#and because my thoughts are probably really boring to anyone outside of my head

[pythonmoth]

cw: anxiety. post-traumatic stress disorder (torture). reader is traumatized. reader is a bit unreliable. military inaccuracies. hurt/comfort (I guess?).

simon riley x f!reader. implied simon riley x soap. implied simon riley x f!reader x soap.

First | Last | Next

Being home is incredibly boring, especially if you can't move much.

Your brother's been taking care of you, making sure you're eating, that you let your injuries breathe, and soon enough, the cuts on your feet allow you to move around on your own. It takes a whole month for your brother to leave you alone for longer than a few hours. It's a good thing, really, because if you want to spend hours just laying in your bed and crying in silence as you stare at the ceiling, you can. He would only come whenever you needed a ride, anyway.

Despite being able to move around and now even managing to use your sensitive fingers, you dread the idea of going outside. You have to wear sandals and loose pants, because your toes cannot, by any means, be touched by any kind of fabric yet, or else you're grimacing in pain. Feeling defenseless hasn't been a thing ever since you became part of the team. Not even your skills could take down Simon, but you could put up a fight with them all, easily; never won, but you were confident with anyone else on the street.

No doubt you could still beat them up, your skills are still there, but the idea of someone somehow restricting your movements felt like torture all over again. The idea of anyone getting a hold of you makes you want to throw up. Your mind and body betray you, making you remember those awful moments, and you don't realize you're pulling a face.

"You're spacing out".

You look up at the therapist, giving her a little nod as an apology, getting comfortable on the seat. Restless, you can't help but look around for a moment again. The office is incredibly white, clean, filled with mirrors for whatever fucked up reason, and the only thing that isn't grey or white is one of the cushions on the couch on the other side of the room. It's deep purple. It looks awful.

Seemingly realizing you won't be of much help with the question she just asked you, she gives you a smile. "How are your nails? I can see you're using your hands a lot more".

"They're healing" you reply, looking down at your fingers instead of focusing on the cushion. "I can use my hands pretty normally now, but I can't use the stove for long".

"Because of the heat". An affirmation. You've already mention it before, and you're not surprised she remembers that. Probably read it on her notes.

"It hurts, yeah".

"And how are your feet?" she asks, looking down at the way you absentmindedly drag your hands on your pants from your thighs to your calves in slow movements. You only realize what you're doing because you can hear the way her pen drags across the paper, distracting you.

"Well... I can only wear sandals. Doctor said I should be okay to move around with real shoes in three months".

"And what do you think?"

"He's the doctor. I want to believe he knows what he's doing, so I can't really question it. I do hope it heals sooner, though".

The therapist writes down on her notebook. With an uncomfortable feeling, you desperately want to know what she's writing, your eyes drifting to the movement of the pen, but you can't make out a single letter.

"So you trust the doctor, right?" she questions, moving one of her erasers to the other side of her desk. Your eyes are fixed entirely on it, on the little thud the eraser makes when she sets it down.

"He knows best, that's for sure. If he's there, must be a reason" you answer, tilting your head as she keeps moving her things around, making them fit somewhere else on her desk. The pencil goes to the left, then to the right, the eraser from top to bottom of the notebook, as if she's as antsy as you are.

"Do you apply that thought somewhere else? Like... at work? Or if you need help at a store and find an employee, maybe?"

The therapist's eyes are on you all the time, your hands, your anxious feet; your little habits coming to light with a single look. The way you bite the inside of your lower lip, the little double blink you make when she moves something in her desk yet again, even if you don't say anything.

"Of course. If they know their way around, it's only right that I ask for help, and trust that" you answer, frowning. You don't think that question is relevant at all, but she keeps writing, and writing.

"I see. Thank you. Now, you mentioned you've been texting G- Simon. Can you tell me how it makes you feel?"

You go silent for a moment, your fingertips dragging across your arm, so softly you can barely feel it. "It's better now".

During the first three months of being home, Simon would text you nearly every single day. He didn't expect a text back and you knew that, because you told him you wouldn't promise to be responsive. Simon would send you pictures of their plain meals, of Gaz sleeping on your bed, Johnny posing next to Price with their thumbs up, or terrible selfies of himself. Always without a mask.

Tuesday

11:27

"Price scolded Johnny because he had crumbs on his uniform. It was hilarious"

Saturday

03:26

"Just got back. Everyone ok"

Even Johnny would text you from time to time. It was mostly memes, awful stickers or ridiculous, random photos of Gaz mid talking, his face weird, or Price smacking Simon's head, or the entire team posing for a picture, Gaz' arm hovering to the side as if to hug your shoulders. You didn't even need to wonder why Gaz hadn't texted you; that man hated technology with a passion.

Still, you never texted back.

You didn't really pay attention to the texts, or the little voice notes, or the selfies. You didn't feel like reading them properly, always leaving them on seen or just grunting to yourself whenever you heard their distinctive tone. Why you didn't change it in the past few months, you don't know. Maybe that's a question for your therapist.

But then, the texts stop.

Monday

16:49

"Tough job"

"We leave at midnight"

23:42

"Text you when we're back"

Only, Simon doesn't text back. For days. For weeks.

You can't pretend you're not worried. It's impossible, really. You're half-tempted to call him, but you can't, you don't know how it will feel to hear his voice again. He said he'd text you and he hasn't, so he isn't back yet, and you don't want to feel vulnerable by opening up. Yet.

You go through Simon's chat, actually paying attention to whatever he sent you. You realize he sometimes sent you long texts, apologizing, accepting what he did, and even a few voice notes that you didn't notice before. They made your heart race as you listened.

"I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I love you, and you don't have to forgive me"

"Garrick told me to tell you that if you aren't eating he'll go and— shut the hell up, Johnny, I'm talking!"

"Tell her we'll go visit her by the end of the month".

That's Price's voice, you realize.

Feeling incredibly choked up, you check Johnny's chat next. You're expecting to find nothing but memes, as you've seen in passing, but when you see he sent you long, long texts, you finally let yourself cry properly.

He's been apologizing since the day you left, too afraid to face you but his texts are so poorly written you know he was in a rush, or crying, or both. His voice notes, however... they just make you break.

"I'm so sorry. I can't undo what we did. You don't owe me anything, I just... really hope you can at least tolerate me. If not, please know I'll always care for you. I love you. Goodnight".

Something inside of your chest eases, maybe moved to the point of forgiveness, even if just a moment. Your therapist has been helping you unveil whatever you missed during that day— during the torture. It's been a tough process, and she insisted you visited twice a week instead of once, but it helped. You could now understand.

Still, understanding the situation only makes your worry grow.

"Text you when we're back"

For two long weeks, there's nothing, from nobody. Only silence and fear. For the first time since you left, you're scared for them. Scared you'll have to open the door one day and it'll be Price, or maybe not even him, telling you the team is dead.

On the second week, your therapist says you can give them a call, or text them if it's more comfortable. When you say you can't, she advices you to write them letters.

"Tell them whatever you wish to say. If you're angry, write it. If you're worried, write it. There's no good or bad feelings, and it's only right to feel them. Write them for yourself, and then you can choose to give them to your team, or not".

And you did.

A whole notebook of messy writing, some tears staining the paper, and your hate slowly turned to understanding. Real understanding. Not forgiveness, not yet, but it's progress.

By the third week with no news, you just can't handle it anymore. You press call without a second thought and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest when it rings, and rings, and rings.

Hopeless, you lay in your bed, your mind working overtime as you stare at the ceiling.

A muffled dinging sound startles you awake, shifting on the bed to find your phone because that's Simon's tone. Adjusting your vision, you realize it fell from your hands to the ground when you fell asleep. You dive for it, grimacing when your sensitive fingertips brush against the carpet, but to see his name there is enough for you to endure it.

Thursday

01:22

"Safe. Couldn't text you earlier"

01:22

"You called me. Are you hurt?"

01:22

"Safe. Call me"

"Now"

His name pops up not even a moment later, his ringtone filling your ears. When you pick up, he's barely breathing, and you wonder if you're about to be told bad news.

Simon explains they were on a very tough mission, and that that was why he couldn't text you, or communicate with you at all. You could hear him shift, move around. Restless.

They got caught in enemy territory, surviving the best they could for two weeks, Simon tells you. Johnny was shot in the leg and Gaz was the one who helped him out, since Simon was too busy dragging Price, who was bleeding out because someone decided it would be fun to put a bullet through his left shoulder.

"I wasn't any better. Dr. Wilson called me a dick, and then made me lay down because I was shaking. Ridiculous" he grunts, his voice hushed on the other side of the line. "Got shot on my side, I just didn't feel it, but I was better than the other two".

He doesn't seem to expect you to speak, huffing and shuffling. You can tell he's in the clinic room, the echo incredibly familiar by now.

Of course, he doesn't tell you that the reason why he didn't text you the whole past week, is because he's been asleep, drugged out of his mind because of the pain.

"Everyone's okay. No risk. Garrick's the only one who didn't get hurt. I think—"

"I was worried, Simon. I'm glad everyone is okay".

There's silence for a long moment. Simon takes a deep breath from the other side of the phone, sighing deeply. You could hear the smile in his tone. "I wouldn't let myself get killed, luv. I'm sorry I couldn't text you before. We're safe now".

You two spend the rest of the night on the call, with you mostly staying in silence and listening. You can't believe how scared you've been for all of them, for Simon. You know it's gonna be hard to fully forgive them, if at all, but you can't help the way your body relaxes as you hear him breathing against your ear. You can't help the way your arms curl around the pillow, seeking his warmth. As before.

The call goes on for long hours. When your soft hums as he speaks stop coming to his end, Simon goes quiet, realizing you've fallen asleep. He sighs and shifts to look at the ceiling, holding the phone against his ear. Focusing on your soft breathing, he let's himself fall asleep, the gunshot wound completely unimportant if he gets to listen to you sleeping again.

He just wishes you were there.

im so sick y'all, my head hurts, but I obviously couldn't resist! also, you guys like Marina? her new song is so good! mowgli's road's vibes.

the therapist's room I'm describing in the story is actually my therapist's old room. I hated it so BAD. the mirrors were a terrible decision. also, if you can't relate to this type of therapy, that's fine. it's just my experience.

again, styling is fully intentional. can y'all tell how our reader is feeling?~

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird-deactivated202 @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

(we're so many now, wow! thank you all ♡)

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Another important storytelling skill (at least in my writing process) is learning how to pare away what's not needed. I always start with a basic idea that needs fleshing out. Then after I flesh out several aspects of the story, I need to examine that sprawl and figure out which pieces are the important ones--the ones that support the main plot, character and thematic threads of the story--and then prune away the unnecessary ones that distract from that.

With fairy tale retellings, there's an extra layer to this process. Fairy tales come with certain plot points and iconic images, and you want to include as many of them as possible. But fairy tales are allowed to have stuff happen "just because", while a retelling needs to make all these pieces fit together in a coherent character and thematic arc. There are many ways to adapt different elements, and you need to figure out which approaches allow each element to make the most sense in your story. Your story, unlike the original fairy tale, needs to have a point--a theme or arc that it's highlighting--and the story choices you make need to serve that. If a certain piece doesn't make sense with that arc, it's best to take out or alter that element rather than force it in where it doesn't fit.

Crafting, arranging, and paring away all these pieces is an ongoing and layered process--part sculpting, part jigsaw puzzle. And a retelling has an extra layer of difficulty, because it can be tough to determine which elements are serving the story and which ones you're just shoving in because they're part of the original fairy tale.

"The Goose Girl" can be a difficult story to retell, because it has a lot of iconic elements that don't really connect to the main plotline. Most retellings that try to shove in everything have at least one element that's a poor fit in the storyworld, or gloss over a piece of it by making it metaphorical or whatever. Part of the challenge I set myself was trying to keep all the elements in the story, but in creative ways that didn't break the world and mood I was crafting. I did develop explanations for every element, most of which I rather liked. But I've come to the conclusion that the story will be better served if I pare some of them away to focus on the story that I really want to tell.

So the thing that keeps attracting me back to this story idea is the politics. This story is all about differing ideas of leadership. How should a leader conduct themselves? What actions is a leader justified in taking to preserve power? How do ideals balance with practicalities? The handmaid's ruthless seizure of power seems to have left her the victor, while the real princess's morals leave her powerless. The princess has to decide which actions she is justified and willing to take to get her crown back; she has to decide what kind of leader she is going to be. And these questions are all tangled up with the personal relationships--after such a devastating betrayal from her handmaid, the princess has to decide just how far she is willing to trust this foreign trickster king who's offering help.

You'll notice there's not much magic in that plotline. That doesn't mean there can't be. I've tried weaving in some subtle magical explanations for things like the princess's inability to reveal the truth, or her ability to control the wind. But the more I consider it, the more this worldbuilding seems like a distraction from the very grounded, political, personal plotline I actually care about. It feels like these elements are just tacked on because they exist in the original fairy tale. It feels much more fitting to have cultural or character explanations for most of these elements--at most, some minor magical elements, or hints that there could be magic explanations even if the characters aren't quite sure. This keeps the focus on the choices and characters of these people instead of on the magical elements that are hemming them in. I need to focus on these three central characters--the princess, the handmaid, and the king--and how their differing philosophies interact to draw out the theme and bring about the final resolution. If that means losing a few pieces of the original fairy tale, so be it. What matters is keeping the elements that allow me to tell my story.

[backinmyphase]

Failing student! Sukuna who didn't really care about all the missed lessons he had in his record. He didn't, not even when the principle called him into his office. Who cared about what that old hag had to say?

He really didn't care, just until he saw you sitting there with that horrified look as you saw him.

You, the president of the student council, who he had always thought was a stuck up bitch. Always a nerd, always getting good grades, always following the rules. Utterly boring, that's what he thought about you. But still fun to tease.

Failing student! Sukuna who is annoyed as hell with the fact he had to hold a little meeting with miss perfect and the old man. He takes a seat, the only other one which was unfortunately next to you.

"You can't be serious?!" you turned your look to the old man. Your voice was annoyingly high pitched.

"I can't... Not him!"

Now you had his attention. He turned to you, seeing you not even sparing him a glance anymore. "Woah, woah, what's with me, sweetheart?"

You kept ignoring him and just shook your head. "Please, I can tutor anyone else, but not..."

Failing student! Sukuna couldn't help but laugh at your horrified and desperate face as you started pleading with the principle who was just shaking his head. Your pathetic attempts to argue were almost cute.

"If you really want my recommendation for your college application, that's my only condition. Get Sukuna's grades up."

Failing student! Sukuna 's  Laughter died down as he realized what that meant.

"Wait a second, I don't need tutoring! And especially not from goody two shoes over here."

"Oh, believe me goody two shoes doesn't want to have anything to do with wannabe bad boy too-"

"Quiet you two!" the old man cleared his throat. "Sukuna, you haven't showed up to two thirds of your classes, you need tutoring. And Y/n if you really want to work for that recommendation you'll help him with that."

"Now get out of my office you two."

Failing student! Sukuna is in disbelief to what the fuck just happened as he and you stood outside of the office. You stood there with crossed arms and a fuming expression he had never expected from you.He just turns around to leave as you let out a groan in frustration.

"So when will our lessons start?"

He scoffs. "Never."

You followed his steps and kept that demanding tone. "Sukuna, you can't just decide that, the principle ordered us-"

"I don't care what that old man says and I especially do not care about that little recommendation of yours." he yawned as he kept his steady steps. "I don't need better grades."

You stop in your tracks and he's almost disappointed by your lack of stubbornness until you say-

"You are that hard of a loser?"

Failing student! Sukuna is immediately turning around to see your smug expression. Flabbergasted at your words, because there was no way the biggest nerd of the school just called him a loser?

"What the fuck did you just say?"

And he doesn't know why but that devious grin that forms on your face is starting to fire something inside of him up.

"You're a loser." you sarcastically sighed. "I mean failing in high school? I don't even know how you achieve something like that."

You giggled. "I mean, you probably couldn't better your grades till the end of the year, even with my help. Let alone ever be better than me."

Failing student! Sukuna doesn't even realize how you had him wrapped around your finger as he glared at your smug grin.

"Of course I could. And you know what?" he took big steps towards you, now towering above you. "I could do it even until next month, sweetheart."

And then you smirk. "If you think so. But to prove it to me..." you let out a dramatic sigh. "I guess you would have to come to my lessons."

"Oh, I will come to your fucking lessons." he didn't know why he was so worked up, but he couldn't help it as he glared at you.

"Perfect. See you tomorrow in the library after class." And with that you just turn around and leave him standing there. Shouting a quick "Don't you dare be late, you loser!" back to him.

Failing student! Sukuna doesn't know what's gotten into him as he watches you leave, but he can't help but start smirking too, because who would've thouth the stuck up president of the student council had such a foul mouth?

It was hot.

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

LIKE LIKE!

pairings — grumpy!damian wayne — al ghul x sunshine!reader

warnings — they’re teenagers in the modern era of course they’re gonna curse (but not a lot), isn’t EXACTLY grumpy x sunshine but it’s okay it’s my one shot 👅

summary — friendship only gets you so far with mutual feelings and the shared yearning for more than that.

notes — hi guys

━━━━━━━ YOU’D MET DAMIAN WHEN school started, in the same advisory you two were paired up since neither of you really had friends. it didn’t bother either of you, since you actually got along.

he was pretty quiet, moody, and didn’t like anyone at school. you were the exact opposite. you were loud, cheerful, and got along with everything. that obviously didn’t mean you were necessarily friends with them.

what made you and Damian click so well was probably the fact that he only really seemed to like you — even if it wasn’t obvious.

even if he didn’t talk, didn’t smile, didn’t seem to have a sliver of an emotion, he still liked you. another thing he’d never been good at was explaining his emotions. he practically despised everyone because they treated him like some sort of bomb.

you pushed his buttons, messed around with him, and always gave him a little bit of a hard time. he didn’t hate it, he could never hate anything you did.

it was probably three months into your friendship with Damian that you hung out with him outside of school. he asked if you could come over, and you happily agreed. the day was normal, except you weren’t picked up by your guardian, rather — you went with Damian.

“hello, i’m Alfred.” you thought he was nice, an old British man that Damian told you had always worked for his family. if anything, he must’ve practically been a part of the family.

you, of course, introduced yourself. it was polite. Alfred seemed taken aback, and the look (or feeling) didn’t leave him when you turned and began talking Damian’s ear off.

the boy, however, seemed to have absolutely no problem with that. he seemed to be hanging on every word, Alfred could see the mixture of fondness and love in Damian’s eyes when he looked at you — too bad you were both as oblivious as ever.

at Wayne manor, you wore a smile as you walked behind Damian and into the large house. he waited for you to take your shoes off after him, his hands stealing away your heavy bag and throwing it over his unoccupied shoulder.

you were then introduced to Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Bruce Wayne. of course, you’d always known who Bruce was — your guardian worked for him now, a feature you didn’t leave out.

Damian, not liking anyone here (except, obviously, you), tugged at your arm. you understood what he meant, even with a lack of words, and promptly excused the two of you.

Damian’s room was pretty plain, and you jokingly shook your head. “who knew you were so boring?” you teased, sitting next to him on his large bed.

you didn’t know then, but Damian actually had you here for a reason. for awhile now, he had found you in his every waking thought. it’s like you had overridden his normal thoughts, becoming the only thing he could comfortably think about.

it had proven difficult during patrol, his performance was lacking and he needed to do something to soothe his thoughts so no one saw Robin as weak.

“i wanted to talk to you, actually.” he muttered. it stopped your thoughts, and you turned to him curiously. he didn’t speak much, and you never pressured him to. when he did, you didn’t make a huge deal of it.

“what’s up?” you hummed, eyes locking in on him.

“i uh… listen, you don’t have to��� y’know, feel the same? but… but i really, really like… you.” his sentence was awkward, which made you smile. he didn’t know, but you sure knew, you were head over heels for him.

“i like you too, Damian.” you laughed softly, letting your hand drop to his leg.

“holy shit, really?” he looked up, his normally inexpressive face suddenly unable to find an emotion, settling on utter disbelief and pure excitement.

“yeah.” you smiled fondly at him.

“does this… does this mean—” you cut him off, nodding. he reached forwards and tackled you in a hug, placing a soft kiss on your collarbone. suddenly, he stood up, jumping around happily.

“fuck yes.” he muttered, you began laughing.

this was the most important moment of your teenage years, your boyfriend, jumping around in excitement, because he was with you.

he tackled you into another hug, and you remained glued together until you had to leave.

you slept well with a huge grin planted across your face.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!

[futurewdclandonorris]

Dinner Reservation | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: you had plans to go out, Lando had other. Watch what happens when you tell him no

Warnings: barely any plot just smut, light dom Lando, kinda bratty both Lando and the reader, and assholes too (idk what came over me, I thought I was being funny) some cringe bits for the sake of the 'plot' but we move, kinda long that's why I included word count, hint of exhibitionism, unprotected sex

Word count: 5389

A/N: Okay, I really need to learn how to write summaries, if anyone wants to be my editor you can hit me up. Perks are you get to see the original copy before I rewrite it for tumblr

Credits to @twinkodium for prompting this idea and brainstorming it with me ♥

You stepped out of the shower with nothing, but a towel wrapped around your body. Not bringing any clothes with you, you proceeded out of the bathroom to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. He was sprawled out on the bed, obviously dissatisfied about something–still in his hoodie and black sweats–but the moment you opened the door, his whole demeanor changed, his hungry eyes following you as you strolled across the room to your still unpacked suitcase. Bending down to get your underwear, you felt two arms wrap around your waist, stopping you mid motion.

You smirked, popping your behind and pressing it harder against his pelvis as you fished a pair of panties from the case. He lowly grunted, removing your hair from one shoulder to another, which gave him a clean access for planting a kiss on your neck.

"Plans canceled, why don't you get on the bed for me, gorgeous?" he murmured against your skin.

You tried to sustain your smile, finding the whole situation amusing. Getting a hold of yourself, you turned around to face him.

"We can't cancel plans just because you suddenly got horny." you playfully rolled your eyes. "They're waiting for us."

The plan was to go out and grab dinner with Oscar and Lily. Something like a double date and get together outside business hours.

"They can wait." he still had that stupid grin on his face, brushing his fingertips over the side of yours, his eyes roaming all over your features.

"No, they can't. You're acting like a spoiled child, you know that?" you teased, giving him a playful shove. "Now go get ready, we're already late as it is. They're probably wondering where we are." you urged and knowing there was no point further arguing with you, he scoffed and walked over to the dresser.

"You're acting like we don't spend three weekends a month with them," he protested, buttoning his shirt only a halfway up. "But fine. If you won't listen to me now, I'll bend you over that goddamn dinner table and fuck you in front of everyone. Maybe that will be more appealing to you-"

"Don't be ridiculous." you snorted a laugh.

"Say I won't do it." he stood tall and incredibly close in front of you, his eyes boring into yours making you feel smaller than you were. And you could swear, you didn't know if your wetness was from the shower or somethin else entirely different.

"Please, dress up, sweetheart." he finished, his voice somewhat mocking, leaving you to clutch your panties to your chest standing in the middle of the room.

This whole ordeal may or may have not resulted in you changing the outfit you had in mind from the top. Instead of an orange sundress, you slipped into a white linen bodycon dress that perfectly hugged your curves, cut out sides exposing your toned waist and highlighting your hip bones. Deep v neck brought exposure to your cleavage as well.

Studying yourself in the mirror, the material was so thin it was almost see through. Lando absolutely hated loved this dress. You completed the look with some white sandals. You were in the process of putting on your gold earrings when Lando walked in.

"Are you anywhere near do-" he choked out, eyes turning a darker shade of green as they scanned you from head to toe. He cleared his throat before speaking "You look amazing, darling." he complimented, with a little bitter taste to the pet name he just called you, obviously not approving of the attire. Jackpot.

"Thank you, darling." you grinned as you walked up to him and pecked his cheek, completely ignoring the fact he was fuming.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Lead the way." you responded, your lips still curved into a smile, and laced your hands together.

On the drive to the restaurant, his knuckles turned completely white from how strong his grip on the steering wheel was. His eyes never darted from the road, not even once. No hand holding nor even one kiss at the red light. But instead, you drove in silence, only soft music playing from the radio making any noise as you tried to hide your satisfaction, which you will probably come to regret later, looking out the window.

As expected, Oscar and Lily arrived before you. You apologized for keeping them waiting, but they said they only just got there a few minutes ago due to traffic. A waiter immediately approached you and had your orders right under way in a few moments.

During dinner, Lando wasn't completely ignoring you, but he wasn't really paying attention or engaging with you either. Which didn't come off as strange or like something was wrong between you. You girls had your girl talk and boys had their boy talk. Lily couldn't always attend a race weekend and it's been a while since you last saw her. But there was a mischievous spark in his eyes, only someone who had known him for years could notice, telling you he was planning something.

First, he'd casually drop his hand on your thigh under the table and just rest it there, and then remove it without a second thought, continuing his conversation with Oscar like nothing happened. After a while, he'd put it back on, only higher this time and gently grasp the skin, his thumb drawing circles. Your muscles tensed and made you jump in your seat. He noticed, of course, without sparing you a second glance and dragged his palm up and down your inner thigh like that was going to soothe you. He stopped and left you alone once more when your main course arrived.

While waiting for dessert, his fingers brushed the fabric of your panties without previous warning that made you gasp audibly and place your elbows on the table to support your forehead with your hands, making all cutlery clank. That finally drove some confused looks from Oscar and Lily.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked, curiosity getting the best of her cause this wasn't the first time you jumped in your seat during the conversation.

"I'm fine." you breathed, faking a smile. You turned towards Lando and hissed, covering your mouth "What are you doing?"

He leaned closer into your side, his lips brushing your earlobe as he whispered "I'm thinking about having my dessert now." his fingers still feathered over you. You gave him a wide eyed look. "Say I won't do it." he repeated his words from earlier that instantly made you blush.

"You... you're crazy." you whispered back, glancing sideways at the confused faces around you, most likely thinking you were talking about the weather. God, you hoped they were thinking you were talking about the weather.

"Say it." he insisted, his palm coming to a stop on your pussy.

You bit your lip, getting a clear image of him bending you over the table while Lily, Oscar and the waiter looked on as Lando fucked you right in front of them. It made you wet and you hated yourself for it.

"I... I'm saying it." you mumbled.

"What?" he took a sip of his drink.

"I'm saying it." you leaned closer as the people around you were now completely involved in their own conversations, acting like they didn't hear you the first time. "I'm saying you won't do it." maybe one thing Lando often forgets is how stubbornly bratty you can get.

Lando started, but was interrupted by the waiter coming to pick up your dessert orders. He only quickly added that you will settle this later. The Great Dessert Debate concluded after you were done with your meals. Lily was lobbying for ice cream, Oscar insisting on sorbet, Lando not really giving a damn as long as he wasn't going to have cake and you, of course, wanted something naughty. Oscar finally convinced Lily that sorbet would taste better than ice cream and they decided to get it to-go to bring home. You sighed and ordered cheesecake eventually.

"I changed my mind." Lando started. "I won't be having any dessert here." he smirked and glanced at you.

Idle as he was, he didn't waste an opportunity to dip his hand between your thighs once more and stroke you up and down as soon as you dipped your spoon in your cheesecake. You could've made a scene, but how you were practically purring in your seat, you decided not to.

"Don't move and finish your little treat," he murmured and brought his lips to your cheek and kissed it. "I'm sure sugar will give you enough energy for what's about to come later." you could almost choke as you swallowed.

He squeezed your thigh again under the table, giving you a once over and letting his eyes settle on your mouth. You knew what he was trying to do. He was attempting to turn you on in public while everyone else was almost done with their desserts and it worked, damn it. He didn't stop touching you until dessert was over and the bill was paid, but this time he slid his palm all the way up to your slit and stroked you through the fabric while you were busy–struggling–saying goodbye to Lily and Oscar.

You almost didn't want to get in the car with him, but to drag him to the nearest restroom and have him there. You were just on the verge of exploding, burning and dying a death of a thousand orgasms that needed to be let out, and let out now.

He put the car in drive, with you sitting right next to him, still wet and hard and throbbing. You didn't bother to keep your voice low this time. You huffed and fumed, wanting nothing more than to choke his pretty little neck.

"What is wrong with you?" you hissed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking at you out of the corner of his eye to avoid a car accident with a grin on his face. He really is fucking crazy, you thought.

"You're so damn frustrating. Why haven't you touched me yet?"

"I'm touching you now." he smirked.

"You asshole! You're not touching me-Ah!" you yelped as he dug his thumb into your wetness and began rubbing you, his left hand steadily steering. You spread your legs as far as the car allowed and pulled your knee up, giving him as much access as you could.

"Oh god..." you relaxed and succumbed to your pleasure, making his thumb work at its full potential.

His other fingers were busy playing with your pussy, tracing the fabric to your entrance, but never actually going inside. You were breathing heavily as his fingers grazed closer to your clit each time he would repeat his movements. His thumb found your clit and started massaging it while his pointer and middle finger pulled your panties to the side and slipped in, parting your walls. You shuddered and moaned, but kept your eyes on the road ahead of you.

The way he was touching you was incredible, you were so wet that you could already feel the heat radiating from your skin. And he was doing all that while driving. One hand on the steering wheel, the other one down your panties.

He looked really hot, you had to admit to yourself, as you bit your lip glancing over at him. His eyes fixed on the road, concentration evident on his face as he drilled into you with his right hand. You wanted to lean over and kiss him.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting that spot. Pumping in and out, you were getting more and more jerky in the passenger seat, only the seat belt restraining you from bucking your hips forward. It was getting so good, so painfully good when he pulled his fingers out of you.

"Don't do that." you whined, as he noticed your hips jerking and tried to move his hand to make you come.

"What?"

"That," you breathed, "Pull your fingers out of me."

He chuckled and put his palm over your pussy again, stroking you from the top. You started getting wetter and your breaths got faster and louder.

"Lando... Please! Don't." you muttered, knowing that in a matter of minutes you'd achieve sweet release.

He continued nonetheless, his nails scratching your skin every time the pad of his thumb would meet with your clitoris. You groaned and spread your legs wider, moaning Lando's name as you came.

"Seriously?" he chuckled again, stopping at the red light.

"Shut up." you glared at him and puffed your disheveled hair out of your face. He was still smiling. "That was not funny." you hissed, removing his hand from you.

"I agree." he said, undeterred by your actions. He brought the hand that was on your pussy up to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. "Mm, now this is what I call dessert." he moaned, licking his lips and savoring the taste. "And that was your first orgasm of the night, babe."

"You're an asshole." you pouted.

"So you've told me." he drove off, his hand coming back to rub your thigh.

"Lando, I'm serious," you grabbed his fingers and pushed them away. "Stop."

"Babe, you should really learn to finish what you start." he said, his cottage cheese fingers now replaced by the dripping wetness of his mouth. "Did you forget?"

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"I'm marrying you for your money."

"And your body." he added, letting his fingers lick your inner thigh.

"You bastard."

"We still have business to run when we get home." he announced, glancing quickly over at you. But your eyes were already half-lidded and there was a pleasant ache between your legs.

"Just drive." you muttered.

"I'm serious." he lightly chuckled, putting his right hand on your leg and rubbing you solidly through your skirt.

"We'll see." you adjusted yourself in the seat. You closed your eyes as you made yourself comfortable, enjoying the rest of the ride home.

Like he knew you needed a bit more rest, he took a longer route home. Pulling into your driveway, you smirked as the lights illuminated your face. You cleared your throat and fixed your skirt before exiting the car and sauntering over to the front of the house without giving a second glance to Lando. You made sure to sway your hips a little extra to grab his attention which worked, considering you were already unlocking the front door when you heard a soft click of his car door, meaning he stayed behind. Your feet were killing you and you only got to kick off one shoe when a pair of strong arms wrapped around you.

"Back where we started," he whispered.

"Something like that." you smiled, your hand grabbing the nape of his neck as you kicked the other shoe off. You stood flat on your bare feet, significantly shorter than him now.

He traced your shoulder with kisses up to your neck, his palms riding up your waist to cup your breasts. A low moan escaped you as he thumbed your nipple. You let your head fall back on his shoulder as your hips began to grind against him.

"I want you." you breathed into his ear.

He was hard against you and you could already feel yourself dripping wet for him. He turned you around, smashing your lips together as he picked you up and carried you to the living room couch. He sat down with you straddling him, your kissing already turned into a heavy make out session, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth and vice versa.

One hand on your hip helping you rock back and forth, the other one on your jaw and throat, choking lightly and keeping your head in place. His hips buckled up as you sped your movements, making him hiss into your mouth and bite harder on your lower lip. You let out a soft cry, but didn't let that stop you.

Now both of his hands roamed the open back of your dress, his face pressed flat in your cleavage until he brought one of his hands and tugged harshly down at the top of your dress, afraid you heard something snap.

"Oh, did I rip it? Did I rip it for good this time?" he got a bit too overly excited for your liking.

"Yeah, I think one of my straps snapped." you breathed, flustered.

"Thank god!" he exclaimed, rubbing his nose in your cleavage. "I've been waiting for this day."

"I didn't realize you were such a fan of this dress." you sarcastically remarked, rolling your eyes, knowing damn well how he felt about it. You glanced down and saw he had torn the top of the dress almost to your belly button.

"Sorry." he grinned.

"No, you're not." you couldn't help but laugh. "You're going to make me buy a new one." you said, trying to push his face back into your cleavage.

"I'll pay for it." he nodded. You shook your head dismissively, deciding to let the subject go.

Coming up to your breasts, he pressed his palms over them before rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You moaned as he did, his breath hot on your skin. He moved his mouth to suck on your left breast, closing his eyes and taking in your scent. You let your hand fall to his waist, pulling at his belt. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, but only for a moment, before his tongue swirled around your right nipple. Your breath hitched when he grazed you with his teeth, your right hand tugging on his curls. He let your nipple pop out of his mouth before dragging his teeth over your skin, the sensation sending electric currents through you.

"I have an idea-"

"Oh no-"

"Can you stand up for me, please, love?" he innocently grinned up at you.

Just out of pure curiosity you listened to him. He turned you around so that your back was facing him.

"You're going to rip the rest off me, aren't you?"

"Guilty." he pulled the remaining strap down. Your hands were on the couch now, bracing yourself and waiting for his next move.

"You're so dirty." you said, unable to resist sounding disappointed.

"And you're so wet." he said, his fingers pressed up against your drenched panties.

"Shut up." you shuddered, his breath warming the back of your neck.

The fire in you was burning now. You felt his hands snake around your neck and his hot breath on your ear.

"Just because I don't like this dress doesn't mean I don't love you. I love you so much." he whispered.

"I love you more." you replied, relaxed.

He leaned in and kissed your back, all the way down your spine, making you shudder at the feeling of his soft lips against your skin. His hands gently grabbed the remaining fabric of the dress on your hips and in one swift motion, tore it off your body.

"Whoops," he said, dropping the shreds that once made up a dress on the floor.

"You tease." you smirked over your shoulder.

"You love it."

You nodded. You felt his hands gently grab your hips as he pushed you forward a bit and stood up behind you. One of his hands spread across your lower back and the other reached down to grasp on your thigh. He pulled you back against him and you could feel his hardness in between your ass cheeks as he kissed your shoulder. You felt his hand wander up your inner thigh and lightly graze your clit. You moaned in approval and he took that as a cue to keep going. He slipped a finger or two inside you and it was almost instant that he was tapping your g-spot.

"Lando." you breathed, fully leaning on him for support.

"Yes, love?" his voice was deep and low.

"I want you." you whined for the second time that evening.

"And you'll have me." he said, without providing much information on when that will be.

He laid you back on the couch, opening your legs to slide his arms in between your thighs. He lifted your butt off the couch and you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, anticipating the moment where he'd have his face between your legs.

He descended on top of you, his lips kissing your neck before moving over to your ear. His teeth grazed your earlobe and you shuddered as he sucked.

"More." you panted, your fingers clawing at his shirt.

He smirked, giving your ear one last lick before moving his attention to your lips. His rough hands maneuvered over your skin, finally gripping your breasts and pinching your nipples. Your hands cupped his face as he roughly bit down on your lower lip, then moving to your jaw and then your neck.

You pulled off his dress shirt as he attacked your neck with his mouth and his teeth. Your eyes fluttered close as his teeth sank into your shoulder. He pulled away, leaving a series of hickeys on your skin. He climbed back on top of you, his hands snaking down to grab your ass. He looked into your eyes, biting down on his lip as he pushed his hardness into your thigh. You wiggled your hips, getting impatient for him to be inside of you.

"So impatient," he remarked. "Can't you see I'm trying to take my time with you?"

"This is torture." you said instead.

"Now, baby," he said, kissing his way down from in between your chest to your stomach. "No need for dramatics."

Positioning his face just above your pussy, he gently removed your panties as he pushed your legs a bit more forward, angling you just the way he wanted you. Without previous warning, he ran his hot tongue all over you. Oh, god, real torture begins now, you thought.

A moan chocked in your throat as your mouth hung agape. It didn't take long for him to start lapping around your folds, suck on your clit and fuck into your entrance with his pointy tongue. You were a squirmy and moany mess, one hand pulling on his hair, the othe one gripping the couch, but he didn't cease. In fact, it only encouraged him to flick his tongue over your sensitivity and keep tasting you up.

Thighs shaking and repeatedly panting his name, your climax arrived sooner that you anticipated. He licked you clean one last time before getting on top of you once more and kissing you, making you taste yourself on his lips. You sank your teeth into his bottom lip as you sucked on it, receiving a moan into your mouth from him. He gave you a few more pecks before pulling you up by your arms into his embrace.

"What do you say we take this to the bedroom?" he questioned.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder as he carried you like a child in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist.

He dropped you on the bed and fumbled with his pants. That gave you an opportunity to quickly get on your knees and take his belt off and unbutton his pants. He got the hint, taking them down. You rested your head on his thigh, looking up at him–pouting–as you stroked the bulge in his boxers. You probably couldn't count how many times he actually got a boner this evening and had to fight it. His lips parted, shaky breaths escaping him.

"Please..." he begged, fingers raking through your hair.

He didn't have to tell you twice to take his boxers off. After all, you could no longer deny him his pleasure after everything you've put him through this evening. He deserved his little treat. His length sprung forward and you rested it on your tongue. He shuddered, holding your head as you bobbed on him. You started going faster and it wasn't long before you could feel him twitching in your mouth.

You usually didn't do this, but you wanted to tease him as much as you could. When you felt him starting to lose his grip, you stopped and smiled as you looked up at him. Strands of saliva connected your mouth to his cock. He looked at you with a desperate look, his hands holding your head still.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Because you wanted to," you said, beaming.

He shook his head dismissively, returning a smile. You wrapped your lips around his tip again, sucking on him as hard as you could. His head fell back onto his shoulder, his eyes closed in ecstasy. You gripped him in your hands, stroking him as you bobbed your head up and down.

You stopped when it felt like his cock was about to burst. You let go and looked up at him and he caught you before you could say anything. He pulled you up and his lips crashed onto yours. The taste of him was still on your tongue, but you didn't mind. He kissed you tighter, his hands wrapped around your body, his fingers clawing at your lower back.

"Please, stop fucking teasing me." he groaned.

"I'm sorry." I pouted. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Want to show me just how sorry you are? Huh?" he grabbed your jaw, fixing your eyes on him. You nodded in response, this play only turning you on. "I'm going to fuck you right here." he muttered, his voice husky with lust. "Right on this bed, where I have fucked you numerous times before." he took your arms and pinned them to your sides. "Don't. Fight. Me." he warned, making sure not to repeat previous mistakes.

You shook your head and let out a nervous giggle.

"That's my girl." he leaned forward to kiss you again.

You moaned into it, pressing your body against him. His palm rubbed up your leg, parting it wider as he went to your thigh. He held your leg as he slipped it over his shoulder, his fingers brushing faintly over you, your hips bucking against him, urging him to go. He obliged by slipping two fingers. Your back arched up, your head falling back as you groaned.

"So wet for me." he grinned.

"You just don't know what you do to me." you explained, rocking your hips, enjoying the feeling of his fingers filling you up.

"I'll show you what I'm going to do to you." he claimed, gripping your hand and intertwining your fingers. His other hand was working its way further up your thigh and stopping above your knee.

"Do it, Lando." you pleaded.

He hoisted your other leg over his shoulder as well, changing the angle of your body and pushed himself into you. You twisted your head to look at him, your mouth hanging open as you let out a loud cry.

"Oh, fuck me, Lando..." you said breathily.

"Say my name." he rocked his hips faster.

"Lando," you gasped, your thighs beginning to shake.

"Louder." he commanded, squeezing your ass in his hands. "You're louder when you come."

"Lan... Lando!" you moaned, throwing your head back again.

The feeling was so overwhelming that you could feel yourself on the brink of climax. Your thighs started to shake violently and your stomach felt like it was being tickled on the inside. You moaned his name, trying to stifle a scream as you felt the most intense orgasm wash over you. You felt like you were going to pass out. It really had to be the most incredible feeling you ever experienced. You could feel him still hunched over you, filling you up.

"Lay down," he ordered.

"I can't even move," you gasped. "I'm numb."

"Good." he chuckled. "It means you enjoyed yourself."

"What about you?" you asked him.

"I'm covered in you." he kissed you. "That's more than enough."

"I want to make you feel good." you said, trying to catch your breath.

"That's something I'll have to work for." he smirked at you, rolling his cock inside you.

You bit your lip to keep you from moaning as you twisted your hips and dug your nails into his skin. He started kissing and sucking on your neck and your hands fell to his shoulders.

"I think you've had enough fun." he said, nibbling on your ear.

"Too much is never enough." you giggled. "Just stay inside me." you whispered as you put your arms back around his neck.

"I can do that." he smiled before kissing you.

He started thrusting in and out of you slowly, changing the angle again. You moaned into the kiss, your arms tightening around him. You started rocking your hips in sync with his thrusts, filling you up even more. He let go of your arms and cupped your face, still kissing you. You moved your hands to his neck and tangled your fingers into his hair.

"Oh, my god," you moaned into his mouth. "This feels so good."

"Tell me what you feel," he said between kisses.

"I feel full." you said breathily. "Like your cock is stretching me out." this dirty talk made you giggle.

"Tell me how it feels filling you up." he encouraged.

"I feel like I'm ready to burst," you said, shuddering. "I love it."

He pushed into you deeper and his lips found your collar bone.

"Good," he groaned. "I want you to feel good."

"I do." you breathed. "Oh, my god, I do." your eyes rolled back.

"Are you going to come again?" he asked, changing the speed of his thrusts.

"I don't know." you said. "Don't stop." you hugged him closer.

You felt the muscles in your body tightening and you knew you were about to climax again. He pulled back and looked down at you.

"Stay with me." he said, thrusting harder.

"I can't." you moaned.

He lifted you up, changing the position again. He slid out of you slightly then pushed in hard, hitting you in the right spot.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, arms falling back to your side. "Fuck!" you screamed.

"Good girl," he pulled your face up and kissed you.

You came so hard that your vision went blurry and you felt like passing out again. You could feel him still thrusting into you, trying to keep pace. You bucked against him, your hips constricting as he came inside of you, groaning your name. He put you back down on the bed, his hands still on your body, gently rubbing your skin. You felt like you were on top of the world.

"I love you." you said, turning your head to face him. "So much."

"I love you." he replied, kissing your forehead.

"I'm sorry if I was a bit bratty today." you snuggled closer to him.

"Nah, I deserved it." he played with your fingers on his stomach. "And if I didn't, I know why you do it anyway." he shot you a quick glance.

"Oh, really?" you challenged.

"Uh huh. Don't get me wrong, it's hot and all, but babe, if you want me to fuck you hard all you have to do is ask."

"You're unbelievable." you shoved his shoulder and turned around, getting further away from him as possible. "Let's see the next time I behave like that and you don't get anything." you tucked yourself in with a duvet.

"Babe," he called and rolled his body closer to yours, hugging you from behind. "It was a joke. With some truth in it, but you know-"

You turned around just to hit his chest."

"Asshole."

"Princess."

You snuggled into the crook of his neck as he rested his chin on top of your head, your limbs tangled together.

"Prick."

"Babygirl."

"Wanker."

"If you want round three just say that." even though you both laughed, you still hit him with your fist.

"Fucking idiot."

"Love of my life."

You're not sure when exactly did he stop whispering names of endearment in your ear for you fell asleep in his arms to the sound of his voice with a hint of a smile plastered on your face.

[xervn]

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling. 

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life. 

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same. 

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?”   Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

 Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

 Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?”  “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute. 

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to. 

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties. 

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it. 

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does. 

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much.  Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and..  Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose  you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in. 

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear. 

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations. 

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away. 

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point. 

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

click 4 more!

[airybcby]

Is your top artist/song thing still open? Because if it still is, my top song is GUILTY by TAEMIN. Hehehe!

(also found out abt this bc you reblogged a post of mine teehee!! Thought it was interesting so I wanna give it a go!!)

it is still open! and omg!! that's so cool!

if your top song was GUILTY by TAEMIN i'd pair you with...

sae itoshi

જ⁀♡⊹｡° wanna take a bite

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, lowkey probably ooc sae, manipulative(?) sae, reader and sae have CRAZY tension, implied situationship

♡ synopsis — sae itoshi is a calm man, but when he doesn't get what he wants, that can change.

There was something terrifying about Sae Itoshi, and it wasn’t his skill on the pitch.

It was the way he looked at you—sharp, unrelenting, and just a little bit cruel. Like he knew you didn’t belong here, standing in his orbit, but he didn’t care.

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t get involved with him, not when you’d heard the stories of what he was like: cold, calculating, impossible to read. Sae Itoshi didn’t need anyone, and he made that abundantly clear to everyone around him.

So why was he here now, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment like he owned the place?

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said, his voice low, almost bored. But his eyes—they betrayed him. They burned with something too dangerous to name.

It'd been a week since you'd last seen Sae anywhere outside of the soccer field. A week since you'd told yourself you weren't going to be his plaything, something he could have whenever he wanted.

“Maybe you should take the hint,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He smirked, a slow, infuriating curve of his lips that made your chest tighten. “You’re bad at lying.”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him get the upper hand. “And you’re bad at leaving people alone.”

He pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer. His presence was overwhelming, like a storm rolling in. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, as he closed the distance between you.

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing to you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your stomach twisted, the guilt bubbling up like bile. You hated the way he got under your skin, the way he made you feel alive and hollow at the same time. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to happen.

“This is wrong, Sae,” you said, but your voice wavered.

“Maybe,” he admitted, tilting his head as his eyes searched yours. “But you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you hated him. You hated how easily he unraveled you, how he turned every one of your carefully constructed walls to rubble with just a glance.

But he was right. You didn’t want him to stop.

And that was the worst part.

When he leaned in, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath, you knew you were past the point of no return. His presence consumed you, leaving no room for anything else, and for a moment, you let yourself forget the guilt clawing at your chest.

Because Sae Itoshi was a mistake you were willing to make.

i really have a bad habit of making sae ooc i'm sorry

i hope you like it anyways!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[chenlezip]

──★ ˙☕️ !! annoying customer | a na jaemin smau .

PART 6 : so so perfect..

warnings : mentions of alcohol, no other warnings i think?

annas note : thought i would add jaemins pov from the night of the party :3 it’s probably a little messy but i hope you guys like this !!🤍

last | next | masterlist

jaemin sat in the passenger seat, jeno was driving and the rest of the boys were squeezed together in the back of the car they hired for getting them to jackson’s party. what a mess this already was.

“stop kicking my damn leg, haechan!” renjun shouted as he shoved the younger male away. “how the hell can i stop when i’m shoved between you and this lanky bastard!” he gestured to jisung who just pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “what about me? i didn’t decide to sit here, you could’ve sat in the back with mark and chenle..”

“screw that, i’d rather enjoy the peace and quiet in the back here, thank you very much.” chenle responded as he leaned his legs over the spare seat in the back, sighing in relief, “it’s so nice to have space~”

“chenle, do me a favour and wrap the seatbelt tightly around your neck.” renjun glared at him as he turned back around, focusing on the views outside, drowning the other boys out. jeno sighed, “do they always have to argue everytime we get in this damn car? they’re lucky i can focus on driving otherwise we’d be off the road by now.”

jaemin just laughed in response, shaking his head, “no seriously.. i don’t know how you do it, i definitely would’ve been rolling down that hill by now. how long until we get to jacksons anyway?” the older male looked at the gps, “about 5 minutes.”

“5 minutes too long..” jaemin groaned as he leant his head against the backrest of the seat, “can’t wait to get there.”

a couple hours went by, the boys had all split up and done their own thing: mark and jeno went upstairs with two girls, renjun just kept to himself but ended up leaving early because the party was ‘boring’, haechan shamelessly flirting and it backfired on him and left him locked in the bathroom, chenle just hogging his expensive alcohol and not letting anyone near it when they asked to take a swig and jisung.. last but not least, stuck in the corner of the living room with cute girls surrounding him and calling him endless nicknames.

jaemin watched and grew tired of it quickly, grabbing yet another drink and chugging it down. he felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly and he knew who it was. “hey brother! nice to see you here, finally, so how you finding it?” jackson smirked. “you know, the usual.” jaemin responds.

“ahhh come on, lighten up! i’ll get some more people drunk and we can see where the night takes us, huh? oh- and also, you know yn right?” “uhh yeah?” the younger male responded with a confused look on his face, where was jackson taking this?

“look after her for me, will you? she’s a mess right now and i don’t trust anyone in here with her apart from you. i’ve known you for ages. you’re a good kid.”

and look after you jaemin did - well kind of, from a distance. he kept a close eye on you and didn’t let you out of his sight, even following when you stepped outside. he saw you wobbling over to the side of the house, “suffering are we, yn?” he asked and he loved the look of surprise on your face. he heard you say you were fine but he paid attention to the way your knees buckled, your body trying to hold itself upright.

“yeah, you’re still a lil’ wobbly though, aren’t ya?” he asked as he moved his arm to yours, ignoring the slight electric feel he felt flowing through his body. he gulped, “careful.”

“you’ve got really pretty eyes..” you mumble softly which elicited a soft chuckle from him, “mhm, do i? well thank you gorgeous.” he couldn’t help that his heart did a little flip in his chest, he’s never been told this before.. not by a pretty girl no less.

“you’ve irritated me these past couple months coming in and ordering coffee around 11pm.. but i guess i don’t mind actually, i don’t know, it does annoy me but.. i’ve never paid much attention to you and while i am now, it doesn’t matter.. you’re very attractive and i’ll give you a pass..” he heard you ramble on, listening intently on to what you were saying. he knew it was annoying of him to be doing that. he did kind of like it though, but he never knew it was that bad.

“ah, and you’ve waited until now to tell me? well.. i’ll try and come in a little earlier if i do get coffee, will that satisfy you? if i’m getting pretty privilege, i might as well use that to my advantage.” he retorted to you. he took the time to admire your features as you were too busy thinking about his words. you’re so gorgeous, so so perfect, he thinks. he thought about the conversation you two had over text, how similar you two are yet so different at the same time. he couldn’t hold back his urge to just.. feel your lips on his. if anything went wrong - he knew he could just blame it on the alcohol. despite that, he’s never had a girl make him feel this way, ever in his life and he liked it. he liked the thrill you gave him, the lingering gazes at the coffee shop when you thought he wouldn’t notice.

“i know we hardly know each other, but can i.. kiss you?” jaemin asked you. he couldn’t hold back from your whine and the way you pleaded with him to kiss you. he smashed his lips onto yours, a hand placed on your cheek to deepen the kiss, his other hand running through your hair and moving to the side of your hip. he didn’t mean to be so rough but he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. he heard you moan into it and if he could swallow it.. even replay it, oh he so would. how perfect could you get?

and then, jaemin heard someone shouting that there’s a fight currently going on. you both broke away and stared at one another for a second before jaemin smirked, “can’t help myself wanting to watch a fight, you comin’?”

he watched as you shook your head, saying it wasn’t your thing. he was in two minds but.. just decided that curiosity was overtaking him. “see you around?” he says before dashing off to the scene. it wasn’t that exciting as he thought it would be but as he turned around and walked back to where he left you, you were already gone. “damn it..” he ran a hand through his hair.

well, he had an excuse to see you tomorrow, he could tell you were going to deal with a bad hangover so.. why not go to the shop and buy you some painkillers now? he did that and headed home, smiling to himself, he had it all planned out.

taglist : @jeonghansshitester @kukkurookkoo @cigsaftersuh @polarisjisung @injvns @kaosuni @sibwol @n0hyuck @ayukas @phototypee @hyckvr @swee7dream @haechology @holyhaech @blondemrk @222low @njmluvr @urlocalbeaner5 @serenedreamscape

[novarex]

Allright, I'm doing DROW SMASH OR PASS, Legend of Drizzt and Waf of the Spider Queen characters. I've seen this back in the tags and I want to play.

Drizzt Do'Urden - PASS - idk, he's not really my type, and he's just a little bit boring. It would also feel wrong somehow, and I don't know how to explain it. I mean... I wouldn't say no if he asked, but Cattie-Brie would have to be dead and I'd probably ask if he's sure like 10x.

Jarlaxle Baenre - SITUATIONAL - Don't get me wrong, he's lovely, but his personality is too close to mine, and there isn't enough air in one room for the both of us. But get me drunk, and I'd do it for sure.

Gromph Baenre - SMASH - Slamming the smash button until it breaks. If you know me at all you know I'm in love with this pathetic wizard man. He is both brilliant and stupid, and just the right amount of sarcastic, arrogant, sad, and pathetic. I would marry him. He wouldn't get a moment of peace because I'd be trying to entice him into bed 24/7. It's like he was written specifically for me to fall in love with. When he went missing in WOTSQ, I would have turned the city to rubble and made the rivers run red with blood looking for him. I know Cattie-Brie was pissy about the suggestive fantasies he put in her head with psionics, but I would literally learn psionics just to play a game of horny thoughts tag all day.

Zaknafein Do'Urden - SITUATIONAL - a bit too self righteous for my taste, and I think I'd probably get on his nerves. But I'd never turn down that legendary dick if I had a few shots in me. He's got some anger issues I'd prefer to steer clear of.

Kimmuriel Oblodra - PASS - I just don't think he'd be into it. I would also be incredibly uncomfortable with him having that much access to my thoughts. Unless, of course, he's into the wild fantasies that my brain cooks up...and in that case... we might turn this into a smash.

Rai'gy Bondalek - PASS - Strong possibility that he'd just make me self conscious. He's certainly intriguing, but he'd hate me for sure.

Dinin Do'Urden - SMASH - Dinin, my love. I would scoop him up and take him to a cottage in the woods and make sure his belly is full and his balls are empty and have all of his babies. I would brutally torture and maim anyone who ever dared to hurt him. I would burn cities to ash and end bloodlines for him. Dinin deserves so much better. I'm desperate for more Dinin, especially after the events of Lolth’s Warrior.

Rizzen Do'Urden - SMASH - I'd keep him as a pet. What malice did to him is unforgivable.

Nalfein Do'Urden - SMASH - I don't even know why other than he's pathetic in thre way that I like.

Beniago Baenre - SMASH - He's adorable. I would insist on him in his natural drow form, however. I bet he's a good lover too. In One Eyed Jax, Jarlaxle teases him a bit because he's definitely into human women. He smart, personable, and he definitely knows how to please a woman.

Braelin Janquay - SMASH - He deserves everything. I find him irresistibly adorable. He's spent more of his life outside of Menzoberranzan than in and has a pretty strong disdain for Lolthian culture. He is smart and clever and Jarlaxle adores him. Braelin has also suffered a lot and remains so loyal to Jarlaxle. Everything about him is attractive to me. He has quickly rocketed to my 3rd favorite, with Gromph as my #1 and Dinin as a very close #2.

Valas Hune - SMASH - I feel like we might genuinely get along. He'd be good to go camping with somewhere far from everyone else. I really thrive with one on one interactions, especially someone who needs personal space too.

Ravel Xorlarrin - SMASH- I have amended this to smash. He has grown on me considerably. He's clever and not easily intimidated. I respect that.

Brack'thal Xorlarrin - SMASH - Ok, I know he's only in one book (Charon's Claw) but he checks all of the "he's pathetic and tragic in all the right ways" boxes. His whole story makes me want to swoop him up and carry him off. Charon's Claw starts off so strong with him being kicked around that I just immediately wanted to protect him. His whole story just has me in a grip. It's really a shame we only got one book of him.

Tiago Baenre - HARD PASS - Fuck no. No way. I mean maybe if it gave me the opportunity to cut his throat, then I would make that sacrifice. He's the only irredeemable fuck face I can't find anything to like about. I'd kick him in the nuts.

Dantrag Baenre - SMASH - He definitely knows how to fuck. He's big too, which would be extra fun. I also have a weakness for Baenre boys.

Berg'inyon Baenre - SMASH - He seems like he'd know what he's doing, and if he didn't, he'd learn real quick.

Pharaun Mizzrym - SMASH - Let me be clear... I would not trust him at all. But come on, you know that sex has to be amazing. He knows what he's doing, is so good that he's an arrogant shit about it, and you'll definitely have a lot of orgasms. You know your legs won't work for a week after. There's a reason he's such a pain in Gromp's ass and it's because he's a wildly competent shitass.

Ryld Argith - MAYBE - He's just so practical it hurts. He also just doesn't seem to care that much about anyone other than Pharaun.

Nimor Imphrazel - SMASH - Half drow half dragon rabble rouser? Absolutely sign me the fuck up.

Allright. I'm not sure if I've missed anyone.

Tagging @vspin, @grandma-kei, @drizztdohurtin, and anyone else who wants to play. Feel free just to do the ones you know or add to it. I know I just did dudes.

[wonbriiize]

pairing; wonbin x reader

genre; fluff, friends to lovers

warnings; a bit of cursing, mentions of blood + a few other (small) horror related things

note; it‘s a bit long again i‘m sorry ㅠㅠ i think i just have a habit of writing a lot lmao,, anyway thank you guys already for taking the time to read this <3

for you

in which you go to the amusement park with your friends and you decide to go into the haunted house as pairs. although one of your friends (wonbin) is scared of it, he pulls himself together because he doesn’t want you to go with anyone else…

“come on, it’s going to be so much fun. let’s go in pairs of two!” you suggest excitedly.

“then i‘m going to go with sohee,” seunghan puts his arm around his best friend who nods in agreement. shotaro and sungchan look at each other, already declaring that they’re the second pair. “i really don’t want to go with anton,” eunsok rolls his eyes in annoyance. anton laughs, knowing that eunsok is just joking. they love teasing each other. “oh, stop lying, there’s no one else you’d rather go with than me.” “well, if that thought makes you sleep at night..” eunsok can’t help but to smile.

you look over to wonbin who looks like he would rather jump off a cliff then to go inside the haunted house. shit, you had forgotten that he’s afraid of those things.

“wonbin, you probably don’t want to go, right?” sungchan asks him. everybody knows that wonbin is scared of horror related things.

wonbin shakes his head. “not really. i will just wait outside.”

“then who’s going to go with *y/n*?” shotaro looks over to you, feeling sorry since you don’t have a partner.

“i love haunted houses so i don’t mind going twice,” anton says, smiling over to you. “wouldn’t it be too boring for you the second time?” it was a very nice thought of anton but you don’t want him to feel like he’s wasting his time. anton shrugs. “no, it’s fine. i’ll keep myself entertained with laughing at you for being scared.” “this won’t happen, i don’t get scared easily,” you stick your tongue out to anton and he laughs.

throughout your whole conversation with anton, wonbin kept watching the two of you. he isn’t going to let that happen. if anyone should go with you, it should be him. he decides that his love for you is bigger than his fear of haunted houses.

“i changed my mind, i will go with *y/n*,” wonbin announces, stepping forward.

it’s an understatement to say that everyone was shocked. no, everyone was more than just shocked. sungchan almost chokes on the juice he is drinking right now. “park wonbin is this really you?”

wonbin looks confused with everyone’s reactions. “okay, it’s no biggie, you all can stop acting like this.” “i think this isn’t wonbin, he probably got abducted by aliens and this is just a clone or something,” seunghan actually looks terrified. wonbin smacks his head lightly. “oh, get a grip! so are we doing this or not?”

everyone was still pretty shocked, but you guys nod and start walking to the haunted house.

pair after pair, all of you go inside. first it was seunghan and sohee‘s turn. when they walk out of it, seunghan was laughing but sohee seriously looks like he has seen real ghosts inside. it is the same with shotaro and sungchan. sungchan has the biggest smile on his face but shotaro keeps clinging onto him because he is actually afraid.

after eunseok and anton come out, wonbin and you get ready to go inside.

eunsok and anton both don’t look that bothered so it gives you a good feeling that you won’t be that scared either (you have the same horror tolerance as the two of them). wonbin on the other hand is trying to control himself so no one sees how scared he already is.

“you know some of them run after you with fake knives,” eunseok whispers once we walk past them.

“are you serious?” wonbins eyes look like they might fall out.

eunseok doesn’t reply anything, he just winks and leaves wonbin and you alone in front of the haunted house.

you take a look at wonbin and notice how he’s trying his best to look calm, but he’s failing miserably. his expression is exposing that he’s afraid.

when wonbin feels you intertwining your arms together, he instantly feels at ease. you notice that, which makes you smile.

“ready?”

“no, but let’s go,” wonbin takes one last deep breath and you two start walking into the haunted house.

it’s so dark you guys can barely see anything. there’s something hanging down from the roof, it looks like a spiderweb. all of sudden, you feel something on your head and you scream, scaring wonbin as well. he starts screaming with you.

“WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING??”

“THERE IS SOMETHING ON MY HEAD TAKE IT AWAY!!”

you stop screaming when wonbin pulls you closer. he looks over your head. “there is nothing.” “i swear i felt something.”“well whatever it was, it’s gone now,” wonbin steps back but you notice that he’s holding your hand. trying to play it cool, you clear your throat. “okay let’s move on.”

both of you walk, hand in hand, further into the haunted house. sometimes, there’s a few jumpscares which makes you both scream, but so far, there’s nothing too scary in this haunted house. even wonbin is doing fine.

“it’s not that bad actually,” he says. “i know right. it’s kind of fun,” you admit. “why did you change your mind though?”

“what do you mean?”

“why did you decide that you wanted to go into the haunted house too?”

this question catches wonbin offguard. he takes a few minutes to answer. “do you want me to be honest?”

okay, you think, this is getting deep now. you didn’t expect him to be that serious.

“uhm.. yeah?”

wonbin stops walking and turns around to you, still holding your hand.

“it’s ‘cause i didn’t want anyone else to go with you,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes. “it’s either me or no one. i changed my mind to prove to you that this is how much i like you.. i‘m willing to face my fears for you.”

now this catches you offguard.

wonbin has never said something like that ever before to you. sure, you did think that maybe there’s something true about what the guys have said to you.. wonbin likes you, they said. like, when sungchan came up to you a while ago and said that whenever anyone of them mentions your name, wonbin starts having the biggest smile on his face. of course he tries to hide it but he’s very bad at doing so.

another time, shotaro sat down next to you on the couch and whispered that wonbin has a crush on you. of course you thought that he was joking, but shortly after that, wonbin squeezed himself between the two of you. there was literally no space left but wonbin still didn’t care.

so yeah, you have thought about the possibility of him liking you.. you just never thought that it’s actually true.

the second you open your mouth to say something, your eyes wander to what’s standing right behind wonbin; a clown. smeared with blood all over his face. grinning like crazy. walking closer to you and wonbin.

you start screaming. “OH MY GOD.”

“okay well, you don’t need to make it that obvious that you don’t like me in that way,” wonbin looks down, letting go of your hand.

“SHUT UP AND LOOK,” you grab his shoulders, turning him around so he can see the bloody clown that‘s walking towards you two.

wonbin might have let out a scream that was even louder than yours.

“HOLY SHIT,” he turns back around to you.

you grab his hand. “RUN!”

the two of you start running, not looking back. you don’t even know if the clown is still chasing you, but you don’t care. running while holding hands with wonbin might just be your favorite thing in the world now. he‘s much faster than you so it’s hard for you to keep up with him, but he’s not letting you behind, he’s keeping you close.

arriving at the end of the haunted house, you both stop running. a person wearing a ghost costume approaches you, thanking you both for visiting the haunted house.

walking out of it, you guys are still holding hands. you secretly hope that wonbin will never let go. you don’t want him to.

“thank you for doing this,” you say. “for facing your fears.”

wonbin smiles, but he’s avoiding your gaze.

“this just made me like you way more than i did before. and i already liked you a lot.”

now, wonbin looks at you. his eyes are sparkling. he can’t believe what you just said.

“for you, i would do everything.”

he bends down to give you a short kiss, which leaves you wanting more. you want to keep him this close forever.

“but i won’t ever go to a haunted house again,” wonbin says, smirking against your lips before he kisses you again.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

i saw this couple on the train and his gf fell asleep on him and she just looked at her fondly and took off his jacket to put around her and i damn near burst into fucking tears because what the actual fuck-

ANYWAY

soft!simon reading to reader about something that interests him and she just...falls asleep on him (she could be tired from work or wvr) and he just looks at her like shes the only girl in the world????? please???? i need to heal my heart rn

<3333333

This isn’t proofread, as I risked my sanity typing this out on a long car drive. I hope you like it!

Time written - 5:43 p.m

“That’s a lot of paperwork.” Your comment reaches his ears after he hands you a mug of apple clove tea, cuddled up cozy in a warm gray comforter on the couch.

“It is,” he mutters, carrying with him a thick journal half full of pages he needed to continue. Such as a man like him to bring work home, wanting to keep an eye on you as you fought this seasonal cold.

“That looks like a thousand words.”

“Probably is.”

“What’s it about?” You ask while sipping your hot beverage, tasting orange blossom honey he used to sweeten your beverage.

“Boring stuff, love.” He comments after getting comfortable beside you, clicking his pen in case he needed to use it. “Not worth your time, just drink your tea.”

“Tell me.” You insist without force, resisting the urge to peer over at his blue and black handwriting.

Simon ponders for a good while, mindlessly tapping his pen along thick paper. He figured you’d ask once he brought out this old journal when inspiration struck, but to speak of it? That was a little new.

“It’s a … manuscript,” he decides to call it with the slightest bit of hesitation. “Or a draft. Thought of writing a novel at some point.”

“Really?” Your head meets his, watching him nod slowly.

“Mhm. Mostly short stories. Not ‘bout my life, no. Just … about a boy.”

“A boy?” Your smile permeates through your words, making him sheepishly tilt his head with a nervous grin.

“A boy with a stray dog. They have an adventure in the woods, that sorta stuff.”

“Sounds cute,” you smile, finding the idea of Simon writing a story endearing. Maybe this took his mind off his work stress, our about his own personal struggles in general.

“Can I hear some of it?”

Simon’s lips flatten in thought before he sets the pet down, proceeding to flip through a few pages.

“I’ve never showed anyone this,” he peers at you. “So, don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” you smile with a mild giddiness whilst getting more comfortable.

Simon proceeds to relay a short paragraph he had written just a couple weeks back. Back when he barely had the time to think much of this journal, but felt the ever so endearing writing urge at a late hour of the night.

He remembers you had gone to bed early that night after cooking him dinner. The snow was dense outside, covering all the piles of withered, colored leaves that had long since fallen from hibernating trees.

“Through brittle cold air and dense fogs resides a canopy made of broken trees; the roof made of crunchy leaves, the steps made of cracked stones. Upon the center of the canopy laid a small puppy, no more than seven or eight months old. It’s fur was slick, her eyes a bright blue. She sat waiting for the boy, proceeding to greet him like an old friend that had left for a long time.”

Simon pauses, realizing his cheeks had grown a bit warm. Clearing his throat a bit, he turns his attention to the next paragraph, purposely avoiding the adoring look in your eyes after reading such a creation.

“The puppy clung to his side like a burr, waddling along with no promise of food. The boy gave nothing in return, other than carrying her in his arms when her legs were too tired to continue.”

“The boy was in search of an old well, said to be in the midst of fir trees in the center of a mushroom circle. Once he finds the well, he’s told to look inside for all his desires to come true.”

“He wandered for hours and hours until he found what he sought; a broken well with dried, dead vines clinging to the rocks. The boy leans over, peering inside to an apparition of a siren staring back in the water’s reflection. She smiles, singing promises of riches and cures to all sickness he knows, for all she requires is for him to reach for her hands fifty feet down below into the cavern.”

“He desired nothing more until the puppy bit into his pant leg, the strength of her tiny, curly body bracing him back from making such a jump. To the boy, who promised not even an ounce of bread to such a minor companion, broke his blindness to the siren’s secret demise.”

“Such a small little thing opened his eyes just in time before the stones cave in, swallowing up the well without its promised child. In return for the pup’s bravery in saving his life, the boy carried her in his arms, promising a warm bed and home cooked meal all the way back home.”

A faint, heavy pressure rests along his shoulder, your slumped head nearly slipping off of his shoulder.

He’s quiet for the longest time, gazing down at the reason he enjoys coming home each day. The sweetest, most heartwarming woman he’s had the pleasure of laying his eyes on.

A chorus of angels erupted from your lungs with every word you spoke, your pretty head full of ideas and phrases that never left his mind running dry with boredom. You were a strong, incredibly beautiful woman, whom sometimes reminded him of a bouncing puppy by his side during your private moments within your own home.

Especially now, snuggled up in his arms, your affected nasals interfering with your breathing just a bit. The cold medicine did it’s job in helping you sleep, so Simon was more than content. Especially as he chose to believe your mind was affected by a cold medicine’s side effect rather than pure boredom.

Softly, he hums as he removes the still warm mug from your hands, readjusting the blanket over your shoulders.

“Told ya so, sweetheart.” He murmurs, running two rugged fingers through your hair before peering outside, frost coating the window pane as pure white snow blankets the earth just outside.

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 3

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic. Previous - Next - First

This chapter is horrible and I'm sorry.

Chapter warning: Slight violence.

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: I don't know where I found this gif anymore, sorry.)

The house you're in is old. Not just because it seems to be crumbling into dust, nor because it's mostly home to spiders and rats today. The structure is old, probably Victorian with Gothic touches here and there. The fact is, you've had time to visit it several times, the clown not having visited you since your altercation. That was several hours ago now, maybe even a whole day has passed, impossible to say without any landmarks.

During your time in this creaky house, you've noticed several things. Firstly, there's no way to get out, or even to see the outside - all the windows are far too filthy, no matter which room.

Next, most of the rooms are normal, if you forget the general decrepitude, and there's only one you want to avoid at all costs: the room with the clown dolls. You've been there once, but you don't intend to do it again.

Then, even if it seems completely unthinkable, the house has running water. Cold, admittedly, and the pressure leaves something to be desired, but you were able to relieve yourself in the toilet without too much trouble. You even took the risk of drinking it, and so far, so good.

Finally, you've found a well in the cellar. An old, half-collapsed stone well with a pestilential smell. You've thought about getting going down it, eventually, if you really have no other choice and if at least it's possible…

After a while, you really got the feeling you were going round in circles, bored even. Hunger began to make itself felt, and you were able to more or less calm it with water. You also wanted to take care of your wounds, especially the one on the back of your head, but you concluded that it wasn't a big deal, so as not to admit that it healed on its own…

You've found a bookcase next to the fireplace, but the books it contains are strange… The only one in English is 'House of leaves', a book you tried to read once and it made you lose your head. You didn't want to repeat the experience.

After a while, as you sit idly on the sofa, sleep catches up with you and you fall asleep in spite of yourself. You've had that dream again, and this time you're able to recall it with unnerving accuracy: You're in the forest, getting closer to the big oak tree, it's daytime but Derry and the surrounding area are engulfed in thick gray smoke, like the remains of an old fire. It's hard to breathe and your eyes are undeniably watering. In this sad, gray landscape, you catch a glimpse of color: a red balloon. You rush to grab the string and it carries you upwards. When you finally break through the cloud of intoxicating smoke stuck to Derry, you see the lights and colors of the sky, dazzling you with a magnificence you simply can't describe.

You wake up at this point, wondering what the clown - for you no longer doubt, he's the one responsible for these dreams - is trying to convey to you. Maybe he's trying to reassure you, so you won't be afraid anymore? That would be consistent with his requests. Or maybe he knows about your paralyzing fear of heights and you always wake up before he drops you and you crash like a bird poop in the dusty Derry of your dream.

In any case, at least you feel rested, despite your situation and…

One second. You don't remember covering yourself up before falling asleep. Where did that blanket come from…?

For a moment, you hold your breath, attentive to the slightest noise in the house. But apart from a few creaks from the old wood it's made of, you hear nothing that would suggest anyone's there. Suddenly, a scent tickles your nostrils. It's not a musty smell or old dust, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your stomach growls, encouraging you to follow the scent and forget about being careful.

In the kitchen, on the table in the center of the room, you find the culprit of that delicious smell: a children's menu from McDonald's. You resist the urge to throw yourself on it. You move closer, checking every corner of the room to make sure no one's there. Then you stare at the menu box. Red and yellow, just like you remember. Is this for you? You don't hesitate long; you don't have to answer to that damn clown.

The smell becomes more intense as you open the box, and your stomach gurgles again. You grab the first thing that comes along, the French fries, and devour them without manners. Then you slow down for the hamburger, savoring it a little more until you're halfway through, when your eyes land on the toy still in the box. You pick it up with an unsure hand, bringing it closer to make sure it's not a dream. It's a Ronald Clown figurine, or so you first thought. But no, it's the clown, your clown (your clown?). What did he say his name was again? Pennywise? Yes, it's a figurine of him in Ronald's clothes, about the size of your palm, with a sign between his hands that reads…. You guessed it…

DON'T BE SCARED

Your eyebrows furrow in a mixture of puzzlement and exasperation as you watch every detail of the toy between your fingers, as if expecting to see it move. After a while, when you realize that it's indeed plastic, you toss it across the room with annoyance and it bangs loudly against the door of the old, worn fridge.

You bite into your hamburger once more, then a slow grinding noise makes you stop in your tracks. You turn slowly towards the fridge and your eyes widen in terror at the sight before them: the clown, Pennywise, his body curled up and twisted in a way impossible even for a contortionist, is wedged into the fridge, looking at you with his head upside down. You move backwards at an extremely slow speed, your body paralyzed by a kind of terror mixed with fascination, as he emerges from the fridge, turning his limbs at impossible angles to get back upright. When he's done, smiling and leaning slightly forward as if waiting for your reaction. In fact, you hesitate between running away and applauding.

When you don't react, the clown's smile turns into a disappointed pout and he straightens up. Then his eyes alternate between you and the toy at his feet, as annoyance twists his features dramatically and he picks it up with a theatrical gesture to place it on the table.

"This is a gift." He says to you in a deeply offended tone.

You're not sure how to react and it takes you several seconds to reply.

"Sorry, I'm not a child anymore."

Your words only darken his gaze, which changes from a sulky expression to real anger. He takes a heavy step towards you and you drop your burger, really backing away this time. You find yourself trapped in a corner of the room, with nothing to defend yourself, and your anguish mounts as his face contorts into an inhuman grimace.

"Stop. Being. SCARED!"

Pennywise jumps on you, slamming your arm against a wall and grabbing your chin before sniffing loudly. You see his eyes roll back and his teeth become as thin as toothpicks as he opens his mouth, drool dripping from his lips.

You scream and push him away as best you can with your free arm and legs, but there's nowhere to run. You watch him shake his head and speak sharp words you don't understand. As he turns to face you once more, the clown has regained a more normal appearance and is contorting himself as if to restrain himself from attacking you again. He swallows doubtfully before speaking.

"If you continue to offer me such irresistible fear… I'll have to eat you."

In your brain, a light goes on. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, silently repeating your question to yourself several times before asking it aloud.

"You mean… it's my fear that makes you want to eat me?"

An incredulous smile lights up Pennywise's face and he starts clapping, hopping and giggling like a real clown.

"Oh oh oh! Well done! You've finally figured it out, clever girl! You've earned my toy!"

He's clearly making fun of you and, even if it annoys you, it has the merit of calming your fear. You cross your arms in annoyance, waiting for him to finish his act, which he eventually does.

"Now… Now you can help me." His eyes light up like a child's at Christmas.

"Help you?"

"Yes, that's why I'm keeping you alive, after all. You see, for ages I've been playing with humans, haunting their dreams, their nightmares, terrorizing them with their greatest fears and then devouring them."

He pauses, clearly enjoying the fearful look you're giving him.

"It was fun, yes. A lot of fun. Until those filthy… Losers got in the way. That they spoiled Pennywise's fun and forced me to hibernate early and…"

The clown's eyes grow distant, empty, and you get the impression that it's costing him to finish his sentence.

"…they killed me. Just when Pennywise had missed them so much… and we still had a lot of games to play…"

He turns his head sharply towards you, annoyed again.

"But it doesn't matter because now Pennywise doesn't need them anymore. Pennywise found you and you're going to help me understand what they did to me. To understand what's changed and why playing with human fears isn't fun anymore."

His words are totally confusing for you and you haven't understood how you could be useful, but you understand that it's a subject that affects him and he seems very angry, so you prefer not to say anything for the moment. At your lack of reaction, the clown approaches you again, more slowly.

"I won't hurt you if you help me. And if you're not scared…*

You hesitate, but do you really have a choice? Even though you don't really know what you're accepting, you finally nod. He seems happy with it, because he smiles at you and you notice that his sharp teeth have disappeared, that they now resemble rabbit teeth.

"Excellent! I'll come back later. You can occupy yourself by playing with the toy." He says before leaving the room towards the staircase that leads to the cellar where the well is.

Silence returns and you're still stuck in a corner of the kitchen, processing what's just happened. You conclude that you need to find a way out quickly, or risk spending the rest of your life helping a demon clown figure out who-knows-what, and spending your free time playing with Happy Meal toys featuring him.

[reiderwriter]

Unlovable

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reider Warnings: angst, canon death, cheating, implied infidelity, whump, angst, spoilers for Season 8 of Criminal Minds, mentions of shooting/ murder/ suicide/ general case facts. Summary: A stalking case brings back some bad memories for the BAU, but as the newbie, you're not sure why until you start recalling past case files you've read through. A/N: I wrote this as part of @tobias-hankel 's Pre-Whumptober Challenge, so it's short and sweet because I'm not great at angst, but it was a great challenge! I think this will probably be my last fic that mentions Maeve for at least a while because I'm getting a bit bored of writing around her lol, but let me know what you think with a like, comment, reblog, or message in my inbox!

It had been a few months since you’d joined the team, and you’d really thought you’d settled in well. After all, you’d worked on enough of their paperwork in your prior desk job to think you had a good grasp of everyone on the team’s working styles.

Until this case. They’d all been tense since the stalking case was called in, and you couldn’t figure out why. A girl had been taken captive by her stalker, whose identity had been so far unknown to the police department. As you sat talking through the possible suspects, you’d realized suddenly that you were the newcomer, an outsider in the team.

“Why is everyone so tense, we’ve worked cases like this one before, we can do this and save her.” You were hopeful of course, looking around the room to see if anyone else would agree.

“Each case is different, Y/N, you know that.” Morgan was the only one to reply, the others shooting careful glances around the room.

“But everyone is so tense for this one specifically, and I just don’t get it.”

“You read our case files, right?” Reid spoke up from the other side of the room. He’d been particularly tense on this one, and it was really his attitude that was worrying you the most. You’d become fast friends with him when you joined the team, and he was always happy and engaging with you. But there was something about this case that made him cold and distant and it was really rubbing you the wrong way.

“Yeah, I read all of them, but I don’t have an eidetic memory, so please, catch me up.”

“Maeve Donovan, does that ring a bell?” He almost spat the words out, but you were so thankful that he was even talking to you that you responded enthusiastically.

“Oh, of course, I read that case file. She was killed by her stalker, right? But we can’t base every case off our bad experiences, especially since that case had unforeseen circumstances.”

“Y/N,” Morgan gently warned you, but you were deaf to him as your eyes locked on Reid.

“Unforeseen circumstances?”

“She engaged in a relationship with an FBI Agent to help prioritize her case despite the fiance she had, which made her hard to track down to help. And her stalker was experiencing some serious delusions so you couldn’t stop her from killing both of them, but that’s a single case, and you’ve all worked at least ten other stalking cases in the past.

The air was sucked out of the room as Spencer stormed out, not bothering to tell you where you’d gone wrong. JJ trailed behind after him, going to pick up the pieces as the rest of them stared at you pityingly.

“Did I- Did I say something wrong?” You asked, but most of them just shook their heads and walked out.

“The agent she was dating was Reid. He offered to die instead of her, but that set her stalker off and that’s why she killed the both of them.” With each of Morgan’s words, you felt your heart drop.

“I didn’t-” You started but he cut you off with a pat on your shoulder.

“None of us were the greatest fans of Maeve after our investigation, but you weren’t here after she died. The kid was in pieces, and he still can’t really talk about it without some of those emotions creeping back in. Just… be a bit more understanding.”

You spend the rest of the case trying to apologize to Reid, but he avoids you like the plague, frustrating you to no end. You corner him one night on the way to his room, but he snaps at you with such violence you have to turn and run away before you let yourself cry in front of him.

Your resentment for Maeve grows as you watch him work though, seeing him become an empty shell of a man as he gets lost in his memory trying to save the new victim. You’re angry that she died, angry that she put him in that position, angry that no one forced him off the case, that no one foresaw the negative effect that this would have on him when it ended badly. You’re angry that she loved him first because your heart aches without his company.

Thankfully, the case ends well, and you manage to save the girl who has been abducted. You don’t even want to think about what that would mean for Reid, having to see the dead body of another girl knowing he couldn’t save them either. He practically runs off the jet when you land back at Quantico as you try, once again, to apologize.

Penelope comforts you at your desk as you cry, desperate to make things right. She’s the one who slips you his address, and not even an hour later, you feel like a shell of a person driving directly there, not stopping to worry about whether he’ll even see you.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t look surprised to see you. He doesn’t look anything at all, emotionally drained from the last week. You thought you would apologize right then and there, and leave, but he turns back into his apartment and you have to follow him in, saying nothing as he sets himself beside a chessboard again.

“Spencer…” you start, but you have to stop to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I didn’t know you were the agent. I wouldn’t have said what I did had I known.”

“Would you still think it?” He asked sharply, and you can feel the anger in his voice. He’s trying to control it, but he’s never been the best at masking his emotions with his team members.

“Spencer, please, I’m trying to apologize.”

“Would you have looked at me with pitying eyes? The FBI Agent who couldn’t even save his girlfriend from a stalker. The girlfriend who probably didn’t even love him either because what is there to love about-”

“Spencer! Stop putting words in my mouth.” Your tone is harsh but it gets him to finally look up at you. His tone was angry, but his eyes were all despair, shining with tears as he tried, so hard, to pull himself together. He’s failing.

“Why am I so unlovable? What about me is so difficult to love?” Your heart breaks at his words. The way he says it sounds like he is genuinely searching for an answer, his eyes darting between your own as his body sinks in on itself, and you sink with him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into you.

“Nothing. Nothing, Spencer, you are so loved. You need to know that I love you, that we all love you, Spencer.” Your voice breaks a little at your confession, as you suddenly realize how true those words are.

“But she still died. I had to have done something wrong, but I play it back again in my head, every conversation and-” he breaks down in sobs then, his entire body shaking with the weight of his grief. The wound isn’t new but it runs deep, and you quietly sob beside him, knowing no matter how much you love him it won’t be enough to replace the love he lost with her.

[kalinara]

So I had a thought about Scott/Jean vs. Logan/Jean ship dynamics, in the 616 universe and I felt the need to share it. (Without scans for once because I am not at my primary computer. Alas.)

Disclaimer: I am a Scott/Jean fan (I'm sure anyone who's been to my blog is shocked) and I've never really seen the appeal of Logan/Jean outside of a throuple context. That bias will likely come through in this thought.

But anyway, something I find really interesting is how Scott/Jean and Logan/Jean kind of reverse a very common YA fantasy love triangle dynamic.

I mean, reverse is kind of a funny thing to say here, because I think both ships long predate the kind of YA fiction trends that I'm talking about, but it's still kind of funny.

Anyway, this is the trend that I'm thinking about: in many YA fantasy books, there is a female protagonist that is somehow caught in two worlds. Maybe she's secretly a faerie raised by humans. Or she's half elf, half human. But raised human. Basically, the idea is that the female character is an ordinary human girl until something happens that reveals that she has this whole other magical life and potential.

And in many of these books, there is something resembling a love triangle. The girl's got a boyfriend who is an ordinary human. He's in love with her as a human and helps her keep connected to her human side. He's usually conventional and a bit boring. Then there's the bad boy magic guy. He's the one who encourages her to embrace her elf/faerie/whatever magic side. Go wild with your sparkly chaotic magic.

Inevitably the boring dude loses out to the bad boy, because really, there's no competition.

But that's why Scott/Jean and Logan/Jean are kind of funny from that perspective. Because in this badly imagined comparison, Jean is of course, that ordinary girl. Now, she IS a mutant, so she's already not completely baseline ordinary. But we could look at the Phoenix as kind of her whole magical other self.

Scott, of course, is the conventional bland original love interest whose known her since her youth. Logan, of course, is the bad boy, wild guy she meets as an adult.

But the actual dynamics of the relationship are the OPPOSITE of the YA cliches.

Because Logan, for all his wildness, is a pretty conventional romantic. Oh, he's got the dramatic self-loathing and pining, but generally, he's a "bring flowers to the lady" kind of guy. At least with her. She's "Jeannie". She's normal and kind and sweet and she brings out the best in him and makes him want to be a better guy.

I don't know if we ever really get a clear idea of Logan's feelings about Jean AS the Phoenix in 616. Probably because back during the Phoenix/Dark Phoenix Saga, Jean/Logan wasn't really a thing. He liked her, but she seemed primarily disgusted by him. (This got retroactively remedied in some of the X-Men classic stories that rewrote a few of those scenes to add some pining and reciprocity. But that's after the fact.) Basically, during the time when we were supposed to see Jean and the Phoenix as essentially aspects of the same person, Logan wasn't a romantic factor at all.

By the time Jean/Logan was a thing, the Phoenix was narratively a separate entity, and Logan's never particularly been in favor of it. He is, however, very into Jean as the girl next door. The human side of her.

But Scott, on the other hand, has always been MASSIVELY into Jean as the Phoenix. He never really seemed that put off by the Dark Phoenix. He was happy to propose marriage just before the Shi'ar decided to poke their heads in and make everything more difficult, and that was AFTER the woman nearly killed them all and ate a star.

There's at least one point in an X-Factor issue, when Scott's admittedly running very hot and cold (mostly due to the Maddie issue), where Jean outright accuses him of loving the Phoenix more than he loves her.

Claremont's had that moment of connection at the orphanage, and we've had at least a couple of Phoenix comes back stories that involved her directly coming for him (Endsong was my favorite. Scott gets her to back down by having Kitty's hand phased through his chest. Such a stupid fucking plan, Scott).

And there was a scene that, back when it came out, got Scott a fair bit of criticism. In New X-Men, to Emma, he vents something about Jean's wardrobe, the mom sweaters verses the Black Queen's corset. Now this was Scott at his most traumatized and self-destructive/self-loathing. I don't think he was literally saying that he preferred her when she was being mentally influenced (especially since she almost killed him at the time). I THINK it was more of an indicator of the out of control way he was feeling, and how her attempt to project normalcy and repress the wilder/more passionate/more powerful aspects of herself were something that he felt very alienated from..

(There were a lot of interesting Jean-and-Phoenix elements going on in that run, alongside Scott's trauma, and Emma's...many issues. It's worth a reread, though not all of it is a comfortable reread..)

There's a reason that the "psychic affair" started with Emma wearing the guise of the Phoenix.

And of course, the more powerful Jean is, the more Scott seems to be into it. This is the man who has, more than once, used "my wife could kick your ass" to win a confrontation. He's clearly turned on when she ignites a star.

It's not that Scott is ONLY into the Phoenix though. He loves Jean too, and we've seen that 100 times over in the 90s and in Krakoa and how they interact on a day to day basis. But to him, her power is an important part of her. And it's hot when she embraces it.

I feel like this may be the fundamental reason that Jean/Logan never really took off as a pairing, even when there was ample opportunity (except in the context of polyamory). Because for all that Logan has that bad boy sex appeal, he doesn't really work as a power fantasy. Not every girl is into civilizing the wild man, after all. Some really want to cut loose with them instead.

And well, when that's not an option, a quiet conventional man who'll happily hold your flower while YOU cut loose, that's got its appeal too.

[gurugirl]

Part 4 Sneak Peek - Can We Start Over

1200 word sneaky below. 👀 Part 4 comes out this Wednesday!

“Why would I sign this? It only protects you?”

Harry reached for his coffee and took a sip before responding, “Because I’m telling you to sign it. Because I’m your boss. Because I need you to keep quiet about what you’ve seen if you’re going to work for me.”

You shook your head and sat the paper down on his desk before picking up your coffee mug and sipping it slowly then taking a deep breath for what you were about to tell this asshole, “I’m not signing it. You either trust me or you don’t. And if you don’t then I’ll leave right now and you can find someone else to be your bitch. I’m not someone you can just walk all over. I’m not taking the fall for you ever.”

“Is this really how it’s going to be? You’re willing to walk away from this job because of an NDA?”

You nodded, “Absolutely. It’s an insult to me and my character. I take this job seriously and you know that. This is you trying to exert your power over me and I’m not falling for it.”

Harry stood up from his desk and walked to his window with his back to you as you stayed seated comfortably and took another drink of your coffee.

On the outside, you appeared calm but on the inside, you were freaking out. This could be it. You would probably be losing your job now that you were taking a stand against Harry.

“I didn’t want it to be like this, Y/n. I thought maybe you’d understand the need for this agreement,” he turned toward you and walked to his desk, putting his palms down on the wood with his eyes on you, “Sign it. Please.”

You laughed and sat your mug down before standing up from your chair, “No.”

Harry rubbed his hands over his face, “God damnit!” He paced toward his bookshelf and back, “I need you to sign that. I’m gonna be honest here and say I don’t want to have to find anyone to replace you. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I’m not signing it, Harry. I already told you that if you feel like you can’t trust me at my word I’m out.”

Harry rounded the desk and stood in front of you, “I trust you but this,” he pointed at the document, “needs to get signed.”

Shaking your head you let out an incredulous laugh, “You know what? I don’t need any of this. You and your shady deals… the way you treat me–“

“How do I treat you? Hm?” He blocked you from stepping away from him.

You swallowed, “You’re not nice. Just because I felt uncomfortable after we had sex, you got your ego hurt or whatever and so you’re taking it out on me and… acting like I did something wrong.”

“I’m treating you the way you want to be treated, Y/n. This is exactly what you wanted. Is it not? Because you know what’s going to happen if we get too friendly again. So it’s this or the alternative.”

You tried to step to the side and move around him but he followed, staying directly in your path, “You’re not leaving this room until you sign that,” he pointed at his desk as his eyes bore into you.

“You can’t make me sign that, Harry. You have no power over this situation and you know it.”

“I don’t want to fire you, Y/n. Please just sign it.” He sounded defeated.

You pushed at his arm lightly to get him to move out of your way but he wrapped his hands under your forearms to hold you in place, “Y/n, look at me.”

You huffed and looked up at him, held in place by his hands and speaking through clenched teeth, “What?”

“I need this from you. Okay? It’s me. You can trust me. I know you know that. I might not be the nicest person to you but that’s just so we can maintain a professional relationship like you want. Please, Y/n.”

You couldn't understand why it was so important to him. If he trusted you he wouldn’t need it. But he did seem desperate.

“I can’t sign that. That’s incriminating to me if anything were to ever get out. My signature with a promise of silence? No. No way.”

Harry looked up at the ceiling and groaned before he looked back down at you his hands moving up to your upper arms, holding you still, “I’ll give you a raise. I’ll make it worth your while, Y/n. What do you want from me? What will it take to get you to sign it?”

You pulled your brows together and shook your head, “There’s nothing you can do to get me to sign that, Harry. This is a matter of trust. And it’s an insult. Another fucking insult from you.”

“No. It’s not an insult. It’s not personal. I trust you. I do. I swear.”

“Then you don’t need that do you?”

He was standing too close and his fingers were digging into your shirt over your skin and it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You noticed the stubble along his jaw and the darker patch of growth above his lip. Normally he was quite clean-shaven. Sometimes he’d let it go for a few days and you had to admit, you kind of liked the overgrown, unkempt look.

“Y/n,” he closed his eyes and you saw him clench his jaw before he looked back down at you, stepping in closer, “I… fine. You don’t have to sign it today. I can’t lose you or have you walk out on me. If we can trust each other then we can make this work. Will you take some time to at least consider signing it?”

You sighed and looked down at his shirt for an escape from his gaze, “I don’t know. I don’t think I can ever sign that.”

He released one of your arms and put his hand on your chin, pushing your eyes back up to his, “Just don’t walk out, okay? I’m worried you’re gonna quit and I’m gonna be fucked without you.”

You hated that you loved his hands on you. All it took was his nearness and his soft eyes looking into yours. But you didn't know how to respond exactly. You were glad he wasn’t going to make you sign it, yet. But how long did you have before he was badgering you about it again? You were still going to say no.

“If you trust me, you don’t need my signature on that document. I’ll never put pen to that paper, Harry.”

“Y/n…” his voice came out in a whisper as he moved his other hand up to your face, his thumb at your temple, “I just want to know you’ll stay. Forget the document right now.”

Even though you knew what was happening you couldn’t figure out why you weren’t trying to stop it. Why you weren’t pushing him away and telling him to keep his hands to himself.

“I’m here right now aren’t I?” You whispered back to him and suddenly your hands were on his forearms as he cupped your face in his hands and everything around you turned into a blur when his mouth found yours.

What do you think happens in part 4? I wonder if anyone has any guesses. Would love to hear your theories! 👀

CWSO tags: @theastrologie @sassamanda77 @princessaxoxo @eiffelmezarry @justfattiethings

[i-need-a-slurpee]

Fellas I've been working tirelessly in my lab to bring you guys a new crackship

Tell me what you think of Yusuke and the green pencil case kid that sits behind akira.

NOW HEAR ME OUT

It makes no sense and honestly this is all one big bit I have going on but listen here's the set up.

For those of you who don't know this is green pencil case kid

He doesn't have a name but he does have a green pencil case (not seen in this image) he's seen practically everything Akira has done on his desk. He can see Akira making his infiltration tools, texting in class and he can definitely see Mona just sitting in his desk. He knows Akira's weird but he doesn't say anything, he minds his own business and doesn't snitch which is why we like him.

Now with this information in mind let me set the scene!

Green pencil case kid is walking out of Shujin ready to head home for the day when he sees that weird kid with the desk cat meeting up with a very handsome blue haired stranger outside of the school. Bro is instantly captivated by resident pretty boy Yusuke and realizes he has to get this guy's number. How's he gonna do it?

He asks Akira, plain and simple. Now Akira is extremely skeptical of green pencil case guy because he's never so much as talked to him and yet here he is asking for one of his best friends' numbers. Akira is very protective of his friends so he wouldn't just go around giving out their numbers to anyone who asked. He realizes though that his classroom shenanigans have probably given his table neighbor multiple headaches so he compromises. He's gonna get to know green pencil case guy for the rest of the week to determine whether or not he's trustworthy enough to have Yusuke's number.

The week is hell for poor green pencil case boy as Akira drags him to weirdest places he's ever been. A hole in the wall cafe, a weapons shop, a sketchy clinic, and jazz club with some strange detective that has some weird tension going on with Akira. He realizes he might've been third wheeling their date but he doesn't want to dwell on that actually. Either way he ends up joining in on all of Akira's shenanigans throughout the week. By the end he's exhausted but content because Akira actually gave him Yusuke's number!

He learns a lot about this handsome blue haired stranger mostly that he's just as weird as Akira but it doesn't bother him at all, he's used to weird people at this point. He's a lot less intense in his hobbies though, rather than having to run around for different part time jobs or having homoerotic jazz nights Yusuke paints! He attends Kosei high and is an excellent artist.

Their first date is to an art exhibit where green pencil case kid reveals he's an amateur artist himself, all he does is doodle in class when he has the time. They're simple but they give him something to do when he gets bored and Yusuke, ever the art enthusiast, absolutely loves them. Yusuke thinks he doodles capture his artistic vision wonderfully, they're fairly simple but it's fitting for green pencil case guy. Speaking of the pencil case, Yusuke loves the color and how it stands out from the rest of green pencil case guy's supplies. He says it's a good reflection of the artistic side green pencil case kid hides from the world, his life is simple and mundane but there's that color that he has added to his own life. Something that is entirely his and proof that he exists outside of what might seem like a greater narrative.

Green pencil case guy appreciates Yusuke's words more than he thought he would. He's always felt very insignificant around his peers, like he didn't have a purpose like they did. He realizes just how perceptive Yusuke is, which is another thing he likes about him.

Needless to say they go on more art dates.

Listen I know it's really stupid but they're important to me okay. I'm gonna give them the love story of the summer. Yusuke and green pencil case kid for the win 💪