#and lines that can be crossed that he wont be okay with

[rxttenfish]

had a thought in the shower that mainly what i want to achieve with my writing is emotional realism. as in, characters react and feel in a way similar to the way real people react and feel, to attain a selection of behaviors and habits that are reflective of a realistic emotional landscape. i like it when they are hypocritical and have conflicting portions of their own personalities, because i feel like this is reflective of real people's personalities, that no one person behaves exactly the same way for every single problem, not even for the same problem occurring different times.

but also i realized i think this is why i have such an issue in fandoms and with fandomification.

because so often fanworks do not attempt for or want for emotional realism. instead, they often work towards something like... emotional cartoonism. emotional chibification.

which is to say, to have emotions and the emotional landscape exist in a simplified, more surreal manner. characters who mention they like a food once are only ever seen eating that food. a grown man with a biological child abruptly doesn't know what sex is. fully grown adults who do criminal acts suddenly can't cuss. it doesn't matter that the nicest person you've ever known will still get angry, and that anger might be way more common than you realize, because they've become known as the nice character. the good character. they cannot be seen having bad emotions then, or even just getting upset or not understanding something, because they always have to have the good reaction.

the same goes for smart characters too, which happens beyond mere fandom and even into the range of cinemasins style nitpicking. they cannot make simple, human mistakes anymore, even if the smartest person in the world would still probably overlook minor details or get so absorbed in something else that they miss it or just have an off day when they say something silly or aren't in the usual step of things. even someone who's very good at their job might overlook minor mistakes, because minor mistakes are a dime a dozen, and its probably something they see everyday. a well-spoken character cannot simply fumble their words, they always have to act suave and have things together. god forbid you bring up the fact that different scientific disciplines have different knowledge, and the geologist can be as smart as they can be but still not know jack shit about biology or evolutionary theory.

its a style of simplifying down that often ends up focusing so highly on the traits that a character has that seeing them act in any other way becomes out of character, something that could never happen, no matter how mundane. and, unfortunately, it also ends up mangling that character too, because this isn't how people are and act, it's not realistic, and you lose all nuance and complexities by paring a character solely down to an idea.

[tojisun]

so obsessed with the “my cock is big so it wont fit” / “try me” relationship dynamic ughhhh thinking about this with simon and reader, and how reader’s desperation made them spiral, makes me so giggly

thinking about the way you finger yourself everyday to stretch yourself out for simon; preparing yourself for him. practicing for him.

it becomes a routine; it was mundane, almost, but every time the thought that you’re doing this for simon slithers its way back to the forefront of your mind, you lose yourself—doused in the tendrils of your desire, so powerful it has you clenching on your own fingers.

they never hit deeper, never stretch you out wider, but they scratch the itch to be stuffed and manage to satiate you long enough for the next day to roll by.

it’s a lot worse when you meet up with simon because your core throbs with need, leaving you crossing your legs to give yourself that muted relief. but it’s never enough, is it?

simon’s right there, voice thick like molten lava, viscous as it washes over you. “are you alright, love?”

and you lie, gritting your teeth and clenching your fists tightly, telling him that of course you’re fine. because what else can you say? “i dream of your cock so much that i fuck myself everyday as prep”?

if you do say that, simon won’t ever let you live it down. so you stay quiet, crossing-and-uncrossing your legs at every of his deep laugh or gentle crooning, trying your best to ignore the way his palm squeezes the muscle of your thigh. you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose by now because there’s no way simon actually does naturally talk like this—

it’s all teases and taunts as a whirlpool of petnames dribble from his quirked-up lips. he calls you, baby and darling. he calls you sweetheart and lovie. but then he also calls you pup, doll, pet—anything that makes you gasp, and quiet puffs of breaths wheeze out of your trachea in your own stupor.

“you seem distracted,” he murmurs, his voice a worried croon.

“uh-huh,” you say, not really listening, because simon’s hand is climbing up higher and higher on your thigh.

simon notices your stare, because of course he does, then does…

nothing.

he drops you off to your place that night, and leaves a kiss on your forehead before driving off. you watch from your living room window as he disappears from your line of sight before clambering towards your room, tearing your pants off your body and chucking your little slip of underwear behind you as you do so.

you sink into your plush mattress, knees braced by your softer pillows, before reaching behind you to plunge yourself with your fingers. two of them slide in easily, and you crook them just right until you’re mewling. moaning. crying.

simonsimonsimon—

your orgasm is a sharp rip of euphoric release. but the tidal wave of your ecstasy wafts off into its remnants just as quick because this, fucking yourself, isn’t the fix you want. it isn’t the fix you need.

(that said, making simon buckle was a lot easier said than done.)

you parted your legs yourself, planting your hands on the underside of your thighs to pull them open for simon. simon laughs when he saw this, his pale cheeks so flushed with his own desire.

“hurry,” you whine, all choked-up with your desperation, and simon only croons a warning.

“we need ta’prepare you, pup. i’m too big f’r you.”

his acknowledgment makes you leak, your wanton thoughts turning into slick that gushes out of you. simon laughs, so utterly endeared.

“i prepared myself, si! please put it in!”

simon sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i thought you wanted my cock?”

he waits for you to nod. you do so, careful, as your wet eyes look up at him.

“hmm. so listen to daddy, yeah?”

“okay,” you mumble, too overwhelmed to fight back.

simon smiles, murmurs his praises, and then he’s bringing his head between your legs. you squeak, surprise dotting your vision. you expected simon to prepare you, yes, but you expected his fingers—long, rough, thick—and not his tongue—

“siii-monnnn,” you keen, legs buckling from your hold until they tumble to his back, your strength getting zapped out of you at every lap of simon’s tongue.

it’s so good! so, so good!

simon takes over, hooking your legs over his shoulders himself as he burrowed deeper, nose grinding against the sensitive underside of your sex. his tongue pushes against your walls, sliding between them, and then simon sucks.

fuck! fuck—

sorta pt 02

[steddiewithachance]

"You Should Date My Nephew"

"433-6296". Wayne mouthes to himself. He visualizes the little slip of lined paper that's taped to the wall above their phone at home. 433-6296. He could call. But he wont.

Wayne grunts as he lowers himself to sit on the curb outside the plant. He got off work --he pushes up the sleeve of his jacket to check his watch-- 36 minutes ago. It's 3:36 am and god dammit Eddie how many times did he remind the kid to set his alarm. How many times did Wayne remind Eddie that his truck was in the shop and that he'd need a ride home in the morning. And every single time he'd mention it, Eddie responded "I got it old man! I'll set an alarm" with an exasperated eye roll and would go back to whatever he was doing. Wayne has tried calling the trailer a dozen times already and damn that boy for being such a heavy sleeper.

433-6296. Wayne could probably solve his problem with a single call, but that would be completely inconsiderate and borderline inappropriate, so he wont. A gust of cold November wind hits Wayne unforgivingly in the face and makes his eyes water. He pulls a pack of camels from his chest pocket and with stiff, shaky hands, lights one. 433-6296. He could call or he could walk home. The walk wasn't easy in ideal weather when Wayne was fully rested. Right now it was freezing, Wayne didn't have his good jacket, and he just finished an eight hour shift. 433-6296. Fuck it.

Wayne stands up and hurries toward the phone before he can talk himself out of this. It's insane, and he knows the poor kid barely sleeps as it is. Knows from Eddie that he'll pick up the phone anytime Eddie has a nightmare and drive over to talk him out of the bad dream, keep him company, or fall asleep on the floor of Eddie's bedroom so his nephew doesn't have to go back to sleep alone in a haunted home. 433-6296 Wayne dials and waits with baited breath.

The phone rings a handful of times before a quiet voice greets him on the other side of the line.

"H'llo? Eds?"

"Uh hi Steve. It's Wayne?" Wayne says quietly into the phone. Steve seems to sober immediately.

"Mr. Munson? Is everything okay? Is Eddie okay?"

"Yeah no everythin's fine. I'm sure Eddie's safe and sound at home. Look, I'm real sorry to wake you, kid, and I'm sorry to even be askin' you in the first place. I know it's mighty unfair of me to call at this time but uh- My trucks in the shop and Eddie was supposed to pick me up from work forty minutes ago but I think he mighta slept through his alarm. And it's too far for an old man like me to walk. Was wondering if I might owe you a helluva favor if you could pick me up tonight, son." For a few moments there is silence. Wayne worries he has crossed a line, for a brief moment he fears he might have burnt the most important bridge in Eddie's life. He's immediately regretting waking Steve up for this.

But then he hears the distinct rustling and thump of someone putting on shoes.

"Of course Mr. Munson, I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I can." And Wayne is once again floored by this kid's kindness.

"Steve, thank you. I owe you son. Whatever you need."

"It's no problem! I'll see you soon."

"See you." Wayne mutters in disbelief and hangs up the phone.

And to think... Wayne used to hate Steve. The thing about Steve Harrington is that his name is haunted, in a way. And the thing about Wayne Munson is that he's a stubborn son of a bitch who will hold grudges on Eddie's behalf longer than the kid himself will. There were countless days in high school when instead of shooting through the front door of the trailer after school with a devilish grin and music blasting from his headphones, Eddie would turn the knob slowly and he'd drag himself into the house, giving Wayne a small nod before disappearing into his room quietly. Wayne felt like crying or punching something when Eddie came home in low spirits. He knew how evil the kids at school could be, and he knew the names of all the bad ones. Wayne always gave Eddie 10 minutes of quiet before he'd knock on his door and gently ask if he wanted to talk. It was a routine they had. He'd ask and Eddie would say no. But then like clockwork, Eddie would open up about his day later in the evening usually while they ate dinner and before Wayne left for work. He'd complain about all the kids that made him feel bad: Hagan, Harrington, Perkins, Hargrove, Carver, and so many more.

So imagine Wayne's surprise on March 27, 1986 when he briefly left Eddie's hospital room to get coffee and returned to Steve Harrington, the bully son of Richard and Nicole, sitting next to his nephew's hospital bed. It had been a long week of worrying on Wayne's part, and an emotional 48 hours spent at Eddie's bedside, so Wayne had very little patience for whatever was happening in front of him. In retrospect, Steve Harrington was looking at Eddie... sweet and tenderly, even back then. But in the moment all he could think about was Eddie returning from school with hunched shoulders and his head hung low.

"The hell are you doing here?" Wayne asked using his gruffest and most intimidating voice, arms crossed, standing in the doorway. The way that Steve startled was like nothing like Wayne had ever seen. He jumped a foot into the air and folded into himself.

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I'm sorry I didn't know you were around. Just, uh, didn't want him to be alone in case he woke up." Steve had said rising from his seat. When Wayne didn't budge from the doorway or respond, Steve nervously fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

"How do you know Eddie?" Wayne asked trying to keep his firm tone.

"From high school sir. But also through a mutual friend. Dustin Henderson? They play DND together. Dustin and I brought him in after we found him like this..." Steve lifted his head again gauging Wayne's still stern expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry sir I didn't mean to interrupt anything I'll get out of your hair."

And Wayne wanted to be skeptical of Steve, wanted to accuse him of doing this to Eddie, but the truth is that Steve sounded painfully earnest. And there's no human explanation for the tiny bite marks all over Eddie's body. Wayne stepped out of the doorway and let Steve take a few steps down the hallway before calling out to him.

"Hey, Harrington?" Steve turned around quickly, looking back with a startled expression, maybe surprised that Wayne knew his name at all. "D'ja see what happened? I mean d'ya know anythin about what hurt him?" Wayne asked more softly. Steve looked around the crowded hallway, with nurses buzzing from door to door. Steve shook his head slightly, apologized, and continued down the hallway.

But Steve didn't stay out of his hair for long. The kid was exasperatingly persistent in being around for Eddie. And while Wayne kept a watchful eye on him, he was starting to get the idea that Steve Harrington was not who Wayne thought he was. He cooked for, cleaned after, and tended to Eddie, asking for nothing in return. Often refusing to stay for dinner when Wayne was home, even if he was the one who cooked it, because he didn't want to interrupt family time. If he brought food from out he always brought something for Wayne, and never took the money Wayne tried to push into his hands for it.

"Here, Mr. Munson. I wasn't sure what you wanted from the diner, but Eddie said you're not picky so I brought you a burger and fries." Steve had said that first time, holding out a bag in front of him.

"You brought me food?" Wayne asked perplexed.

"Well yeah, of course. I wouldn't have shown up with dinner for just me and Eddie." Steve set Wayne's bag on the counter when he made no move to take it.

By now Steve knew Wayne and Eddie's order at pretty much every food place in Hawkins and Wayne and Eddie were getting real creative at finding ways to slip money into Steve's wallet.

On top of that, almost every other day, Wayne gets home from work to find a maroon bmw parked outside his place while Steve helps Eddie through bad dreams. So what could Wayne be, besides grateful, for Steve Harrington's slightly confusing devotion to his kid?

He's snapped out of his thoughts when said maroon bmw pulls up in front of him. Steve is wearing a pair of wired glasses and his hair is all ruffled from sleep. Wayne opens the passenger door.

"You were waiting for forty minutes in the cold? Why didn't you call sooner?" Steve asked pushing up his glasses as Wayne closes the door quickly. And well... Wayne doesn't know how to respond to that.

"I- I shouldn'ta had to call you in the first place, Steve. I'm real sorry" Wayne says as Steve pulls the car out of park and starts driving back towards the trailer park. Wayne glances over at Steve waiting for the kid to say something. They sit in heavy silence until Steve breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Just... I know you're probably mad at Eddie but- but don't yell at him. He's barely sleeping so he really just needs the rest. It's not his fault." Steve ends on a whisper.

A tidal wave of different emotions rip through Wayne. Affection for Steve's caring nature, immense gratitude that Eddie has someone like Steve in his life, disbelief that Steve would say something like that after being woken at nearly 4 in the morning. Wayne was sitting and staring at the most selfless kid he'd ever met. Steve fucking Harrington.

"You should date my nephew."

Steves eyes widen and the car swerves.

"Uh- s-sorry- what?" Steve stammers.

"If I could choose someone for him, the best option out there, I'd choose you." Wayne says honestly, and he didn't even know he'd been thinking it until this moment. But it's so true. After so many heartbreaks over truly terrible men that Wayne could never see the appeal of, Eddie deserves someone like Steve. Steve face softens before checking to make sure Wayne was being sincere. Steve cracks a smile and chuckles to himself.

"What, you think I'm jokin'?" Wayne asks defensively.

"No sir! Not at all. It's just Eddie and I have been dating for months already. BUT- but- thank you for saying that! It means so much to me and truly Eddie's the best thing-"

"You- what?" Suddenly Wayne is embarrassed. Blushing. How'd he... how'd he miss that? And well, he did have a few moments where he thought the two of them were awfully close for a pair of young men, at least one of which who was openly queer, but they'd been through a lot together.

"Why did no one tell me?" Wayne asks turning his face away from Steve who is desperately fighting a huge grin and losing.

"We thought you knew. We sleep in the same bed every night."

"You do what now? Thought you were sleepin' on the floor" Wayne knows he sounds like the protective dad of a teenage girl and not the uncle to an adult man, but his world was just turned sideways. Steve laughs at that and adjusts his glasses before stopping at the red traffic light which almost immediately turns green because no one is out at this hour.

"Oh well. Good, I'm glad then." Wayne says after his mind has stopped spinning. "And call me Wayne already, you basically live at my house." He punches Steve lightly in the shoulder.

"Okay." Steve agrees quietly. He pulls into Forest Hills and stops the car in front of the Munson's place. "Mind if I just check to make sure he's okay before I leave? For peace of mind?" Wayne opens the door and steps out.

"Oh so now you're playing coy about sharing a bed? Just sleep here, kid" Wayne closes the door and heads towards the house. Steve jogs a little to catch up. When they open the door, the sound of an obnoxious alarm comes pouring out from the back of the house which concerns both of them. But when Steve hurries to Eddie's room he sees that the idiot had fallen asleep with music blasting in his headphones. Wayne stops the alarm as Steve gently tries to remove the headphones from his ears pausing the tape inside.

Eddie suddenly stirs and blinks up at Wayne and Steve looking down at him.

"'S going on?" He croaks, rubbing his eyes. Wayne and Steve share a look before Wayne chuckles and pats Steve on the back once before thanking him and wishing him a good night on the way out. After the door closes behind Wayne, Eddie looks back up at Steve. "What's going on baby? What happened?"

Steve slips into the bed and scoffs, fondly. He curls around Eddie and pulls him into his chest. Once they've settled, Steve pushes his fingers through Eddie's until they're all intertwined.

"Did you forget something, Bambi? Was there someone you had to pick up from work at 3 in the morning?" Steve whispers into his neck. Suddenly Eddie shoots up and dislodges Steve where he was leaning against him. Steve groans.

"Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit"

"Eddie it's okay c'mere. He's home now, it's all good babe." But Eddie just stares at the wall and pulls a hand through his hair. "No one is mad, just come back here. Let's sleep." And Eddie hesitantly lies back down.

"Did Uncle Wayne have to call you? I'm so fucking sorry Stevie." Eddie asks, sounding embarrassed.

"We had a nice conversation on the way home so it all worked out. You're okay. Sleeeeep."

And right before they both fall asleep, Eddie whispers, "Thanks Stevie, love you."

[cheriladycl01]

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 2

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

After you'd spent the week at home you travelled to France, you asked McLaren to set you in a different hotel from the other drivers. You found one that was cheaper and still within a decent distance from the race track.

Your sisters in your groupchat that didn't have your bothers in, had texted you telling you Lando was getting worried you wouldn't be showing up for this race. It was Thursday and normally drivers would come to the paddock for media duties but when he came it was just him doing stuff for the F1 YouTube and being pestered by the McLaren social media teams for content.

"Zac where is she, you guys wont tell me and I'm worried she wont be here for practice which starts in 20 minutes!" Lando asks Zac whose in sat in hospitality having a pre-race coffee.

"As far as I'm aware, she's already in her car getting ready for the practice session ... so I'd get yourself down there now so you can get a good time Lando" he smiles, Lando rushed to the garage Zac slowly trailing behind him, wanting to get to the garage to get a set of headphones and sit with the race engineers.

"Y/N can you hear?" you hear through your in ears.

"Loud and clear, let me know when i can leave the pit" you say shuffling down in your seat to test the pedals.

"Nico, the pedals are feeling a little stiff, its like there's no traction" you complain as your directed out onto the pit lane.

"Okay, just do a slow lap, testing the breaks and make sure the throttle is all okay. Then we'll see if we need to bring the car in quickly before a flying lap.

As you'd gone round on a normal lap, it was determined that there was an issue with the breaks, the minute you'd tried to do the flying lap your car had major under steer. You'd managed to keep it out the gravel but you had spun out. You were called back to the pits and only placed P16.

You slammed your wheel onto the bonnet, and the engineers all immediately started to work on your car. You talked with them helping them out.

You spied Lando's car in the corner of your eyes being pulled into his half of the garage.

"Y/N hey" he says jumping out the car pulling him helmet off.

"Kinda busy trying to fix this trash can of a car right now Lando, later" you say not even sparing him a glance. Grumbles come from the mechanics making you whisper an apology as they jokingly scowl at you.

Was it petty that you weren't speaking to your brother, yes.

Was it petty that you were trying to get him to have a spoon of his own medicine for the way he'd treated you in Azerbaijan, yes.

Were you going to stop right now? Nope!

"Oh, erm okay well I'm going to go grab something to eat before the next practice" he smiles.

"Cool" you nod a smile, before kneeling down pointing something out to the mechanic that didn't look quite right.

"I'll be back in a bit, will the car be ready for FP2?" you ask.

"Should be, just needs some greasing and tightening. Trust us you'll be flying out there in no time!" the head mechanic says and you smile nodding softly before walking out towards the rest of the motorhomes.

You walked past, shyly waving to the drivers she encountered. Sky had seen her but were already busy interviewing Christian Horner and Toto Wolff who were currently talking about the championship this year and Mercedes rough start to the season in Bahrain.

"Y/N?" a voice asks from a table outside the Red Bull hospitality.

"Oh! Max, hey how have you been" you exclaim crossing over the Sky cameras who unbeknownst to you followed you for later review. You pull him into a hug, happy to finally see someone on the grid who hadn't upset you in the last few weeks.

"I'm good but i think the actual question is, are you okay?" he asks rubbing up and down your arm.

"Yeah, I just don't really know how to even talk to Lando about all of this, he's never not been there for an achievement of mine up until now. The team's strategy was shit, and I got us more points passing Lando, i was on the fresher tires, I had DRS i don't understand why they wouldn't want me to overtake" you complain, you really genuinely couldn't understand it.

It wasn't like this in Formula 2.

"You'll come to learn, that people don't like being my team-mate because im golden boy. I was the hot shot that Horner took a gamble on and he won jackpot. It's never easy being the second driver on a team to a golden boy" he advises, making you look down tears in your eyes.

Is that all Zac thought of you? The secondary to your golden boy hot shot brother.

Well that just wouldn't fly, you'll show them that your made of more and that you are worthy of sharing the seat with your brother.

"You know, keep it up Schat, Horner's been keeping an eye on you. So have Mercedes and Ferrari" Max whispers leaning in and holding your waist. You gasp as he leans back looking at you nodding before wandering off and into the Red Bull motorhome.

You check your phone for the time seeing that you really should make your way back to the McLaren garage to see if your car is ready.

"We didn't talk" you hear from behind you and a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back to them.

Charles

"I don't want to talk to you Charles" you grunt shrugging his arm off.

"Why not?" he asks looking over you.

"I think you know why, just concentrate on FP2 Charles" you say, for the first time you see a sort of desperation in his eyes. It's almost as if he came here with the intention to say something to you, but he also doesn't want to admit it.

"Y/N... wait" he starts again but you continue walking. You manage to get back to the motorhome and see Lando sat in the hospitality, he was with his personal trainer Jon and then the performance engineer Jarv.

You walk past them and here Jarv say something to your brother.

"Go follow her, you need to sort this out before the race"

"She doesn't want to talk to me, I've tried" he groans as you wait behind the door just in earshot of them.

"You call earlier in the garage trying? Jheez man" Jon laughs before getting up and discarding of his food tray.

"Your right!" Lando sighs before jumping up to come and find you. You start to walk away so it didn't look like you were listening in to their conversation.

"Y/N, please can we talk" Lando says stopping you right by the coffee cart.

"Mmmmm"

"Look, I was terrible the other day. Your my twin and we've shared everything together. I- I'm sorry i wasn't there to celebrate with you. It's just annoying when Jon's telling me that you've been told not to go for the overtake and then you do. I see now that you taking over worked better for the team but i cant help but be upset" he tries but you look at him in shock, why on earth was he making this moment, this apology about him and how he was affected.

"How are you still making this about you?" you scoff.

"What what do you mean, I'm explaining why i wasn't there..."

"By saying that I've upset you, when I'm the person you've affected. Do you even know what they have been saying about me in articles because of this whole thing with you and Charles? I'm being told I'm a shit driver and i shouldn't have my seat and that my own brother and multiple other drivers agree... I'm being told im a danger to the sport and that I wont have a seat come next year!" you sigh, knowing that he had a right to be upset about you overtaking him, but it shouldn't be at you.

"I'm sorry, I know I ruined it. I should've celebrated with you! Its my fault" he says, before pulling you into a hug. You hug him back, your shoulders sagging into it. Your brother was always your other half, you guys were two peas in a pod. It broke your heart when he left you behind in F2 before going to F1 in 2019. So this year, being the first year that you were back driving with your brother it was special for you.

"It's not like I wont have other podiums to celebrate this year" you jab him making him laugh.

"Oh yeah, not if i have anything to say about it!" he jokes as you both start walking back to the garage.

"I'm still upset though, just so you know. But I forgive you" you smile as you both get back to the cars.

"Hey, how's the car looking?" you ask the people around your car.

"You'll be good to go, breaks are sorted and its looking good!"

And that was true, you came P3 in FP2.

You didn't have a good night sleep, thinking about Charles and how he's tried to talk to you today, how you'd made up with Lando, and you kept asking yourself if it was too quick. But what was in your mind the most was Max and what he'd told you and how he'd been so nice to you over the last few months.

FP3 the next day was worse and you came P10, which then set the mood for Qualifying, where you finished P10 which would mean that your are in the middle for starting the next day.

Lando was in P8 meaning he was directly in front of you, you were hoping you could get a slipstream from him, and overtake Fernando on the start.

By the end of the French Grand Prix you and your brother both simultaneously moved up 4 places ending with him in P5 and you in P6, Zac was happy as you'd managed to stir Ferrari and get ahead both of them.

You were walking to your car, when you notice a sleek Ferrari next to your McLaren and a familiar man leaning against it.

"Charles I really cant deal with this, the interviews have tired me out. I'll see you in Styria!" you say, clicking the keys to open your car.

"Y/N please I need to apologize" he says grabbing at you wrist again turning you round.

"Charles, look. I forgave Lando for not being at my podium and yelling at me, but you actively told me I didn't deserve my seat when i've had to work twice as hard for it than anyone on the grid. So to be told that its undeserved is horrible because this is all I've ever wanted..." you say tears brimming your eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'll think I'll regret this forever if I don't do this" he says before grabbing your cheeks with his hands, one sliding down to your neck before leaning in and placing his lips against yours.

You kiss back, it's more out of anger, you weren't sure why you actually kissed him back. After the initial shock you pulled away, your hand slipping in between you too to push him away.

"Charles what the hell" you shout, looking at him eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, but the reason I get so annoyed with you is because I've had a crush on you for years. At first I hated that you always were better than me, I got more aggressive and you were the safer driver back then, so you'd give me room let me pass. I knew I'd never have a chance with you, getting you attention was easier when I teased you, but i guess as i got older i got more sour at you, and how everyone seemed to adore you and grab your attention apart from me" he reasons now holding her wrist again.

"Charles, you cant, you cant do that" you cry.

"What, I cant admit what I've been feeling for you for years. Y/N please" he begs, the puppy eyes looking down at you as you shrunk yourself.

"What's going on over here" Max asks coming over looking between you and Charles, you turn away so that he doesn't see the tears in your eyes, wiping them with the sleeve of your orange McLaren rain jacket.

"Nothing Max" you say before turning back round smiling at the both of them.

"Come on Y/N. I know you better than that" Max said but you decided to stay silent.

"Is he bothering you again? Charles, just leave her the fuck alone. We spoke about this after Azerbaijan..." Max says pushing him away from you.

"Max don't! Its fine I promise, I'll see you both in Austria okay?" you say getting into the car. You sit there for a second, contemplating what the hell just happened before you realize both the drivers are still stood there watching you.

What. The. Hell.

A/N: I don't know if i like this, it feels like I made her and Lando make up too quickly, and Charles felt kinda quick. But for future ideas in this series, her and Lando making up now means room for more angst in the future *wink,wink*

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@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic

[poppy-metal]

omfg. art abusing the power he holds over his stalker is SOO. your insistence and pestering and creepiness give the impression of dominance, gives the impression of control. but art could do literally anything to you. could make you do anything. anything in the whole world. nothing was too depraved. and he knew that. you weren’t normal. you were troubled, deeply, deeply. but what did he want with normal anyway? maybe he wasn’t a normal guy either. maybe, with patrick ran off with tashi, he could have someone that was just his. he knew you would never even look at another man. you told him so yourself. and it made him infeasibly hard, knowing a girl with such a hot little body was so insane about him. you probably had no issue with men, but you just wanted him. so, being abnormal, he writes something back. tucks it in your favourite pocket in his gym bag, knowing you’ll find it.

artdonaldson@hotmail.com

write my name on your tits and show me in a video

okay now we're back to being depraved <3

its a risk. art almost feels guilty for being so...... short and demanding about it. about talking to someone that way. but then he remembers you're literally breaking the law and harassing him and you've sent him pictures of your fingers in your pussy - his guilt fades then. he's more on edge with anticipation. it takes you awhile to get back to him and he wonders if its a line you wont cross. if its some unknown boundary you have. he naws on his pen cap while he pours over an essay, an essay he should be writing, but hes not, he's thinking of you - as he often is these days. his knee is bouncing under his desk.

really, the reason you take awhile is because you're trying to find the perfect lighting. you dont want to have your hair in the frame, lest he be able to recognize it later on - you make sure you dont have any identifiable marks near your chest - nothing but a few beauty marks, nothing too distinct - then you spend half a day just debating on the kind of marker to use - what color. do you go the permanent route? but what if someone saw when you were changing and asked about it? using an easily washable one feels wrong though - his name on your skin going down the drain the very same day you'd marked it down..... it makes you frown. permanent it is, then. you'd just skip going to the gym this week. you choose blue for the color. like his eyes.

you have a whole setup in your dorm - a camera and a stand for it. you spend alot of time working on the angle - should it be super zoomed in? a little farther back? its different when its just a picture but a video.... you have to make it enticing. you cant just sit still.

you end up staring zoomed in - his name is written between the valley of your tits - the video shows you cupping your hands hesitantly under them, unsure. you imagine art watching you - you remember reading his note - losing your breath over the commanding tone behind it - he wants to see my fucking tits -

you get into it then - squeezing the flesh in your hands and you mute your sigh but it slips out anyway. the words on your chest - his name - morphs and expands as you jiggle your tits, squish them together to show the hard peaks of your nipples.

you drop your hands so he can see the bounce of your chest when gravity is involved. rub your thumbs over your hard buds and whine when you pinch of them - you imagine arts hands. his fingers pinching and twisting them - playing with you like a doll -

you can't stop playing with them - you get turned on, sticky between your legs - you hope he streaks his stomach in cum and thinks about covering your nipples with it.

when art gets the video sent over through email from an anonymous file - he tries briefly to see if he can track the ip, but you'd used some encrypted file that gets him nowhere. he sighs. he'd find you eventually. what he'd do when he did..... he didn't know. turn you in? end this? ask you out? kiss you? fuck you?

he opens the video and sits back. lets out an audible "fuck." when he sees your tits. his lips part and he doesn't even touch his dick for the first half, mesmerized by the sight of your tits. the hard little nipples. and his name..... art donaldson. his breath hitches.

he slips his hand into his sweats and fists his dick. it isn't enough. he has to lean over and fish through his drawer until he finds the fleshlight he'd bought a week ago - he'd never bought one before - his hand had always been enough - his pillow too when he was desperate. but it wasn't enough lately. especially with the pictures of your pussy.... he needed to feel pressure around his dick so badly. it burned under his skin until he was forced to cave and order a standard toy online.

it makes him flush with shame to place the plastic lips over the tip of his cock - but that shame pretty much floods out of him as soon as he puts his eyes back on his computer screen - watches your tits bounce - and sinks the toy down. his eyes roll back and his head falls back too, curls tumbling.

he works the silicone up and down his length while he watches you play with your tits - for him - he can hear the small little moans you let you and it makes his balls ache. fuck. hes so turned on. grips the toy and starts really fucking it up and down on his cock - shameless in chasing his pleasure now.

he wishes you were here. he wishes he was rubbing his cock all over your chest and into your hard nipples. he'd make you press them together for him - he'd make you rub them on his legs - on his chest - he'd demand them in his mouth - oh fuck he wants those nipples in his mouth. wants to suck and suck and suck and hear those moans in full volume.

when he cums - he paints the inside of his toy with it. twitching with the aftershocks.

already, hes thinking of what he can have next. of how much you're willing to give.

he kind of scares himself when he realizes how much he's willing to take.

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

okay okay okay something i saw that i havent seen anyone else talk about is the sequence of shots when sneeg gets dragged back in and "reprogrammed" (for lack of a better word while still missing information).

Just about everyone ive seen talk about how intense and revealing that scene is focuses on the shot with sneeg in the foreground and the puzzler in the background, and the majority of takes ive seen say something along the lines of "he's in shock, he knows something is wrong, and all he can do is stare at sneeg getting put back" but here's the thing: thats not it!!

it wasn't something i noticed till it ended - not really - but they weren't staring, they weren't in shock. They were paused.

The Puzzler is mid-comment, the victims were all still begging and sobbing, and ranboo has his hand on the controls with the carousel spinning- and then Squiggles popped up with only the message "Please hold." and everything goes silent. And then sneeg starts screaming.

We see the carousel stop, we see ranboo with their hand on the controls, and we see the Puzzler frozen in place with his mouth still open mid-remark. Even the Rats dont move. All of that is pretty quickly skipped over and forgotten as the focus is on sneeg's recapture, reprogramming, and reinstallment.

Then the shot that pulls the most attention, sneeg in the foreground and the puzzler in the background with the focus alternating between them. we see the producer that placed sneeg leave the set, then another shadow cross the scene, then a few more beats to allow the other producers to leave the set... and then everything comes back all at once.

The carousel starts moving again, the victims all start sobbing and begging all at once, the Rats continue to hop around, the Puzzler finishes his exclamation and moves away from the cage, and ranboo finally shifts his weight.

I wont pretend to know what exactly all of this means. However, i believe it shows exactly how much control Showfall Media has over the production so long as their "characters" have not broken free.

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

four | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You hadn’t realised moving right along your hemisphere would be enough to change the weather. The UK is cold and often rain-soaked, while Genovia has been nothing but sunny. It's a nice change, and the sun on your skin almost removes the insecurity of wearing a dress that isn’t yours. You feel pretty. You feel as yourself as you have in the days since this whole thing began. 

“Sorry,” James says, standing in the sunshine with his hands crossed primly behind his back, “you’re what?”

You sit up properly in the window seat. He deserves every ounce of respect that you can give him, he’s been nothing but caring and kind since you met. You almost regret your decision to leave, if only because you wont get to witness him and his nice friends. 

Who will be separated once again, your brain adds helpfully. Thanks to you. 

“I'm going home.” Your sketchbook is supple under your hands, a thick and expensive leather bending from the force of your squeeze.  

He has the most professional look on his face you've ever seen from him. “If you’ve forgotten something-”

“James,” you say. You'd said quite plainly only moments ago your intentions. “I can't be a princess.” You soften your tone. “I’m sorry.”

“You are a princess. By blood.”

Sleeping on it hasn't made it a truth that’s any easier to accept. You are biologically the daughter of the late Prince of Genovia. He was your father, and now he’s dead. It is agonising to think of, and so you can’t. You look down at the sketchbook pressed flush to your linen skirts, the fabric plain and yet gorgeously rendered. It’s the nicest thing you’ve ever worn. You wonder if they might let you keep it after you renounce your title. 

“I can't do this,” you say quietly. 

You’re ashamed of yourself, but you really can't do this. You cannot live through your life changing in such a huge way, you aren’t built for it; you've only just learned to function in your tiny flat on your equivalent uni course. You’re finally in a position, as lonely as it might be, where you feel okay with who you are. If you were to accept the task theyre trying to hoist upon you, become a princess, live forever in the limelight surrounded by a better breed of royal, it’ll destroy you.

“You can. Of course you can.”

You look up cautiously. James’ mouth is set in a line. He looked so pleased when he walked in, and he'd given you a compliment subtly and easy as breathing. You worry he wants to take it back now that you’ve thrown in the towel, but he’d never do anything so spiteful. And it’s silly —you’re thinking about a compliment while his life and job are teetering. 

It’s just one of the reasons you aren't cut out for this. 

“It’s your job to be a good judge of character, right? You read people,” you say tentatively. 

He nods. “Yeah. That’s how I know you can do this.”

You set aside your sketchbook and pencil, wringing your hands together as you stand. “You must see it, James. I’m not meant for this, I’m…” Weak, you won't say. There's no use in dramatics. You plaster a smile over your worrying and wear it like you're sure of yourself. “It will be better for everyone if I give up now.”

James looks over his shoulder. Upon his entry, the guard at your side had moved to the doorway to stand with Daniels, and so the room is empty besides the two of you. He takes a step toward you, and he drops his head noticeably. As if he could intimidate you when he's so so sweet. 

“It won't be better for everyone,” he says slowly. “Not for the people of Genovia, they need an heir to take the throne.”

“Julianna–”

“Julianna isn't eligible.” He shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain. But Genovia needs a queen, a good queen, someone with a good heart.”

Your heart leaps into your throat at the idea of ruling. “James, you don't even know me. I could ruin everything.”

“You said it yourself, Princess. I’m a good judge of character.”

You fall silent. You don't want to argue with him, you don't have even an ounce of malice for him. 

"You're a princess, you– you haven't even tried," he says pleadingly. 

You trick yourself into thinking James wants you to stay because he wants to be your friend. You know you're desperate for one. Back home, the closest you have to friends are the people who wait at the same bus stop each morning and each night, or your classmates at the college. James could be your friend, you know he would be if you stayed. He's remarkably kind. 

But James wants you to stay for a myriad of reasons. For Genovia. For his friends. 

"I just want to go home," you confess weakly. 

Heat rises to your cheeks and throat, a lump you can't swallow. 

"Okay," James says. "Alright." 

He nods at you, a picture of a perfect professional, and turns to leave. You open your mouth to say something, but you don't have a clue as to what, and by the time he's left the room you've drummed up nothing more than a pitiful, "James." 

You're part way to unexplainable tears when Remus appears. He looks startled at your expression, and you can't make any sense of it yourself, so you mumble, "Please don't ask." 

"Do you want a tissue?" he asks sympathetically. 

You shake your head. 

Remus looks unhappy again, as he had on the plane. His pale skin is nearly grey. You debate asking if he's doing okay, but you've just told him to leave you alone. You assume from his expression he'd prefer the same. 

"Do you want to come have some dinner with me?" he asks. 

"That's okay, I don't think I'll be in need of any etiquette training after all," you say. 

"As friends," he says. "Please. I don't like going down to the kitchen by myself, Marlene harasses me." 

Marlene, a dark haired, dark-eyed girl with a sweetheart shaped face and hands covered in tiny burns, does harass Remus, but not in the way you'd thought. 

"Eat up, Moony," she says, placing yet another plate in front of him, bringing the total up to ten. 

You sit thigh to thigh with him on a small bench set aside in a room just off the kitchens that says 'Staff Only' on the door. Despite this, no one has objected to your sitting down. At least, not yet. 

"Marlene, I physically cannot eat all this." 

"Ah, but the Princess will help." Marlene smiles at you. She seems genuine. "She needs to get used to our cuisine." 

You can't endure the awkwardness of explaining your situation. You smile 'til your eyes crinkle in the corners and take a big mouthful of some mysterious soup rather than speak. 

"Ah, Remus, we've been making bone broth for Her Majesty, it's supposed to do wonders for your heart," Marsha adds. She's the opposite of Marlene but no less beautiful, pale and blonde as cornsilk with fine eyebrows and translucent lashes. In the sun leaking in from the window, she's quite golden. "We can set you some aside whenever we make it for her, love." 

Remus smiles. "Thank you." 

Marsha and Marlene both sequester themselves again behind the huge silver ovens. You've never seen anything like it, a marvel of modern machinery in the industrial instrumentation that heats the room. The windows have been thrown open to combat the thick and fragrant air, but you're still sweating. 

"D'you need a drink?" he asks. 

"I can't get them." 

"Please, Princess. I don't need another person trying to take care of me." He doesn't say it spitefully, but you're sorry all the same. 

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to patronise you–" 

"I know," he says, standing up. "Trust me, I know. You're just being polite, because you're nice." He smiles. "I'll get us a carafe, okay?" 

A carafe. Of what? Do royals drink only from carafes? Is it weird to ask for a coke? You turn your gaze back to the rich foods that have been laid out in front of you and pick up a fork. Then, upon reflection, you swap the fork for the appropriate one, and finish the small portion of chicken ragù you'd set aside. 

"Ah-ha!" a familiar voice calls. "Y/N! Here you are. Is my Remus with you, or are you very hungry?" 

You twist on the bench to face him. "Your Remus?" 

Your question slipped out, really. Sirius grins and sits down to your right. "We have to talk funeral." 

"Oh. Alright." 

He clasps your forearm for a gentle second.

"Sorry. Truly. I'm so sorry for your loss. I promise I'll make this as easy for you as I can, okay? You'll be in the public eye, and I want to make sure you do nothing that anyone can fault you for." 

He has a strange mouth. Not ugly, a million miles from it, but unexpected. It pulls down into a grimace as he talks, his hand patting yours. 

"I won't have to speak, will I?" 

He shakes his head firmly. "No. All you have to do is look pretty and dress well. You're already doing the first part beautifully by yourself, and I will make sure you have plenty of options for the second part, yeah?" 

"Oh, hi, Sirius," Remus says, back with a carafe and two glasses.

"Hello," Sirius says, "did you get asked about the bone broth yet?" 

Remus sits on your other side and huffs. "Yes. Did you put them up to that?" 

"The opposite! I told them not to bug you about it because bone broth sounds a little…" 

"Old-fashioned?" 

"Inhumane." 

You laugh and fail to smother it with the back of your hand. It feels weird because it hadn't explicitly been a conversation involving you, but neither tell you off or give you a funny look. Remus laughs at your laughing and pours your drink for you, a pale orange liquid topped by slices of orange, blood orange and white flowers. 

You take a cautious sip. 

"Have you seen my darling James this morning?" Sirius asks Remus from behind you. 

"Not since he left my room."

You choke on your drink. Hands smashed to your mouth, juice drips down your arms and ruins the bodice of your dress, sticky orange and spit everywhere. The boys either side of you splutter in shock, though Sirius begins to laugh as Remus presses a tissue into your hands. 

"Are you okay?" Remus asks, patting your back. 

"I'm fine," you say hoarsely, wiping yourself down with impressive speed as the heat of embarrassment rises. 

"Something go down the wrong pipe?" 

You're honest by accident, extremely startled by your choking and the subsequent question, "I didn't know James and Remus– that you were– sorry, I was just surprised–" 

"Oh, no," Remus says, sounding almost as embarrassed as you now, "no, we aren't. I mean, he's my best friend. He's like my brother." 

"Oh," you say, squeaking, desperately hoping the ground will open up and eat you whole. 

"We aren't romantically involved," Remus says, and you get the sense that's where he plans to end this conversation. 

"Yet," Sirius whispers in your ear. 

Remus shakes his head at you solemnly. 

Desperate to get away from an awkward conversation despite Sirius' good humour, you stand up from the bench and duck your head at both of them. "Um, I'll just go get some paper towels. Sorry. For spitting." 

"Forgiven," Sirius says easily. 

You rush away from them both out of the alcove and into the main body of the kitchen. Heads turn as you walk, and some staff even take the time to incline their heads to you like a small bow, but you ignore them all and head straight for Marlene. She smiles when she senses your approach, full lips cherry red and shiny as she asks, "Is there something I can do for you, Your Highness?" 

"I'm so sorry," you begin, "I've made a mess, could I get some kitchen towel? Sorry." 

"Of course! Can I have someone come and clean it up for you?" 

"No, please, it's my mess, and you've been gracious enough to allow me in your space. I couldn't have anyone else do it." 

"It's really no problem," Marlene says, but she walks to the utility cupboard south of the huge pantry and produces a roll of kitchen towels for you. 

"Thank you." Then, because you might be leaving soon, and she should know, "I– I've never had so many nice foods at once. I can't cook, at home. Everything I eat is from a jar or a tin," —you cough, worried that was an overshare— "and it's nothing compared to all of this. You guys are amazing." 

Marlene's smile softens. You hadn't realised she was being diplomatic until genuineness welled to the surface of her expression, her eyes suddenly brighter, and her smile unrestrained. "We work hard, and we love what we do. Thank you, Your Highness."

You rub your lips together and nod. Spinning on your heel, you navigate out of the kitchen as quickly as you can without running clean into someone and return to the staff alcove, where Remus and Sirius sit with their heads together, in the middle of a conversation you can't hear. 

You hesitate a few steps away. Remus smiles widely, so widely his face changes completely, and Sirius' hand drifts to his elbow. His thumb presses into the crook, and they both giggle together like kids. You're paranoid that they're laughing at you, and wondering how you could think for even a second that Remus was sleeping with James, when Sirius tucks his hair behind his ear and says, "I can't believe we're finally in the same place again." 

You back away. Not sure what to do with yourself, not sure if what you've already done is the wrong thing. You're guilty, and you're afraid of making the wrong choice, having already made it.

A hand pats your shoulder. 

"Sorry, Mikkelson," you say. 

It's not Mikkelson. James' hand lingers on your shoulder for a half second before he takes a step back. 

"Walk with me?" he asks. 

—

James takes you out to the Palace Gardens. You insist on walking side by side, and he agrees for the most part because here is where you're best protected.

"I'm sorry for leaving so suddenly. I had something to do. How are you feeling?" 

"How am I feeling?" you ask softly. "I don't…" 

"You had some very big news yesterday. So, how are you feeling?" 

You squint in the sun. James supposes you aren't used to it, considering you'd been living in one of the rainiest cities in the UK, which is one of the greyest countries in the world. 

"I feel fine," you say. 

Truth or lie. Probably a lie, but James can't call you out on it, considering your relatively new relationship. A professional relationship at that, the lines of which he has already crossed multiple times. 

He can't help it. You're not weak, you aren't in need of his protection for lack of character —you're quite obviously very brave considering the insane pressure of your situation. Brave, but it's James' job anyhow to be your shield. 

You get this look on your face like you're deep in thought, he's seen it every day since he met you five days ago, and it reminds him of his melancholy friends. He wonders how he's going to get rid of it. 

"I've spoken to our Palace doctor." Even though it is not his job, James seems to have taken on the majority of your care. Your lady in waiting has yet to arrive, and Sirius is rather busy arranging your presence at your father's funeral (and hounding Remus, having missed him dearly). "She would love to have an appointment with you, to assess you, and to adjust for your medical needs. But it's not the physical that I'm concerned about, it's your head." 

"My head." 

"Yes. I would love for you to talk to a counsellor, or a therapist while you're here." 

"What's the point?" you ask sincerely. 

"Your father has passed away," he says. "That takes a toll." 

"I didn't even really know him." You speak so softly to him, like you're worried your voice will disrupt the summer air. 

"I know. That doesn't always make it easier. I want you to experience the compassion and care that you deserve, that's all. If you don't want to talk to anyone, I understand. But if you'll humour me, I'd appreciate it." 

"When… do you want me to see her?" 

"The doctor?" James winces at his own surprise. "You can see her whenever you want to. She's completely at your discretion." 

"Oh, okay. Well, when is best for her?" 

James doesn't smile, but he wants to. "I believe she goes home to pick up her son at six. So before then would probably suit her best. But she's on call twenty four hours a day and paid well, I promise." 

"Okay. Um. Well, how do I do that? Make an appointment, or?" 

"I can make it for you. Or Sirius can."

"I can't make it myself?" 

"No, you can. Do you want me to call for someone to get her? Or you can ask the phone to connect you?" 

You stop walking at your slow pace and turn your body to the beds of flowers lining the path. Small and dainty flowers much like a Californian wildflower bloom contained to rows. 

"Would you mind doing it for me?" you ask. You sound shame-faced. 

"No, I wouldn't mind. When do you want to see her?" James asks. 

"Not today, please. Maybe tomorrow." 

James makes a mental note to ask you about it tomorrow. She really is on call —there's no need to make an appointment. But there's also no need to correct you and no need to worry about it now. 

"The Prince, may he rest in peace, will be buried in five days. You're sure you don't mind staying until then?" He doesn't want you to leave, but the memory of your plea twists his guts. I just want to go home.

"I–yes. Of course. I owe it." 

James doesn't know about that. But the Prince never did any harm to you, though he never made any efforts to take care of you, and so it won't hurt for you to attend. Still…

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. I know that Lily and Emmeline stressed that your presence was desired, but that's political. It's the image of the country, of our country. And the UK, who's royal family, as you know yourself, are deeply embroiled in scandal and, ah, what's thought to be empty rhetoric." 

You're starting to look rather frazzled. James decides to pull back his professionalism a touch. 

"Genovia protects the image of the Royal family because they've seen how ire builds in other countries. Deserved ire. They want it to seem as though you are cohesive, cooperative, and not–" 

"A secret." 

"Yes. If you'd gone to Oxford, they would've lied," —he shouldn't be saying this, for the record— "and said you'd been extradited for your safety. Or spun some tale about a normal childhood." 

"But I'm a drop out who lives in a one bedroom flat." 

"Yes." He watches the side of your face. Your eyes are glued to the flowers and unwavering. "I don't think there's any shame in that." 

"Thanks," you mumble. 

You don't believe him. He doesn't mind. He has plenty of time to convince you of your worth. 

"Would you like to pick some of the flowers?" he asks. 

"I don't want to ruin anyone's hard work." 

"They won't mind." 

You crouch down, reaching for the flowers. Your fingers weave through the dark stems of gorgeous purple and pink flowers, their colours so marvellously vibrant yet their shapes elegant enough to suit. You choose a purple flower with white edges and pick it gently. After a moment, you pick a second. 

You stand, holding the flowers between your thumb and forefinger. 

You clutch your flowers like small lifelines as he walks you back into the palace. You worry audibly about the location of your new sketchbook, and don't seem to like it when one of the guards who'd been watching you this morning seamlessly removes himself from a wall with the book in hand. 

James asks you what you want to do and you don't know. You aren't hungry, you aren't in the mood for movies or music and it might seem disrespectful for you to be seen at the theatre —not that James thinks you would spend much time there anyhow. You don't want to do anything at all, so James suggests that you retire to your private quarters and have some time to yourself. 

He takes up station by the door, listening to the dull scratching of your pencil for a good hour. He wonders if, occasionally, you're talking to yourself: there isn't much to go off of, the suggestion of your voice rather than the reality. You could be humming. You might be clearing your throat. 

An hour later and there's silence. 

James pulls his radio from his shoulder. Guarding you when you aren't up for talking is, unfortunately, rather dull. And he worries what it is you're upto; quiet is indicative of absence. 

"Sirius?" he asks the radio. 

Sirius does not often wear a radio, and he has his pager even less. It's a wonder he gets anything done. 

"James?" Remus asks, his voice crackling over the channel. 

"Hey, is Sirius with you?" 

"He's not. He's assembling a potential funeral wardrobe for Her Highness. Do you want me to go look for him?" 

James almost laughs. "I have people for that. Mikkelson?" 

He can practically hear Mickey's groan at being picked on before the man picks up his radio and says, "Yeah, sir?" 

"Find Mr. Black, won't you? Thank you." 

Hoping Sirius is on his way, James knocks your door. 

He, professionally (and he is trying so hard to be a professional), should call you Princess or Your Highness. But both titles make your skin crawl now that they're fact, so he opts for neither. 

"Are you alright in there?" he asks. 

You don't answer. James sighs and eases open your door. He wouldn't usually, not every silence is ominous, and your privacy is a right, but your safety is the priority and at the moment you're a high level target whether James agrees with that assessment or not. If he were to ignore protocol, and you were annihilated, he would go to prison for a long, long time. 

You're asleep at the desk. 

James is honestly surprised. It can't be comfortable, and your bed is probably one of the comfiest in the world with a state of the art orthopaedic mattress and duck-down pillows and quilts. What's worse, your desk chair is solid wood and likely fifty years old. The crick in your neck and the damage to your back will be extraordinary. 

And yet, it isn't James' job to wake you up. 

Professionally, James should leave. He should go back to his posting at the door. He has no need to wake you. 

You're frowning in your sleep. When you wake, he imagines you'll have graphite rubbed into your cheek. 

James sighs and leaves the room. 

"You wanted to see me?" Sirius asks, sounding spritely as he walks down the hallway toward him. 

"Hello," James says, and if they were in school he would stand up from a slouching pose against the wall and collect Sirius into a bear hug, slapping his back, maybe pulling a lock of his hair while saying something flirtatious. 

He stands at rigid attention. 

"Drop the stance, my love," Sirius says. James snorts. "There's no one here to see you." 

"It's not the point." 

"I know. What did you want? I'm quite busy." 

"Could you start carrying your pager, please? Or better, a radio? Then you wouldn't have to cross the entire building to find me." 

"You could've called me?" Sirius suggests. 

"I don't have a phone while I'm working." 

"Well, that's silly."

"I was…" He lowers his voice. "I'm worried the Princess is lonely." 

"Then go talk to her." 

"I can't. You know as well as I do that the point of my being here is to protect her to the best of my ability, and that requires an unaffected point of view. I can't give her my full attention while giving her safety my full attention, that doesn't add up." 

"Then grab a couple of other men and then go speak to her." 

"This is my job, Sirius. I'm paid to do this." 

"Not paid to make sure she's in company," Sirius says. He smiles at James like he's won the argument and James, brimming with brotherly affection, wants to chop him in the stomach. 

"Her mental health–" 

"Yes, I know. Just as important as physical. And while you wear the badge with pride, James, it still isn't your job." Sirius leans against the wall opposite. The hallways here are huge. It is quite the gap. "I was thinking I'd make her an appointment with Cindy." 

"She said she'll make one tomorrow." 

"Oh, brilliant. You know, Cindy's getting a divorce?" 

"I didn't know that," James says. "How do you know that?" 

Sirius taps the side of his nose before crossing his arms tightly across his chest, looking smug. "She's very single now, Jamie. And very pretty, she's a redhead." 

"Sirius…" 

Sirius stands, stretches and meets James at your doorway. "Okay, fine, I can see you're not in the mood." 

"It's not because of you." 

"I know that, thanks," Sirius says, stepping on James' steel-capped boot as he pushes past him. 

"Sirius–" 

Sirius pulls his hand back from your door handle. "What?" he asks.

"She's sleeping. Try to wake her nicely." 

"If she's sleeping, why does she need company?" 

James nods toward your door insistently. 

Sirius does as he's being asked because he's a sweetheart with entirely too much time for James, despite also being on the clock. James can't see anything from his position, but he can hear your conversation. 

Sirius lets himself into the room. He likely shakes your shoulder with care as he says, "Princess Y/N, poor darling, are you alright?" 

"Sorry," you say scratchily. Here James thinks you might've lifted your head and discovered the crick in your neck. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I supposed to be somewhere?" 

"No." There's an unmistakable fondness in Sirius tone, hiding just beneath the practised facade that comes with working for Royalty. "Do you want me to help you into bed? Or call for an attendant?" 

"No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… Sorry. What did you need?" 

"I have some clothes picked out for you to wear to the funeral proceedings. I want your opinion, but I don't need it right now. You can go back to bed if you like." 

"No," you say. James feels for you. No, no, no. "I can do whatever you need me to." 

"Why don't you freshen up, first? James stole you at dinner, I'll go have him order something sweet to the fitting rooms, alright?" 

"Yes. Thank you." 

"You're welcome."  

Sirius emerges from your room and gives James an elbowing. "You could've woken her up. You're not heartless." 

"I'm technically not allowed in there if she doesn't permit me." 

"She doesn't know that, and I'm sure she'd prefer a wake up call than to be left like that." Sirius rubs one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Sorry, I'm not shouting at you. But I really don't think you need to worry about permission and not speaking to her. She's not Julianna," his voice drops to a murmur, "she doesn't think she's above us." 

"I don't care if she does," James says honestly. Not because he thinks you should feel superior, but because he learned a long time ago that people do, and there's nothing he can do to stop it. "Mary's back tomorrow. If she catches even a whiff of how I've been behaving–" 

Sirius holds James' gaze. "Poor girl had pencil on her face." 

"Yes." 

"They're going to eat her alive." 

"Probably." 

"But we won't let them," Sirius says. 

"Not willingly." 

Sirius nods. "Are you coming with us?" 

"Yeah." He checks his watch. "Couple hours left yet 'til six. Are you off at the same time?" 

"No, are you kidding? I finish at three like a normal person." 

"That's not normal. Ever heard the phrase nine to five?" 

"Normal compared to the royals, who work never to never." 

James shushes him. Sirius shushes James back. 

"Are we ready to go?" you ask. 

James grins at the shock on Sirius' face, as if to say, What, you didn't hear her? Even though he'd barely heard your approach himself. A picture of politeness, Sirius ushers you down the hallway with him. 

You trek down onto the first floor, through the huge foyer and into the main section of the palace hiding behind the grand banquet hall. Here resides the fitting rooms, not too far from the servants quarters in case the tailors or maids are required. 

Sirius calls for an attendant despite the horror on your face at the suggestion as he leads you into the biggest fitting room. It's almost like a shop, in that it houses racks upon racks of clothing no doubt loaned in for Sirius' perusal. 

He drags a smaller rack to the centre of the room. 

"How do you feel about trying things on? Do you need a partition?" Sirius looks at you for a few seconds. "I'll call for one." 

You look like you've been slapped. 

James clears his throat. "He knows you're shy," he says. 

You take that much better. "Yeah. I do want the partition. Please." 

James weighs up the possibility of your possible murder and decides the chances are still too high to offer to leave. He truly won't be able to see you behind the partition, and it's not worth the administrative hell in any case. He hates how his job makes him constantly aware of how you might be murdered, but he likes knowing he could protect you with force. It evens out. 

"A fancy education may have helped me be where I am today, but it doesn't account for style or taste." Sirius smiles, propping himself on the arm of a suede armchair. "Which is my saying that you don't have to like what I like, and if you hate stuff just say. I won't be offended, Your Highness." 

"Please, no Your Highness," you murmur. 

"James says I dress like a socialite with too much money and not enough taste." 

"I do say that," James says.

You laugh under your breath. "Well, I'm sure you've better taste than me. I've never been to an event like this, I don't want to embarrass myself, so, um, don't let me." 

"I won't," Sirius says. 

Sirius understands the fashion tastes of the elite even if he doesn't personally enact them. He passes you an outfit, and you disappear behind the propped up partition to change. With the windows closed and the curtains drawn, only the overhead light is in play, and your shadow is reflected onto the floor to the left. James averts his eyes. 

You try on a couple of outfits. James tries very hard to look as though he's not paying attention to your squirming unhappiness at the fit and look of your clothes. You get more and more embarrassed as time moves forward. The attendant Sirius summoned, a tailor named Melinda, offers suggestions of alterations and what she thinks would suit your silhouette most. 

"Do I have one?" you ask.

"A silhouette?" Melinda asks, a push pin in between her teeth. "Sure you do." 

"My stomach–" 

"Is that a problem area?" Melinda asks. 

"I thought so–" 

"If you're worried, we can find something that fits the to the chest and loosens at your abdomen," Sirius says, "but I don't think you need to worry." 

James agrees. You aren't skinny and James isn't stupid, he knows the immense stigma surrounding your body type must have battered your self-esteem growing up, but he thinks you're pretty and that you've a lovely shape to you. The idea that you have to hide certain body parts when there's nothing wrong with them in the first place has him biting his tongue, wanting to comment and knowing he definitely should not. You've looked nice in everything you've put on, smart and proper for an unfortunate event. 

"I don't know," you mumble. 

Sirius has amazing crisis averting senses, having micromanaged a spoiled narcissist for years. You don't require nearly as much petting or fawning, and you aren't throwing a tantrum either way. 

"Let's finish for today," he says. "We can look at everything with fresh eyes, and I'm off at three."   

James cringes and Melinda looks at him like he's grown a second head; you don't mention the end of a shift in front of the royals. He knows this, and he knows that you don't know this, so Sirius is absolutely pushing his luck. You're a thoughtful girl —you immediately agree. 

Though that might be on account of how you look like you've been thrown a life raft. "Okay, thank you," you say, beginning to put clothes back on their hangers. 

Sirius waves you away. "Leave some work for the rest of us, Your Sweetness." 

Again, second head. 

James opens the door and takes you back through the maze of the Palace before Sirius can commit a sackable offence. You're as quiet as you've been all day, your footsteps the only proof that you're present as you climb the steps to the second floor. 

Professionalism, James thinks. 

"I think you looked nice in everything," he says. 

The opposite of professionalism. Oh, he could vault over the bannister. 

He just wanted to see you smile today, a real smile, or at least hear something sure in your voice that proves he's made the right decision. That you won't be totally miserable if he convinces you to take on the mantle. 

"Yeah?" you say, though you don't give him any time to answer. "I don't– I don't want to look good for a funeral, it's a funeral, but I know it'll be on TV, and maybe in the newspapers, so I don't want to be badly dressed and I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to even like…" You nibble your lip for a while before heaving a big sigh. "Sorry, I'm doing this again, I'm giving you jobs that aren't your job." 

"It's relatively easy to tell you that you looked good. It's not a job." 

"You don't have to comfort me, is what I mean." 

"That's also easy… and it will definitely be in the newspapers. For a long time."

"Oh, sugar." 

James holds his hand out as you trip up a short step, but you don't fall, and you don't need his offered help. He tucks his hand behind his back again and follows your lead. 

"Newspapers, the news in general, people, they can all be very, very horrible, but I think the focus will be on your DNA, rather than your outfit. I mean, the gossip rags and tabloids will absolutely pick you apart, but they do it everybody, and I won't let you read those." 

People are cruel. They don't even realise it. 

"Whatever outfit you choose, you'll look good, and people will hate it anyway," he says. 

"That sounds awful." 

"It is. But… they can't stop you from being you. It's better to do what you want to do without worrying about how it'll look to everyone on the outside. You should do what you think is right." 

Okay, he's not exclusively talking about clothes anymore, but his point stands. 

"What if I look like an idiot?" you ask him quietly. 

"You'll look like an exceedingly well-dressed one." 

A sharp veer. Even the word 'professionalism' is starting to annoy him. 

"Don't stress, yeah? We'll work it all out tomorrow." 

You rub your elbow as the two of you approach your room again. "Thanks, James." 

He's on a knife's edge here. Break the rules and face Mary's wrath. Stick to them blindly and drive you further and further from the crown. 

James, selfishly, needs you to want this. And if you need a friend, a real friend, to do that, then he can toe the line. He decides it right there on your door jam.

"Princess," he says, "I have to talk to you about something." 

"Okay… what is it?" 

"When you go home, I'll be coming with you." 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, I’d love it if you let me know <3 also sry the next part should hopefully be delivered faster lol

[imwetforyourmom]

eyes dont lie.

summary: y/n and matt are friends with undying love for eachother, but they wont say anything until y/n notices something about the way matt looks at her.

warning: fluff, kissing, swearing, confessing of love, friends to lovers, fem!reader

ok bby lets get on with this

~

matt stared at y/n from across the room, taking in how beautiful she looked just sitting there and laughing with her friends, they way her eyes crinkled when she smiled and laughed, her smile lines showing but only enhancing how much happier she looked, her eyes lighting up when someone cracked a joke or said something she liked to talk about or was interested in.

a small grin crossed onto his features just looking at how beautiful the girl was — the girl whom he called a friend, knowing he felt so much more than a friend should.

he could only look at y/n for a few moments before her eyes trailed from her friends to his. she couldn’t help but look at him every few minutes, but she wasnt expecting to see his eyes on hers aswell.

she stared into his eyes, watching closely as a pink blush scattered onto his cheeks and his pupils dilated a bit.

his breathing faltered, feeling small under her gaze. even from across the room.

he suddenly felt hot, he swallowed and broke the intense eye contact. he quickly looked to a wall and concentrated on his breathing, trying to think about anything else other than the intense eye contact that just went down.

he stood up abruptly and walked out of the room, leaving y/n watching him. she excused herself from her friends, claming she needed to use the restroom.

she quickly followed matt, without matt knowing she gained speed and grabbed his arm.

he whipped his head around to look at the person whom had just grabbed his arm. his breath hitched in his throat when his eyes laid on the girl he had a massive crush on, just couldnt tell.

“matt.” she spoke, not in a stern way. but in a rather calm state of tone, knowing she would need to keep herself calm for the next few moments.

“ive seen the way you look at me.” she said quickly after, matts eyes widened and his lips parted as he thought about what his next words would be.

“what way?” he decided on. y/ns lips formed into a small smile as she stared at him, acting oblivious although she could see right through him.

“dont act stupid. I can see your pupils go heart shaped when you look at me. eyes dont lie.” she chuckled, taking a step closer to matt.

he took in a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“its okay matty. I like you too.” y/n spoke for him. matts cheeks went a light pink as he stared down at her, her words finally processing in his brain.

he squeezed his eyes shut taking in a breath, before opening them again and putting his hands on her neck, he pulled her towards him and pressed his lips onto hers.

(yall idek if thats a proper ending but I lowk love it idk ab yall tho)

562 words.

tags

@luverboychris @luvsturns @meg-sturniolo

[kwaanie]

"the taste of a kiss"

bff!yang jungwon x fem!bff!reader

wc: 900, fluff & tiny tiny angst, just idiots inlove but theyre too much of an idiot to realize, not proofread

your friendship with jungwon has crossed several lines over the years. i mean youve been friends since you both were in diapers — it was bound to happen, right?

many people have told you before that this wasnt normal ; friends dont pay so much attention to the other ones laugh, friends dont ditch their dates in favor of hanging out with one another, friends dont get jealous of the other hanging out with someone else

and friends especially dont ask to kiss their friends on the lips

"im sorry, what?"

the stunned face jungwon wore brought heat to your cheeks, making you not want to repeat the words youve suddenly uttered. ".. can you kiss me?"

you didnt think it was an unusual request! — after all you had a totally valid reason

"its just so i dont embarrass myself with my future significant other, thats all!" right, totally a valid and very true reason

it isnt like youre trying to find an excuse to kiss your best friend.. totally not

"mhm, yeah no." he concluded, going back to phone while successfully hiding the way his cheeks were turning cherry red

with a small huff, you sat by his side at the couch — practically melting into his side as you clung to his arm like a koala. "wonnie-ah, please? with a cherry on top?"

"you dont need to know how to kiss because you wont be with anyone anytime soon" he replied half-heartedly, trying to cover up the shakiness of his voice

jungwon has practiced the art of deceiving with how its become second nature for him to lie over his true intentions ; like he doesnt want to kiss you, be with you

"okay, rude! didnt need to call me out like that" the banter brought a small chuckle from jungwons lips — slightly easing the tension that has built since the beginning of this conversation

"just indulge me for today, will you? pretty please?" you gave your best puppy eyes. jungwon scoffed as he shook his head lightheartedly, "when have i never indulged you?"

you rolled your eyes with a small smile. "alright you got me! whats adding another favor to the list"

the room went quiet as you watched jungwon ponder over your request — youve never seen him this serious before. sweat was slowly building up at your nape, the hands clutching the sleeves of his sweatshirt suddenly becoming too clammy for your liking.

"i-if you really dont wa-"

"fine, ill do it."

honestly, you really werent expecting him to agree to this at all. "uhh- are you sure? won-ah i was just joking around! .. kind of! you dont have to-"

"but i want to" he replied without a thought. jungwon seemed to realize how eager he mustve sounded and his confidence disappeared in a snap — immediately reverting back to his previous nervous demeanor

too busy keeping his composure, jungwon failed to notice the way the four simple words affected you — your lips have parted from surprise and your heart suddenly skipped a beat

you were brought out of your daze when jungwon held his finger in front of you. "you owe me for this, by the way" the furrow of his brow pulled a small laugh from you as you nodded your head. he seemed satisfied with your response

"so how do we go about thi- oh!" jungwons hands found purchase around your waist as he pulled you even closer to him than before, your hands landing on his shoulders — seeking for something to hold onto

from this view — you could see every little imperfections of his that you adored ; the subtle glow of his skin, and the tinted lips of his youve always daydreamed about — whether or not it was as plump and soft as it looked

today — youll finally find out

jungwon caught your wandering gaze unbeknownst to you. feeling encouraged, one of his hands cupped your cheek as he brought you impossibly closer — tilting your head up to meet his eyes

suddenly, everything felt like it was on slow notion. jungwons hand slowly slid to the back of you head as he leaned further into your space. you can feel his breath lightly grazing your skin — your noses barely an inch away

jungwons hooded eyes were drawn to the plush of your lips, his tongue poking out to wet his own. the simple act was all it took for you to move first to connect yourself together

the feeling of his lips on your own felt surreal. it felt like two puzzle pieces finally becoming one. it was slow, soft, and utterly perfect. like your lips were moulded for one another

it felt like hours before you pulled away. a giggle erupted from you when jungwon followed, already missing your touch — like a moth drawn to a flame. both of you were cherry red after the realization actually hit

youve just kissed your best friend. on the lips. for real

uncertainty filled the room at the question of what now? how will this affect your friendship?

you cleared your throat and uttered the words that broke jungwons heart. he thought maybe he had a chance now — you seemed to have both liked the kiss so maybe- just maybe he ...

"this is just practice? right won-ah? it wont change anything between us"

maybe he didnt have a chance afterall

© kwaanie — reposting/editing/copying is strictly prohibited !

[mysticficti0n]

All my attention Part 4

warnings- swearing, drinking, sexual tension, romance, fighting?

words- 3.8k

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... well, sorry this part has taken a while- I'm on holiday atm so I probably wont be posting till I'm home BUT I didn't want you to be without, also fucking thank you all so much for the response to the first and second part and now third! I can't believe the response to it, I could've cried because im a baby , love you all

(P.s- this one is shorter and shittier, I've not had much free time so this was written between 2 days- so I'm sorry I promise once I'm home they will get much better and saucy 😉)

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backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

"okay rock, paper, scissors who goes first" I smiled turning to him, we balled our fists up and chanted "rock, paper, scissors" Tom held rock and I was paper "YES!" I cheered

"yeah well done" Tom cooed dramatically, I looked around and Tom put his hands back onto my legs fiddling with my anklet I forgot I had on and finally something caught my eye

"eye spy with my little eye something beginning with C" I spoke seeing his eyes dart around the car and out the window

"case?" I shook my head "cigarets?... car?... cap?.... your erm.. cardigan!?" I laughed seeing him become annoyed so easily "how hard can it be... is it in here?"

"yes it is- all around us in fact" Tom's brown eyes widened at my words and he carried on looking

"crisps?... OH Carpet!" he finally called to which I clapped my hands "thats such a shit one" he moaned

"so why did it take you 6 try to get it Thomas?" I asked eyeing him slightly

"shut up- alright erm.. eye spy with my little eye... ah... something beginning with B" he smiled looking at me

"Books?... bottles?...bags?....Bill?.... bandage?... bracelets?... is it in or out?" Tom blew at my words

"sorry what? in or out?"

"yes in the car or out the car!?" he oh'ed at me with a smirk forming on his face

"in" with a nod I carried on looking, I couldn't see anything beginning with B and I began to give up "wanna another clue?"

"yes because I don't have a fucking idea" I grumbled

"its living" my eye squinted seeing Tom laugh at me

"no I give up what the fuck begins with B and is 'living'?!" I called slamming myself back into my seat

"bassist" he purred looking back at a sleeping Georg

"we're not playing eye spy anymore" I spoke turning away from him and looking out the window

"oh come on!" Tom pinched "I'll make it easier" I turned back and saw his eyes look softer, a pout forming on his lips "please" he whined

"can't we just spend time together?" I asked pouting like him

"go fuck yourself Y/n" the guitarist huffed shoving my legs off his lap "I wanna play a game!" angrily he crossed his arms like an annoyed toddler and sunk deeper into the chair, I sat up straight and leant towards him, close to the shell of his ear

"we can play when were home Tommy" I whispered gently to him, his posture became more stiff and he tucked his lip between his teeth, our eyes met and for a long moment we stayed still just staring

"is that a promise?" he spoke back giving me a shiver down my spine, a serious blush colouring my cheeks, I always try have the upper hand when we 'flirt' but I always melt at his words

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I woke up to the feeling of being unbuckled out my seat, my eyes parted to see a smiling black haired boy who was whispering something "oh you're awake, were home sleeping beauty" he let go and moved to be out the way, I looked out to see the sky a beautiful purple and pink then... my home

the orange brick and small patterns in-beaded in the concrete (this is what I'm basing it off, I know its says luxury but I just like the outside look of it! ) and the white windows, it was a refreshing sight, I saw all our bags outside the front door and I practically ran up, I passed Gustav who was looking at the flowers that bloomed around the drive, I opened the door and saw the hall I remember running down as a child and all the family pictures decorating the place "MOM! WERE HOME!" I called listening to where her voice would come from

"OKAY COME OUTSIDE, BRING THE BOYS!" she shouted back, I went and gathered the other 4 and brought them threw the house we all knew to well, we went right through and saw our families chatting and drinking wines, beer and small snacks were laid out "oh my darlings, how was your drive?"

"Long we got stuck for fucking ages" Bill cursed grabbing a beer "happy to be home" we all agreed and grabbed ourselves a beer, cheering them all together and taking a swig, I looked out to the garden seeing my sister in her little house playing with my dad and Gustav's and then our trampoline

"hold this" I spoke to Georg who grabbed my bottle, I took off down the garden and climbed onto the metal and started jumping seeing everyone watching me "Hi Stella!"

"Hi hi Baba!" she waved giving me a gummy smile as she watched me bounce up and down

"Y/N YOU'RE 17!" Simone called

'AND WHAT!" I shouted seeing her laugh, then Bill tapped his brothers shoulder and came down the steps to me and got on the trampoline, we bounced each other laughing as one went higher than the other, soon Gustav joined, then Tom and then finally Georg and soon we were making everything a competition "I CAN GET HIGHER!" I called as everyone jumped shooting me into the air "AHHH HOLY SHI-" I screamed as I came back down, we played crack the egg and alligator and gazelles but then my dad came and pulled us off

"we have guests, they've come to see you all- so behave and grow up will ya" he warned as we all rolled our eyes "ah- say it"

"yes sir" we all groaned walking back up into the house seeing our parents hugging someone "who is it?" Gustav asked grabbing his beer again

"dunno" Bill spoke trying to see over the group "looks like a women?" I thought to myself but came to no avail

"Y/n, Bill, Tom you remember Scarlett and her family right?" my mom asked bringing a women forward, she had dark brown hair and very fair skin, I looked to the twins who like me had no clue

"erm.. yea of course, Scarlett lovely to see you" Tom spoke first sticking his hand out with a fake smile

"oh Bill! look how grown up you are" she pulled the wrong twin into a hug

"oh no thats Bill, this is Tom" my mom laughed patting the taller twins shoulder

"oh I'm sorry boys- you look so similar!" I watched as the two eyed each other, with their totally opposite style that they've had since the late 90's you'd think people could differentiate the two

"ah yeah" Tom replied as the women hugged his brother

"and Y/n you look so different, what happened to your hair? and you have so many ear pricing! and you have boobs!" she chuckled giving me a hug

"yep- comes with being a girl" I spoke awkwardly "oh and this is Gustav and Georg" the lady waved to them to which the two smiled "how are you anyways" I asked trying to redirect the conversation

"good good, moved house, re-married left that cheating fucker I called my husband- 5th marriage now" Scarlett grinned making us go wide eyed "but you know, me and Benson and Zach, my youngest son who I don't think you've met tried to get tickets to your concerts, I remember how you 4 used to be amazing friends but obviously went different paths.. well actually- Benson doll come here, come say hi!" my eyes went to the two boys who shrugged not remembering a Benson, soon a tall-ish blonde boy with blue eyes stepped forward "no- get your brother- they don't know you" she hurried making me cringe slightly for the boy who frowned

"its alright if he's busy scar, they can say hello later" my mom smiled placing her hand on Toms arm

"no no- ah here you are, remember-"

"holy fuck" I spoke seeing the boy, well now man. Very tall, black haired, freckled faced, green eyed boy who I remembered being a awkward, snotty, weird little kid "ben?"

"Y/n god its been years" he spoke, his voice was deeper and rougher "Bill, Tom" he shook their hands and the two smiled remembering our old friend, he moved to me hugging me

"you've changed dude" Tom laughed staring at him

"I know, I thought I should make something of myself, I mean I look at you three and i'm shit compared" a snicker left my mouth and he joined in "yeah I mean, we all moved on right" he looked back at me and I saw his eyes travel along me and a smirk on his face "we all changed"

"ah-well erm... what are you doing now or?" Tom joined coming closer to me and putting an arm around my shoulder pretending to get comfy but I knew what he was doing "got a girlfriend?" I looked to the dreaded boy who didn't take his eyes of the other boy

"oh no no, can't be arsed with all the girl stuff, to much work I'd rather get my fair share, sorry Y/n- anyways, I'm an electrician.. don't want to bore you all so I'll let you go but erm, we should catch up so I can here all about your guys concerts" he looked back towards me

"yeah we should, maybe we could meet you at a bar?" I asked seeing the twins eyeing the boy again, Bill had a frown watching him

"ah well- they have their own lives I was thinking me and you? like a date maybe at my place?" I laughed slightly but Tom stepped in before I could even get a word out

"yeah she has her own life too but we have to relax for a while, we've been on tour and we have a radio show thing tomorrow night- thats our life so..." I saw Bill laugh

"basically were saying you're not putting your cock in her Ben- you're still as weird as you when we were kids" the other twin spat getting a glare from Ben and his mother who stood looking at Bill with a lopsided smile

"I think Y/n can speak for herself" she quipped making me roll my eyes

"look its nice n all, and you're a very.. nice guy but you kinda ruined it by saying having a date at yours, I've traveled all over and I know I maybe a girl but I'm not stupid- were not gonna fuck" with a huff he went to turn away

"its fine, id rather not be known for sleeping with the chubby slut side singer from a band sad fuckers listen to anyways" my jaw dropped, who the fuck did he think he was talking to?

"watch your fucking mouth" I spoke seeing the families turn to look at me, he smiled looking down at me "don't fucking smile at me because I'll carve you into the floor you dick" I hissed shoving him away as he tried to step forwards attempting to intimidate me

"okay calm down sugar" at that I felt the arm that was around me go and Tom was over the boy pushing him back

"TOM!" his mom called "BILL GET YOUR BROTHER!" he 'tried' pulling his brother off but he was enjoying this, Bill loved drama "Gordon grab him" she spoke shoving her boyfriend at Tom. The boys step dad grabbed him away and Tom shouted a few words back at him

"DON'T FUCKING TRY- YOU WONT DO SHIT" Tom roared trying to push off Gordon who was holding his shoulders talking to him to get him away, my mom was ushering us away, our fathers stood watching cheering on Tom, not helping the situation getting angered stares from the women

We watched as Scarlett went out shouting things to her son and waving my mother bye, with a breath it was time to face the words of our mothers "what was that for!" my mom Angelica spoke with a growl

"mom it wasn't Toms fault" I began seeing her shake her head "he was trying to get me to fuck him, they were sticking up for me"

"Tom, Bill Is this true?" Tom nodded taking a sip of his beer

"then he called her chubby and a slut! like come on Angie in makes sense why" Bill added and my moms eyes shot up

"what!" Simone spoke standing from her seat "that bitch" my mom shot her a look and she sat back down

"well Tom, you two as well, I understand why it happened. carry on" we nodded and walked to Georg and Gustav who were laughing

"had fun?" Gustav shoved his friend

"fuck off" Tom whispered staring out to the garden

"I think I'm going to change" the boys nodded and I lifted my drink and made my way up stairs to my room tabled 'my little sunshine' the sticker had been on there since I was born- It was a nickname only my mom called me and I knew if she didn't say it I was in a lot of shit. I looked in the mirror and saw in the reflection the large poster of Tokio Hotel I had above my make-up desk, It was us doing our 'signature' pose pointing to the camera with our bad bitch faces on as Bill said. I took off my shirt leaving me in my baggy jeans and a bra with lace curling around it, I walked to my window which looked over the back garden and watched as the boys were now playing with Stella, it looked like they were having a tea party of sorts which made me smile, I loved how they treated Stella like their sister too

"Y/n can I come in?" a voice startled me as his face appeared around the door

"fuck, yeah come in, I thought you were outside still" I laughed seeing Tom but his face didn't copy mine- he was still angry, he perched on my bed looking around the room "I think I might redecorate its little, dated" he nodded but his eyes went back to me

"I'm sorry" I furrowed my eyebrows

"for what?, you were sticking up for me I'm not going to be like 'ugh Tom how dare you!' am I?" a small smile cracked on his lips

"I keep being really... over the top I guess, like say you did actually like Ben and I just acted like that?" I rolled my eyes sitting myself next to him placing my hand on his knee

"I would've told you to back off- so don't worry" his eyes drifted to mine and turned softer, I moved my hand to his jaw and let my thumb caress his cheek "and I like you being protective over me, so you're fine"

"you're to good to me" he spoke watching me closely "and I could be a lot more protective of you, if thats what you like" his voice was a sultry whisper, I neatly melted to his words, I think he realised when he chuckled deeply causing me to just shudder, our foreheads knocked onto each others, our lips brushing each others

"okay pretty boy- lemme change" Tom's face lit up slightly with a blush but he sighed laying back on my bed covering his eyes "fine" I accepted he wasn't going to leave which in reality didn't effect me, I got changed infront of him a lot so quickly I pulled out a black tube top, my zip up hoody and sprayed myself with my 'can can' spray

"that smells good" he stood up coming to stand behind me, arms circling my waist "remember what you said earlier?" he spoke in my ear pressing a small kiss to my jaw

"I do, but people will be wondering why you've got a boner so... and you can't really say its from your best friend because she's so sexy and turns you on beyond any other girl in the universe can you?" I smiled turning to him, I knew I was torchering him "and then everyone will know you have a crush on me, because I'm so perfect"

"you play a hard game Y/l/n" I grinned turning myself in his arm so his hand was on my back "literally"

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑

the moon rose into the sky, Stella was in bed and we were all sat around a small fire the dad's made, my mom and Gustav's mom were making cocktails in the kitchen while Georg and the twins mom chatted while sipping on some wine from earlier, leave us five talking about our shows

"I think we could be more extravagant" Bill spoke "more lights and make the ground shake uno?"

"yeah I want to be deaf at the end" Gustav added taking a bite of a sandwich

"maybe we should try traveling more with tour? like going to America and England, Mexico" I asked cuddling into the blanket we had

"hot chicks in England" Georg added cheersing Tom with their beer "and guys for you" we all laughed and soon Gustav's mom came out with a tray of drinks, 5 cocktails and 5 shots, followed by my dad holding a camera

"we are calling these 'Tokio Hotel martini'!" she called handing us glasses full of a purple liquid "its 3 ounces gin, ½ ounce maraschino liqueur, ½ ounce freshly squeezed lemon juice, ¼ ounce crème de violette, ice and Cocktail cherry for garnish!" she smiled "and here's some vodka" a laugh left our lips as we all quickly grabbed one "enjoy!" we all tapped the shots twice onto the table and knocked them back and quickly chased it with the 'Tokio hotel martini' which was delicious to say the least

"mom these are amazing" Gustav hummed "thank you" we all spoke together

"you can tell they're our children" Simone began wrapping a arm around my mom "little shits" she smiled

"thanks mom" Bill grinned

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑

The night turned into just everyone relaxing, Georg and Bill went up into the spare room and to sleep, Gustav was playing pool with the dads while me and Tom sat with our moms and drank different alcohol that was set out, I was sat leaning on the arm of the chair and my legs over Tom who was stroking them without a thought

"what times that interview thing?" Alexia Georg's mom asked tapping me on the shoulder

"erm... I'm not sure- Tom what time is the-" he looked over answering before I could finish

"starts at 6" he went back to his conversation and Alexia only giggled

"6 then, how come?"

"well we were thinking of booking a meal, as like a celebration and inviting all the grandparents because they've missed you all, so you think it would be done for 9?" I nodded seeing her walk into he house and pull the phone off the hook, I turned back to the dreadlocked boy and just found myself staring at him, just the way he looked while in a serious conversation but then a smile appearing on his face when a joke was made, the way he held me like I was his but I knew it was just a platonic sort of thing, we'd never done anything besides kiss, I knew I'd never be his- I wasn't going to be mad if he did find girls I mean come on its Tom Kaulitz he could get any girl, I was just lucky we were so close anyways, all I knew is that he liked making out with me and occasionally I looked pretty to him

"thats what I said to Y/n, because we want one...yeah what do you think?- Y/n" I was snapped out my trance by him shaking my leg gently

"sorry what was that?" I asked bring myself to the conversation

"getting a tattoo" my mouth made a 'O' shape and nodded

"yes oh my god I want so many but we want one for the band" Tom nodded looking back to the women "and I want to get some more piercings, like the middle of my lip and nose" my mother shook her head

"why your nose! its so cute" Bella Gustav's mom joined "'the lip will look badass though" I smiled seeing my mom sigh at her friend not being very helpful "what! come on Angelica lighten up"

"you'll love it mom!" she nodded rolling her eyes

"well its getting late- I think you two and Gus should go up to bed, its already.. fuck 12:30, Yes bed" She began pulling me and Tom up and calling Gustav over, we hugged and kissed everyone goodnight and made our way into our rooms, Gustav walked in and just fell onto the air mattress on the floor, I looked to see Georg and Bill sharing the bed, Bill had stolen most the blanket as usual so being the good friend I am I went and grabbed an extra blanket for the bassist and placed it over him

"let me walk you to your room" Tom whispered grabbing my hand and pulling me down the corridor into my bedroom, the room was dim but I could make out where he was and the smirk along his lips "I saw you staring at me" I tried to avoid his eyes "oh so you wont look at me now huh?" he pushed and I stayed silent, embarrassed of how he saw me, his fingers curled under my chin and pulled my face to meet his which looked softer "you're okay Y/n" Tom pulled me closer which I didn't even know was possible, my heart began beating quickly, it felt as if it could leap out of my chest at any moment. Our eyes met for a brief moment again before he leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as I melted into his embrace. Every inch of my body was on fire as I smiled feeling his breath on me, the kiss felt different, and had more meaning then the ones before "fu-fuck you're so beautiful" he hummed. Together we stumbled to my bed where he fell below me, I crawled to be closer to him, Tom's hands searching my body but quickly finding themselves comfy on my waist, I held his face between my hands, smoothing his skin with my thumbs. we parted with dopey smiles smothering our faces, lips pursed and eyes open only slightly "actually I prefer looking at you from down here"

"oh yeah- bet you do" I laughed feeling him sit me on his hips which a small yelp left my mouth "sorry" the guitarist only grinned moving his hands onto my thighs with a sigh "what?" I asked

"what are we?" a question I had actually wondered a lot about "I know what I'd like to be"

"and whats that?" I spoke leaning closer to him, letting the smell of his cologne and beer fill my nose

"yours"

[eithielk]

Zuko as your lab partner

It was an end of the year project that led you and him to become acquainted. The teacher decided which student would be partnered up.

And he tried, and I mean tried; begged for the teacher to let him do this alone.

He said it was "annoying" to have to work with someone "incompetent" and that in the end he would have to do it all himself anyways.

Despite all that, the decision was final, he had to work on this with you, or risk a failing grade.

"Hey you." The boy spoke up, sounding a bit unsure. "I have a name you know." I reply, my face a bit irritated at his way of calling me.

He sighed, crossing his arms before speaking, "I don't think it's necessary." I watch his posture, shoulders a bit tensed.

"Why not? This project is worth 30% of our grade, it's due in 2 months." I replied a bit louder than before as I stared at the boy in front of me.

He looked away, placed down his notebook on the table before looking back at me. "I know your type."

"Excuse me?" I snap back,

"Don't make this harder than it already is."

"I'm not the one being difficult!"

"–Just let me do this okay? Let me handle the project myself." He paused, looking down for a moment before continuing again, "You can put down your name–"

"—No way!" I yelled back, clenching my jaw as I pressed my lips into a thin line. "That's not fair for me!"

He let go of the hold on his arms, "How is it not fair? I'm letting you get a free pass on this–"

"That's the point! I want to do the project fairly." I shouted back, my voice laced with irritation as I looked at the boy.

"You're paired with me, deal with it."

That whole ordeal was an eye opener for Zuko, he didn't think you'd be against having a free pass on the project. He's done this before, and all the others were the same.

But not you.

He watched you walk out on him, grabbing your stuff on the table as you huffed past him. Your reaction was endearing intriguing, in a way.

He stood there in the classroom alone, unsure what to do. The project was 2 months away, but he has always been a hard worker, trying to one up his sister academically.

Your words haven't convinced him enough for him to trust you with the project, but seeing as you made such a big deal about it, he's duty-bound to give you a chance.

"Hey!" he yelled from behind, running towards you. Catching up to where I stood, he held his knees out panting. "You.. can.. help me."

He replied, as he reached out his hand to me. He raised his head once he finally caught his breath. "Your number."

"Excuse me?"

"Your phone number." He replied, his voice stern, his eyes glancing at the stack of books I've been carrying. "For the project."

I looked at him in surprise, I didn't think he would change his mind that easily, anyway it worked out for you in the end didn't it?

"Oh right, it's–" My voice trails off as I struggle to find my phone. Feeling the insides of my pockets, when suddenly he took the books off of my hands.

"Hurry up."

You exchanged numbers and from that day on, you'd meet up with him once a week at the library to work on your project.

The first few weeks were rocky at best, both of you disagreed on what the overall theme should be. Bantering over the color scheme down to the font style.

A month had passed and you were beginning to have steady progress on your work. You both figured out how to work together, Zuko's strengths were your weaknesses and vice versa.

It was like seeing a robot operate, you two knew how the other worked. And with much cooperation, you and Zuko finished the project a week in advance.

Feeling proud of what you accomplished, you offered him to hang out after school. A celebratory brunch if you call it.

"Great! So were done?" I asked, my head peaking over behind him, his back hunched over the laptop profusely tapping away.

"Just give me a minute will you?" He replied annoyed, swatting his arms to shoo me away. "It wont be if you keep hovering over me like a ghost."

"Geez, calm down Mr. Hothead"

He huffed in frustration, turning his head little, "Dont call me that." giving me an annoyed look as he pulled his attention back to the laptop.

I whispered a quick okay, staying hunched over behind him, this time being quiet as I watched him write the last few things on our paper.

A couple of tapping followed by one last press, as he let out a sigh of relief, stretching out his arms upward. "There, all done."

"Awesome! We're free!" I rejoiced, flexing my arms upwards as I stretched. "You know, We're a pretty great team!"

"Good job!" I exclaimed, nudging the side of his arms playfully.

Zuko stayed quiet as he packed up his laptop, not bothering to agree or make a comment about what I had said.

"Yeah, whatever.."

I narrowed my eyes, guess that's as close as I can get to a good job. I grabbed my back as I scurried the items inside.

"..You too"

"What was that?"

"–I said See you to..morrow.."

I looked at him a bit skeptical. "O..kay" I replied, matching the tone of his voice. "See you too I guess."

He stared at me for a bit, awkward silence, before finally speaking, "..So the project's done, what are you gonna do now?"

"I don't know, I guess go to a cafe? Meet up with friends." I replied, shrugging my arms casually.

His expression was uncertain, hard to read, like he was about to say something he was sure he was gonna regret.

"Why?"

"..Nothing nevermind." He replied almost immediately, turning his heel as he walked away, towards the exit.

It was a bit weird to see him off like that, I mean what was that face? Would be hard to miss considering he was so easy to read at times.

"Wait! Zuko–" I called out, his body tensing as he heard his name. "Actually, do you wanna.. hang out?"

My voice trailed off, as I wince at how incredibly awkward this was.

His head turned slightly, his expression still inscrutable. "–I mean, as a celebration, you know?" I followed up my previous statement.

"I have this cafe coupon anyways, from the one I said earlier, pretty cool!" I replied nudging his shoulder slightly, a small smile escaped my lips as I saw him consider my offer.

I'm planning a p2 of this, but it'll probably be a different title, watch out for that ig. Alsoo feel free to send requests, anonymous or otherwise, Im pretty fired up and I wanna do something with my free timee

A/N: did not proofread LMK if theres any spelling mistakdsndjjd

[kosije]

a/n: never have unprotected sex with strangers! only read about it <3 also this is a old work i just added a bit onto...

cw: mdni, mechanic!hawks x fem!reader, use of doll/ma'am/miss, unprotected sex, missionary, pretty vanilla, simp behavior by hawks, reader calls him keigo, corny dialogue, horrible capitalization (im so srry), probably wont edit this lol...

It's been hours. It's been hours and you're dripping sweat despite the multitude of cold drinks you've ingested from the vending machine in your local auto care. You just took your car in for an oil change and regretted not getting a bus ride back. The more the round clock above the register desk clicked, the more impatient you're getting and the smell of gasoline was hurting your head. After bobbing your leg up and down a little more, you decide to just go out and check on your car.

"Hey! Uh, my car was scheduled to be done 30 minutes ago. Is there any way I can check on it right now? Do you have an ETA of some sort?"

The receptionist, a dark-haired boy with a red choker, looks up empathetically before clicking his keyboard.

"Sorry miss, I dunno much about that, but let me call up your mechanic. What number are you?"

"3389"

"3....3....8- oh Hawks is working on that one! I'll call to see if you can get buzzed in, but no need to worry. He is our fastest and most skilled mechanic, so your car will be good as new as soon as he's done."

The boy's voice becomes the slightest bit animated and you feel your annoyance tone down. But you didn't care if it was "good as new," just as long as you could get home safe.

"Okay, thank you."

His fingers quickly punch into a corded phone before a voice comes on the other line.

"He said it should be done in 2, but you're more than welcome to go in."

You nod and thank the teen before stumbling past wired gates and stray cigarettes before finding your car. It looks damn good. Originally a somewhat hand-me-down from your mother to yourself, it was always beautiful on the outside. The silhouette was a classic thing. real sleek and "real groovy" according to your mother. But the upsides stopped at the exterior.

The ac was loud, and the radio was spotty. Even the leather seats were chipping, despite the multitude of repairs you've paid for out of pocket.

But now the car looks brand new. The shell of your car is clean and shiny. When you open the door, you're pleasantly surprised by the smell of musky cologne and your clean linen car freshener, and even more surprised when you can't see where the patches of missing leather are. you almost let yourself smile before realizing this might be a scam to force you to pay for the advancements.

You're too busy peeking into your interior to notice another person walking up.

"Is this ya car, or you lookin' for a ride to jack?"

You flinch slightly but recover yourself well enough to turn to face the deep voice and a rush of heat flushes over you. Sharp amber eyes run over your figure as you busy yourself with getting a good look at the man leaning against the bumper of your car. messy blonde hair, healthy tan, scruff, and muscular. All things you like, except (so far) his personality.

"And you are?"

"The mechanic, doll," He replies in a "duh" voice, slipping his arms out of his dirtied blue denim overalls and crossing them over the other. You don't miss how his biceps flex slightly at the gesture.

"You got anything else to ask, or are you jus’ gonna keep checking me out?"

"I wasn't checking you out."

"Whatever makes you feel better," He laughs, walking up only to lean on the steel table behind you.

"Look this is my car-" He cuts you off by reading your name off a stray paper that has dirt and oil on it, raising an eyebrow and you nod a confirmation.

He offhandedly purrs something about the name being pretty, and you have to consciously ignore the burn in your cheeks.

"Just tell me how much the repair is gonna cost," the question comes out with a sigh, and now it's your turn to cross your arms. It's done out of attitude, but when his eyes lower to focus on your chest, electricity trickles down your spine.

"You gonna answer or keep checking me out?"

coughing and readjusting himself on the table, he tells you $110.

"Are you kidding? The oil change was 60!"

"I did a whole lot besides an oil change, doll"

"without my consent! This has got to be illegal!" 

"Well, how about this?" he says, moving closer to you, and you can now see just how much he dwarfs you in size. "You pay $40 bucks, and let me take you out to dinner."

well... that wasn't something you were expecting.

"I don't know you."

"I know."

"You don't know me."

"Let's change that then." He says. The smirk he has is toothy and could almost be seen as sweet if he didn't just try to scam you out of $50. After another beat of silence, he talks again.

"Don't be brutal, doll. You know you're just as excited to see where this goes."

"I don't usually date scammers." You finally say, but it's meek and you instantly regret it because all he does is smile wider.

"There's a first for everything."

... 

You don't know why you agreed and gave him your number and address. But you did. You also don't know why you're wearing such an expensive dress and perfume. Or why you're putting on makeup. But you are. It was all too elaborate for a one-off date with a random man. Nevertheless, here you were, crouching down to put your bobby pins in your hair because your dress didn't allow for enough movement.

There are three quick knocks at your door before you hear Hawk's voice. 

"I'm starving, doll. Don't leave me like this." 

Bastard

You quickly give yourself a one-over and head to the door. When you open it you see Hawks, except he looks different. His hair is neatly brushed back, and he swapped his stronger cologne for a much more elegant one that matches even better with yours. simple suit and tie with square-cut earrings.

"you look good" he looks better than good, but you don't wanna say anything that'll inflate his ego more.

"you look perfect," and he punctuates it by saying your name instead of 'doll' and you like the way it sounds more than you thought.

Hovering over you now with one arm on the doorframe. He stretches out a hand with a small grin.

"May I? " You place your hand in his.

"You May."

...

5 things you've learned about Hawks Keigo so far

1. his real name is Keigo, hawks being a nickname he got in his youth because of his speed and eyes

2. his hand is much larger than yours

3. he has great taste in restaurants

4. his favorite food is yakitori (a new favorite of yours too)

5. he's ready to go back to your place

"How was your food?"

"It was actually... great"

"C'mon, don't act all reluctant! This restaurant has never done me wrong!" He says as you shift the air conditioner to fan your face and turn the radio up a bit.

"Right, yakitori connoisseur. I can see why you'd take your dates here."

"You're the first." He says emphasizing the last part with a sly look over to your spot in the passenger seat of his Mercedes. It's an admission that has a smile threatening to find a home on your lips, but you turn your head to face outside the window and he chuckles knowingly.

"Or are you saying this should now be the spot? Cuz I could make that work."

"You sure know how to ruin a mood." You're laughing at his feigned hurt expression as he steers with one hand while the other goes over his heart.

"How rude!" He says before the hand over his heart falls to your thigh and suddenly you're hyperaware of how warm he is. "I'll make sure this spot is special to just you."

If the hand on your thigh wasn't enough, the sincerity of his tone has you reeling and reaching over his middle console to kiss him. Soft, short, and sweet on his cheek. You can hear his breath hilt and the smell of his cologne is stronger. When you pull back, you can see the mark of your lipstick on his cheek. And his hand squeezes your thigh tighter.

"You're driving me crazy, doll."

"...was that a pun because you're driving?"

"What?"

"I said-" 

he dramatically turns up the radio and you roll your eyes when he excessively mouths 'I can't hear you!' 

"YOU'RE LUCKY THIS SONG IS GOOD!" you yell into his ear and he laughs, drawing circles onto your thigh with his thumb. The ride back to your apartment is shorter than you'd like, but at least he walks you up to your door, right?

"I don't usually invite scammers into my house."

"yeah?" he asks, hands already on your waist and head tilted.

"but there's a first for everything, isn't there?"

"id like that," he says, smiling down at you as you walk backward into your living room.

His lips are feverish on yours, tongue exploring as deep as it can into your mouth until his and your lips are purple and swollen before drawing purple bruises all over your neck and chest, just over your tits. Your body is hot and you hurriedly pull your arms out of your dress and shimmy it off-eliciting a pleasured hum when he finds that you're not wearing a bra- as he quickly tosses his button-up and jacket before his lips are back onto yours. Your hands wrap around Keigo's neck and his hands cup under your ass and lift you up.

"First door on your right." 

Following your instructions, he walks with you to his arms to your room and tosses you on the familiar sheets of your bed.

"Do you want this?" he asks, hands working on his belt

"Please."

His jaw clenches, and in a second he's bare in front of you.

And big. Much bigger than you think you can take. Thick veins wrap around his cock and you can tell he shaved just for tonight. He runs a finger up and down your clothing slit. Your lips part and a soft sigh rolls off your tongue.

"Don't be a tease."

"Yes ma'am," his finger hooks on the edge of your lace panties and slides them off before running his cock up and down to gather your slick with a quiet groan. Without warning, he slides into you, and you're both vocal. after letting you adjust to his length, he slowly starts moving inside of you, then faster and you're whining around him.

"so pretty," comes out a gasp when his hands pull your legs over his shoulders.

"yer so pretty. And yer the tightest lil' thing I've ever had. Why don't we make an h-habit of this, hmm?" 

"The sex or–fuck–dinner?" You ask, trying to slow the coil in your gut with deep breaths.

"Both."

"That sounds like dating." 

"It's not–shiit"

"How so?" You ask, moaning into the back of your hand when he switches his angle and hits that spot that has you seeing stars.

"You don't date scammers," he says and you would laugh if you didn't have drool sliding down the side of your mouth. His eyes flicker to it and when he licks it up, only to kiss it back into your mouth, and your nails find his back and rake over the skin in an attempt to ground yourself.

"So...what...' bout...it," he asks between kisses and you roll your eyes. When you don't answer, he grunts and stalls all movements.

"What-"

"Answer me and I'll move." 

His eyes widen as he watches you move up and down on your own.

"Stubborn," he whispers out, still wide-eyed when his lips split into a grin. "you won't be able to fuck yerself the way I do it. So just be good 'nd-"

"Yes." you bite out. Your pride feels robbed, but you can tell he's right when you feel your stomach ache.

"Yes, what?"

He's moved again, but it's too slow for your liking and leaves you irritated. You're exactly where he wants you, and so—reluctantly — you mutter:

"Let's make this a habit!" 

An uncharacteristically soft hand cups your cheek and your stomach twist.

"I knew you could be good for me," he says, lips pressing into the side of your mouth and you're writhing. 

Speeding up again, you feel that familiar flame of pleasure ignite within you and tangle your hands into his blonde strands. The room is filled with slaps and moans and if you weren't so fucked out, you might've been able to hear your headboard knocking against the wall and how the mess of your nightstand slightly bounces from the source. Praises are whispered in between messy thrusts and you try your best to focus on the sweat running down your back to let the feeling of him inside you last longer, but your toes are curled and can taste blood from how hard you’re biting down on your lip. 

“Don't shy away now, I love that pretty voice of yours,” and his face looks so much in ecstasy that when his tip hits that spot in you again a pornographic moan leaves your lips, and the flood of pleasure hits you is as foreign as it is blissful. You almost gave no control of yourself. barely hushing yourself, barely able to unravel your legs from around his hips, all too consumed in your high. But Keigo is no better. When your legs ease the hold around his hips, he hurriedly pulls out, but not fast enough, and globs of white spray onto your pussy and all over your chest, even up to your neck. He can only pump himself a few more times before he's falling on top of you with a huff, knocking the air out of you. 

"U-P!" you gasp out, hitting his chest until he rolls over with a sheepish look.

"'M sorry," is all that he says before narrowing his eyes when you giggle.

"Didn't know nutting took that much energy out."

"me neither," he says, joining in on your giggles with a squawk-like laugh that makes you laugh even harder. "I've never come that hard."

"I'm flattered." You purr, smiling up at the ceiling. "I don't think ill be able to walk for a couple of days myself."

And you were joking, but when he laughs and hoists himself up with a hand on your thigh, the soreness humbles you and you realize there's more truth to that statement than you care to admit. You point to the bathroom and he nods, disappearing and reappearing with a damp rag and cleans you up. 

"How do you like your baths?"

"Warm." you twitch when he wipes over a sensitive part, earning a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

When he's done, he moves back into your bathroom and you can hear him turn on the faucet, and you stretch to your legs until the water is turned off and he's scooping you into his arms. When you've finished, he offers to carry you back to bed, but you insist on getting back on your own, even if your legs felt a bit wobbly. You slip into something comfortable while he puts on what he had on before, only now it's wrinkled. You expect him to leave immediately after he's dressed.

"what are you going to watch me sleep?"

"just waiting for you to invite me to stay the night"

"not gonna happen," you say and laugh at the way he pouts. "next time, maybe." And now you're laughing harder at how quickly his expression changed to a smile.

He leans down to kiss you long and slow, pulling away to leave a peck on your cheek. 

"Same time next week?" he asks, giving you another peck, this time along your cheek. You mumble an affirmation, eyes blissfully shut as his lips move to our neck.

"and the one after that. " And he's grinning against you again when he says this.

"Overzealous, don't ya think?" not missing the glint in his eyes when they meet yours again. Same gold that seems to shimmer close up.

"Just makin' a habit of it." Is all he says, same beautiful eyes looking down at you, same lopsided grin, now pretty purple marks on his neck. 

And all you can do is say,

"okay, same time next week."

[starions]

end of the line, we finally reached the edge after all this time.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x gn!spider!reader

words ; 2472

summary ; miguel finds himself face-to-face with you—or a dark, twisted version of you.

tags ; angst, reader has hypnosis powers, reader is described with hair long enough to pull, no use of y/n, gender neutral pronouns/use of second person, i kinda don't know how symbiotes work

han's note ; still written with my spidersona in mind but it is very vague still! i recommend reading part one "i didn't find my love, but i still made it this far without it" because it wont make much sense without it. title is still an ethel cain lyric <3

part one

;

As Miguel stepped outside of the portal, he was greeted by you. Not physically, but with your mask covered face plastered on every surface available. It seemed like this Earth—Earth-799—was on track to become similar to his own, with megacorporations feeding advertisements to consumers wherever they looked, influencing them to buy things out of indulgence and not necessity. He wondered, were you a pawn of these capitalists, or were you playing their game right alongside them? He looked around the city, trying to find Jess, but his vision was blocked by either electronic screens or holograms of you advertising some product.

This was his own personal nightmare.

“Jess,” he said to his Gizmo, “where are you?”

A tiny hologram of Jess appeared from his Gizmo, looking rightfully pissed off. “Why did it take you so long to show up?”

“Don't worry about it,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Meet me on top of Stark Coffee on Lexington and 3rd. I’ll fill you in when I see you.” With that, the call ended, and Miguel was left just alone with your smiling face at every angle.

In an instant, Miguel began swinging throughout your New York City, careful not to attract too much attention. The sun was beginning to set, and the twinkling lights of the buildings and advertisements were illuminated off his blue suit. He hoped this would go by quickly, smoothly. Catch the anomaly, return back home. He wouldn’t have to see your face in person, and he definitely wouldn’t have to set foot on this Earth centered around you again. Miguel considered himself rational, and logically, never meeting you again would be a guarantee that your life would continue on, unchanged. He flew with ease, managing to find the rooftop of Stark Coffee in no time at all. Jess stood, arms crossed and face with the beginning signs of bruises. He’d have to send her to the infirmary for a quick check up.

“Are you okay?” Miguel said, landing on his feet and walking over to Jess; he gave her a once over, noticing a few tears in her suit. Miguel tssked, shaking his head. “You need to be more careful.”

“Fine,” Jess said, annoyance in her tone. “Maybe next time, backup will come quicker.”

“Good,” he said, ignoring her quick remark and looking across the rooftop and to the streets below. “What are we looking at here? Where’s the anomaly?”

Jess taps onto her Gizmo, pulling up information about whatever she had been chasing prior to his arrival. “According to Lyla, it's a symbiote from Earth-901220; it’s attached itself to this Earth’s Spidey. They’re incredibly slippery, as you can tell.”

Miguel’s jaw clenched underneath his mask. So much for not seeing you face-to-face. How could this have possibly happened without him noticing? “How long has it been attached?”

“A little under 12 hours.”

“Good, should be easy to detach then, where did you—”

“You brought a friend!” Miguel’s head snapped to the sound of the voice that rang out in the air. He hadn’t heard that voice in person in a long, long time—yet, there was a darkness twisted into it, something chilling, an effect of the symbiote. Standing on the edge of the rooftop, you looked him up and down. Your once red and white Spider-Suit was now tainted black, absorbed by the symbiote. You tilted your head, smiling wildly and showing fangs that rivaled his, and the black mask covering only your eyes crinkled with your smile. “He looks scary,” you teased. “Sorry you had to call for backup,” you said to Jess, “your ego must be bruised.”

She sneered. “Listen, if you just come with us, we can get that thing off of you.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, laughing. “This thing has been the best thing to happen to me in such a long time,” you extend your arms out like wings and tilt your head back, feeling the breeze in your hair. “I haven’t felt this free in so, so long.”

“Enough of this,” Miguel snapped. “You’re coming with us. Now.”

Slowly, you moved your head back toward Miguel, staring at him with dark, unrecognizable eyes and resting your arms back on your sides. You hmmed, as if in deep contemplation. “No. I don’t think I will.” With that, you fell backwards off the roof.

Miguel rushed to the edge, looking around. You were nowhere to be seen. “God damn it!” He turned toward Jess. “Go after them on your bike, I’ll be in the air.”

Miguel leaped off the roof, talons digging into the brick roof for more momentum. He shot neon orange webs out of his forearms, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of your black suit against the illuminated lights of the inner city. Miguel held firmly onto the web-line as he glided across the city, finally catching a glimpse of you haphazardly webbing away, destroying the electronic screens with your face on them as you went.

Miguel followed the trail of destroyed advertisements, calling your name as he etched closer. “Stop!” He yelled, getting close enough to you to grab onto your loose hair.

You yelped from the pain, losing your momentum and falling on top of a taxi cab. “Asshole!” You cried out, back stinking momentarily as you got back to your feet. The driver of the cab jumped out of the cab, yelling profanities, and all you did was point to the blue-and-red suited man chasing after you. “His fault!”

You made a mad dash away from Miguel, running across hoods of cars and cabs as you shoot another web out of your wrist, gaining enough speed to make a pendulum out of yourself. Your web-line attaches onto a nearby billboard, and you propel yourself forward as you maneuver through the city streets. 

Miguel cursed to himself; you were incredibly limber, able to move through this labyrinth of skyscrapers. This is what Miguel hated about traveling to new dimensions—even though it was the same city as his own, the buildings were different; the landmarks were different; everything was different. You had a general sense of where you were going, him on the other hand, he had no idea.

What Miguel did know, however, were your weaknesses. All that time he spent, analyzing your skills and weaknesses, gave him leverage you did not have on him. Judging by what he was seeing now, the symbiote was amplifying your skills, not improving them. That must mean that the same skills you lack were ever present, and Miguel had plans on exploiting them. 

He watched as you landed on top of a rooftop to catch your breath, stopping midswing to land on the rooftop next to it. Hiding from your view, he watched as you wiped sweat from your forehead, looking around for signs of him or Jess. Miguel scoffed at your expression; you seemed disappointed. You liked this game of cat and mouse. Too bad he was about to end it.

As you were getting ready to launch your web again, Miguel leaped into action, taking advantage of the blindspot you had on your left side. You yelped as he grabbed onto your waist, rolling the two of you over a few times before finally pinning your wrists above your head.

“No fair,” you said, shifting in his grip. “I was having fun.”

Miguel ignored you. “Jess,” he said into his Gizmo, “I got them.”

“On it,” Jess replied, the roar of her bike engine in the back, “tracking your location.”

“You’re the boss, right?” You asked from underneath him.

He grunted, tightening the grip on your wrist. What he needed to do was sink his teeth in your neck, paralyzing you like any other anomaly; but he didn’t know the effect of his venom on another Spider-Person, and the thought of hurting you scared him.

“Can you take your mask off?” You asked. “I wanna see the man who captured me.”

“No.”

“Why?” You asked, tilting your head up at him. “Are you ugly?”

He scoffed. “Quite the opposite.”

“Ohh I see, you’re just a tease.” You grinned, a fang poking out of your lip. “Come on, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine. How’s that?”

Miguel hesitated. Everything in him was telling him to ignore them, to web them up and get them back to HQ as quickly as possible, but… he hadn’t seen your face in such a long time. If he could just humor you, once, he could see you in person again. Everything he wished against an hour before. The last image of your face was beaten to a bloody pulp, and he would like to erase that memory.

With a sigh, Miguel nodded, his holographic mask dissipating to reveal his face.

You ooo’d. “Handsome,” you said. “My turn.” In an instant, the symbiote acting as your mask crawled off your face and onto your suit below, uncovering your face to the man pinning you down.

His gaze softened as he took in your features. There was a new scar next to your eyebrow, the mole on your face was on the opposite side, and your eyes were a slightly different color, but it was you. The one he lost, all those years ago.

“Weird reaction,” you said with a quirked eyebrow. “I’ll keep that reaction in my back pocket for later, though.” You looked up at where his large hand still had your wrists pinned down. “This was fun and all, but I’m kinda over it, so…” You looked back at him, staring into his red eyes. “You’re going to let me go now.”

For some reason, Miguel couldn’t break eye contact with you. Your words flooded him with warmth, and all the signals in his brain were turning off one by one. “Let you… go?”

You nodded, smiling softly. “Let me go.”

He did what he was told, his hand released your wrists. As he climbed off you, he made no move to recapture you as he sat on the rooftop, dazed by your words.

“Bye boss man,” you said, as the symbiote mask crawled back on your face. “Tell the cute biker girl I said bye too!”

With that, you propelled yourself off the rooftop, and Miguel sat stumped, entirely confused. After a second, he regained his senses. What the fuck. What the fuck? He didn’t have time to question whether or not that was the symbiote or part of your Spider powers. He immediately called Jess. “Don’t look them in the eyes,” he said, swinging off the rooftop as his mask appeared back on his face. “They have some sort of hypnosis power.”

“I’m assuming they got away?” Jess said over the sound of traffic. “Because I’m looking at them right now.”

Miguel spotted Jess’ bike up ahead, swerving around traffic to get to the symbiote-ridden Spidey wreaking havoc across New York City. “Unintentionally,” he said, making his way toward the two of them.

“Right,” Jess said, as she sped up her bike. She used a nearby ramp to propel her bike upward enough to meet you at the lower height of your swing, hitting you with her bike. You stumbled in mid air, somersaulting before webbing yourself to the nearest building you could find. With a glare towards her, you shot your web at a traffic light, using all your strength to bring it down. In seconds, a collision of cars blocked her path toward you. “You should make sure no one is hurt! You are Spider-Woman, after all.” You called out to Jess, swinging away from the mess you created.

“You deal with that!” Miguel said into his Gizmo. “I got them this time.” He was sure of it too; he wasn’t going to let you make a fool of him again.

Miguel moved hastily, zipping past the waves of people filming the chase on their smartphones and watches. You swung from building from building, using your Spider-Sense to detect the best course to deter the masked man following behind you. You laughed maniacally, enjoying the thrill of being chased, doing spins and twirls as if you were playing some sort of game.

The laughing stopped and was replaced with a grunt of pain as you suddenly glitched, blocks of colors and shapes cutting your web-line mid swing, a reminder that the symbiote that had claimed you was not part of this dimension.

You came crashing down, smashing face first on an electronic billboard advertising some sort of cherry flavored vodka. You slowly slumped down on the catwalk, unmoving as Miguel landed next to you.

He paused, blood running cold. He hoped—prayed—that you would move, that he didn’t just kill you again. When he saw you stir, he felt himself let out a sigh of relief.

Meekly, you sat up, turning on your knees to face him. “I’m gonna feel that in the morning,” you said, rubbing your head. “I bet it will feel like a hangover,” you said, pointing to the billboard and laughing weakly. “Get it?”

“That’s funny,” Miguel said plainly, before using his webs to tie you up. He knelt down, holographic mask coming off so this time, he really could paralyze you. He couldn’t risk you using that power again. His hand found purchase in your hair, yanking your head to the side to expose your neck. His fangs sunk in, and his venom seeped in, ready to attack your veins.

Your eyes widened at the feeling of fangs piercing you, but your lids fluttered lowly as the venom enacted almost immediately. “Didn’t want this…” You said quietly. “Thought I could be… someone else. Not Spider…” You couldn’t finish your words, your head slumping down as your body went still.

Miguel caught you in his arms as you keeled over just as Jess landed on the railing.

“Told you they were slippery,” Jess said, shaking her head. “They gonna be okay?”

“Should be,” Miguel said, looking down at you. He recalled the last time he held you in his arms, right after you had been murdered. He shook the thought out of his head. “I didn’t use enough venom to cause any lasting effects, but that means it should wear off soon. Ready the portal, we’ll get this symbiote off somewhere safe.”

Jess looked at your unmoving body with concern, before tapping a few buttons on her Gizmo.

The yellow portal opened at once, and Miguel scooped you up. He looked down at your features one last time, a thousand questions and fears flooding his head at once. Now wasn’t the time to ponder, or question whether or not taking you with them would be bad for everyone. Right now, his focus was on saving your life. Without a second thought, Miguel stepped into the portal, reluctant to show you his world.

[ggumjjun]

oh myyyyyy, i’m going so crazy over soobin with a breeding kink, fr, now all i’m thinking about is soobin loving to document how your boobs slowly get fuller over time, and he keeps buying you bras that are so sexy and completely too small, and just enhance their size even more. (also, i just know, once he got a taste of 🥛, there’s no going back) hope this isn’t crossing any hard lines for you and it’s okay for you 💗

soobin and the boob kink—

husband!soobin who intentionally buys bras a size down or two… just to he can see your breasts spill out in the most attractive way to him <3 excitedly coming home (not after the most awkward lingerie store visit bc he knew what he wanted but was like nervy to buy it and then kept getting approached by shop staff— maybe time to buy online next time lol) and sweeping you into a romantic kiss, box in his hand as he presses into yours… pretty wife, dress up a little for him~? bouncing his leg while sitting on the edge of the bed, resisting all his urges to peek over his shoulder until you’re ready… and shyly tapping his shoulder and asking if he’s sure he bought the right size… and he’s instantly hard. your pretty fits too big for the lacy set, spilling out in pretty plush, holding up your tits with your arm, the small set too tiny for you </3 and husband!soobin who seats you in his lap, cute ass pressed to his bulge as his big hands caress handfuls of your tits, sighing in your ear that it’s perfect, fits so well sweetheart, he bought the right size. and soobin who sucks your tits as he fills you up with his cum to the brim, knowing that your breasts are going to swell n be even heavier, all by your husbands doing <3

and so husband!soobin who always rests his head on your growing tits, feeling them up and lurking how heavy they’re getting, can’t even fit into the bras he bought before now :< his cock stiffening when you whimper when they’re sensitive as he tugs up the shirt you’re wearing, smoothing over your tummy and mumbling he’ll make them feel better, as his lips latch to your nipple and suck softly, rubbing circles on your soft tummy. and to husband!soobin, there’s nothing more romantic than his pretty wife all full of his baby and needing him so much, his cock rutting against your thigh as he sighs, suckling quietly and hearing you whimper and mewl as he sucks <3 soobin’s hand slipping between your thighs, feeling the wetness soak and drench his fingers as he rubs your clit,,, shhhh, he wont be too rough,,, so let your husband take care of you~?

[gummie-cat]

Pizza and secrets.

Desc: Charlie finds you diary and reads what you wrote about him in it.

warnings: Kissing, making out, closeted feelings, fluff, crushes

—————————————————————————

After school you normally had Charlie over. it was a basic routine you've had in place since the 6th grade. And its now your senior year in high school and you're still doing the same practice. Today your guys agreement was to study. You both knew you wouldn't end up studying and you'd just get distracted but you enjoyed the company. Especially when its a guy you like.

You guys finally got out of school and were rushing to your car which was parked in the student lot off to the side of the school. You were so excited to get home. You absolutely HATED your school. "soooo what did you need help studying with again?" Charlie asked as soon as you guys sat down in the car. "just some homework shouldn't take long." You say as you start up your car and put some music on.

When you guys finally make it to your house the shut off the car and go inside. Both you and Charlie make a b-line to the kitchen to pig out. You see your mom sitting at the kitchen table doing some work (you assume) and say hi. "honey, me and your father are going out in a few for our anniversary. we probably wont be back until late can you please let out and feed the dog?" your mom said following slowly behind you guys as you made your way to the kitchen. "Yeah sure thing mom." You say opening the fridge and pulling out the lemonade. Charlie grabs 2 cups and slides them over to you. "Oh and by the way Charlie can stay over if you want because its a Friday." Your mom adds as she walks away going to her room to get ready.

You nod and you and Charlie walk up to your room with your stuff. "so what class is the homework for? or did you just fool me." Charlie says taking a seat at your desk and turning to face you. "I do actually have homework thank you very much. its for fucking geometry." you say sitting criss cross on your bed. "here lemme see if i can help." He says as he rolls your desk chair next to your bed. You pull out the paper and hand it to him and he takes one quick glance at it and says “yeah fuck no.” as rolls away back to your desk. “ughhhh” you exclaim as you toss the paper to the side. “ya know what. im gonna go order pizza. you stay here loser” You say as you get up and leave your room. “REMBER TO GET-“ you cut him off before he can finish “HALF PEPPERONI GOT IT.” you say marching down the stairs.

You pick up the phone and dial the local pizza place number and place your order. You then walk slowly upstairs and when you get to your bedroom door entrance you see Charlie flipping though and reading your diary. ‘SHIT. i left it out’ you think to yourself as you walk up and snatch it out of his hands. “Jesus y/n…” He says clutching his chest like you just scared him. “Stop snooping around in my room.” You tell him hitting him on the head with it. “Correction, i wasnt snooping. It just so happened to be on your desk.” He said puffing out his chest a little. You roll you eyes dramatically “are you done?” you say crossing your arms. “not yet… did you mean what you said about me? like all the ‘being jealous of kirby because im obsessed with her’?” He replies looking at you seriously. You blush and curse yourself for allowing you to leave your diary out and for this situation to happen. “Maybe…” you say nervously. Afraid of loosing a life long friendship. “So you meant what you said when you said you would kiss me?” He says. Now getting up from your desk chair and inching closer to you. “i- uhm… maybe?” You say obviously blushing even harder. You just wanted to die because of the embarrassment. If he told anyone you would never hear the end of if. “so would it be okay if i kissed you now?” He said slowly walking up to you and stroking your arm gently waiting for your response. But you’re dumbfounded. You can barely think. “y-yes…” you say growing redder and redder by the second.

He pulls you in by the jaw and kisses your lips passionately. Then he pulls back and smiles at you. “w-why’d you stop?” You say looking up into his eyes. “because i wanted to make sure you were okay and i didn’t want to assume you wanted to make out… which now im sensing was what you thought was going to happen.” He said smiling softly chuckling lightly. “I mean I did but like only if you wanted to because i want you to fee-“ you’re cut of by his mouth making contact with yours again. But a lot more aggressive this time. You quickly gather a rhythm and he starts to slip you his tongue. God you’re melting and your core is starting to become soaked just from getting touched the tiniest bit. He bites your lip and you whimper. He quickly swallows your whimpers and grins against your mouth. He starts to walk you back towards the bed and you fall on your back. He pins you to the bed and he starts kissing you. Slowly moving down to your jaw and then you neck to find your sweet spot. He knows he finds it because you whimper his name weakly. And once he finds it he abuses it. He starts sucking and nibbling quickly relieving the bite with his tongue. Meanwhile your whimpering his name as you become needy and sensitive. Suddenly you hear the doorbell. The pizza. He lifts his head from your neck and turns back around to face your bedroom door. “That must be the pizza huh?” He says looking back at you and grinning. “yeah uhm we should probably…” you say gesturing to your guys’s position. “Oh yeah right.” He says getting up and stumbling a little bit. Scratching the back of his next nervously he has a stupid look on his face. You cant help but give him a little smile before running down and paying for the pizza and bringing it back up to your room. You find charlie waiting on the bed for you. You bring the pizza box over and pop a movie on your tv. But its just background noise as you snuggle up into his arms. “ya know… im not obsessed with kirby.” He speaks up over the stupid show you guys are watching. “huh? what do you mean?” You say lifting your head to look at him. “I mean i wasn’t obsessed with kirby this whole time… i was obsessed with you. It was just a cover up. I love you” you snuggle up more into his side. “ I love you too Charlie.” You slowly close your eyes and fall asleep.

————————————————

word count: 1200 words

A/N: okay so it wasnt really smut but this is what i wanted to start it off with. I’ll work on one thats a lil more smutty next time but yeah hope you enjoyed :) I know this is a bjt short but ive been having sum writers block so i hope you enjoyed!!

this was also posted to my wattpad @Alex66035

[istherewifiinhell]

okay. heres what were all here for. tell me why the fuck im supposed to suck the dick of these uk comics

[ID: A man holding up an aged looking paper, with a medieval style drawing of a giant metal fire breathing man. He leans forward serious asking his son "... Did it look like this?" END]

marveltf story line, MAN OF IRON, 9-12 in the UK, or.... 33-34 in the us. alright lol do whatever i guess. first published in 1985

new vibe same procedure: Script: Steve Parkouse art: John Ridgeway (9-10) Mike Collins (11-12) Colours: Joise Fermin (9-10) Gina Hart (11-12) Nel Yomtov (US)* Letters: Richard Starkings Editor: Sheila Cranna and these caps are from the UK classics idw book so: Original Series Edits by Shelia Cranna and Ian Rimmer, editorial notes and assistance by James Roberts, Collection Edits by Justin Eisinger and Alonzo Simon, Collection Design by Shawn Lee (<- hey i know his work from turtles!)

*so the uk comics were part in colour and part B&W, to save costs... including the american reissues? printing costs i guess. but when reprinted in collected books, they would get the full colour treatment. whats not clear to me is WHO did those colours, its not listed anywhere i can find. ill simply have to assume its the same artists... and hope im not discrediting anyone....

AND ALSO the last page in this reprint apparently uses the US comic page, and i have a cap of that last page, so. Yomtov's in here too..... tf franchise the way u treat ur sacred texts breaks my turtles fan heart.

and lastly! the keen eyed may notice, we are back to toy accurate art, the character model designs haven't and wont make their way over until much later, I'm told.

well with all that perfectly convoluted business out of the way, lets explore what tfs is like across the pond.

[ID: The same man, Roy, driving as he thinks to himself "What kind of bozo would want to bomb the castle? The Saxon Liberation Front? The mind boggles…" END]

[spluttering laugh] so the humours a little different!

[ID: The boy, Sammy, climbing a tree, hand outstretched reaching for the arrow he lost. Standing, with his in the canopy is Jazz. Sammy yells in fear. END]

OKAY. so the vibes are little different

[ID: Caption Box: And the apparition was fearful, being a Man of Iron of great height and girth, seeming unheedful of quarrel, spear or sword…" The robot from the illustration, clearly transformer, but blockier, more retro scifi, standing in the middle of a medieval battle, men with chain-mail and swords looking at him with trepidation. Caption Box: The Man of Iron forded the stream at Eldric's Cross, making great strides for the abbey… and some brave souls followed, though none dared come too close…" Two of the fighters shown following him, a body shot with an arrow lays at the other side of the river. END]

damn okay. so the vibes are ALOT DIFFERENT

(no 10) sammy dreams

[ID: Sammy stands on a house rooftop, in his PJ's, looking down at the cobble street, where a seeker in alt mode rests. END]

[ID: Dark and moody art, a barely seen figure towers in the shadows over the residential houses. From a higher angle, its shown to be Mirage, he stands taking up the entire street, backlit and casting shadows. END]

WHAT THE FUCK. that is terrifying

(something about beautiful black inked art + toy model makes them so CREATURE)

[ID: Roy speaks to a man in army uniform. Roy: How large? Soldier: Well… ahh…at a rough estimate? About the size of an ocean-going liner. Roy: Whaat? Roy with a hand to his head in dismay: Well, for god's sake what is it? Solider: We don't know. I've called in extra men and we're going to excavate… END]

somethings! buried under the castle... gee well one wonders what it might be

[ID: Close on Jazz's alt mode dashboard, its filled with lights and screen of alien language. Hes saying: But I'm not a stranger, Sammy. Deep down, you know… don't you? You've been wanting an adventure all your life… Besides. I have something to tell you. Sammy looking doubtful. Jazz continues: Something really important. Sammy has a hand on Jazz's open door: Why not just sit for a while in the front seat? Just pretend you're driving… END]

JAZZ THATS KIDNAPPING BUD....

really get a kick outta this note in the printed version

[ID: REMEMBER: NEVER ACCEPT LIFTS FROM STRANGERS! TO BE CONTINUED! END]

(no 11)

[ID: Jazz speaks to Sammy on the road, a blue and white F1 car pulling up. "My name is unpronounceable in your language… so just call me Jazz! And that's Mirage right behind us!" Jazz takes a exit to a low road, a black camper truck driving alongside. "This is where we rendezvous with Trailbreaker. All set Sammy?" All three driving along, Sammy responds "Sure thing Jazz!" END]

[guitar riff] THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN. im so glad all my good friends are here.

[ID: An fiery explosion engulfing Trailbreaker with a "Whaamf!". Wheels coming off, glass shattering, the truck top blowing to bits. Trailbreaker veering off road, a trail of fire and parts behind him calls out "Jazz! I'm hit... I'm hit BAD! END]

TRAILBREAKER NOOOO. who could have seen this coming...

[ID: Jazz narrowing swerving a missile. Exploding behind him, and speedlines trail him, and a wreath in flame around him. The colours are almost delicate, and a reflective glow in his paint. END]

wha. this just looks so cool.... what the hell....

[ID: Bluesteak, smiling speaking to comms "Autobot Bluestreak to patrol leader +++ Just brushed something off your tail, Jazz+++ try to be more careful in future, hmmm? Bluestreak out+" END]

being a cunt in the work slack. king

[ID: Jazz in profile, lit under the starry night sky, soft line-less colours defining the planes of his head in blue greys, and pitch black. To Sammy he says "Not really. It's a shuttlecraft… now stand back…" To comms "Autobot Jazz To Autobot leader+++ Approaching shuttle with Surveillance Subject+++ Request permission to board+++" END]

Wuh. Huh. Jazz u look so fucking cool right now?? And handsome.....

okay whats going on back at the castle (no 12)

[ID: The army soldier half sitting on a desk, holding a phone to his ear, the rotary cradle held resting on his leg. He's saying "IT's not just a question of scale, sir. We simply cannot identify it. END]

whys he kinda... apparently this style of uniform is called temperate barrack dress?? that answers none of my questions im just kinda... whyd u draw him like that tho...

[ID: A seeker, drawn in blues, walking between the ruins of the castle. Off panel someone says "It just seemed to appear from nowhere!" END]

bigfooting it up... AT A CASTLE. oh lads. im done for [blah blah he telePORTS and thats skywarps power but hes blue so WHO is it. dont worry abt it man. dont matter. they apparently change in the various times its been coloured, which is objectively funny imho. keep em guessing]

[ID: Moody and still illustrations of a robot identical to the Man of Iron in stasis, plugged into a bed of sorts. The ship around him is dark but for strips of coloured computer like lights in the walls and floor. Caption boxes narrate: Deep beneath the Autobots feet, in a sealed chamber, a special Autobot lay waiting… He was navigator, warrior and guardian of Autobot destiny… In his long, slow, machine world, a million years were as fleeting seconds. Human history had passed over him. Small inter panels. Mid on the Guardian: Locked in his dormant brain was the location of the planet Cybertron. He waited only to be re-activated, re-integrated with his mission… Restored to life. Close on the Guardian: His attendant was no more, the link between them severed. Laying in profile, just barely defined in the pitch black: Alone in the darkness he patiently beamed his signal. The same pattern of impulses… Waiting. END]

What the actual fuck (its even more somberly dramatic than just that)

[ID: Sammy, from a distance, staring at the castle. Caption Box: Autumn came, leaves fell. Sammy was a year older and a year wiser. He never saw Jazz again… Sammy asleep in bed, moonlight pouring through his paneled window. "But on clear, sharp nights, when stars glittered like needles and the night winds rattled his window… Then he slept a fitful, fearful sleep…" Sammy sleeping, with his dreams projected above him. "And the Man of Iron walked once more through his dreams." The End]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

um well. okay! thats. fucking crazy. and this is the only tf comic this dude ever did. okay... can u tell he was from the dr who comics...... it ALSO means this doesnt actually speak at all for what the rest of tfuk will be like. which is damn funny. LIKE WOW! THAT WAS CRAZY. anyways.