following his eyes as he curses. You can’t see much from your seat, so you’re riddled with confusion when Eddie grumbles something to himself as he turns back to the waiter, “Yeah, they’re my friends; send them over.”

The waiter nods and walks off as you send a look of confusion towards Eddie, “I thought there was a dinner tonight? Which, speaking of, why aren’t you there?” Eddie freezes at the question, “You know about the dinner?”

You nod, “Jeff and Gareth told me. Thanks for the invitation, by the way.” You grumble as Eddie stands up. Eddie curses, turning to you and holding an index finger, “To be fair, I wasn’t planning on going.” You raise an unconvinced eyebrow as Eddie turns around and cheers, stepping forward to hug who had expected to be Jeff or Gareth.

However, neither Jeff nor Gareth have light brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair.

It’s a woman, a pretty one with sunkissed freckles dotted all around her face. Behind her, and next to hug Eddie, is a man; soft, brown wisps of healthy hair long enough to kiss the tips of his ears. He catches your eyes over Eddie’s shoulder, and you find that he and Eddie share the same eye color.

Last to hug Eddie is another woman, kind-looking and just as pretty as the first, and with the curly strands that bounce along her shoulders, you might’ve guessed she and Eddie were related somehow.

The first girl peeks over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles, “Who’s this?” She squeaks, “Oh fuck, are we interrupting something? Steve— god, I told Steve we should’ve just waited to see you at the hotel.” The boy, Steve, you suppose, turns to the girl with an annoyed look as they start to bicker lightly. Eddie waves his hands to disperse the small moment, “As happy as I am to see you assholes, we actually were in the middle of something.” Eddie sarcastically smiles.

You roll your eyes and smile as you stand from the booth, “No, no, don’t worry about it.” You assure her as you step forward, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to make room for yourself as you extend a hand in greeting. You tell her your name, and she smiles, “I’m Robin!” She responds. She gestures to the man, “This is Steve,” Steve waves, “And this is Nancy.” Nancy waves and smiles.

“We’re old friends from high school.” Nancy clears up the confusion.

And then it suddenly makes sense. Eddie had mentioned something about his tight-knit group of friends from Hawkins. He didn’t go in-depth on who was who, but you now realize why Robin had sounded like such a familiar name.

You beam at them as the pieces come together, “Oh! Nice to meet you; Eddie’s mentioned you all before,” You respond, “It’s nice to put faces to the names finally.” 

Steve awes at that and slaps a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder, “You’ve been talking about us? How sweet of you.” He jokingly teases, squeezing at the dip of Eddie’s shoulder and neck. Eddie bats him away with a ghost of a smile, and you smile, enjoying the look of familiar joy on Eddie’s face.

Eddie ushers you all to sit in the booth— and you don’t ignore the fact that he slides in right beside you. Robin and Nancy sit on the other side, and Steve squeezes in last despite Robin’s protests and grumbles about him having wide shoulders. Eddie sighs, hands fidgeting on the table as he speaks, “What are you guys doing here? I thought you were going to the dinner with the band.” He asks.

Steve scoffs as Nancy snickers, and Robin rolls her eyes, “Yeah, that was the plan,” Robin responds. “But these two,” She gestures between Nancy and Steve, “Didn’t want to dress for it. Jeff told us where you were, by the way.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the mention of Jeff and his traitorous behavior.

Steve glances around the restaurant, and you catch Nancy’s eyes, sharing a quick, welcoming smile with one another. “Yeah, so can we, like, get out of here?” Steve asks in a bored manner before reaching over to grasp Eddie’s forgotten glass of wine. Eddie flicks Steve’s hand, and Nancy speaks up from the corner of the booth, “Do either of you know a place with good drinks?”

Eddie looks beyond bothered by how his friends crashed your short-lived dinner, so you answer, “There’s a karaoke bar down the street; they have a good happy hour, too.” You shrug. Steve and Robin perk up at the mention of karaoke, and Nancy groans, “God, don’t get these two started on karaoke. They don’t stop.” She complains.

Steve shrugs and slides out of the booth, “Too bad, we’re going.” He tugs his friends out of the booth. With the small window of no attention on you or Eddie, Eddie turns to you, “I’m sorry.” He motions toward his friends. You smile and shake your head, “That’s okay.”

Eddie leans in, and your heart skips a beat. You’re shocked when Eddie’s cool fingers brush against yours beneath the table and slip something into your hand, “This is what I brought you here for.” He softly says.

You glance beneath the table to see the clear cassette tape that Eddie had when you opened your door. You glance back at him, confusion riddled on your features, “What’s this?” You ask. Eddie’s gaze flickers to your lips before locking back on your eyes, “My apology.”

His apology?

Your mind reels for a few moments until you remember what Eddie had said yesterday, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.”

Before you can respond, Steve clasps a hand over Eddie’s shoulder, grabbing both of your attention, “Let’s go, man; I’m gonna battle you in a sing-off.” Behind Steve, Nancy and Robin stand hand in hand, Robin impatiently waving for you and Eddie to get up.

Mind reeling with a mix of emotions; you barely have enough time to shove the tape in your bag before Eddie drags you out of the booth.

With the tape practically burning a hole through your side and your mind telling you to slow down, your heart flutters in your chest as you allow yourself to weave your fingers through Eddie’s.

And when you see the small smile that grazes across Eddie’s lips, you decide to let yourself have this moment, even if you’re still wary of Eddie’s true intentions.

And once again, for the second night in a row, you find yourself in Eddie’s trap.

————

part ten

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a/n: HIIII, you made it to the end !!! look at them evolving :') we're almost to the end friends, hang in there w me i beg !! i hope u enjoyed, and as always, i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 TY FOR READING I LOVE U VERY BIG MWAHHH <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

[fuqnia]

Kisses in Frosted Light

stan marsh x reader insert

(❁´◡`❁) | [A/N] hii, this is my fourth oneshot that's apart of my ficmas! this is also on ao3. ❤️❄️🎄

(❁´◡`❁) | Warning(s) : drinking and typical cartman behavior lol

(❁´◡`❁) | Synopsis : [y/n] and Stan find themselves under the mistletoe at a holiday party, turning a playful kiss into something far more meaningful.

The house smelled like stale beer, burnt sugar, and bad decisions—the holy trinity of teenage chaos. Music blasted from a tinny Bluetooth speaker perched on a shelf, the bass rattling through the floor. Strings of blinking Christmas lights cast a seizure-inducing glow over the packed living room, where familiar faces laughed, argued, and shouted over each other with drinks in hand. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, leaning precariously thanks to a failed attempt by Clyde to climb it for “a better selfie angle” earlier.

You stuck close to the wall, clutching your plastic cup of soda like a lifeline. Across the room, Wendy and Bebe were loudly debating whether eggnog could be considered a cocktail, their cheeks flushed from whatever was in their cups. Near the couch, Craig sat with his usual deadpan expression while Tweek buzzed nervously beside him, wringing his hands as he muttered, “This is a disaster—gah—why is it so loud?!” Meanwhile, Nicole and Tolkien were attempting to wrangle Red, who was dramatically reenacting the fall of the table Kyle had just knocked over.

The crash had drawn everyone’s attention to Kyle, who was now standing frozen next to the fallen table, a shattered beer bottle at his feet. His face was bright red as he glared at the carnage.

“Jesus Christ, Kyle!” Cartman’s voice cut through the room like a knife, loud and smug. “What’d you do, trip over your giant Jew nose trying to steal another beer?”

Kyle spun around, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Fuck off, Cartman! It wasn’t my fault!”

“Sure it wasn’t,” Cartman sneered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the arm of the couch. “What, did you get too excited when you saw Tolkien’s dad probably paid for all this shit? Classic Jew, always looking for a free ride.”

Tolkien rolled his eyes, but before he could fire back, Kenny—lounging lazily beside Cartman with a cup that looked like it had been mixed from five different bottles—snorted into his drink. “You’re both fucking embarrassing,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Cartman turned his grin on Kenny, as wicked as ever. “Oh, shut the hell up, Kenny. What’d you do, sell a kidney just to get invited to this party? Or did you pawn that shitty orange parka for a ticket in?”

“At least I don’t have to butter myself up to fit into my clothes,” Kenny fired back without missing a beat, his grin matching Cartman’s as he raised his cup in a mock toast. “Cheers to that.”

Kyle ignored them, stepping awkwardly over the glass. “For the last time, Cartman, I didn’t knock it over! Maybe if your fat ass wasn’t blocking half the room, people wouldn’t trip!”

“Oh, right, because you’re the picture of grace,” Cartman shot back, cackling. “Face it, Kyle—you’re one spiked drink away from starring in your own Hanukkah miracle: The Drunken Asshole Who Kept Falling Over.”

Stan sighed heavily beside you, running a hand down his face. “Why do we even hang out with them?” he muttered under his breath.

“Morbid curiosity?” you offered, suppressing a grin as Cartman and Kenny’s bickering continued, with Tolkien halfheartedly stepping in to scold them both.

Nearby, Clyde yelled, “SHOTGUN! WHO WANTS TO SHOTGUN?” He stumbled into the middle of the room, holding up a beer can and a house key like they were trophies. The crowd around him erupted in cheers, and you watched in mild horror as he promptly stabbed himself in the thumb trying to open the can.

Stan arched an eyebrow at you. “Kitchen?” he asked. “Because I’m not sticking around to watch Clyde bleed out over a Natty Light.”

“Kitchen,” you agreed quickly, relieved for the excuse to leave.

As you wove through the crowd, Cartman spotted you and grinned, his voice cutting through the noise like a buzzsaw. “Hey, Marsh! Where the hell are you going? Don’t bail just because Kyle’s being a dumbass!”

Stan didn’t even glance back, casually flipping him off over his shoulder. “And you can choke on a candy cane, Cartman,” he said, his voice as flat as ever.

“You wish, asshole!” Cartman yelled, but his laughter followed you both as you slipped into the quieter kitchen.

The door swung shut behind you, cutting off most of the chaos. The kitchen was quieter, though the faint thrum of music and occasional bursts of yelling still filtered through the walls. Dimly lit by the obnoxious glow of a Christmas light strand strung over the cabinets, it felt like a different world from the pandemonium in the living room.

You leaned against the counter with a small smile, your shoulders relaxing for the first time all evening.

“So,” Stan said, leaning beside you with his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. “How long do you think it’ll take before Clyde gets a concussion out there?”

You laughed softly, glancing toward the door as the faint sound of cheering echoed from the living room. “Five minutes, tops. He’s already bleeding over something, isn’t he?”

“Probably,” Stan agreed, a smirk tugging at his lips. He nodded toward the counter where a few bottles of beer sat, remnants of someone else’s earlier raid. “You want one? Since we’re avoiding the Natty Light bloodbath.”

You shook your head, wrinkling your nose. “Nah. Beer tastes like bread water. Pass.”

Stan chuckled, grabbing one for himself and twisting off the cap. “Bread water, huh? That’s a bold opinion.”

“It’s true,” you said, grinning. “All bubbly and weird. What’s the appeal?”

“Right, because your soda’s so much better,” he teased, nodding toward the abandoned cup still in your hand. “Flat Coke. Now that’s the drink of champions.”

“At least it doesn’t taste like regret,” you shot back, playfully sticking your tongue out at him.

Stan smirked, taking a sip of his beer and leaning back against the counter beside you. “You’re missing out. Regret is kind of my whole brand.”

“Oh, I know,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You do still hang out with Cartman, after all.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Low blow. But yeah, fair.”

The two of you fell into an easy silence for a moment, the kind that didn’t feel awkward or heavy. The muffled sounds of the party outside drifted through the walls, but it all felt distant here, like the kitchen was its own little bubble.

“Clyde really called this party ‘legendary,’ huh?” you asked, breaking the quiet with a small laugh. “I mean, I guess it is, if you’re into drunken car crashes disguised as holiday cheer.”

Stan shrugged, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It’s Clyde. ‘Legendary’ to him is, like, free beer and nobody calling the cops.”

“Sounds like a solid five-star Yelp review,” you teased. “Bet he’s gonna write it himself tomorrow.”

“‘Best party ever—only minor injuries,’” Stan deadpanned, his lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh.

You snorted, nudging him with your elbow. “You’d be a terrible party promoter.”

“Maybe, but at least I don’t need Yelp reviews to prove I’m fun,” he shot back, his tone casual but his eyes flicking toward you with a playful glint.

“Oh, you’re so fun,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling. “Look at you. The life of the kitchen corner.”

“Hey, I could totally be fun if I wanted to,” Stan argued, his grin widening. “I just don’t need to try as hard as Clyde.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, your voice dripping with mock skepticism. “I’ll take your word for it, Marsh.”

Stan raised his bottle, his smile softening into something quieter, warmer. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out, huh?”

Your cheeks warmed at the way he said it, light but with just enough weight to make your stomach flutter. You looked down at your hands, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess I will.”

For a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by a comfortable, charged silence. Stan’s eyes lingered on you, his expression softer than usual. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just took another sip of his beer and gave you a small smile.

“You’re such a nerd,” you said finally, breaking the moment with a grin that you hoped hid the way your heart was racing.

Stan laughed, shaking his head. “And you’re way too judgmental for someone drinking flat soda.”

“Bread water,” you retorted, motioning toward his bottle. “Remember?”

Stan rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. “Whatever dude. You’re stuck with me, nerd.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” you said, your voice softer now, matching his tone.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking toward yours again, his lips curving into the kind of smile that could make your chest ache. “Not the worst thing, though.”

Stan glanced around the kitchen, his bottle dangling loosely from his fingers. “You know,” he said, tilting his head toward the doorway, “for all the ‘legendary’ talk, Clyde really didn’t think this whole thing through. There’s, like, way too many people in here for one house.”

You followed his gaze to where someone had left a stack of empty pizza boxes on the counter, grease stains spreading like evidence of the chaos outside. “It’s Clyde. If he thought about it at all, it was probably, ‘How much beer can I fit in the fridge?’”

Stan laughed softly, his eyes flicking to the edge of the doorway. “Speaking of things Clyde didn’t think through... Is that—oh, for fuck’s sake.” He raised his hand and pointed upward.

You followed his gesture and immediately froze. Taped to the doorframe, hanging at a slightly crooked angle, was a sprig of mistletoe. Your stomach flipped, and you felt heat rush to your face.

“Really? Mistletoe?” you muttered, your voice tighter than you intended. “Who even still does that?”

Stan smirked, but there was an awkward edge to it as he glanced at you, then back at the mistletoe. “Guess Clyde thought it’d be funny. Or maybe it’s part of his legendary charm.”

You shifted on your feet, glancing away even as your pulse hammered in your ears. “We can just, uh, pretend we didn’t see it.”

“Yeah,” Stan said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. After a beat, he rubbed the back of his neck and added, “But, like... it’s technically a rule, right?”

You blinked at him, startled. “What?”

Stan shrugged, his smirk turning a little lopsided. “The mistletoe thing. It’s, like, a rule. You’re supposed to follow it, aren’t you?”

You stared at him, your brain suddenly incapable of forming a coherent thought. Was he serious? Was he joking? Did it matter? His eyes were on you now, blue and steady, and you could feel your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest.

“I—uh—” You faltered, gripping the counter behind you for stability. “I guess? If you’re into, like, ancient holiday traditions or whatever.”

“Traditions are important,” Stan said, his voice dropping just enough to make you glance at him again. His grin softened, turning almost shy. “I mean, it’d be rude not to, right?”

Something about the way he said it made your throat go dry. He wasn’t teasing anymore—or at least, not entirely. There was something else in his expression, something that made you swallow hard and nod before you could stop yourself.

“Y-yeah,” you said softly. “Right.”

Stan’s grin twitched slightly, like he was about to say something else, but then you leaned in before you could think better of it.

The kiss started tentative, your lips brushing his so lightly it was more suggestion than contact. Stan froze for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually go through with it, but then he leaned in, meeting you halfway. His lips were warm and slightly chapped, tasting faintly of beer, and the moment they pressed more firmly against yours, your knees went weak.

It wasn’t a dramatic, movie-style kiss—nothing loud or exaggerated. It was soft, almost shy, like both of you were testing the waters. But underneath that, there was something else. An ache. A quiet, unspoken want that lingered in the way his hand brushed your arm, hesitant but there.

Stan’s lips moved against yours with a kind of tenderness that made your chest tighten, like he was afraid to push too far but didn’t want to pull away. His free hand hovered awkwardly at your side before finally settling against your waist, the weight of it grounding you. Your heart raced as you tilted closer, your hand brushing the edge of his hoodie as if you could anchor yourself there.

When you finally pulled back, your faces were still close, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. Stan’s eyes opened slowly, his expression equal parts surprised and dazed. He blinked at you, his cheeks flushed, and you could see the faintest tremble in his fingers where they still rested against you.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice a little rougher than usual. “I, uh... I guess we followed the rules.”

You laughed softly, the sound shaky and breathless as you stepped back just enough to look at him properly. “Yeah. Rules are important.”

Stan’s lips quirked into a faint, shy smile. “Good thing Clyde put that stupid thing up, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, your heart still pounding as you reached up to nudge his shoulder lightly. “Yeah, Clyde. Always looking out for us.”

“Total hero,” Stan said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he looked at you. His hand lingered at your waist a moment longer before he dropped it, running it through his hair instead. “So, uh... wanna grab more flat soda? Or do we go back out there and risk Cartman finding out about this?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Option one. Definitely option one.”

Stan chuckled, his grin softening as he nudged your shoulder lightly. “Good call.”

The two of you stayed in the kitchen a little longer, pretending not to notice how your knees still felt wobbly or how Stan kept stealing glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Stan went back to the counter looking at the soda options for you, the edge of his bottle tapping absently against the counter. His eyes darted toward you, then away, his lips pressing together like he was weighing whether or not to say something.

You raised an eyebrow, catching the shift in his usual laid-back demeanor. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head—but his grin gave him away. It was that twitchy, awkward half-smile he got when he was nervous.

“Oh, it’s definitely something,” you teased, stepping a little closer. “Spit it out, Marsh.”

Stan chuckled softly, looking down at the beer in his hand. He twisted the bottle cap nervously between his fingers. “It’s just... I dunno. It’s kinda funny, I guess.”

You tilted your head. “What is?”

He shrugged, his voice deliberately casual, like he was trying not to trip over his own words. “That, like... I could’ve gone this whole night without realizing I like you.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait—what?”

Stan’s cheeks turned a faint pink, but he kept going, his tone still maddeningly nonchalant. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like some huge revelation or whatever. It’s just... You’re fun to be around. And, like, really easy to talk to. And, uh... you’re pretty great at calling me out on my bullshit, which is annoying, but also kinda awesome.” He rubbed the back of his neck, finally glancing at you with a sheepish smile. “So... yeah. I like you. A lot, actually.”

You stared at him, your heart doing somersaults as you processed what he’d just said. “Stan...”

“Dude, don’t make it weird,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “I’m already embarrassed as hell, okay? But, uh, if you wanted to do the mistletoe thing again... I wouldn’t complain.”

Your lips twitched into a smile, warmth spreading through your chest as you stepped closer. “So you’re saying... you want me to kiss you?”

Stan grinned, his confidence returning a little. “Pretty much, yeah.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as you closed the gap between you. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah dude, but I’m your dork,” he said with a smirk, leaning in.

This time, the kiss was different—not shy, but not rushed, either. It was sweet and warm, a quiet confirmation of everything he’d just said. His hand came to rest lightly on your back, pulling you just a little closer, and your fingers brushed the edge of his hoodie as you melted into the moment.

“Holy shit!” Clyde’s voice rang out, loud and completely unnecessary. “Stan’s kissing [Y/N]! Everybody get in here!”

You both froze, your lips still grazing Stan’s as you turned to see Clyde stumbling into the kitchen. His face was red, his Santa hat tilted sideways, and his grin as wide as the room.

“Oh my God,” Stan groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder in exasperation.

Before you could even respond, the sound of footsteps and drunken laughter filled the hallway. In a matter of seconds, the kitchen was swarmed by half the party: Kenny and Cartman pushing their way in, Kyle glaring at Cartman for shoving him, and even Bebe, Red, and Wendy peeking around the corner with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Dude,” Kenny said, grinning. “Stan finally grew a pair.”

“Finally?” Cartman cackled, practically falling over himself. “What, did the mistletoe have a gun to your head, Marsh?”

Kyle smacked his forehead. “Oh my God, Cartman, shut up.”

Stan groaned again, straightening up and glaring at Clyde. “You’re the worst, Clyde.”

“Hey, man,” Clyde slurred, pointing at him with a wobbling finger. “I’m just making sure your legendary moment doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Please tell me this is a fever dream,” Stan muttered under his breath, his hand still brushing lightly against your back.

You couldn’t help it—you started laughing. The absurdity of the moment, the way Stan looked ready to melt into the floor, and the drunken chaos of your friends all piled up into something so ridiculous you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Good luck living this down,” you teased, nudging Stan’s shoulder with a grin.

He sighed heavily, but there was a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Totally worth it,” he muttered, glancing at you before turning to glare at Clyde.

Outside the kitchen, the party roared on, louder and messier than ever. But here, with Stan standing beside you, his face still slightly pink and his hand brushing yours, you decided maybe the chaos wasn’t so bad after all.

[edourado]

AND ONE OTHER THING:

Vincent D’Onofrio. Jesus Christ. His Fisk is such a real, present monster. The scene of him and Vanessa walking down that dungeon full of caged people, full of pride and then toasting it with champagne. The cruelty, the goddamn monstrosity of it all, and it is REAL. We vote these people to rule us and we turn them into celebrities, idols.

It’s not only that he smashed Gallo’s head like a rotten watermelon. It’s the planing to do it, the pleasure he got out of it, the pride Vanessa feels when he’s at his most violent, the fucking cops giddy with happiness when he is giving them cart blanche to go around killing people for no reason. People in cages and champagne to celebrate it all, with a live broadcast to the people saying “I love you, vote for me”.

My stomach was in knots. Fisk and Vanessa are not fictional characters.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-week Day 4 - body swap

i'm challenging myself to keep each of these at 660 words; see day one for more of an explanation!

“Eddie! Eddie wake up!”

Steve’s own sleepy face blinks up at him confused, then snaps into shock when his body throws itself backward and nearly off the bed. “Jesus H. Christ!”

“What the fuck is happening, Eddie?!”

“Steve?”

“Yeah it’s Steve, and this is not my dick!”

Steve watches his own face shift into a scowl, “Why’re you looking at my dick?!”

“How else am I supposed to piss? I didn’t even realize there was something wrong until I fuckin’ whipped it out!” Steve feels his throat strain as his voice pitches higher, “Lo’ and behold, I look in the mirror and your stupid face is staring back at me!”

“Hey! My face isn’t stupid.”

“You’re right, it’s the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen,” he says, voice teetering on sarcastic. “Now what in the actual fuck is happening?!”

Eddie opens his mouth to reply, and there’s no doubt it’d be scathing, but instead, Steve watches the color drain from his face.

“Oh fuck”

“What?”

“Oh fuck! I’m so sorry Steve.”

“For what??”

“I– Okay, we were pretty toasted last night but I distinctly remember thinking– wishing I suppose– that you could..” Eddie gulps once, loudly, and it’s weird to see so much of the  mannerisms he’s learned to pick up on whenever he’s around the other man, plastered on his own face..

“...You wished?” He leads when Eddie doesn’t continue.

“I wished that you could see me the way I see you.“

Now it’s Steve's turn to let the cogs turn.

He can recognize the tone of his own voice, the vulnerable lilt to it. Eddie’s nervous.

Eddie wanted Steve to see him the way.. Does that mean..Eddie also has feelings for him?

Instead of unpacking all that, Steve says, “And you think that’s what happened here?”

Eddie huffs a sigh, he still hasn’t made eye contact with him (himself?). “I mean, sure, that’s what always happens with wishes, the genie plays with your words.”

“Always.” Steve deadpans, watching Eddie run his fingers (Steves! Steve’s own fingers!) though his (again, Steve’s!) hair

“Yeah! They always twist shit around to teach you some fucked up lesson, or just to fuck with you.” Eddie starts to chew on one of the aforementioned fingers then, nibbling on what Steve knows is some unseen flaw on his cuticle.

“Eddie, genies aren’t real.”

“Yeah, well, until this past spring, I didn’t think that monsters from another dimension were real either.'' The same finger goes back to his teeth once he’s finished talking, and, curious, Steve looks down at his (Eddie's, damn this is still weird) same finger, the pointer of his right hand. There’s a noticeable divot in the skin there on the side of his nailbed, and it’s pink still, recently gnawed.

“Dude! Don’t chew my finger off!”

Eddie ignores the request, “You’re not gonna say anything?”

“About what? My poor finger?”

“No! About—” he cuts himself off, dropping the hand to wipe his finger on the leg of his pants. “Nevermind, what are we gonna do about this?”

“No, what were you going to say?”

“Nothing man, let’s just figure this out.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll say it then; Argyle’s actually a genie and his “super mellow” La Uva Loca made us swap bodies because you think I don’t find you as hot as you find me.” Steve looks at his own face, jaw dropped and eyes wide in surprise..and promises himself to never make that face again. “If I knew it was going to cause such a problem, I would’ve told you how I felt a while ago.”

Eddie blinks once more, then rolls his eyes, “Ha Ha Ha, very funny Steve. Now really, what are we going to do?”

“I wasn’t kidding Eddie. I’ve thought you were hot since we found you at Rick’s.”

Eddie’s gaping again.

“And sure, it’ll be weird, but I have an idea.”

He sighs, “Alright, sure. Lay it on me, big boy.”

Steve grins, “Kiss me.”

on AO3 here!

[queer-devil]

DRDT Incorrect Quotes Pt 3

Because I’m not ok and I will never be ok Jesus Christ why is October like this holy fucking—

Link to generator

Also warning most of these are prob ooc since they are emotion support

Ace: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Arei: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

Min: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers?

Teruko: Poppies, why?

Min:

Teruko: Were you going to get me flowers?

Min:

Teruko:

Min: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

Xander: And what do I get out of this?

David: I will give you a dollar.

Xander: What do you think I am? A chump? I would never do it for a dollar!

David: How about two dollars?

Xander: You got yourself a deal.

David: Ace, you're testifying in an aggravated assault case tomorrow, and the D.A. is worried about how you'll present yourself on the stand.

Ace: Why? I'm fine on the stand!

*flashback to Testimony #1*

Ace: Look, I'll make this real simple so even these dumdums can understand.

Ace, to the jury: MAN DID CRIME.

*flashback to Testimony #2*

Ace: I'm sorry, could you make her stop doing that weird thing with her face?

Defense Attorney, next to the crying defendant: ...Crying?

*flashback to Testimony #3*

Ace: And when this is over, I'm gonna find you and I'm gonna break those little fingers.

Judge: Could the witness please stop threatening the stenographer?

Xander: Oh, David, we have a visitor!

David: Don't tell me it's Teruko.

Xander: It's Teruko!

*Thump noise*

David, from the other room: What happened?!

Arei: Min’s shirt fell.

David: Why was it loud?

Arei: It had her inside.

*The Squad's cooking skills*

Whit: *master chef*

Eden: *knows a few recipes*

Rose: *can follow instructions on a box*

Charles: *made toast once*

Teruko: *banned from the kitchen*

Levi: Hopefully Ace has learned a lesson about respecting other people's feelings.

Ace: Oh, shut up and die Levi.

Min: Hey Arei, have you seen the photographer?

Arei: Nope. Have you seen the meat tenderizer?

Min, confused: What?

Arei, grabbing the meat tenderizer out of the drawer: No reason, cute girl things!

Rose: *working in a flower shop and minding her own business*

Ace, storming into the store and slapping $20 on the counter: HOW DO I PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVELY SAY “FUCK YOU” IN FLOWER???

*The squad has just arrived in a new city. Levi looks around at the wanted posters to see if he’s on any of them.*

Teruko: Levi, are you a criminal?

Levi: Not here, I’m not.

David: We’re all in this together. If one of us falls, we all fall. Nobody is expendable on this team.

Teruko: Sounds fake but ok.

Ace: I hate you.

Levi: Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

Min: If you bite it and you die, it's poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it's venomous.

Ace: What if it bites me and it dies?!

Min: Then you're poisonous. Jesus Christ, Ace, learn to listen.

Veronika: What if it bites itself and I die?

Min: That's voodoo.

Rose: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Min: That's correlation, not causation.

J: What if we bite each other and neither of us die?

Arei: That's kinky.

Min: Oh my god.

Eden: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Min: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back...

Whit: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

David: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Rose: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Veronika: Mental stability, my old friend!

Eden: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Rose: Whoa, Min, what’s up with that angry face?

Min: Whit won’t stop talking about how “Ancient Egyptians were furries”.

Whit: But they were! Just looks at all their gods-

Min: Oh my god, SHUT UP!

Veronika: I refuse to apologize for being weird or off-putting. That’s actually your problem. I’m having a fantastic time!

All of the ones after this point are suggestive

Whit: You look good in that hoodie.

Charles: You know where else I'd look good?

Whit, zero hesitation: My bed.

Charles, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

Whit: Charles, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?

Charles, naked in Whit's bed: No, I absolutely do not.

Whit, already taking off his clothes: Fuck... Me neither.

Whit: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

Charles: Nope, there's 26.

Whit: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

Charles: That’s cute, but you're still missing one.

Whit: You'll get the D later ;).

Whit: As top in this relationship, I think we should-

Charles: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

Whit: I like your new pants!

Charles: Thank you, they were 50% off.

Whit: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *winks*

Charles: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Whit: Thats’s… not what I meant.

Charles: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Whit.

Whit, with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Charles: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

Teruko: Who do we know that has handcuffs?

Whit: Well Charles and I-

Charles: *elbows Whit*

Whit: ...wouldn't know.

Ace: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Arei: What’s up your ass this morning!

Levi: *walks in* ...Hey.

Arei: Hmm… nevermind.

Ace: WAIT NO!

Arei: What’s your body count?

Levi: Do you mean sex or murder?

Ace: There. How do I look?

Levi: Like a cheap French harlot.

Ace: French?!

Charles: What’s sexting?

Teruko: I'm not having this conversation with you.

Arei, turning to J: Stop calling yourself hot, the only thing you can turn on is the microwave.

Eden: So anyways have y'all seen Ace?

Whit: I think they went in Levi's room 'studying'.

J: Doubt that. I heard groans there.

*Meanwhile in Levi's room*

Ace & Levi, fighting:

Ace: *sucking on a popsicle*

J: Pfft, you practicing for when Levi gets here?

Ace: *takes a huge ass bite out of the popsicle*

J: *Concern*

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 30-33 Commentary

No meta, just reactions! I have less to say about some eps so I'm combining several episodes worth. To make up for my head-emptiness and lack of meta, I've included more pictures lmao. Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 30:

"You really are pitiful." Li Lun waking up thinking of ZYC's words oooh they did that opening line for Li Lun/ZYC lovers (me)

What a homoerotic way to give the Truth Eye

ZYC and ZYZ having their first drink(s) together here, ZYZ and Li Lun having one last game of chess here. Gay ppl will go “I know a place” and take you to a damp cave and a little stone table in the Wilderness

Oof. The apparent inherence of winning/losing in their activity of choice compared to the drinks that took place here between ZYC and ZYZ. Even with a draw, it’s competitive by nature. If Li Lun knew about the three (very intense, very intimate) toasts that came before in this very spot, I wonder how aggrieved he’d feel.

Ah well there goes the date spot /:

I’m so happy to see LZY (Bai Jiu’s actor) get to fight! His fight scenes in MTJY were awesome and he continues to impress here as well. It’s so fun to watch!

………..to revisit my question from previous commentary about when the grievances against Ying Lei will end, the answer is never ;-;

Damn…For ZYC to promise to spare Li Lun after all that Li Lun has put him through specifically and personally. ZYC really fucking loves ZYZ doesn’t he.

I’m so fucked up over Ying Lei’s last words jesus christ.

ZYC sobbing and feeling the fleeting warmth of the rock Ying Lei was just leaning against…when will the world stop taking away his family members??? His brothers???

That scene of everyone looking at Bai Jiu after Ying Lei dissipates. The fact that he's right there. And it’s like they traded one life for another. The two babies of the group. Goddammit.

Do NOT hit me with Bai Jiu’s actor singing “Broken-Tailed Bird” right now oh my god

So like…regarding ZYZ losing his demonic power, does he still count as the most evil demon of ZYC’s time? Can someone ring Ying Long and ask?

ZYC crybaby oh no I can’t believe he’s crying over ZYZ being so weakened aw I love him

My god, Bai Jiu running after Ying Lei and into ZYC’s arms has to be one of my favorite sequences in the whole show. So so good. So so painful. Between this scene, all the flashbacks, and ZYC’s reaction when he died, I’m at least glad the show is spending so much screen time and significance on Ying Lei’s send-off, even if I’m heartbroken that he’s gone. We couldn’t even have the whole family reunited for one moment.

Also have you ever seen a man so mother?

No but seriously "Cry if you want...[tears] have to do with our hearts" ZYC my healthy masculinity king!!!

This song fucking hurtssssssssss this cheese (it's buttermilk) hurts everything hurts

I’m glad PSJ gets time and space to react. Her lines about being a mortal and not being needed are so good but also ow!!! And oh WX always knows exactly what to say to her 🥹

I love everything ZYC says to Bai Jiu about each family member (like yeahhh WX is unlucky 😭 and yeaahHH PSJ does need support too) but MAN the way he says ZYZ’s name is so fucking good. The fact that it gets so much emotion across without saying a single word further as he gets interrupted. His voice and his expression both collapsing a little in that moment. Efficiency of acting strikes again.

Is it even possible for ZYC to cherish this little family more?

Yo this dramatic ass lighting on ZYZ and ZYC standing in the doorway. Why y’all need so much drama just to talk? Also oughhhh ZYC’s gaze is a mess looking every which way while discussing WX’s poison. He is such a bad liar (but he looks so good doing it). Is that why they gotta talk about this like ten feet apart so ZYZ can’t see him lying? Lmao

Okay also tho if ZYC's coming around looking like this I am not hearing a single thing he's saying:

They flashed back to the previous time ZYC held his hand out but cut away from ZYZ taking it this time. Is it bc the absolutely unfettered tension between them can’t pass censors anymore? Haha god but that shot of ZYC slowly meeting ZYZ’s eyes from ZYZ’s POV whewwww we don’t got the skinship but their gazes are kind of insane??? TJR in blue contacts is too powerful I'm shaking somebody needs to stop him.

Ep 31:

Trying so hard not to be driven a little crazy by the lapses in continuity in this show (‘: It’s just tonal and costuming stuff that are a little difficult for me to ignore, just the fact that it’s kind of apparent which scenes were filmed in what order based on their costume/styling changes + the sets, and how sometimes the tone from the previous events don’t smoothly carry over because of this. But it's momentary, I just gotta. Power through.

YO the Pei siblings sparring was so cool and for what. They should have had WX spectating instead of staring at nothing in the previous scene (-:

Damn how long has it been since they played the fun music. Also feels kind of wrong without Ying Lei though fml

Awwww Qing Geng I missed her she’s so cute!! I wasn't doing ep commentaries during her arc so I gotta make up for it here. Her actress is so talented and adorable, and her costuming in this show is stunning!! Her lashes!! Her colors!!

THE TREE BRANCHES lmfaooo ZYC what happened to being worried for ZYZ’s weak body?? We really haven't had a moment like this in so long though (':

Well I do like the reason why WZY had a fake out death, that’s pretty clever and narratively sound, but also oh god what in the AOT??? The inner cores hidden in the medicine is some odious fucking work dear lord

I also like that the endgame is coming about from what initially seemed like another small-time case. Of course the evil physician's huge scheme at the end weaponizes plague and poison and medicine.

Ayeee fun that they used the teleporter on WZY instead of as a getaway

Lmfao ZYC just standing there taking a huge hit of the poison smoke. Poor baby doesn’t watch movies and doesn’t know smoke from a bad guy always means some kind of poison

Why does poisoned!ZYC have such an incredible smokey-eye siren look I’m shook

After knowing the poison is about indulging in your greatest wishes, the first moment ZYC woke up and approached ZYZ they sure looked like they were about to indulge in something sorry ignore me

The way this is so similar to ZYZ’s imaginings where he and WX always turn around and look at the camera. The show wants censors to believe they’re looking at ZYZ but we've known all along who the third POV is here

Also why aren’t ZYC’s bro and dad in the wish illusion?

Ohh the eerie instrumental rendition of the OST when ZYC draws his sword is too good. And yesss we were so due for some more crazy dream fuckery like is this real? Is this real??

Ep 32:

The team is spread so thin )-: One man (mountain god) down and a whole town to save and an immortal villain to vanquish.

WZY's eagerness in trying to goad ZYC into killing himself while poisoned is so so sinister goddamn. I love how disturbing it is to slowly realize what he wants without any lines at all

ZYZ shielding ZYC from a huge fucking fireball with just his hand is adorable and sad:

I already normally love Li Lun's whole leaf-swirly entrances and exits but you know I cheered when he deus ex machina-ed his way here!!! With that bgm too!!!

Li Lun came back to accept ZYC into their throuple. He's had some time to think and yeah he's decided ZYC's kinda hot and maybe shouldn't die or else ZYZ will be sad.

):

ZYC's soft and anguished, "Qing Geng" when he realizes she gave him her inner core. That's my bleeding heart hero ;-;

Throuple of the fucking yearrrrrr:

Spoiler for ep 33/34 but—watching Bai Jiu watch the three of them and realize he can't do anything to help here... It would have been dangerous for him to stay, but I wonder if things could have ended differently ):

Ep 33:

Oughhhhh Pei Siheng ))): The cruel fucking poetry of PSJ, the most emotionally closed-off character, having her heart, her brother, made into her armor. And then to lose him once more.

ZYC proving time and again that his heart is entirely boundless and he'll shelter anyone from the rain and he just wants everyone to live:

LI LUN/ZYC LOVERS HOW ARE WE FEELIN'?!?

Did not expect MORE ZYC choking now that they're on the same side but yeah Li Lun is not one to let go of a good thing I get it. I'm screaming but I get it. "I'm giving you half my demonic power" yeah right just admit you like doing this dw Li Lun this is a safe space.

Literally what am I watching and also no don't mind me, keep going. Feral over ZYC dropping his hand and letting it happen.

But lmfao the way Li Lun did not need to be doing all that, like he sends his power out to ZYZ without even making physical contact. He could've just grabbed ZYC by the shoulder.

Can't believe I just keep winning:

ZYC didn't even know what Li Lun was doing putting his arms around him and he just let it happen. That's some next level trust.

Ah goodbye Li Lun, presumably another victim of the "(ex-)villains can't have good endings" brand of censorship

Oof I love that the initial horror after the seeming victory is reserved first for the simple fact that ZYC and ZYZ are separated, that ZYC can't go to him the way he was intending to. Even when it's unclear yet that WZY is still alive, just the wrongness of them being divided this way is so poignant. ZYC has such a helpless look about him when he says ZYZ's name.

Goddammit WZY saw Li Lun choke ZYC and got ideas.

Oh I love the uncertainty of whether the One-Word Spell works on ZYC or not. ZYZ's sudden and intense fear. Also though WZY tries to use ZYC dying as a deterrent for ZYZ blowing up the barrier but he's literally choking the life out of ZYC as we speak

Bai Jiu's completely unrestrained screaming and crying in pain is so brutal to listen to. His scenes go on forever. Also, the choice of having some of his flashbacks be blurred and vague in the background, once again something privately kept for the character

ZYC holding out his hand to ZYZ a third time ;-; The utter relief of being able to reach each other again paralleling that previous horror of separation.

ZYC physically feeling Bai Jiu's death oh god. We do not get a single moment of happiness and victory in this drama everything is bought with pain and returns pain I hate it here.

Also another post-finale thought (spoilers for the end of the drama)—If ZYZ remained in his weakened state, I really am curious if he would have still met the conditions of the prophecy (ZYC being cursed to kill the most evil demon of his time, if the prophecy is indeed conditional like that, of course). If that could have been a technical loophole, did Li Lun giving both of them his power and then ZYC giving ZYZ his as well basically fulfill it again? I mean, logistically speaking, without that extra power, I'm not sure if ZYZ would have been able to trigger the Baize cycle again (or whatever it is he did to save the town). So the show's final tragedy can be traced all the way back to these moments of giving out of love and protection, just as Bai Jiu being in the perfect place for his final sacrifice came about because ZYC, ZYZ, and Li Lun were trying to protect him and get him out of danger. The way love and grief are so helplessly, inevitably intertwined that one begets the other. They were all just trying to save each other.

On that completely painful note, that's 30-33! And it'll be downhill from here for the next one (-:

[alexihollis]

Off-Limits (Rembrandt's POV)

part one (Ajax's POV)

*@flowersandskeletons526 because you were the first of us to actually make that crazy task Rembrandt's initiation*

**and @asthedeathoflight who inspired the continuation**

Rembrandt never wanted to go to Swan about being jumped into the Warriors. It had less to do with Swan being stoic and more likely to stare at you than properly answer a question, though those two things did make Rembrandt hesitate further, and more to do with wanting Ajax to want to jump her into the crew. It had been months. Months of Ajax showing up at her murals and them talking about everything and nothing, months of hot dogs and ice cream cones and the best...not-friendship Rembrandt ever had.

And if it also happened to occur in the lead up to Rembrandt graduating high school and her step-dad's firm "get the fuck out" deadline? That was a happy coincidence.

In the end, it was Ajax who brought her to the apartment. Ajax who properly introduced her to Cleon, then reintroduced her to Swan with narrowed eyes and a tighter grip on Rembrandt's shoulder. Ajax who warned Rembrandt away from ever even thinking of stepping onto the Wonder Wheel with Cochise (though not why), but supported going out with Cowgirl for a fun night that she wouldn't remember. In the end, it was Ajax.

Rembrandt should have been happy about it.

She wasn't.

Ever since that night, it felt a little off. Her first successful tagging mission, Cowgirl convinced them all to go out to the bar, but, when they toasted to Rembrandt, Ajax hung back. She took her shot, but she did it with a grim resignation, even as Cowgirl shook Rembrandt's shoulders and Swan smiled. Ajax followed Rembrandt on all her missions, helped her up into fire escapes, kept watch, and she did it all with a characteristic intensity, but a stoicism that seemed more aligned to Swan.

And when they hung out alone? Just the two of them? Ajax tried to joke around like she used to, tried to put on that same bluster and charm, but- It wasn't the same. It almost hurt worse, watching her pretend like that, but Rembrandt didn't know what to say. What to do.

Then, Ajax didn't show up at her initiation. It wasn't like it was a requirement, but tagging the fucking Wonder Wheel was a pretty big deal and everyone else did. At least, the core Warriors did - Cleon, Swan, Cochise, Cowgirl. They watched as Rembrandt swung herself up and to the logo. Ajax wasn't there, though.

Rembrandt knew she wouldn't be. She overheard her and Cleon talking in the kitchen, so late at night it was practically morning and they probably thought everyone asleep.

"I can't be there," Rembrandt heard Ajax say. "That's an insane- I can't. I can't watch that, Cleon."

"She'll be fine," Cleon tried to soothe. "She's strong-"

Rembrandt wasn't sure what happened, then, because she did not hear anything.

Until Cleon, voice so soft it caught Rembrandt by surprise, because she truly did not believe Ajax would let someone talk to her that kindly, said, "Of course you don't. You can stay home, that's fine. She'll understand."

Except, no, Rembrandt did not understand. Ajax not being at the Wonder Wheel?

That was the last straw.

"I want Swan at my back for my missions," Rembrandt said the morning after her initiation, colors on and arms crossed as she stared down her new leader and her number two.

Swan's eyebrows flew into her hairline as she looked over to Cleon.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Cleon muttered into her coffee cup before setting it down on the kitchen table. "Shut the damn door."

Rembrandt closed the door, then took a seat. "No one else it home."

"I'm aware," Cleon said, eyes closed as she rubbed at her brow. "Why, exactly, do you want Swan to escort you on your missions?"

"Because I need someone I can trust."

Cleon opened her eyes. Stared at Rembrandt. "Any reason you can't trust Ajax?"

"She doesn't respect me as a member," Rembrandt shrugged. "I feel like that's a good enough reason."

"Where the fuck did you get that stupid idea?" Swan asked.

Which really caught Rembrandt off-guard and apparently Cleon, too, considering the way Cleon's eyes darted to Swan for a split-second before returning to Rembrandt. "Why do you feel this way?"

"She blocked me from joining in the first place and she didn't come to my initiation."

Cleon nodded, slowly. "Okay. I see why that might make you feel that way."

"Cleon, I am not fighting Ajax about this," Swan said. "You pull Ajax off Rembrandt, then you're putting Cochise or Cowgirl in."

"You and Ajax are the best-"

"I am not fighting Ajax about this," Swan repeated, firmer this time.

At this, Cleon's eyes narrowed at Swan. She looked between Rembrandt and Swan. "What's going on exactly? When did Ajax try to block Rembrandt from joining?"

Oh, fuck. Rembrandt thought Cleon knew. "Never mind."

"It was nothing," Swan said.

"Uh-huh," Cleon did not seem impressed. Then, to Rembrandt, "Request denied, especially because you two are keeping secrets. Go figure out your mess on the Wonder Wheel."

Rembrandt still did not understand what that meant or why people avoided riding the Wonder Wheel with Cochise, but she did understand that she did not get what she wanted. "Ajax would probably thank you for giving me to someone else, if I'm this fucking weak!"

That's when Rembrandt heard the front door slam.

Swan managed to say, "Oh, this is going to be fun," before the kitchen door banged open.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Ajax demanded, looking royally pissed off. She glared at Cleon, "What did you say to her?"

"Ajax - take it down ten, Cleon didn't say shit," Swan said.

"Really? Then, why is Rembrandt talking crazy-"

"Because of you," Swan interrupted. "Again. So Cleon and I are going to leave and you two can either figure this out in the kitchen or I'm dragging your ass to the Wonder Wheel. This is getting ridiculous."

And with that, Swan stood up and started leading Cleon out of the kitchen.

"You know, this is my crew," Cleon muttered as they left.

"You really don't want to know, trust me," was Swan's response.

And then, Rembrandt and Ajax were alone.

"What is going on?" Ajax demanded once the kitchen door was closed once again.

"Nothing you needed to come barging in here to save me from," Rembrandt spat. "We were just having a conversation!"

"Well, sorry, if it's a bit alarming to come home and hear you yelling about being weak or some shit," Ajax scoffed.

"Why would that be alarming? For fuck's sake, you think I need defending from a conversation!"

Ajax reeled back, as if Rembrandt physically slapped her. "What?"

"You think I'm weak," Rembrandt said. "You think I'm too weak to be a Warrior, but, guess what, I passed initiation! I'm a Warrior now and there isn't shit you can do about it! And I refuse to let you make me feel bad about that just because you wanted to be the big, strong hero!"

Ajax blinked. "I never thought you were weak."

...

...

...what?

"Excuse me?" Rembrandt asked.

"I never said you were weak," Ajax said. "I never thought that. You aren't. I mean, Hell, you don't really need me to give you those boosts, I've watched you yank yourself up drainage pipes. And that's just physically - mentally? You scaled the Wonder Wheel yesterday. That's fucking insane, my initiation was sparring Cleon."

Which was a whole other level of terrifying, Jesus.

"But- I don't understand." Nothing made sense. At all. "Why didn't you want to jump me in, then?"

"We talked about this-"

"Tell me again," Rembrandt interrupted, seeing the rising agitation, frustration. "Tell me again. I'm listening differently this time."

Ajax squinted her eyes, not a glare or scowl, just confusion. "What does that mean?"

"Just- tell me again."

"I didn't want you to get hurt or killed. I didn't want this life for you. I genuinely thought that I could find something better." At her last sentence, Ajax did scowl. "Was wrong about that one."

"Better," Rembrandt latched onto that word. "You never said that before."

"Yes, I did-"

"You didn't." Because Ajax had not said better, before.

"For fuck's sake, Rem," Ajax growled, rubbing at her face, tired. "Bite me for not wanting to see you have to go through this shit. I don't- You- You're worth more than this."

And it suddenly clicked what Ajax was saying. It wasn't different because Ajax would survive what Rembrandt couldn't.

It was different because Ajax didn't think it mattered if she survived or not. It mattered if Rembrandt did.

Oh, God.

"I wanted you there, yesterday," Rembrandt said.

"I knew you'd be fine," Ajax promised through the pained expression on her face. "It wasn't that."

"What was it, then?"

"That there would be nothing I could do if something did go wrong," Ajax said, completely honest. "Everything else- Anything else with us...If you go down, I'm going down, too. I couldn't make sure of that with your initiation."

Damnit. Goddamnit, Rembrandt was worried that's what Ajax was going to say. And she couldn't even be mad about it. Not really.

"You know, normal people just ask each other out for coffee," Rembrandt said.

"You don't drink coffee," the words came out without a single moment of hesitation.

They got hot dogs instead and sat on a bench, staring out at the ocean.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there last night," Ajax said.

Rembrandt tilted over, leaning her body on Ajax and resting her head on Ajax's shoulder. "I forgive you. Got my colors anyway."

"They look good on you."

"Thank you."

Then, after another quiet moment. "I didn't mean to make you feel weak."

Rembrandt shrugged. "I am weaker than others. I'm shorter. But that's what being a crew is for, right? I'm not weak if I've got you there. And I have other skills."

"Yeah," Ajax sounded just slightly choked up, but Rembrandt ignored it. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

Later that night, when Ajax made it very clear that she was accepting zero (0) questions about the events of the day, Swan cornered Rembrandt.

Who expected that she would need to defend Ajax's honor or some shit.

And did not expect: "Seriously, for a month, do not even look at the Wonder Wheel."

"What does that even mean?!" Swan did not explain.