#bang martin but hey

[bonesblackheadrotten]

started ch 8 feeling like everything's been going so well lately (meaning there's going to be a hell later) just to get that diamond scene and then MC answers that call and now i'm sitting here like. welp. either this starts out things nice and slowly or MC gets shot at again or something

[wheelercore]

Everyone wants 2 b like haha steve-ted parallels or whatever lol but nobody ever wants 2 talk about steve saying that he was just going to end up working for his asshole dad... steves dad forcing him to take a job at starcourt... ted's supposed 6 figure salary in the 80s... teds mysterious coworker who saw el coming out of the basement thats never brought up again... random scientist named teddy at hnl in s2... steve talking about his grandfather who served in ww2... brenners dad serving in the Navy in ww2 which is very plot relevant... steve was an asshole like his dad... sons mirroring their fathers... perfectly groomed in the morning clean shaven hair gel-ed up in business attire reading the newspaper during breakfast... the grandfather clock chimes sitting in the wheeler entrance way and the watchmaker ad on brenners newspaper... both legal owners basements full of toys for "their" kids... conclusion mr harrington is just a stand in for brenner ted wheeler is a nepo baby brenner stepdad au is real and the wheelers are legally but not biologically related to dr brenner. No i cant explain nevada.

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: Awkward Encounters

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: times when your grid kids gained way more insight into your relationship than they asked for

Series Masterlist

The Time Max Just Wanted to Sleep

Max checks into his hotel room after a particularly tiring day at the track, desperately needing some rest. But as he sinks into the plush hotel bed, he’s met with unexpected noises coming from the adjacent suite. Recognizing the familiar voices, he groans, realizing that he’s unfortunately booked right next to you and Sebastian.

Pulling a pillow over his head, Max tries to drown out the sounds but they seem to only grow louder. He paces the room, plugging in earphones and trying to blast some music. Yet, the thin walls of the hotel make it hard to escape the breathy gasps and banging of the headboard coming from next door.

Getting desperate, Max considers going down and asking if any other rooms are still available but then decides to tackle the issue head-on. Grabbing his phone, he shoots a cheeky text to you and Sebastian: Hey, mind keeping it down a bit? Some of us are trying to sleep here!

***

A few minutes later, there’s a knock on Max’s door. Opening it, he finds the two of you, looking sheepish and holding a bottle of champagne.

“Peace offering,” Sebastian says with a grin. “Sorry about the noise.”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Next time, maybe we should coordinate our room arrangements a bit better.”

You end up sitting in Max’s suite, sharing the champagne as the initial awkwardness of the evening fades away.

As the night draws to a close, Max hugs you and pats Sebastian on the back, “Thanks for the drink. But next time, seriously, a bit of discretion wouldn’t hurt.”

Sebastian laughs, raising his glass before downing the remaining champagne, “To fewer awkward hotel nights.”

The Time Lance Just Wanted Some Music

It’s a bustling race weekend and the paddock is alive with activity. Inside the Aston Martin garage, Lance is fumbling with the PA system, trying to connect his phone to the system so he can share his new pump-up playlist with the team.

Meanwhile, nearby in an unused back office, you and Sebastian steal a few moments of intimacy away from the spotlight and the stress of the race.

Just as things heat up between you two, Lance unknowingly reroutes the PA system, and suddenly, the sounds from the office you commandeered echo through the entire garage. The mechanics and engineers freeze, their eyes widening in shock, while some try (and fail) to suppress their giggles.

As the soft murmurs and distinctive sounds start echoing through the garage, everyone stops in their tracks. Eyes widen, jaws drop, and awkward glances are exchanged. The team quickly realizes what’s happening and a frantic search begins to find the source of the unintended broadcast.

Max, who ran to the garage at the first sense of drama, snickers, leaning over to Charles who joined him, never one to resist good gossip either, “Seems like Seb’s getting a turbo boost.”

Charles stifles his laughter, nodding, “Definitely achieving maximum force.”

Realizing what he’s done, a horrified Lance scrambles to correct his mistake, finally disconnecting the PA system.

***

You and Sebastian, initially clueless about the unintended broadcast, step out of the room only to be met with a chorus of playful wolf whistles and knowing grins.

Charles leans in, whispering to Sebastian, "You guys put on quite the show.”

Max, laughing uncontrollably, slaps Lance on the back, “Best PA announcement ever!”

Lance, beet-red with embarrassment, mumbles his apologies, “I had no idea! I was just trying to fix the connection.”

Despite the initial shock, the hilarity of the situation soon takes over and the entire team is rolling with laughter. Sebastian, taking it in stride, wraps an arm around Lance’s shoulder, “Well, that’s one way to boost team morale.”

You, trying to hide your blush but failing, add with a smirk, “I guess we just set a new standard for team bonding.”

Later that night, at a dinner with your grid kids, George raises his glass, “To Lance, for reminding us all of the importance of ... connecting. And to Seb and Y/N, for providing today’s unexpected entertainment!”

The Time Lando Just Wanted to Stream

It’s another busy race weekend and the paddock is buzzing with energy. Lando, with some rare free time, decides to give his fans a live behind-the-scenes tour of the paddock on Instagram.

With tens of thousands of fans tuned in, Lando enthusiastically shows off various parts of the paddock. The garages, the control rooms, and the media centers all get their moment in the spotlight.

As Lando continues with his tour, he approaches a drivers’ lounge, thinking it would be a great idea to show his fans where the drivers relax and chat.

But as he pushes open the door, camera first, he unexpectedly broadcasts a very private moment between you and Sebastian. There’s a split second of stunned silence as the three of you stare at each other like deer in headlights before chaos ensues.

“Oops! Wrong room!” Lando exclaims, hastily retreating, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. He quickly ends the live stream but the damage is done.

***

Minutes later, the paddock is buzzing with whispers. Lando, mortified by his mistake, immediately approaches you and Sebastian to apologize.

“I swear I didn’t know! I thought it was empty!” he stammers, clearly distressed.

Sebastian, although embarrassed, pulls Lando into a one-armed hug to calm him down, “It’s okay. We should have locked the door.”

Lando nods, “And I should’ve knocked.”

That evening, as your not so little family regroups, there’s no escaping the topic. But instead of letting it hang awkwardly, the grid kids decide to turn it into a joke.

Charles, holding up his phone, teases, “So, thinking of starting a new career as an influencer couple?”

Max chimes in, “Yeah, your ratings went through the roof!”

In the middle of the laughter, you lean over to Lando, “Maybe stick to streaming video games for a while, okay?”

Lando grins sheepishly, “Deal.”

The Time Mick Just Wanted a Massage

The race had been particularly challenging that week and Mick, knowing how hard everyone had been pushing themselves, thought it would be a kind gesture to gift you and Sebastian a day of relaxation at the luxurious spa resort nearby. The couple’s massage package, complete with aromatherapy and access to private thermal baths, seemed perfect.

Thinking he’d also take the opportunity to indulge in some self-care, Mick booked a Swedish massage for himself around the same time, imagining quietly de-stressing in adjacent rooms.

As he settles in for his treatment, the gentle background music and expert hands of the masseuse almost lull Mick into a nap. But just as he’s drifting off, a familiar, muffled giggle floats through the walls, quickly followed by other ... less innocent noises.

Recognition dawns and Mick’s eyes snap open in horror. Next to him is the couple’s treatment room and it appears that you and Sebastian are finding more ways to relax than what the spa menu offered.

Panicking and wanting to escape the increasingly awkward situation, Mick whispers to the masseuse, signaling that he wants to end the session early. But the sounds, both from the neighboring room and his own racing heartbeat, make it hard to communicate discreetly.

Finally, unable to bear another second, Mick bolts upright, wrapping himself in his robe and leaving behind a very confused masseuse and a half-finished massage.

On his hurried way out, he generously tips the spa staff, adding a whispered plea, “Thicker walls. Please consider getting thicker walls.”

***

After the spa incident, you and Sebastian felt the need to make amends for the unintentional awkwardness you’d caused Mick.

The next morning, Mick receives a package at the door of his hotel room. Curious, he unwraps it to find a luxurious noise-canceling headphone set along with a cheeky note:

For the next time we’re all at the spa (or anywhere, really). May these help you find the peace and quiet you truly deserve!

We are so sorry,

Y/N and Seb

Mick chuckles, appreciating the humor and thoughtfulness behind the gift. Shaking his head with amusement, he sends you a text: Thanks for the headphones! I’ll be sure to put them to good use. And no worries, it’s all in good fun!

The Time Charles Just Wanted to Play the Piano

One breezy evening, Charles, looking to relax, decides to play the grand piano in the lounge area of the upscale hotel you’re all staying in. He’s excited to show off the piece he recently composed and thinks the soft tunes would be the perfect backdrop for the sunset.

As the first notes float in the air, Charles becomes more engrossed in his performance, letting the melody guide his emotions. Guests gather, drawn by his beautiful rendition, creating a small, appreciative audience.

However, as he transitions to a quieter, more mellow piece, another sound begins to subtly accompany his piano playing. It’s coming from the suite above the lounge and the faint but unmistakable noises are in stark contrast to his elegant music.

Charles’ eyes widen in recognition, realizing the suite above belongs to you and Sebastian. Trying to maintain his composure and not draw attention to the … additional soundtrack, Charles decides to improvise.

Switching to a louder, more vibrant tune, he plays with increased vigor and volume, trying to drown out the amorous symphony from upstairs. The crowd, oblivious to his true motives, applauds his versatility, thinking it’s all part of the show.

Once his fingers are numb and you seem to have quieted down, Charles wraps up his impromptu concert with a flourish, earning hearty applause from the crowd.

Later, as he walks past your table during dinner, Charles leans in, whispering with a smirk, “Your ... appreciation for my music was evident but maybe next time, stick to clapping something other than your cheeks?”

The Time George Just Wanted to Hang Up

George is prepping for an upcoming race, headphones in, studying the track layout on his tablet. Your name flashes across his phone screen and he quickly answers, eager to discuss your plans for the weekend.

The conversation goes smoothly and as it concludes, George believes he’s hung up, returning to his race prep. However, the call hasn’t disconnected and as moments pass, he starts hearing faint, intimate whispers, quickly recognizing the familiar voices of you and Sebastian.

Panicking, George tries to hang up but for some inexplicable reason, the phone seems to be in a rebellious mood. In his flustered state, he accidentally switches the call to speaker mode, amplifying the ... private conversation for all to hear.

In a rising state of desperation and embarrassment, George mashes buttons but the phone, now seemingly possessed, continues to broadcast the sighs and moans. His face reddens, realizing that his team, busy in the adjoining rooms, can probably hear everything.

In a final bid for respite, George, driven to the edge, hurls his phone against the wall. The device shatters, mercifully cutting off the call and restoring sweet silence.

Catching his breath, George contemplates the wreckage of his phone, feeling a mix of relief and regret.

Later, when he sees you and Sebastian, he sheepishly explains the demise of his phone. “You owe me a new one,” he jokes, “And maybe a pair of earplugs.”

Sebastian chuckles while you reach up to ruffle his hair, “Next time just put it on airplane mode.”

The Time They Just Wanted to Check the Group Chat Without Having to Bleach Their Eyes

On a quiet evening as you’re prepping dinner, your phone buzzes with a new notification. Wiping your hands, you pick it up only to find a message in the group chat you share with Sebastian and your grid kids. To your horror, it’s a risqué photo of Sebastian, clearly meant for your eyes only but now out there for the entire gang to see.

Immediately, the chat explodes.

Lando: My eyes! My eyes, they burn!

Charles: Seb, trying to spice up media day?

George: Well, that’s a different kind of pole position

Max: Blackmail material acquired 😈

Lance: This is taking teammate bonding a bit too far

Mick: I can never look you in the eyes again

Sebastian, realizing his mistake, quickly responds: Oops, meant to send that to Y/N. Sorry guys

Then, because he’s still a menace at heart, adds: Enjoy the view 😉

Max, always ready with a quip, shoots back: Enjoyed and scarred for life. Thanks, Seb

You jump in, trying to diffuse the situation: Okay, as fun as this is, let’s all delete and pretend this never happened. Deal?

Your grid kids collectively agree, although the jokes don’t stop anytime soon.

***

Later that evening, you find Sebastian slightly red-faced but chuckling. “Guess I need a lesson in texting,” he admits.

“You think?” you laugh, giving him a playful nudge.

To ensure no future mishaps, your grid kids gift Sebastian a book titled “Text Messaging for Dummies” when you meet up the following weekend, turning the awkward incident into a funny memory.

It’s just another day in the unpredictable but always entertaining life with your family.

And you have to admit, it was a nice photo. You make sure to enjoy the view in real life that night.

[bloodstainedsaint]

the sniper (joseph liebgott x sniper! reader)

summary: when you transferred from dog company to easy company following the battle of bloody gulch, you thought you knew what to expect of men in the military— though you really wanted joe liebgott to prove you wrong

word count: just over 3500

warnings: period-typical sexism & misogyny (big part of the story), very minor violence, denying feelings, mutual pining, reader lowkey has trust issues, full of other characters but hopefully no one's ooc?? also this fic is kinda messy 😭

notes: happy thanksgiving! enjoy this fic for the holidays 💞 also your favs AREN'T sexist, just confused

Gossip, you realized, was an easy way to kill time for the men of the military, especially with the recent news that there would be a transfer to Easy Company— the transfer being you, of course. You had no idea you were such a hot topic until you walked down a street of Aldbourne in search of the man currently in charge of your new company, Lieutenant Winters, and overheard a trio of soldiers discussing rumors as they sat around awaiting orders.

“Hey, have you heard that there’s a transfer coming from D-Company?” one said, lighting a cigarette.

“Whew, he must’ve not taken any smokes from Lieutenant Sparky, huh, Don?” another chuckled, stealing the cigarette out of who you guessed was Don’s fingers and puffing for emphasis, much to Don’s displeasure.

Huffing, Don continued, “He’s a sniper, apparently! Better than Shifty!”

“Nah, no one’s better than Shifty,” the third butted in. “Shifty can shoot you right between the eyes blindfolded.”

“Shifty would deny that ‘til he died, Penk,” said the second with a smile.

“It’s true, Skip! Apparently he tracked a target from 1,000 yards away and still got him in the head! Bang! Just like that,” Don said while he mimicked holding a rifle and firing.

“Psh, our boy Shifty could do that, or better: 2,000 yards, right?” Skip nudged Penk with his shoulder.

Penk shrugged. “Length don’t matter, anyway. It’s what you do with the gun, not how far it shoots.”

Skip and Don shared a look and grinned, the latter joking, “Don’t you mean distance, Alex? What, you insecure about something?”

The trio devolved into laughter and banter, but was suddenly quieted as Don patted the others and pointed at you approaching. Several other men standing nearby swiveled their heads to watch as well.

A woman dressed in fatigues, the shoulder of her uniform emblazoned with the Screaming Eagles patch, a M1 Garand slung around her back— they couldn't seem to get their mind around it. Disregarding their curious stares (you’d gotten a lot of them for the past two years or so that you've been enlisted), you walked past the group of spectators.

A couple of men whistled lowly, and a murmur spread through the small crowd. You stopped in your tracks for a moment, eyes downward in thought. Surely one of these men knows where Lieutenant Winters is. You turned on your heel toward the group.

“Afternoon,” you addressed the onlookers, who were now either standing up or gathering around in interest. Your eyes went from man to man, meeting inquisitive and suspicious stares alike, unfazed. “Anyone know where I can find Lieutenant Winters?”

“You, uh, you lost?” a diminutive man — Perconte, his name tag read — asked.

One with a strict face and a glower already etched into it — Martin — stepped into the scattered group. “Who’s asking?”

“Private (Y/N), sir,” you said with a quick salute that was returned. “I’m transferring from Dog Company to Easy Company. I was told to look for a Lieutenant Winters.”

The men exchanged a look amongst each other.

The man from earlier, Don, spoke up with awe apparent in his voice. “You’re a sniper?”

You turned to him with a curt nod. “Yes, I’m a sharpshooter.”

Then a lanky, scrappy-looking guy, Liebgott, entered with a smirk tugging upon his lips. Just by looking at his crooked smile and raised eyebrows, you knew he was going to cause you trouble. Just another man ogling at you like you're nothing but a pretty face. What else is new? “You need help getting around base?”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” you swiftly rebuffed, turning your attention back to the rest of the men. You set them with an expectant look.

“You can find Lieutenant Winters over there at CP,” Randleman, a large red-headed man, said around a hefty cigar in his mouth, nodding his head in the tent’s direction. “If he’s not there, try the mess cabin.”

With a small smile, grateful that someone finally answered your question instead of asking more of them, you thanked him, saluted, and walked off.

As you started towards CP, you heard behind your back, “Did Roosevelt change something while we were overseas? ‘Cause I just saw a lady wearing paratrooper clothing with a rifle ‘round her back.”

“Very astute, George,” someone replied.

You could almost hear the smirk in Liebgott’s voice as he declared, “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Yeah, come back alive,” another voice — Skip, maybe — chimed in. “Speirs might’ve rubbed off on her.”

You only had a few seconds to mentally prepare yourself before you heard footsteps catching up behind you. Liebgott was now walking side by side with you, matching your brisk pace.

“Hey, (Y/N), right?”

You took a sidelong glance at him. “That’s right.”

“Joseph D. Liebgott. Technician 5th-Grade.”

“And is there a reason why you’re following me to CP, Liebgott?”

“Thought I’d show you around base, get to know you a little.”

“And I thought I declined your assistance,” you said firmly. “I was part of Dog Company; I'm not new around here.”

“Alright, how about introducing you to Easy men when you’re finished?” He threw a smile your way. “They’re curious about you.”

You slightly grimaced at the thought of being at the center of attention for so many strangers. “I’d rather not.”

“Why? They’re great guys. I don’t know about Dog Company men and their Lieutenant Speirs, but Easy men, especially Toccoa men, are different.”

They don’t seem all that different to me. You gripped the strap of your gun a little tighter. “Once again, I’ll pass.”

He shrugged. “You’ll warm up to us.”

A tense silence ensued. You did your best to not seem bothered by it. Usually by this point people gave up and stopped talking to you entirely.

“So, uh,” he began, running his hands through his hair. Of course you weren’t getting rid of him that easily. Your intuition earlier was right. “Why’re you transferring over to Easy? No offense, but we've got a helluva marksman already.”

“I wasn’t given a reason, just an order.”

“That so? Well, maybe you’ll take his place as our resident sniper, huh?”

“Looking forward to it,” you responded drily.

He chuckled. “You’ll fit right into Easy with the rest of the snarkers. Where you from, (Y/N)?”

You eyed him cautiously. “Lansing, Michigan.”

“Get outta here, you serious? I'm from there too!” Liebgott cracked a smile and gazed at you. “Man, I might’ve seen you around and just haven’t realized it. Could've been talking to you years ago.”

You pursed your lips. “It wouldn't have helped your chances, Liebgott.”

Grinning, he said, undaunted, “What chances? We're just talking. I wanna know the lady I’ll be fighting with.”

“You just want to know if I’m single or not. That’s all,” you icily said as the two of you neared the tent.

Apparently found out, Liebgott smiled broadly and stopped a few feet from CP while you continued walking. “Well, are you?”

You turned to face him. “Yes, I’m single, and no, I’m not interested in sleeping with you.”

You couldn’t see the smile melt off his face as you entered the tent, eyes searching amongst all the men and equipment for the tall soldier you’ve seen conversing with Lieutenant Speirs before.

“Private (Y/N),” a voice called. You looked in its direction and finally found Winters.

“Lieutenant Winters.” You saluted.

“You’re the new transfer, right?” he asked, beckoning you further into the tent for some privacy. You were thankful that most of the men here were too occupied with their own duties to notice you.

You followed him to a quiet corner. “Yes, sir.”

“Met the men yet?”

“Some of them.”

“Anyone give you trouble?” he asked gently. “You can tell me.”

You paused, thinking. Nothing past some inquisitive stares and a couple of questions. “No, sir.”

Winters perceived your hesitation. “If that changes, tell me. They're good men, but they might be a bit eager to meet you.”

You nodded. Liebgott certainly was. He analyzed your face for a second before continuing, “Try to get yourself acquainted at dinner before you go into combat with them. That’ll be all, Private.”

You saluted, knowing full well that you’ll most likely try to get a seat by yourself, away from the clamor of the men.

“Thank you, sir.”

-

It turned out that no seat was good enough to escape the onslaught of questions.

You had gotten there early and took a seat at the far end of one of the tables with a book in hand and not much of an appetite. Unfortunately for you, being one of the first ones there instead of a head in a crowd of people singled you out, and eventually you were surrounded by men wanting to know more.

“Hey, this is the new replacement I’ve been hearing so much about, yeah?” Bill Guarnere, or Wild Bill, as they called him, questioned, shoving himself into one of the seats at your table.

“Transfer, Gonorrhea, not a replacement,” Liebgott said from your side. When he had entered the mess cabin, you had attempted to hide yourself with your book, but to no avail. He had beelined toward you, beaming ear to ear as he slid into the seat next to you.

“You into books?” he said, eyes going from you to the book in your hands.

You thought that he might actually surprise you.“Yeah, are you?”

He scoffed lightheartedly. “What, you kidding? I love to read!”

A ghost of a smile graced your face. “What kind?”

“Oh, you know, Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, mostly!” he said, seemingly proud of himself, and your smile disappeared.

Soon after that, people swarmed your table. If you were being fair, though, Liebgott had spoken for you for most of the night, making sure you could read in relative peace. If you didn't know any better, you’d say that he was just enjoying you being by his side, but you were still wary of any underlying intentions (let’s say, getting into your pants) he might have.

Yet, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw the way he looked at you from time to time with a small smile upturning his lips, and you wanted to believe he didn't have any.

“Transfer, replacement, whatever,” Bill brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “What I wanna know is—”

“—why she’s a girl?” Liebgott finished. “Jeez, I dunno, she’s only been asked this twelve times tonight.”

“If you’d let me finish,” Bill said with a pointed look at Liebgott as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, “I was gonna ask if she did shoot a Kraut from 1,000 yards away.”

“You’d be giving ole Shifty a real run for his money, ain't that right, Shift?” Joe — the other one, Joe Toye — said from beside Bill, reaching over to another table and shaking one of the guys there.

Shifty, you assumed, looked over and met your eyes with a kind smile. “No, no, I’m sure she's a better shot than me. Y'all give me too much credit.”

“That’s what being humble will get ya.” Bill chuckled and puffed from his cigarette. “Your spot as Easy’s best shot out from under ya.”

The table laughed, and you steeled yourself before uttering in a quiet, yet steady voice, “It was two men.”

A hush descended over the table. Liebgott turned to look at you. “What?”

“Two men. I dropped the first. The other one heard and started running. I dropped him next. Both in the head,” you relayed, without the humor of a storyteller but the gravity of a historian. You didn't know it, but you had a stony look in your eye.

Luckily, you were saved from the stunned silence by a man getting up and reciting a poem, but you could feel Liebgott’s eyes burning into you. With fear? Admiration? You weren’t sure, but you didn't dare look over.

-

Joe Liebgott was nothing if not persistent. For months now, he'd been lingering around you, flirting and striking up conversations with you. To be honest, you never outright said for him to stop (besides that one time in the very beginning when you said you weren’t interested), so you guessed he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

Still, he seemed determined to get you into his bed.

“C’mon, I think we’d look cute together!”

“That’s what you think, Joe,” George said, squatting next to his friend, “Giving her heart eyes and all. Meanwhile, she looks at you like you're her next target.”

Brushing his teeth, Frank followed the other two’s gaze across the road, where you were happily talking with Bull and Shifty. He spat out the toothpaste residue on the ground beside him and said, counting on his fingers, “Seems like the only people she gives the time of day to are Shifty, Bull, Doc Roe, even Webster.”

“Who, if you'll notice,” George said, gesturing with a cigarette between his fingers, “are all quiet, reserved, well-mannered people. You, on the other hand, got a loud mouth and, uh, what’s it called, Frank?”

“A short fuse,” Frank supplied.

“Yeah, a short fuse. She probably thinks you’re trying to get into bed with her, in which case, you're shit outta luck.”

Frank said, shaking his head, “Scary, that girl. With her rifle and that look in her eyes.”

Liebgott exhaled. “But I’m not tryna just sleep with her! I even gave her some of my favorite comics ‘cause I knew she likes to read.”

“Yeah, real books, Joe— that's why she gets along with Webster!” Frank exclaimed. “You sure you didn't give her the pornos?”

George laughed. “That'd give her the wrong impression.”

Liebgott narrowed his eyes as you giggled at something Shifty said. “You’re right, maybe she doesn't like me.”

Standing up, George sighed and snuffed out his cigarette. “That’s not the point, Joe. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

“Yeah, like I’m her next target? You told me already.”

“No,” George said with an exaggerated eye roll, “like she wants more outta you. ‘Cause all she's getting is the impression that you wanna fuck her.”

Liebgott stood up as well, still watching as you laughed with Bull and Shifty. George and Frank patted him on the back.

“She’s all yours, buddy,” Frank assured with a sympathetic smile. “She makes heart eyes at you too.”

-

There were only a handful of women selected to serve outside of something like a nurse’s position; you just so happened to be one of them, most likely because of your experience with a rifle. So, you’d gotten used to the lustful ways some men would watch you, or the demeaning ways they would taunt you. You guessed almost all of them had never seen a woman with a combat position in the military before (or by the way some of them acted, ever spoken to a woman at all).

But such men only assumed that you had earned your jump wings by sleeping around with officers. They assumed that they should be able to get in on it too, or that they should condemn you for something you didn't even do, for being unworthy and unskilled all because you were a woman.

It had always been a difficult pill to swallow: your military career would be littered with scathing remarks and crude comments, and you’d have to be strictly professional or closed-off with most men lest you’d be seen as a whore rather than just “scary”. But the hardest fact to accept was the fact that Liebgott, for all the kindness he had shown you, all the times he talked to you like you were a human being— that he most likely had the same intentions as everyone else.

As much as you relished his company, his crooked smile, his jokes, his lingering touches (and as much as you had to pretend you didn't), you had to accept his end goal was for you to warm his bed. And sure, maybe he was more dogged with his efforts than other men were, and maybe your friends in the company had told you that he was a genuine guy, but you just couldn't believe that he had anything else in mind when it came to you.

Maybe all the criticisms thrown your way had affected you more than you thought.

With the success of Operation Pegasus, Bull had dragged you (not literally, though you’re sure he could've) into a pub in the Netherlands for some celebratory drinking.

You didn't drink, and you disliked pubs; the smell of booze and drunken people was often overpowering, but at least you found quiet company with Bull. Across the room from your table, you saw Liebgott staring at you with a smile and a drink in his hand. It seemed as though he had noticed you the second you entered.

“It’s alright if I leave you alone for a second, little lady?” Bull said, chewing on a cigar like usual. “You'll be fine?”

“Sure, Bull. Go enjoy yourself.”

The large man smiled and patted you on the back before leaving to talk to some of the other men in the company.

Not one to mingle, you were only a few pages into your book when you caught the attention of an intoxicated soldier.

“Look who it is,” Cobb said to himself, hardly standing upright. You recognized his voice, seeing as this wasn’t the first time he’s derided you. “Ms. 1,000 Yards, huh. Bet the officers over at Dog Company only made up that story so it looks like you had some use.”

You ground your teeth. Typically, if you didn't give someone like him the satisfaction of an answer, they’d leave you alone. Why defend yourself and give people another word to call you: bitchy?

“What's a woman got to do in the military anyway?” Bottle in hand, he shambled towards you. “Besides suck the dicks of the men who are actually fighting.”

Steadying your uneven breath, you tried to look behind him to find Liebgott, but his body blocked your view.

Taking another swig, he spat, “That why they transferred you over from Dog Company? Those boys got their fill of you and passed you onto us, huh? Fuckin’ good for nothing slut.”

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” You heard Liebgott’s voice and felt relief wash over you.

Cobb turned around, and you caught a glimpse of an incensed Liebgott, a fierce glint to his eyes.

“Tell me what you just said to her.”

“Oh, please, Joe, you trying to get her to suck your cock faster—”

He was interrupted by a fist flying his way, toppling the inebriated man. Liebgott got on top of him and began trading punches before the surrounding men, drawn by the commotion, tried to pull him off of Cobb.

Your eyes were blown wide as you stood there, speechless. Bull found you and pulled you by the arm out of the pub.

“But what about Liebgott?” you said, peering behind you.

Bull shrugged and did the same. “Seems like he was winning anyway.”

That night in your billet, all you could think about was the fury that twisted Liebgott’s face into one you only saw on the battlefield.

And it was all for you.

-

The next day, you searched for Liebgott at breakfast, the table feeling a bit more empty without him taking up his normal spot beside you, but he had found you first, as he usually did.

“Hey, (Y/N), can I talk to you for a sec?” he said, his hand on your shoulder. You turned around in your seat and were met with a slightly bruised Liebgott, a small cut across his nose. Concern filling your chest, you nodded, and his hand held your wrist as he led you out of the mess hall.

“So, uh, about last night,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched yours for how you felt about him bringing it up, but he found no hints in your unreadable expression. “I’m sorry for fighting Cobb for you. You're a strong woman, you could handle him yourself—”

Smiling at his uncharacteristic hesitance, you cut his apology short with a peck on the cheek. You pulled away and saw his temporary surprise.

“Thank you, Joe. I appreciated you standing up for me. It means a lot.”

His face broke into the widest beam you've ever seen.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked eagerly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even process what they were. “Shit, sorry, that was too soon—”

You answered his question by tenderly holding his bruised face with your hands and bringing his lips to yours. You could feel him grin into the kiss as he pulled you closer, and your heart just about melted.

Maybe you had gotten Joe Liebgott all wrong from the start.

“Great, he’s never gonna wash that cheek again!”

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop

[sgiandubh]

Business, as usual

Formula 1 week-end with a new, 22 year old and Scottish conquest?

In *urv's head - her sock accounts made frantically the rounds again, all week-end long, amending her bullshit on the go, trying to spy, finding nothing. Whatever it takes, even the utmost ridicule, to remain relevant.

The 'conquest':

Underdog profile, associated with the Aston Martin Academy. So, it is only normal for her to post the following story:

A normal side event for the tournament she's been a very active part of for days, now:

Meanwhile, S posts something from the same event, obviously thanking a friendly event organizing company, Twist London, for serving (and promoting) his booze:

S, Norouzi and the Twist London people know each other well, it would seem. But hey, never let business truth get in the way of a *urv #parochial fanfic:

How does that prove anything else than a very attractive young athlete being three feet away from a bar serving S's booze is just beyond me. *urv's posse of hypocrite, ageing women should really, really be ashamed of themselves.

And since we are debunking things, let me add something about the Foul-Mouthed June Brunette. You thought, as I did (guilty as charged, always), that she was found on Raya?

Oh, no. Think twice and so long for #sources, #timelines and other baker's dozen trolls.

As it was very judiciously pointed out before, S's own hospitality business network can be a very useful, ready made solution for PR blunders.

Because look who Panikian tagged, a couple of days ago, just as she was landing in Portugal:

Melissa Wood Tepperberg. She was busy in the Hamptons, with the usual nouveau riche weekend entertainment spree, but she is a friend and probably a role model, in her world.

Incidentally, she is also this guy's wife:

He is also very friendly to her and seems to closely follow her shenanigans:

Link to S? Oh, for sure - remember August 11, 2022? When things were dramatic, somewhere in Ireland?

And when time and cover-up were of the essence?

I rest my case. There is strictly nothing organic about June Brunette. A short lived summer stunt, who came around with a bang and went away with a fizz.

PS: Mulțumesc frumos - știi tu... 😘😘

[astermath]

fucking finally

pairing: chad meeks-martin x fem!reader

summary: the tension between you and chad finally comes to a conclusion after he takes you home from a party.

word count: 2K

warnings: cursing, porn w a bit of plot??, chad being a king and a charming mf, protected sex, oral (f receiving), MINORS DNI!!!

notes: first time writing for chad, I just found out his actor likes tattoos and anime?? what a dream man ahdshfd. anyways this was supposed to be abt something else but I got carried away, so I'll keep the other idea for another time lol. not proofread!!! lmk if you'd like to be on the tag list for further chad meeks-martin related content!

You and Chad had this strange "will they, won't they" tension going on ever since you met. You were kind of part of the friend group, sometimes tagging along to parties and hangouts, but not often enough for him to justify hanging out with you without it being a date.

And though Chad was well aware of his charm and charisma, and knew he could just ask you out, he enjoyed this thing you had going on. Though he wished it would lead to something, anything eventually.

And you felt the same. You weren't shy, you loved joking around with him, and you could tell there was something between you two. The tension had gotten to a point where his friends were practically starting to bet money on if you guys were going to hook up after each party or not.

And that night at the party was no different. The two of you jokingly (or not so jokingly) flirting back and forth, making Mindy practically lose it over your comments.

"Holy shit, can you two just like bang and get it over with already?" She sat on the couch next to Anika, an arm over her girlfriend's shoulder.

"I don't know," Chad said, his arm around you in the exact same way, "Can we?"

You rolled your eyes, legs flung over his as you sat on the couch across the other couple. "You fuckin' wish, big guy." You hid your smirk behind the plastic red cup you were sipping out of.

"Yeah," He looked at you and winked, before downing his drink, "kinda do."

The rest of the night was pretty eventful. You didn't drink that much, but you'd danced a lot, and even ran away from Chad who swore he was going to toss you into the frat house's pool.

Needless to say, you were spent. So Chad offered you a piggy back ride back to your dorm, and you happily obliged. Your cheek was squished against the back of his shoulder, eyes half closed as you gently rocked up and down along with the trudge of his steps.

"You fallin' asleep back there?" He turned his head slightly and you looked up.

"No, no... Wide awake, actually." You smiled sleepily.

"Great," He patted your thigh, "cause we've got some stairs to do."

You groaned loudly, knowing damn well he could easily do those stairs with you on his back. But you decided not to argue, hopping off his back. You wobbled for a moment, and he was ready to catch you, but you held your hand up in protest.

He walked behind you the entire way up the stairs. In case you fell, of course, not because he had a great view of your ass from that angle. Totally not. Although he had to admit the red lacy panties you wore under that skirt made an appearance in his line of sight every now and then.

You opened the door to your room and plopped face down onto your bed, groaning into the pillow. "Ugh... 'M so sore..."

He waited in the doorway for a second, grinning at how dramatic you were. "At least take your shoes off, that's just bad etiquette." He sat down on your bed and took off your shoes for you, setting them down gently.

"Yeah, well..." You turned around on the bed, an arm laid over your stomach as you looked at him. "I think threatening to throw your crush into the pool is bad etiquette too."

He smirked, scooting a little closer. "My crush huh? I didn't know we were confessing things to each other."

"Hey, I haven't confessed shit," implying you had yet to confess something to him, "but I don't see you denying anything."

He leaned in, holding himself up by his arm next to your body. You could smell him, just like when you were on his back before, and you were lying if you said it didn't turn you on at least a bit.

"I feel like it's kinda beyond denying now..." His hand gently settled onto the curve of your jaw, tilting your head slightly more towards him. You looked gorgeous underneath him like this, eyes full of curiosity and anticipation, body so receptive to every touch.

"Yeah," you smiled, "it is." You looped your arms around him, pulling him in for a sweet and passionate kiss. There was no one around you'd have to hide your desire from, no one to have to pretend for, you could just let go in front of him.

He melted into the softness of your lips, tongue slipping through to gently run across your bottom lip. Fuck he was good, of course he was, his reputation preceded him. "Well don't you just taste the sweetest..." He spoke softly, lips brushing over yours.

"Might still be from the alcohol..." You both chuckled, staying close. He took off his jacket, tossing it to the side, before going back in to your neck this time.

The taste of your perfume mixed with your natural body drove him nearly insane, pressing feverish kisses to your jaw and neck. His thigh rested in between your legs, and you were very aware of its position as you subtly your hips, grinding onto his leg.

"So impatient..." He mumbled against your neck, a hand sneaking under your top and playing with the lacy hem of your bra.

You scoffed, pushing him back a little so you could pull your top over your head, almost noticing his pupils dilate at the sight of your exposed skin. You reached your hands behind your back, ready to unhook your bra, doing so bit by bit, then slowly pulling each strap over your shoulder with a teasing smile.

He reached out to move your bra, throwing it to the side to join his jacket on the floor. He palmed at your chest, eliciting a soft moan from you against his lips, the kiss growing more heated by the second. He felt your smile and pulled back slightly. "Who's impatient now, huh?"

He grinned, leaning back to pull off his own shirt. "Shut up." He shuffled a little further down the bed and pressed kisses to the exposed skin of your thighs. Bless you and your love for skimpy skirts...

You bit your lip, a soft giggle escaping you when he dragged his tongue over your inner thigh. "Why don't you make me, huh?" You knew it was a stereotypical comeback, but you couldn't help yourself, your mind wasn't functioning properly at that moment.

"Nah," he said, hooking his fingers around the hem of your skirt and slowly pulling it down, along with your panties. "you sound way too pretty to keep your mouth shut." He pressed a soft kiss right above your pussy, and a shiver of anticipation went over your entire body.

You arched your back when he ran his tongue over your slicked, silky folds, hands gripping your thighs and pulling them to rest over his shoulders. Your hands reached back to grip the pillow your upper half was resting on, whimpering his name softly. You could practically feel his grin against your cunt from the reactions you were giving him, but fuck, it felt so good, you could care less about how desperate you were being.

His tongue found your clit and your thighs clamped down onto him. The sweet taste of you earned an honest groan from him, sending vibrations to the sweet sensitive bud he was nipping at. He looked up at you, tongue slowly running up your entire slit and you swore you wore going to cum right then and there.

But he had other plans.

"As much as I'd like to make you cum all over my face," he pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, "I feel like we've been keeping ourselves waiting for long enough." He sat up, hands on his belt. "Unless you don't want to--"

"No," you interrupted, propping yourself up on your elbows, "I mean... Yes. Please." You chuckled, bringing a hand up to rest on your cheek, feeling just how hot your face felt. "I feel like I'm going to explode if we keep this tension up any longer."

"Agreed." He said, and unbuckled his belt, working on taking off his pants while you reached for a condom from your nightstand. You reached it out to him, and upon taking it, he gently took your hand and kissed the back of it. You giggled, catching your bottom lip under your teeth as you watched him roll the condom on.

"Turn around for me," He said, giving your thigh an encouraging tap. You obliged, getting on your hands and knees, dipping your upper body down into the mattress so your eyes was sticking up for him. "Christ..." He ran a hand over your right cheek, before coming down with a smack hard enough to leave a red imprint.

"F-Fuck!" You gripped the sheets beneath you, and he chuckled behind you.

"I know you like that." He lined himself up, rubbing his tip over your cunt to lube himself up. "You told me once... 'as a joke'."

All those "jokes" and teasing finally accumulated to end up here, beneath Chad, ass up and face down.

He groaned your name as he entered you, almost painfully slowly so, bodies having to adjust to each other for a moment as he stilled. "Shit, baby..." He gripped your hips, squeezing when you clenched around him. "So fuckin' tight for me... Just the way I imagined..."

"So... Full..." You moaned out, the sheer stretch he gave your cunt sending waves of tingling pleasure through you.

He grinned. "Not even fully inside yet sweetie."

You turned your head, giving him a daring smile before pushing your hips back until your ass was fully backed up into him, taking all of his length inside of you. The two of you took another moment to adjust, before he slowly started moving his hips back and forth.

His thrusts were slow at first, rhythmical, but that didn't last long, as you kept asking, almost begging him, to go faster.

"C-Chad, please... More, faster, fuck..." Your thighs trembled when he leaned over, his cock angled to rub against the spot that made your vision go blurry. He started grinding against you, quick, shallow thrusts as he put one hand on your shoulder, the other remaining on your hip.

The sounds of skin slapping skin, the bed squeaking and the delicious groans and whimpers from the both of you filled the room. The distinguishable scent of sex accompanied it, the atmosphere growing hotter by the second.

He removed the hand on your shoulder, looping it around your waist and reaching down to play with your clit, middle finger rubbing circles over the needy bud.

"Fuck, baby, if you keep doing that, I'm gonna--"

He cut you off by kissing you, tongue slipping past your lips and stifling your obscene moans. He pulls back, a pussy drunk smile adorning his pretty face. "Gonna cum? Yeah, me too sweetie, me too... Fuck, this pussy is too damn good..." He started kissing at your shoulder. "Shit, I'm close baby, so close--"

"Me too, me too, oh my god don't stop, don't stop!" Your hands roughly gripped the sheets below you, crying out his name as you clenched down onto him, juices dripping down your thighs as your orgasm crashed through your body like a tidal wave.

The feeling of your walls clamping down on him sent him over the edge, thrusting into you one last time before filling the condom with his hot cum, grunting your name into the skin of your shoulder.

He collapsed onto you for a moment, cock settled nicely inside you. He wished he could stay like that forever, just snug inside you like that.

He moved his strong arms around your waist and turned the two of you on your sides, now spooning.

"Kinda... Don't wanna pull out..." He said, still panting a little.

"Don't..." You whined sleepily. "Let's just... Stay like this for a bit."

"Yeah..." He pressed a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. "I'd like that."

tag list <3

@777iii

[cartoondrawer]

Warning: Blood!

Martin and Chris walked quietly through the forest. Aviva had sent them to seek out to stop a company that had been harming animals.

Martin: “Hey..”

Chris turned his attention to Martin with a confused expression on his face.

Martin: “ Do you think this is safe to do?”

Chris: “I’m sure we will be fine! We have done this dozens of times!”

Martin: “Yeah..you’re right!”

Chris and Martin kept walking along to end up bumping into a..door? They didn’t see it due to talking and not paying attention..but they looked at the location that Aviva said that the building would be at..and this was it!

Martin: “Okay. Let’s head inside I guess?”

Chris nodded and grabbed the door handle, opening the door. Inside were chemicals knocked onto tables and robots moving quickly around the room. Animals had also been trapped inside cages..

Martin: “Oh my..”

They slowly stepped forward a few more times before hearing the door shut behind them. Turning around, they saw a figure that looked about at least 7 feet tall. She moved forward, staring coldly at them.

Indigo: “Hm. I wasn’t expecting for you guys to be here.”

Chris: “H-huh?”

Indigo: “Oh..you don’t seem to remember me? I worked with your little villain friends.”

Martin and Chris looked a little closer, recognizing her..she was telling the truth. She was with the villains a whileee back.

Martin: “W-we demand you release these animals! They deserve to be-“

Indigo: “-Living free and in the wild? Yeah..that saying is getting quite old, don’t you think?”

Indigo swiftly kicked Martin to the ground, Chris gasped and tried running to one of the animals to get his suit working. She glanced over to him, running after Chris. She grabbed his hair and banged his forehead repeatedly onto a table.

Chris pushed her off, grasping his head in pain. Martin got up, running to check on Chris.

Martin: “Chris! Bro are you alright?!?”

Chris: “Yeah..I-I’ve had worse injuries..”

Indigo grabbed a nearby blade, slowly approaching them. Chris got up.

Chris: “We..we’ll leave.”

Indigo: “Oh but you can’t leave now!~..You have already seen everything. I can’t let you go now.”

Indigo ran up to them, slashing Martin’s knee open. He screamed and fell to the ground, Chris tried grabbing the blade from Indigo but she stabbed his arm.

She turned to Martin who looked like he was about to cry. She pulled him up, and slashed him once more.

…

The blade was sharp enough to go through the power suit, It ended up coming off Martin and he fell to the ground in pain, breathing heavily. Indigo had made a giant cut from his chest to his stomach. Blood poured onto the floor.

Chris: “MARTIN! NO!!!”

Indigo turned to Chris, ready to finish him off too. She got ready to stab him when the door slammed open. She sighed and turned around, seeing a familiar face.

…

Donita: “Back up.”

Indigo: “Oh! Donita Donata...why the hell are you here?”

Indigo said, gritting her teeth. Donita walked in, some of her mannequins following after her. One of the mannequins grabbed Indigo, stopping her from finishing the job.

Donita stood silent as Chris looked at her SO confused. She did a “come here” hand signal, making Chris walk slowly to her.

Donita: “Grab Martin, and get in the jet.”

Chris nodded and grabbed him. Indigo started yelling angrily while Donita walked out of the lab, with Chris trailing after her.

Chris had a confused look on his face as Donita closed the door.

Donita: “Are you gonna get in the jet or stay here? Come on.”

….

In the jet, everything was pretty silent until they reached the Touruga. Chris grabbed Martin who was barely conscious but turned to Donita first.

Chris: “Hey..uh..thanks Donita.”

Donita: “Whatever. Just leave now..”

Chris walked off the jet with Martin, and Donita’s jet took off. Chris knocked on the door, and it opened automatically with Aviva standing there.

Aviva: “Oh my god! What happened to you guys?!?”

Chris: “I-I’ll explain soon..just let us in.”

Aviva nodded and swiftly moved out of the way as she called Koki and Jimmy for help.

-With the Villains.-

Zach had called the villains for their annual meeting, although one person was missing..until she slammed the door open.

Donita: “Ah, I’m so sorry. I was..busy.”

Zach: “What could be so important that you almost missed our annual villain meeting?!”

Donita stared at Zach before rolling her eyes and sitting down.

Donita: “Well..I need to talk to you Zach. About..well..remember Indigo?”

That name seemed to terrify Zach a bit as his eyes widened. Gourmand and Dabio remembered Indigo, but they didn’t seem to know why Zach was scared. The same could be said for Paisley and Rex except they only heard about her from Gourmand.

Gourmand: “Oh..that girl? We haven’t seen her in years..”

Donita: “Yeah, well she’s back.”

Paisley: “Oh? Maybe she could join us-“

Donita/Zach: “NO.”

Paisley got a bit startled before fixing her glasses.

Paisley: “Just a suggestion.”

Dabio: “Whatever did happen to her? She was actually really kind-“

Donita: “Don’t you remember? One of Zach’s bots..malfunctioned. She ended up leaving due to the accident.”

Zach: “Y-yep! But uh..she’s back? Like..”

Donita: “Yeah. She’s has this company..if you can even call it that, where she actually..kills animals.”

Zach: “Oh..wait, IS THAT WHERE YOU WERE? DONITA.”

Donita sighed and crossed her arms.

Donita: “If you must know..I was getting a few certain people out of that situation. But it doesn’t matter now.”

Zach: “..Right.”

As they continued their meeting, Rex stared off into the distance. Paisley glanced at him, confused.

Paisley: “Is..something the matter Rex?”

Rex: “W-wh..No! I’m all good!”

Paisley: “Hm. Alright.”

————————————————————————

Part 2 Below!

[spiderlandry]

Can you do a Chad Drabble with the enemies to lovers/ close proximity trope? 

can do, anon! i love the close proximity trope, but i’m not too experienced with enemies to lovers but i hope you like it anyway!

100 follower event

warnings/tags: mention of a bad experience(? vaguely), mentions of alcohol consumption, parties

bad idea — chad meeks-martin

Chad doesn’t know what he did to make you hate him.

Prior to meeting you, he’d seen you around before. It’s difficult to miss you even on the large campus—you were attractive. And when he found out that you were friends with Mindy and Anika, he was overjoyed to have a close connection to you because it meant that he could get to know you.

He noticed that you were slowly becoming part of the friend group, getting to know the Carpenter sisters and Quinn, and in turn his roommate, Ethan. And so he waited for you to approach him first.

But you never did. Ever. He began to notice how you avoided him when he greeted you, responding with a curt ‘hi,’ but without your smile. Not that he thought you owed him, of course—he just had no idea why.

And he asked Mindy.

She responded: “Oh, yeah. They don’t like anyone from the football team. Thinks they’re assholes.” With a laugh, refusing to elaborate on that bombshell his sister just dropped.

Chad’s logic? If you think he’s an asshole, he may as well just be one. So that’s how he began to act around you.

It’s been over a year since he first met you. He teases you when he can, provoking you at any moment possible. He hasn’t seen you around in a few weeks.

(He’ll never admit that it makes him sad.)

Tonight’s frat party is up and running—just a little bit of fun before finals start. Everyone takes their mind off things.

So how exactly does he find himself in the basement, locked inside? He doesn’t know.

“Hey!” He bangs on the door incessantly, trying to catch anyone’s attention from the other side. He can hear snickering and the music, and that tells him that he won’t be let out any time soon. Justin must have done this, he thinks, berating his friend. As payback for eating his food yesterday. “This is fucking stupid.” He mutters under his breath.

He descends down the stairs, shoulders slumped, throwing the empty red solo cup on the ground.

But his eyes catch on a familiar figure standing against a wall, seemingly surprised at his presence. You.

“What are you doing here?” He doesn’t expect an answer, frankly because he believes any conversation he’s had with you has been less than ten words.

“It’s a shit party.” You shrug.

He scoffs, “So why’d you come?”

“Bored.” Your lips purse into a thin smile.

“Is this why they locked me in here? Because you’re here?”

You laugh, and he tries to push down the way his heart leaps at the sound. “I don’t even think they know I’m in here. Why would they do that, anyway? Am I that bad to be around?”

“Don’t act like you don’t hate me.”

Your eyes narrow, “I don’t.”

His brows shoot up. “Really? Okay, then.” He walks closer, stopping a foot away. “Why do you never stay when I’m around?”

He tries to ignore how your eyes wander to his arms. The sound of his throat clearing is apparently enough for you to stop practically gawking at him. Did you like his muscles? He can't help but be plagued by the thought.

"Alright, fine." You sigh, admitting defeat. "I try to stay away from guys like you."

He's baffled. So you really do just hate frat guys? Based off a generalization? He bites his tongue when he wants to add that Ethan is in a frat too. The same frat as Chad! And you still have no problem with Ethan! Do you hate jocks? Is that it?

You seem to notice his inner turmoil, though you don't understand the stress over one person's opinion of him. But to him, it's your opinion that he cares about.

"What do you mean by guys like me?" He shrugs, trying to brush off the fact that he almost spiraled in his head.

"Football team."

Ah, so Mindy was right.

"Why?" He tries not to sound desperate, but you don't even realize anyway, as something reminiscent of a shadow passes over your face.

"It was just a bad experience. And all the guys on there defended him. I can't get into it."

Oh.

And now he feels like the asshole.

He's familiar with the guys' antics, he really is. He knows how they speak about others without regard. The stories he's heard always make him leave, seeking better company.

"But..." You visibly slump. "I know you're Mindy's brother. And I know she tells me you're not like those guys. But I'm cautious, okay?"

He nods, wanting you to continue.

"I only really hated you during the first few weeks. After that, I just kind of...I don't know, felt bad that I treated you like that, you know?"

He doesn't know why he feels so elated, but he does. He extends his hand as a peace offering.

"Wanna do a truce?" He asks, a curious lilt to his voice. "You can get to know me and form your own verdict. Then you can decide if you like me. Sound fair?"

You smile. You smile, and it's genuine. To him, nothing beats that.

Well, nothing except what comes next.

You shake his hand, closing the distance between you and him. The hitch in his breath is noticeable but you don't say anything.

"I think I already like you," You admit. Truthfully, when you saw Chad, you felt the warmth radiating off of him. He was protective of those he loved. Even when he began to provoke you for no reason, you loved it.

Your lips are so, so close.

But you practically jump away from him at the sound of the door opening, accompanied with a male's voice and the music of the party, shouting for Chad to do shots.

He's wide eyed, wanting to continue what was about to happen, but you shrug and walk away. But you still leave him with a, 'Let's continue this later.'

[zepskies]

Hi! I would love to hear what Ben thinks of the reader's music and what HIS favorite music is. Just picturing a grumpy, old Ben grumbling about "music nowadays" 😂

Hey there, lovely Anon!

Ohohooo, what a great question. 😂 I too can imagine Mr. Grouch trying to understand modern music:

I briefly explored this in Part 5 of Break Me Down, when they're (playfully) arguing about music:

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.) “In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.”  You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.”

😂 A little more fucking class indeed, Benjamin.

As a more general Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader situation, I explored Ben vs. 90s music in this imagine: Taking Ben to a 90’s themed club.🕺🏻

A highlight from that one:

For a while he just sits at the bar with you while you catch up with your friends. You're so damn excited, he can tell. The inside of the club is interesting, he supposes, with dim lighting and a DJ on the stage with a very sophisticated looking setup that Ben finds wholly unfamiliar. The music, however, is ass so far. What the fuck is this, Hip Hop? Rap? R&B? He can't tell, and he doesn't know any of the songs. It sounds like a bunch of fucking whining. And don't get him started on whatever you call grunge.

But as for Ben's favorite music...

It's my headcanon that he personally identified with the likes of Frank Sinatra ("My Way"), Dean Martin, Bing Crosby, Mel Torme, Nat King Cole, etc. He definitely would've come into adulthood on that and sought to emulate their lifestyle, not just like their music.

Him coming up in the 40s, he probably would've (secretly) liked a bit of Doris Day and Ella Fitzgerald. (In BMD world, it would probably remind him of his mother.)

But there's also some edge to him. He would've embraced some "free love" to to speak lol, so getting through the 60s and 70s, I think he would've liked the Beatles, Rolling Stones, maybe some Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, and Aerosmith coming into the 80s.

Interestingly, from that scene in the Legend's penthouse we know he had Air Supply on in the background, so maybe he's secretly into some classic love songs from the 70s/80s. 😂 Maybe some Bee Gees, Spandau Ballet, stuff like that...

Though God forbid someone try to tease him about it.

Especially when he starts to dip into some of your music when you're not looking. 😏

[oscarwilderthanyou]

You Kidnapped Me...Again!

Red Hood-Jason Todd/Female Reader

Hey guys! This is just a fun little one-shot I've been working on. Let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy! Just a reminder, my original works are cross-posted to AO3. Also general disclaimer, I own none of the characters used.

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I twist my head side to side in an attempt to relieve the pain in my neck. The detective to my left lets a loud snore, waking himself with the noise, and bolts upright. 

"You good there, Johnson?" I ask with a smirk.

"Fuck off," the older man grumbles in reply. He turns and leans over the edge of the rooftop were sitting on. "Any movement yet?" he asks. 

"Nope, nothing."

I hand him my binoculars and he takes a look for himself. "Who's CI brought this info in again?"

"Martin's," I grimace as I respond.

"Of course it's Martin's," he sighs. "How much do you want to bet he didn't even vet the info before passing it to the captain?

"I laugh in reply, "knowing Martin, I wouldn't take that bet.

"Silence falls over us again and I glance at my watch. "How much longer do you think they're going to keep us out here?"

"Captain seemed pretty determined so I'd guess it's going to be a long night" he leans forward, resting his weight on the ledge and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, placing one between his teeth and offering the pack to me. He lights both before turning back to the ledge. He glances over at me smirking "What's the hurry anyway, you got a hot date?"

I lightly shove his shoulder. "It's my anniversary, asshole."

He chuckles. "Oh yeah I guess it would be, that sucks. I hope you guys didn't have any big plans." 

I take another drag of my cigarette and tap the ash out on the ledge. "Not really, but with our work schedules I feel like we haven't gotten to spend much time together lately."

"I know that feeling" he says with a sigh. "When I first made detective I don't think I saw Carla more than twice a week." 

I wince. "And how long did that last?"

"Well I'm on the same last minute, all-night stakeout as you," he says, pointing out the obvious. I let out a groan and he just laughs in response. We finish our cigarettes in silence.

"So how are Carla and the gir-" my question is cut off by a loud bang from the street below. 

"What the fuck was that?" I whisper urgently.

Johnson immediately begins searching the ground with the binoculars. "I don't see anything," he replies, continuing to search. Another bang rings out, those are definitely gunshots. 

"We need to go down there," I say and Johnson nods in agreement.

We turn from the ledge and make our way down the fire escape, moving as silently as possible. As we descend I unholster my gun, keeping it ready if needed.

I stop walking as soon as we hit street level and scan the area. I listen for a few seconds before I make out the sound of footsteps coming from the alley across from us. I signal to Johnson and we being moving again, this time in the direction of the alley.

We both step into the darkness with our weapons drawn. Another gunshot sounds ahead and I swear its close enough to the see the muzzleflash from the shot. My heart leaps into my throat as Johnson and I both scramble to get to cover. The last shot didn't seem to be pointed in our direction but I wasn't stupid enough to stand out in the open in this situation.

I tuck myself into a door frame, leaning out to check for any possible threats, before concealing myself again. I press my arms against my chest, gun pointed up next to my head. I look for Johnson and see him in a smilar position further into the alley. He looks over at me from the safety of his doorway and I signal back that I'm okay. He nods and turns away to look down the alley.

A full minute passes in absolute silence and Johnson and I lock eyes again. He signals that he's going to move forward and I nod in understanding. He puts his hand up, telling me to wait. As he drops his hand in the signal to go we both step out into the alley. I see Johnson start to push forward and I move to follow him.

I freeze midstep. We're not alone.

I can sense someone standing right behind me but before I call out, a hand wraps around my face, covering my mouth. Another arm reaches around waist, pulling me back and pinning me againt my assailant's body. I try to fight him off but it makes no difference.

I see Johnson glance back and do a double take when he notices I'm not right behind him. He turns to see where I went and we lock eyes. At that moment the hand around my mouth is pulled away, allowing me to call out. Johnson sprints back in our direction but my attacker wraps his free arm around my chest, using both arms to lift me off the ground, and begins moving backwards far faster than should be possible.

I continue to thrash and shout, trying to break free. As we move I hear a vehicle approach and screech to a stop. There's the sound of a van door being slid open and I'm pulled into the vehicle. The door slams shut as the van takes off. 

My attacker releases their hold on me just as I hear my radio crackle to life. "He took her Captain," I hear Johnson's breathless voice say "Red Hood's got Todd." 

I freeze, still facing the door. Behind me I hear a metallic clasp being undone and the hiss of a helmet being removed. I turn to face him.

After a moment of silence he finally speaks "Surprise?" he says. He lifts his left arm, carding his fingers through his hair, and sheepishly smiles at me.

"Surprise? You kidnapped me!" I shout at my husband outraged. 

"Yes, but-" he starts to argue but I interject.

"No buts, I told you no more kidnapping me."

Removing his hand from his hair he wags his left index finger in disagreement. "Technically you said I couldn't kidnap you for any more date nights. This is our anniversary, totally different." He says this like it's a logical argument. 

I cross my arms and glare at him. I allow a few moments to pass in silence before I sigh in defeat, dropping my arms to my sides.  "The precinct is going to catch on eventually, Jay. This is the fifth time." I say to him.

He leans forward and places a hand on my cheek. I can't help but lean into it. "I'm sorry, baby," he says softly, looking into my eyes. "I won't do it again. I just really missed you and I was looking forward to actually spending our anniversary together this year." The lights from the passing street lights reflects off his eyes, his thumb stroking my cheek. 

"I missed you too," I tell him honestly. 

Just then I hear a phone ring. Jason lets go of my  face and leans back, reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants. He pulls out his cell phone and answers it, smirking at me. 

"This is Jason," he answers casually. His smile widens as his eyes sparkle with humor.

"Commissionor Gordan, what can I do for you this evening?" I let out a groan, knowing how this is going to go. The caller responds but i cant make out what's said. 

Jason sucks in a quick breath and responds "Oh no! What do you mean he took her again?" His tone is overly concered but he's still grinning at me playfully. I stick my tonuge out at him and he he raises an eyebrow in response. 

When it's his turn to speak again he gets back into character, "He can't keep getting away with this.  I'll be right there. Please, Commissioner, please find my wife." Another pause. "Thank you sir," and he hangs up. 

I roll my eyes at his theatrics. "So what's the plan now?" I ask. 

Jason leans over and opens the hatch separating the cabin from the rear of the van. "Hey Dick, pull over at the next corner."

"Will do Jay!" Dick cheerily calls back. 

"Dick?" I ask surprised. "How did you get roped into this riduculous scheme?"

"That's easy. I'll do anything for the sake of love," he responds wistfully.

I let out a laugh. "Of course you will."

The van pulls over and Jason and I step out. I see Dick still sitting in the driver's seat with his police radio held up so he can speak into it. He gives me a thumbs up and shouts through the open window that he'll be out in a minute.

As I go to step away from the van I turn to tell Jason goodbye. As I turn he grabs my waist and pulls me flush aginst his body. His other hand tangles in my hair as he bends down, bringing his lips to mine.  I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. By the time he pulls away I'm out of breath. 

"I love you, Mrs. Todd," he says quietly, our lips only inches apart.

"I love you too, Mr. Todd" I respond back with barely a whisper.

I hear the van door slam shut and reluctantly turn around. Jason keeps me in his arms adjusting to embrace me from behind. I feel him press a quick kiss to my hair before resting his chin on the top of my head. Dick walks around the front of the van to where Jason and I are waiting. 

"Alright, so I radioed in and let disptach know that I found you after you escaped on foot. I told them that you seem uninjured but didn't go into detail about anything else. A squad car should be here in a few minutes to pick us up." 

"Thanks Dick," I say. 

"Yeah, thanks Dickiebird, Jason adds. 

Dick tosses the van keys in our direction and Jason removes one arm from around me to reach up and catch them. 

"You should probably not be here when they get here, Jay." 

"Good point," Jason nods in agreement. He releases me and I step back, turning around to face him again. He gives me a quick kiss, still enough to still make me weak in the knees.

"Happy anniversary," he says with a smile. He turns and begins to walk away but stops and looks back.

"See you at the station," he calls back to me. "I'm sure you're too traumatized to continue working tonight," he adds with a wink before getting in the van.

"You're insane!" I call back to him with a laugh.

Not even a full minute after the van disappears from view I hear the familiar sound of police sirens approaching. 

[screamsortega]

safer;

summary: at a costume party you get absolutely wasted, and a man tries to take advantage of that, and of you. before he could, chad swoops in and stops it.

warnings: cursing, mentions of murder, scars?, blood

pairing: chad meeks-martin x fem!reader

*lowercase intended*

you laughed, the words that escape your mouth are slurred. “you’re lying.”

“the last ones kicked, i’ve got some hard stuff.” the guy you were speaking to said, “i’ve got some fire ball in my room.”

the two of you began walking through the party, “are you omega beta?”

“not yet, but i might rush it.” you responded.

“you look familiar, where you from?” the guy asked.

“michigan.”

anika had walked up to the two of you, “you think you maybe wanna call it a night?”

“i’m not that bad, you don’t have to wait for me.” you said, waving her off as you and the guy continued to walk.

“not that bad? she’s totally wasted.” mindy had piped in.

“yeah i know, i doubt she’ll budge though.” anika began, “does she know what he’s doing?”

“i’m not sure,” mindy started, “i’ll go get chad.”

mindy practically ran to find chad, luckily she did. “you’re needed, big guy.”

“can it wait?” chad asked, taking a jell-o shot.

“no, it’s y/n”

chad immediately dropped the cup and followed mindy to where you were just at, chad had spotted you and the guy walking up the staircase.

chad stood at the bottom of the staircase, “hey partner.” he said to the guy. “y/n’s good down here.”

you had taken a step down, “sorry bro, i didn’t catch that.” the guy said.

chad let out a laugh, “yeah, you did.”

“no, chad, it’s fine,” you slurred, practically stumbling down the steps. “i want to.”

“see, chad?” the guy spoke, “she wants to.”

the guy grabbed your arm, pulling you up the steps which causes you to lose your balance and fall, but that didn’t stop the guy.

you groan in pain, chad immediately grabs the guys arm, pulling him off of you. “how about you get your fucking hands off of her?” chad spoke angrily.

“get the fuck off me.” the guy said, pushing chad’s chest.

“guys, guys.” you said, adjusting the headpiece to your costume. “stop, stop.”

“yeah, sorry to interrupt.” sam says, coming out of nowhere.

“i’m just gonna taze you in the balls real quick.”

chad turned towards you, grabbing your hand to help you up. “you good?”

“yeah, yeah i’m good.” you responded, holding onto chad’s shoulder for support. “let’s get you home, alright?” he says, looking into your eyes as you nod in response.

you all had made it home and you were know sitting on the edge of your bed, pain banging in your head as you hear a knock on your doorframe.

you glance up to see chad, holding a bottle of ibuprofen in one hand a glass of water in the other. “can i come in?”

“of course.” you respond, a slight smile crept on your face.

he sets the glass of water down on your bedside table along with the bottle of ibuprofen. “how are you holding up?”

“good.” you smile, glancing at the ground. “sorry for making you almost get into a fight or whatever.”

“it’s fine,” chad laughed, “it would’ve been worth it.”

for some reason, you felt tears welding up in your eyes and soon after that, they started to spill down your face. you quickly wiped them hoping chad wouldn’t notice, but he did.

“hey, what’s wrong?” chad asks, worry evident in his tone as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“i don’t know,” you started, resting your head on his shoulder. “i just think that loving me must be so fucking hard because it seems like i can’t find anyone who’s interested in me and not just interested in sex. i don’t know how to explain it.”

“i get that,” chad spoke softly, “but i want you to know that you are the most beautiful, loving, caring, and amazing girl that i have ever met.”

you smile at this, looking up at him. “thank you.”

“of course.” he smiles back, the two of you sit it silence for a moment just mesmerizing each others faces.

your faces grow closer and closer but before your lips could connect with his, your roommate, quinn, interrupted which caused both of you to snap out of your trance.

“woah, i’m sorry,” quinn began, “i cockblocked you, didn’t i?”

“what?” you and chad say in unison.

“cockblock? i cockblocked you didn’t i?”

“never say that again.” you laughed as quinn exited your room.

“well,” chad started, “i’ll leave you alone now.” he got up, walking towards the door before saying, “goodnight, y/n”

you sat there, but before chad could officially exit you stopped him. “chad, wait.”

he hummed in response, looking back to you. “can you — like stay in here, with me, tonight? i just, i don’t know, feel safer with you i guess.”

chad smiled, walking towards you after closing your bedroom door, “of course.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

dialogue prompts “are you sure about this.” and “just follow my lead.” with chad meeks and shy!reader

tweaked it just a little, hope that was okay. was gonna do a typical chad saving the day at a frat party but something else came to mind.

pairing: chad meeks-martin x fem!reader wc: 852

masterlist / chad meeks-martin

a disaster was rolling into town and there was only one person who could keep the damage low.

knuckles rapping quickly and unstopped against the dark wood door, almost resorting to banging your palms for more urgency.

“hello? emergency! emergency! anyone alive in room 15-“ the door abruptly swung open, unfortunately causing you to hit ethan on the chin.

he groaned and cupped the spot as you covered your mouth in shock. “i’m so sorry, ethan.” muffled voice as you took a step forward to look for any damage. all was good, just a growing red spot from your knuckles and two rings “although, you shouldn’t open doors like that,” suddenly sounding like a concerned mother.

ethan stopped rubbing his skin and gaped at you, “your the one screaming emergency! and nonstop hitting the door!” he left the door open and turned away from you.

you stomped inside the small space, slamming the door shut with the flat of your foot. a deep caveman groan crawled out your throat while flopping face first onto chad’s vacant bed.

“what’s got you in a mood?” a sincere question coated in sass from ethan.

“my parents are visiting.” two barely audible causing ethan to ask again. so you forced yourself to flip onto your back as the four worst words fill the air.

“my parents are visiting.” annunciating each letter while staring at the ceiling.

“okay?” ethan clapped his hands, “and why is that emergency level panic?” you heard his chair creek with movement.

a deep inhale before sighing out, “cause they think i have a boyfriend and want to meet him.” your palms smacked into your eyes rendering you blind.

it was quiet for a minute- you counted the sixty seconds- before ethan bursted into laughter.

“it’s not funny, ethan! this is serious! i’ve been lying for six months and i’m about to get chewed out.“ ethan’s laughs only grew in volume at your distress.

“what’s wrong with you?” a muffled sound of hands hitting bedding echoed off the walls. dragging your hands away you were greeted at the chad’s light brown eyes watching over your solemn worry. without thinking you jerked up and knocked your forehead into chad’s, the both of you groaning and rubbing the spot.

“pay back bitch,” ethan stated as he jumped into his bed. you flipped him off without looking his way, fingers rubbing the sore area while keeping your eyes on your lap.

“hey,” chad’s palm sat just above your left knee and you froze. you didn’t dare look into the boy’s eyes, but he curled a finger under your chin and pushed your head up. he was smooth without trying and it made your heart run fast.

“what’s wrong?” chad’s voice low and calm. a simple sigh as you averted your eyes again, more interested in your fingers. “my uh… my parents are visiting. and- and they want to meet my… my boyfriend.”

you slowly looked up to he greeted by chad’s confused and thinking face, brows pinched and mouth pursed. “but- but you don’t have-“ “i know. i lied to them for the past six months, and now i don’t know what to do.”

“you’re an idiot,” chad scoffed. “i know! just- just help me!” pleading for chad’s assistance, in anyway he could offer.

chad’s thinking face was similar to his confused face so you thought he was still processing your dilemma until he spoke the most absurd thing aloud-

“what if i’m your boyfriend?”

if you had any liquid in your mouth you would’ve spit take from shock. ethan seemed to find the whole ordeal hilarious since his laughter returned tenfold. “oh! this is just… amazing!” both you and chad glared at the red cheeked boy.

“did you… already come up with a name? face?” chad’s warm brown eyes watched you carefully. you bit into the inside of your bottom lip and softly proclaimed, “kinda- kinda described you. chad. they think i’m dating you.”

and of course you would describe chad, you gained a crush on him after a week of knowing each other.

“so it’s settled, i’ll be your boyfriend!” and he was beaming on the word boyfriend.

“awesome.” voice meek and throat dry.

-

“i don’t think i can do this.” “you can, just relax and be yourself.”

finger drummed against wood table, knee bouncing under table cloth. “i’m gonna throw up.” “okay.”

chad dropped his hand over yours, finger curled in like a protective cage. your knee stopped it’s anxious motion, his calloused fingers caressed your knuckles. “everything is gonna be fine,” he whispered close to your ear, “we like each other already.”

a hitch to your breath, “yeah. as- as friends. right.”

“yeah, friends.” the word repeated softly with a little melancholy. “so, do you trust me?”

just the thought of lying for a joke felt wrong. “yes. i trust you.”

“then just follow my lead,” and he leaned in. lips pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek before pulling away and standing up.

“you just be mr and mrs l/n. pleasure to meet you, i’m chad meeks-martin. y/n’s boyfriend.”

-

[restlesschilled]

TMagP 17 Reaction

Note:

Spoilers Under Cut

Dedication

Nice

PRE STATEMENT

OH NO NOT AGAIN

AT LEAST 3 TIME NOW!

IT RUINED HER DATE

CELIA GET A ROOMMATE BABE

OXFORD?

im gonna need poor jack to have a backup guardian for when celia gets eldritch horror-ed

I. WANT. THEM. TO. BANG.

STATEMENT

STRANGE STRANGER STRANGER?

did this man just describe martin and jon?

"some big, soft looking guy who stumbled over every word."

"some bookish-looking guy with serious city miles"

THATS THE BOYS YOUVE DESCIBED THE BOY

IN OXFORD

IN 1997

FUCK WAS I RIGHT??

this Doctor is given me Dr.David Vibes

MAGNUS INSTITUTE OUT REACH

OH NO

OH NO

IS THIS WHAT HAPPENED TO PEOPLE WHO WERE VAULTED INTO ANOTHER UNIVERSE AFTER THE APOCALYPSE

OH NO

"the other me"

hey what was the name of that guy who committed murders in costumes again?

i think that may be this guy, or the other Darrien

damn nope its not that guy that guy was terrance menki

oooo i dont like that tone

oh no not the basement

why is it always the basement

DONT SHARE IT PLEASE

NOT THE STAIR CASE TO A SUBBASEMENT

call it

its murder

or torture

never trust someone with a subbasement

holy fuck

POST STATEMENT

SHE IS THE CELIA FROM TMA I KNEW IT

JMJ.ERROR

JMJ DOT FUCK ERROR

LOL COOKIES

"I bet you don’t even know what cookies actually are"

I WANT THEM TO BAAAAAANNNGGGG

[ben meredith voice]

JMJ DOT FUCKING ERROR

CAPTAIN HOLT DOT FUCKING GIF

[moonlitluka]

GRAB MY HAND pt 2

Y/N takes Anika’s spot in the apartment attack (and Tara’s spot in the Core Four) | Chad Meeks-Martin x Reader | Angst, Ghostface attack

We all opened our phones to find a picture of Quinn getting attacked by Ghostface. He’s in the apartment.

We all get up and I instinctively run to the door to help Quinn. I feel strong hands grab me and pull me back. It was Chad.

I let him keep his hold on me and I grab his wrist as if for some sort of comfort. We are all silent waiting for the next move.

“Run” Mindy said before the door to Quinn’s room was kicked open. Suddenly I’m knocked to the ground and I see it was because Quinn’s body was thrown on top of me. I screamed in horror as I stare at my dead friends face.

“Fuck!” Mindy said before Ghostface swung the knife at her effectively slicing her arm. “Y/N C’mon” Chad said pushing Quinn off of me.

I look over at Mindy who is now clearly Ghostface’s next target and grab his leg trying to bring him down before he could hurt Mindy any further.

I saw Anika and Chad get Mindy off the floor and checking on Sam before realizing that I wasn’t there.

Ghostface put his hand around my throat and tilted his head. Knockoff Micheal Myers move. I felt the air leave my lungs. All I could hear when my friends who were now in the kitchen looking for a knife or some kind of weapon to defend ourselves.

Ghostface then picked me up off the floor and pinned me to the nearest wall and then there it was. I let out a blood curdling scream as I felt his knife enter my abdomen. That’s when Chad came out holding the knife block and knocked Ghostface over the head with it.

He and Sam grabbed me as Anika grabbed Mindy and we all rushed into Quinn’s bedroom. Sam locked the door as Chad and Anika placed Mindy and I on the bed.

“Fuck” was all Mindy could say as she grabbed her arm and looked at me. Chad quickly got on his knees in front of me before moving my hands off my stomach. “Shit Y/N, okay you’re gonna be fine.” He said almost as if he was trying to convince himself not me.

All I could focus on was the banging from the other side of the door. I wasn’t making it out of here and everyone knew it. Even Chad.

He took off his sweatshirt and wrapped it around my waist tightly. I groaned in pain while he shushed me. “Shh, I know it hurts but it’s better than nothing.”

Then suddenly the banging stopped. That’s not a good sign. Ghostface didn’t just give up and go home. Something else is happening.

“Bathroom door! Hurry!” Sam whispered as we all looked behind us. Chad got up to run and lock the door. “Oh fuck!” He yelled seeing Quinn’s guest in the bathtub. “That guys dead!”

Then Ghostface appeared in the doorway as Chad went to close it. Sam ran to help but it was too late. The pair retreated back to the bedroom closing the door on him. The two struggled to hold it closed as Ghostface kicked at the door.

Chad secured the flimsy lock but it wasn’t any help. I tried to get up to help but I couldn’t move. Mindy saw me try to get up so instead she ran and grabbed the dresser as Sam helped her move it in front of the door.

“Oh fuck” Sam said realizing the dresser wasn’t making any difference either. Chad looked to me and saw that I had completely bled through his sweatshirt.

He ran to me and cupped my face. “Stay awake okay? I’m right here. Just keep your eyes open.” I nodded weakly.

“Hey!” I heard a distant yell. It was cute boy from across the hall. “Sam!” I alerted her. She ran and opened the window before looking down. Well no luck with that plan we’d all fall to our deaths.

“Don’t worry baby I gottchu!” Danny yelled while pushing a flimsy ladder across the alley over to Sam. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Chad yelled.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Danny said. This is the stupidest plan ever. But we have no other options. I looked at Chad who was already staring at my stomach. “Think you can do this?” He asked wearily.

“I don’t really have any other choice do I?” I replied groaning in pain. “Come one at a time!” Danny said.

“You two go first!” Sam said pointing at me and Mindy. I shook my head. “Y/N!” Mindy yelled. “You go first just give me a second to work up the energy.” I reasoned. Chad went to argue with me but I didn’t want to hear it. “Go!” I yelled at Mindy.

Mindy ran over to the window but gave me one last look before she got on the ladder. “You’re losing a lot of blood.” She pointed out. Mindy needed to go so everyone else could get out of here. They all had a chance. I wouldn’t make it across that ladder.

“Be more positive!” Chad yelled at his sister. “Just move!” I screamed. A minute or so passes and Mindy made it across. Anika went next. Then Sam.

Danny pulled her into his apartment as Sam and Mindy yelled at me to come next. “Chad you have to go.” I choked out. His head snapped in my direction.

“What? No way I’m not leaving you. You’re getting across that ladder even if it’s the last thing I do.” He said grabbing my face. I had to get him to go first.

“I’ll be right behind you,” “No Y/N I’m not going before you!” He interrupted. “Chad! Go. I need you to go first so you can pull me across I can’t make it that whole way myself.” I tried to reason.

It was true. I would try to get across the ladder but I knew the chances of me getting safely across weren’t looking good so I’d rather him be safe before I take a risk.

“Please, I’ll be right behind you I swear” I begged him tears rolling down my face. I saw tears brimming his eyes. He sighed before kissing me.

He’s never done that before. I’ve always wanted him too but not like this. But like I said, I would take any chance to linger on his touch a little longer.

He reluctantly pulled away before putting his forehead against mine. “Right behind me?” He said before he left. “Swear.” I said

He had made his way across safely. I finally felt like I could breathe. I knew I might not make it but at least my friends did.

“Y/N! Let’s go!” Chad yelled across the alley. I took a deep breathe before getting up and grabbing onto the ladder. “Fuck!” I yelled.

Sure I’d been stabbed before but this was a new level of pain. I started shakily making my way across the ladder.

I noticed my friends had gone silent. I looked up to see why. “What..?” I asked hesitantly. “Y/N, you have to move now!” Chad yelled. “Come on Y/N!” Anika screamed.

I looked behind me to see why they wanted me to rush and there Ghostface was walking into the room. I started trying to move faster while crying. My vision was so blurry I couldn’t see anything.

I heard a clang as Ghostface set his knife down on the window sill. I was about halfway across the ladder at this point.

I took a deep breath before I felt the ladder shake. I cried out while trying to tighten my grip if that was even possible. I heard my friends cry out for me but I found focus on what they were saying.

“Please stop!” I begged but it never mattered. Ghostface wasn’t leaving here without killing one of us. The ladder continued to shake as I felt my grip get sweaty.

“Y/N grab my hand! I’m right here!” Chad called out, making me focus on him. He was leaning out of the window reaching for me. I was scared to let go of the ladder but tried to grab his hand anyways.

I saw Sam also reach for me as well as Mindy. I grabbed Chads hand as I felt his string grip. I felt him start to pull me toward his side of the alley.

Then suddenly I felt my body lose balance as the ladder fell to the ground. I screamed and closed my eyes thinking that was it.

But the impact of the pavement never came. I heard Chad groan as he kept his grip on me bringing his other arm to hold me. Mindy and Sam grabbed Chad trying to balance him.

“Oh my god!” I yelled looking down. “Don’t look down baby look at me!” Chad yelled. So I did.

He started to pull me up the brick wall of the building with the help of Sam and Mindy. Eventually I grabbed onto the window sill trying but failing to pull myself up. Chad and Sam grabbed my waist as I finally fell to the floor of Danny’s apartment.

I felt a collective sigh be let out by everyone. I gripped my stomach as I turned to face the ceiling.

“Are you okay?” Anika asked quietly. “Man that sucked” was all I could say. I let out a soft chuckle before I felt strong arms pull me off the ground and into his chest. “You scared me so bad! We need to get you to a hospital.” Chad said pulling away and putting his hand on my wound. I nodded and he carried me out to the ambulance that Danny had called while waiting for us to climb the ladder.

Time skip

I laid in my hospital bed resting when I saw Chad come into my room. I was nervous to see him now that the adrenaline was gone.

Did the kiss mean anything? Was it just the adrenaline? Does he even remember doing it?

“Y/N. I’m so glad you’re okay” he said sitting on the side of my bed. I gave him a weak smile. “I thought…” he trailed off putting his head down.

I heard him sniffle. He was crying. Over me?

“I really thought I’d lost you. I don’t want to feel like that ever again. Especially knowing I never got to tell you how I really feel.” He said.

“How you really feel?” I asked. Did the kiss actually mean something? “Y/N I love you. I’ve known ever since we moved here that I wanted to be with you. I just didn’t want to distract you from school and I was really just too scared to mess up our friendship.” He explained.

“I guess know though I know we were never just friends.” He says laughing and wiping his tears. “What do you mean?”

“The way you didn’t even hesitate when I kissed you. You didn’t pull away. Am I wrong in assuming that meant something?” He asked now less confident than he was just seconds prior.

“No Chad of course it meant something. I love you too.” I sobbed out. He reached for me and carefully pulled me into a hug.

He eventually pulled me into another kiss, this one not under any pressure just him and me kissing simply because we want to.

“Thank you for saving me.” I said my eyes still closed as I rested my head on his shoulder. “I will always save you.”

[racinginchid3nt]

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part Eleven

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: cyber bullying, threats

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

Friday

From the start, Friday was horrible. You woke up hungover, the wine from last night mixed with minimal amount you ate due to Lance’s distraction, was a bad combination.

Replaying the night over and over in your mind just made everything worse. Lance’s reaction, your ruined dress, having to leave the event early, blowing off one of the only other drivers you knew, and the overly aggressive fans and paparazzi.

SHIT. The fans and paparazzi.

All thoughts of your hangover left your mind, tumbling out of bed to find your phone. Opening your Instagram and praying you would luck out failed you. Sure enough you had been tagged in dozens of photos from last night.

Photos of you and Lando leaving the hotel, of the two of you arriving at the venue, of you walking in, of him smiling at you, etc. The comments were brutal, ripping apart your appearance, commenting on your dress, how he deserves better, etc.

It wasn’t until you opened your messages that you realized how much worse it could get. Hundreds of dms stared back at you, filled with vile things. Talking about how you’re a gold digger, threats, truly saying the absolute worse things they could come up with. You wanted to stop, to ignore the things people said, but you couldn’t look away.

A call came through from Y/N Best Friend. Declining it you continued reading. And then another came through, declining it again the cycle repeated. Over and over declining calls from Y/N Best Friend until she finally stopped.

It took only a few minutes before you heard the pounding on your hotel door.

“Y/N let me in!”

Trying to ignore her, you curled in on yourself.

“Y/N if you don’t let me in I’m going to break down this fucking door!”

The banging continued, and inescapable noise reminding you of the hangover. As the door handle started to giggle, you rose from the bed and answered the door.

“What?” You asked, trying to steady your voice.

“Babe are you okay? I saw the comments on your Instagram posts. Those were so uncalled for. How are you doing?” She asked.

“Fine. I don’t know. It is what it is. I should have known better I guess.” You replied.

“How can I help?” She asked.

“Can you just give me some time to myself? Im hungover as fuck and I just want to go back to bed.”

She left you with the promise that she would call and check on you later, threatening that she would show back up at your door if you ignored her.

————

Free practice had gone okay. Lance was happy with car, and the engineers were excited for tomorrow’s qualifying. But his mind kept replaying last night. How she had yelled at him, how he had reacted to seeing her with Norris, what happened during dinner, etc.

He regretted letting her walk away last night, but the last thing he had expected was for her to yell at him like that. He owed her an apology, having overstepped massively last night. Walking through the paddock he made his way to the Alpine energy station. Y/N Best Friend sat outside alone, scrolling through her phone while she ate lunch.

“Hey Y/N Best Friend, where is Y/N at?”

She gave him a funny look.

“She’s at the hotel. Why?”

Unsure of how to explain himself to the girl sitting in front of him, he opted to give her a small nod and turn to head back to the Aston Martin energy station.

Last race she had come to every day, media, free practice, qualifying, and the race. It didn’t sit well with him that she had missed yesterday and today’s events.

————————————————————————

Saturday

Y/N Best Friend had shown up at your door early Saturday morning, refusing to let you skip the days events. She had no idea about what had happened with Lance, and wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. Putting on a fake smile, you joked with her as you got around for the day, focusing on the fact that you would get to spend time with her.

The day passed by in relative normalcy. Fans had taken photos when the three of you arrived at the track that morning, but you had been able to continue on through security. Lando had made small talk with you on his way to the Mclaren garage, asking if you were feeling better after Thursday night.

You gave Carlos a small wave as you passed by him and the Ferrari garage after Q1. The Spaniard pulled you aside, giving you a friendly hug and making small talk. You did your best to keep the fake smile on your face, ready to return to the hotel room. Carlos paused mid discussion, staring at you for a moment.

“Are you okay Y/N?” He asked, concern filling his voice.

“Yeah I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

His facial expression made it clear that he didn’t believe you. Pulling you in for another hug, he stated:

“I know we’re not friends or anything, but if you need anything let me or Lando know okay?”

You gave him a small smile, wishing him luck in Q2 before returning to the Alpine garage.

————

On the way back to the hotel you decided to brave social media again, and just like that the weekend got even worse. Your tagged photo notifications piled in as soon as you opene the Instagram app, but it was no longer just photos from Thursday night with Lando. A series of pictures of you and Carlos from earlier that day stared back at you, photos of your two hugs and him whispering into your ear. They definitely looked flirty, and the speculation from the various captions alluded to as much.

As you scrolled through more of them, it got worse. Looking back at you was a grainy photo of you and Lance from Thursday night. The photo showed him with his hand on your waist, huddled in the corner of the dinning room before dinner that night.

Multiple collages from the weekend contained the photo compared to Lando and Carlos. The previous dating rumors had suddenly turned to discussions of you cheating. You weren’t sure how what was an exciting weekend had suddenly turned so miserable.

You needed to get your mind off of everything. And while there were definitely better ways to do it, the idea of getting drunk and watching sappy movies sounded the most enjoyable way to spend the night.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweats, you tightened the strings from your hood and made your way out of the hotel’s back exit and to a nearby market. Bottle of wine in one hand and your purse in the other, you made the short walk back to the hotel. Reaching the side door you pulled, but the door remained closed. The door was a one way exit, letting you escape the hotel but not sneak back in. You turned, making your way to the main entrance.

Unsurprisingly the sidewalk was crowded with fans and paparazzi alike. Hanging your head down you pushed through the crowd to make your way to the entrance. The crowd was tightly packed, pushing you around as you fought through it. Your hood fell down, revealing your face. Within an instant the crowd noticed. Cameras turned and voices rang out as you clutched the bottle and tried to push through.

“Is that Y/N?”

“It’s Y/N!”

“Are you dating Lando?”

“I can’t believe you cheated on him with Carlos!”

“Whore!”

“Slut!”

The crowd of fans turned angry quickly. Hands reached out for you, pushing and pulling you. You felt a hang grip your hair, yanking your head backwards. Stumbling, you dropped the bottle of wine. Pushing to get through to the doors you felt someone kick you, another person grabbing at your arm. Elbows hit your sides, fans rushing at you from all sides. As you neared the front of the crowd, one of the security guards at the hotels door pulled you over the barriers and usher you into the hotel lobby.

Tears streamed down your face as you ran to the elevator, thanking your lucky stars that the doors opened as soon as you hit the button. Making it back to your room, you collapsed on the hotel room floor. Shaking and sobbing you pulled out your phone, thankful that you had managed to kept your grip on it.

Opening your airline app, you scrolled through flights, finding the soonest departure back to the Barcelona airport. You charged it to your card, ignoring the price as a concern for another day. Haphazardly throwing your clothes and toiletries back into your bag you called an Uber to the side door, escaping into it and making you way to the airport.

As you settled into you seat on the late night flight, you opened every social media app you had and deleted your accounts. And as the announcement came to power off your electronics, you thumbed through your contacts, blocking Lance, Lando, and Carlos, before deleting their numbers, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could go back to life before Spa.

————————————————————————

A/N:

The first part of the Pierre X Y/N Best Friend story is live here

Please respond to the poll when you get a chance!

[onewmin]

the perfume on the shelf. pt. 2 | bangchan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, mentions of cheating, profanity, Chan being completely oblivious, a cliffhanger in the end

Author’s note: this is Chan’s POV; the change from “she” to “you” seems very poetic to me as the story progresses lmao. There are a lot of flashbacks, they are highlighted so that you don’t get lost. hope you enjoy! Tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 1 | Part 3

The first time Chan ever saw your face was at a book fair six years ago.

He attended with his friends and girlfriend at the time; she was keen on adult novels so much, that she could never miss the opportunity to buy and read something new.

You were exactly were the girlfriend wanted you: at the “18+ novels” stand. Telling people about books, suggesting different stories to buy, and laughing at even improper jokes some customers were making.

His ex-girlfriend got an invisible hold on you, becoming the customer who seized your attention for the next twenty minutes. Every book was described in such details, that even Chris got involved and bought one. Not that he ever read it, though — he was more a fan of detective stories.

But his girlfriend? Bought a copy of each book. She spent so much money at the fair, and had to ask her parents send a little bit just so she wouldn’t die of starvation. Yeah, being a student was his favourite time, surely.

The book fairs at the campus happened every six months, so in a half year he was there again, that time volunteering at the children’s section. Only then he found out fifty percent of story collections and books were written by the students themselves. He didn’t see you at the fair that time, but he definitely saw an opportunity.

Three days later he was at the writers’ club gathering, having collected all his poems in a green binder. Chan was never socially anxious, making friends and new acquaintances anywhere he went, but that time was different. He felt out of place, thinking everyone was (or at least, looked like) really smart and he? He never felt that way. His, by that moment already ex, girlfriend had always been making fun of him for almost failing his maths classes. She used to say, “If someone is failing maths, they’re not good at anything”. Weird shot, but okay. It’s not like he was a genius, he reminded her and himself, and maths was pretty hard, too.

Was Chan’s not being a maths genius the main reason she cheated on him? Who knows, she blocked him right after he found out about her affair. Good for him. Good.

The breakup rediscovered his long-forgotten talent — writing poems. He had so much of them he didn’t know what to do. Before the writers’ club. Maybe here he’d find a way to show his true self to the world.

As he sat down in the corner of the room, at the back of the hall, he noticed just how many people were apart of the club. And they were all friends, too. “I’m not here to make friends”, Chan shook his head, “I’m here to get published”.

Suddenly the seat near him was taken. A girl with a pink binder, who, as Chan noticed only by a quick look at her face, was displeased with something. Maybe her book or story idea got rejected?

“Hey”, Chan started, slightly turning his torso in the girl’s direction, “d’you know how to get published?”

The girl’s eyebrows raised, eyes darted to him. “Shit, what did I even do?”, the wave of panic rose from his feet right to his head the moment he saw the look in her eyes. Dark, full of anger.

“You came here just to get published?”, despite the way she presented herself, her voice sounded pretty nice. “You have to get through professor Martins first”.

“Literature professor, yeah?”

She nodded. For some reason, Chris found her features… mesmerizing? No, that was too much for a person he’d just met. “He put me through nine circles of hell before even considering publishing. Change this, rewrite that, the characters are too unrealistic — yeah, like, he would know, how real teenagers communicate”, she wanted to say something else, but quickly covered her mouth with her palm. “Anyways, he knows if your work is worth it”.

“Did you get published?”

“Yup. I literally had to die and come back to life for this to happen”.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Literally?”

“Literally, dude. Everyone here has done it, at least once”.

Later that night he carried two binders in his hands — the girl was kind enough to share her works with him. Professor Martins absolutely destroyed Chan’s poems (and will to live as well), stating,

“They lack in grammar. It’s too simple”.

And it was the nicest thing he said. Chan had never, even years after graduating, felt another sudden urge to weep in his car like it was that evening.

“Is he always like this?” he asked the girl, back at his seat.

“Did he brutally murder your dream of becoming a writer?”

Chris nodded, letting out a shaky sigh. The girl’s lips curved into a soft smile, and she patted his shoulder, a sympathetic look in her eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’ll ignore the next few meetings, but will come back, eventually. Martins’ like that horrible ex you keep coming back to, y’know?”

Such a pretty smile. It was somehow similar to his, Chan admitted, while staring at the ceiling of his dorm room: dimples on full display, and her left one deeper than the other, mirroring his prominent right dimple. Chan didn’t realize that a smile, so similar to his, would be as magnificent as it was.

And he’s been thinking about it since then. Only for her dimples to be shown more rarely the further the time went on; he hadn’t seen mush of them recently. Just her regular, half-smile to whatever jokes he was telling — even her favourite ones didn’t do the trick.

“A man walks into his home to find out all his lamps were stolen. D’you know what happened to him?”

“What?” If he had paid more attention, he would have noticed the flatness in her voice, the shaky breaths and head pressed into the pillow.

“He was delighted”, Chris giggled, expecting the same reaction from her. Dad jokes were her thing, something she snorted to whenever the chance was given. But then it was nothing. Just her humming to him in response.

“Goodnight, Chan”.

He didn’t say anything. She had told him previously she had some problems at work, so he assumed it was the reason for her putting distance between them.

“You should get more sleep, tiger”, Chan put the strand of hair behind her ear, his hand staying on her cheek, gently caressing her under eye by his thumb. She leaned into the touch, but he didn’t notice. He never did.

“I hate that nickname”, she mumbled.

“I also hate being called “shawty”, but it never stops you”, the corners of her mouth quirked up, her lips uttering yet another nonsense.

“It’s ‘cause you’re short”. The first time she said that Chan’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Six years later it was just a regular thing to hear from her. Being 4 centimeters taller than him, as she firmly believed, gave her a right to point out their height difference on every occasion.

“And you still have that ridiculous tiger costume”.

“Like it’s a crime”. She huffed and left his soft embrace, marching into the kitchen. “We all make mistakes when we’re young, you know that, right?”

“Mistakes don’t get engraved into a memory of twenty people. People trying to striptease in a tiger costume do”.

A flush creeped across her cheeks, and Chan couldn’t help but smile. Making her embarrassed about something was his ultimate favourite thing. She cleared her throat, trying to reply, but instead Chris only heard the buzzing. Shutting and opening his eyes twice to check if it was real, and the sound only intensified.

The reality hit him immediately. Jumping on his bed, taking the phone from the nightstand — failing miserably, as it slipped from his hands and fell on the floor — “Shit, shit, shit”, picking it up in panic (the screen wasn’t damaged) and sliding across to answer the call.

“Chan, we need you at the studio. See you in an hour”. Lee Know ended the call before Chris could even open his mouth. Great. Another day off ruined.

Chan laid back in the bed, his head hitting the headboard. “Ugh, shit”, he winced, rubbing the back of the head. What’s next? He’s going to get up and break his leg?

His idea to scroll through the news was interrupted by a text. From her, three hours ago. Did he forget something at her place?

“I’m tired of this bullshit. We r not a thing anymore”.

“Oh and yeah. What’s this between us? This bullshit? It’s no friendship. We stopped being friends the moment you decided to fuck me. You know I have feelings for you, all these months you knew. And you didn’t give a fuck about it. So why should I? So yeah, that’s it. Leave the spare keys under the rug. Never call me. Because whenever I hear your voice or see you face… Whenever you’re around, I just feel more alone. Bye, Chan”.

And he jumped from the bed.

“Hey, your button”, Chan took her pants in his hands and observed the troubled area carefully.

“Yeah, it’s barely holding. Every time I sit, I think it’s gon’ fall”.

“Why haven’t you fixed it?”

“Argh”, she scratched the back of her head, looking everywhere but at him. “Don’t have the time”.

“Bring me the needle and a thread”, he sat down on the bed. She went though all stages of something that time: scratched her ear, rubbed her rosy-colored cheeks, sighed and moved onto rubbing her neck.

“You don’t have to…”

“Now”.

“Okay, boss”, she mumbled, almost flying from the room.

“I can do it myself, y’know”, she was observing him sewing the button too carefully. Her standing right in front of him — overshadowing the light — didn’t help at all.

“Sit down, Bob the Builder”.

She complied, but with a heavy sigh and a violent plop on the bed, which made Chris jump involuntarily; if he hadn’t been holding her pants and the needle as tightly as possible, it all would have been on the floor.

“Every time you say ‘I can do it myself’, you end up breaking something. The nail, the shelf, the hand”. She groaned in response. “Stop bouncing your leg, it’s distracting”.

“Jeez! Stop bossing me around, Miranda Priestly”.

“I thought you like it when I tell you what to do”. He was too concentrated on fixing her button to see, but he knew. Her ears turned red as she covered her face, and then — bam! — smacked his shoulder. The regular routine of embarrassment.

“Ouch”, a little blood spot on his finger — the needle went into his skin right through the fabric of the pants.

“Oh shit”, she almost fell down from the bed, but ran to the kitchen to get her fist-aid bag. Chan smirked; it wasn’t like he’d been in pain — worst things happened to him during dance practices — but to watch her nervously going through the bag, to see her look for everything she needed.

And there she was. Sitting on her knees in front of Chan, applying something on his tiny wound. A pinched expression on her face — as if it was his fault — and her touch, half aggressive, half gentle. And in this last half, Chan swore on everything he had, in this half of tenderness he could drown, voluntarily jump from the cliff just to lose himself in the soft silk of her feelings. It was always so difficult to read her emotions, no matter how hard he tried or what he said — it seemed impossible.

She never said anything either. The fact, that Chan caught her crying in his bed, startled him so much he couldn’t even bring it up. Sometimes he was convinced she wasn’t able to feel anything except for positive emotions; and what’s worse, even the good ones were expressed rarely. In the six years he’d known her, he kept asking himself, when did she ever speak about her feelings?

Something about her dad’s emotional unavailability becoming her trait, too, as she blurted out once. And that was it — no other explanation. She spoke in actions, Chris knew that too well; however, hearing something about her feelings, at least once, would be a great idea. But she never did. And whenever he got in trouble, she scolded him, drove her car, sighing annoyingly too often, and then treated his bruises and scratches on the couch; or let him fix his broken heart by crying in her embrace. Her words were awkward (to her), but to Chan, hearing her utter under her breath, “I’m here with you, and for you, and… And I’m just here. I’ll always be”, was the only thing he needed.

“But when she showed her feelings, when she cried into your pillow, with your hand on her waist — were you there? Did you tell her that?”

“That’s it”, she put a bandaid with small pictures of Iron Man on his fingertip and blew on the covered wound. “Shouldn’t hurt you anymore”.

“It didn’t”, Chan cleared his throat for some reason. And when she got up from the floor and sat down next to him on the bed, his throat was dry again.

She looked at him — so… Lovingly? He couldn’t quite read the glance; not because of the usual reasons, but ‘cause it was the first time he noticed it. He didn’t quite know what to do. Bang Chan, the chief manager in the Affection Department, what would he do?

The palm of his hand slowly landed on her cheek, moving her face closer to his. His nose brushed hers in a swift touch, lips leaving a peck on her forehead. If she was saying something, the sound of the heartbeat, drumming in his chest, deafened Chan completely.

Chan touched her forehead with his, eyes locked on her eyes, dazzling in the dim light of the bedroom. Were they always this peerless? Or was he just blind his entire life, his blurry vision cured by her shining?

“Thank you”, he whispered, still focused on her eyes and unsteady breathing.

“You palm is sweaty”, she mumbled under her breath, and he chuckled, expecting to hear this kind of nonsense from her.

Staring into the wall in front of him, Chan wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I have feelings for you”. And you’re saying it through a text? A fucking breakup text?

Maybe, just maybe, consider asking about his feelings too, huh?

Yeah, and what would he say?

Chan didn’t quite know. He couldn’t wrap his head around the strange tingling in his chest whenever you were near, whenever you were laughing at his lame jokes, whenever you played with his hair. Whenever you did fucking anything. He ignored the feeling, putting it into a cage deep inside of his heart. You were his best friend, after all, a person he confided in. Wouldn’t it be wrong to fall in love with you?

“Whenever you’re around, I just feel more alone”.

That’s the reason for crying? That was it this entire time? Did he really make you feel this way?

Too many thoughts were spinning in his head, and he wasn’t able to catch at least one by the tail — they were slipping away, only to circle around your name and face, and hands, and smile, and fingers intertwined with his, and cold feet attacking his warm ones under the covers, and… Only you.

To never call you? To stop seeing you? Did you really think he would listen to your commands?

Throwing whatever clothes he found on the floor, putting on mismatched socks and sneakers, he ran down the stairs, calling Lee Know simultaneously.

“You’re on your way, I hope”.

“Answer one question”.

“What’s with the voice? Are you jogging or something?”

“D’you think I’m in love with her?”

‘Her’? Minho knew right away. “You dumb fuck. Took you long enough”.

“It’s that obvious?”

Minho rubbed his eyes with extra annoyance at that moment. “If I see you two staring at each other and then denying it one more time, I swear to god, I will kill you both. Romeo and Juliet style. Shut up and come to the studio already”.

“I’m gon’ be late”. Chan knew exactly what Minho’s next words were — not that he was willing to listen to them.

Shit, he panted on the street, the car keys were on the kitchen table. Running back would be too long, Chan thought, so the taxi he jumped in should be perfect.

The windows were open, wind blowing in his face — and even the air outside was filled with your scent. Floral perfume, that always reminded him of late spring nights spent with you.

“You don’t mind if I change the route?”, the driver asked. “To overtake the traffic?”

“Yeah, no problem”.

Five minutes later they were on the empty highway, going round the city to get to the neighborhood you were living in. Chan ignored the driver’s occasional texting — not his first rodeo with such people. It’d be better if he didn’t, though.

The next thing Chan remembered was his head hitting the back of the passenger seat.

Taglist:

@heylookwhoitis