#bored at work so this can finally be free :)

[muletia]

✧˖° 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

mer!optimus x human!reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

word count: 4400

The familiar weight of sleeplessness and fatigue greets you the moment you wake up, like an old toxic friend, pushing your head flat to the ground, adding phantom kilograms on top. Your first thought, the ID of a modern human, immediately shifts to calculating how much sleep time you have left before the alarm goes off.

You like waking up before the alarm. Who doesn’t, especially when it gives you those precious few or, if you're lucky, a dozen extra minutes of dozing? That last moment of coziness in a warm bed, the pleasant weight of the comforter, flipping the pillow to the cool side, that was the simplicity of life you’d come to know and grow used to. Familiarity is good, because it can’t scare you, you think, your thoughts still drifting in the haze of morning fog.

But you are surrounded by the familiar, aren’t you? You have no idea where such thoughts are coming from, especially this early in the morning. There’ll be time for daydreaming and philosophical pondering during an especially boring shift at work or during lunch break. And it’s sad, and perhaps unfair, that this is the most stimulating thing you get to do in a place that drains every drop of energy out of you, until you finish your shift a hollow shell — a place commonly known as work. For now, you still have those few blessed minutes of extra rest, and your only concern is whether you'll be able to enjoy them before the alarm rings and shatters this lovely little idyll.

You try to pull the blanket tighter around yourself, searching for it with your arm, but instead of the familiar texture of cotton, you find only your clothes. Hmm, that’s strange. You don’t remember the state you came home in after work, but it wouldn’t surprise you if you were so exhausted you just collapsed on the couch without even grabbing a blanket, sleeping straight through all your precious free time.

You forgot to set the alarm for your afternoon nap again, you scold yourself. Your brain feeds you made-up stories, fueling your irritation at yourself. You had so many plans yesterday. You really wanted to finish that drawing you’ve been slaving over for weeks. But no, you didn’t set that damned alarm, and now you feel like kicking yourself hard in the ass.

And great, now you’re too upset to even try to chase those last few minutes of rest. Beautiful. Wonderful. A textbook case of self-sabotage. Too bad it had to catch you now, when you genuinely wanted, and more importantly needed, those extra minutes of sleep.

For a few seconds more, you live in the illusion that you need to get ready for work soon. Until you reach for your phone, and instead of your fingers tapping the hard surface of your nightstand, they sink into the sandy ground.

You’re pretty sure the speed with which you jerk your hand back broke the sound barrier. You sit up just as quickly, torso and head upright, scanning your surroundings in panic for some explanation for your missing, ever-faithful phone. Luckily, you don’t have to look far. The evidence surrounds you from all sides. And the sight of every familiar bush and palm tree blows the morning fog away like a leaf blower, mercilessly revealing the memories of yesterday that had been so carefully hidden in the haze.

Everything comes back to you, every detail, though the chronology is a little scrambled. The airplane flight, the crash, the wound on your calf, the encounter with the tarantula, eating papaya sprinkled with sand.

And him. The merman.

Your first meeting, his pitiful moans, and how he searched the entire island for you. Searched… He was looking for you! Goddammit, he probably already spotted you between the leaves and is now just waiting for you to wake up so he can finally get a taste of that weird little toothpick. You idiot, what are you still doing on this beach, get out of here, now! You try to motivate yourself, but before the panic can spread through your entire body like a virus, you make a maybe not rational but very necessary decision under the circumstances.

You turn towards the beach. Slowly, carefully rotating your body so as not to make a single suspicious sound.

That is, until your spine suddenly decides to crack.

You immediately drop flat to the ground. The merman must have good hearing, he definitely heard that. Oh, you’re so screwed. Now you’ve done it. You forgot about being careful all night because you had to cry, and now you’re paying the price.

But… you hear nothing. No chirping or clicking. No sound of a giant body dragging itself across the sand towards your hiding spot.

Nothing. Only the gentle rustle of waves and… if your ears aren’t deceiving you, deep, even breathing.

Loud and distinct, but not close enough to make you think the merman is lurking right next to your hideout. A bit further off, closer to the water, where the sound of breathing blends now and then with the ocean waves.

That convinces you enough to lift your head from the ground. Using the same gap in the foliage you’d spied through yesterday, you peek out to see what he’s doing, fully prepared for your gazes to meet. You’re even mentally preparing to bolt into the depths of the island in case he decides to chase you.

But that turns out to be unnecessary. Enough that you subconsciously relax your tensed muscles, exhaling silently in relief.

The merman is asleep. Or at least, you think he’s asleep.

His entire tail is submerged in the water, but the humanoid half lies on the sand, occasionally brushed by shy waves. His large, stocky arms are folded in such a way they might as well be a comfortable pillow, because as you study the face of the sleeping mer, you find he looks… peaceful. No trace of the grim sorrow and despair you’d observed in him before, expressions etched deep in your memory.

You allow yourself a moment to look at him, finally able to do so. The feeling of curiosity has come full circle since your first meeting, but the fear has lost its edge, reduced now to a slightly racing heart and a quiet voice in the back of your mind reminding you to stay cautious. And maybe the island is messing with your sense of reality and whether everything around you is an illusion, but you still have enough strength to fight for your life.

It seems the merman has drifted far into the ocean of dreams, because even a stronger wave washing over his torso up to his crossed arms doesn’t wake him. His face conveys peace and contentment, broken only by the occasional twitch of an eyelid. Stoic expression isn’t invincible, though, because soon it's twisted by a smile. Small, shy, barely visible from your hiding spot but it’s real.

He must be dreaming about something truly pleasant, because then you hear the squish of damp sand being kneaded. And when you shift on the ground, gently pushing out past the comfort of dense leaves to get a better look at what he’s doing, you can’t help but smile too.

He’s kneading the sand with his hands. Like happy cats knead their beds before falling asleep.

And maybe it’s just another human flaw born from consuming too many cute cat videos on social media, but suddenly the merman doesn’t seem so scary. Not enough for you to feel immediately comfortable near him, but enough to ease your tension, because damn it, even if you were convinced he was a born killing machine, you couldn’t stop the fluffy warmth blooming in your chest. 

The kneading was adorable. Okay, insanely adorable.

Your thoughts stray too close to forbidden territory, because a sudden intrusive question pops into your head. You wonder if he can purr. And maybe if you rolled a coconut his way, he’d chase after it like a cat after a ball of yarn? Honestly… you’d like to try, if it meant finding a way to distract the merman whenever his presence became too intense and stressful.

Or you’ll just die trying, because those ideas are only funny in your head. His sudden loud exhale snaps you back to reality, so unexpected that your body reflexively presses tighter against the safety of the ground. With one breath, the merman reminds you who’s really in control here, and who the apex predator is. Big cats also have their cute moments, relaxing after being perfect killing machines.

And that thought alone is enough to wipe the smile off your face. He might look cute kneading the sand, but he’s the one in charge here. He’s the king of these waters, and you’re the uninvited guest on his territory.

Exactly, that’s what you realize. He has the whole island at his disposal. Why did he have to pick your beach?

It’s not your beach, you remind yourself, but the question still matters. The island’s got sand on at least two sides — couldn’t he have chosen a different spot to rest? Or his lagoon? Of course he could have, but he had to fixate on you. And even his cat-like behavior isn’t enough to buy your forgiveness or shield him from your wrath.

You know full well he hasn’t really earned it. You understand this is his territory and if he wanted, he could crawl right up onto the dry land next to you and deliver the most diabolical surprise — but as a castaway on a deserted island, you’re pretty sure you’ve earned the right to have your nerves frayed a bit, haven’t you?

So yeah. He really could’ve picked another spot to sleep. Honestly.

Unless… he knew you were here. Because for what other reason would he have picked this particular beach if not to wait around for you to wake up? It’s obvious, you tell yourself, he probably spotted your clothes through the gaps in the leaves while you were asleep.

Which only means that you need to get the hell out of here. While he’s still asleep and won’t be able to see you bolting right under his nose.

A dangerous thought suddenly forms in your mind. You could take advantage of him sleeping and grab a few papayas. Your hollow, ravenous stomach wholeheartedly agrees. You have to eat. And since fish and crabs are out of reach thanks to mermaid-related issues and lack of tools to start a fire, fruit is your only salvation.

But fruit will run out one day — a sentence that carries a terrifying sense of dread you’re not ready to face. Someone will rescue you before that. Eventually.

But that thought no longer brings you the comfort it used to.

Unable to endure the hunger and thirst any longer, you slowly rise into a crouch, careful not to brush against any leaves or branches. You manage it flawlessly, but just in case, you keep your eyes glued to the merman, who still appears to be sleeping soundly.

In the very corner of your field of vision, though, you catch a bright orange blotch. A color so unnatural for the island’s palette it practically begs to be checked out. Finding the courage, finally giving the merman a break from your intense, watchful gaze, you investigate what the orange outline is.

And you almost feel like smacking yourself in the forehead.

Under the palm you dubbed your camp lies your life jacket. In plain sight for any passing merman who might have unresolved business with the uninvited guest on his island.

You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Crying was more important than thinking rationally about your safety, huh? Well, now you’re paying the price. The merman knows you chose this place as your little spot of existence, and if you take the life jacket, he’ll know that either you’ve moved again, and he’ll start searching the island for you, or he’ll figure out you hid the jacket behind the palm, and you’re still lurking around this beach.

You’ve fallen right into the trap, and the worst part is, you have no one to blame but yourself, no matter how badly you want to put it on the merman. Because sure, he’s making your life miserable but this is his home, and you’re the one who barged in with your filthy boots.

“Fuck my life” you groan, but you can’t even allow yourself to voice your emotions. You want to scream, but you can’t. Cry, but you can’t. Eat, drink, survive — but you can’t.

You swear you’ll never complain about traffic again. Or your job. Or the cockroaches in your kitchen. You won’t complain about anything anymore, because nothing compares to the shitty situation you’re stuck in now. You even catch yourself fantasizing about sitting in traffic and getting chewed out by your boss for being late. Oh, what you’d give to go back to normal life.

Luckily, you remind yourself that you’ll have plenty of time to daydream later. Right now you need to focus on stopping your stomach from digesting itself out of pure hunger.

You focus your attention back on the merman, making sure he’s still asleep. Kneeling deeper into the sand convinces you to take the next step in your food gathering quest, and you slowly straighten your knees.

Your joints aren’t too thrilled about suddenly bearing weight. Both knees pop quite loudly, rousing not only yourself:every sense suddenly sharpened a hundredfold — but apparently the merman as well, as he stirs restlessly. His face scrunches, cracking the peaceful, contented marble expression, but you’re not about to sit there frozen like a deer in the headlights and wait to see if he just shifts position and keeps sleeping or if you’ve served as his alarm clock today.

You pivot on your heel and, moving calmly and carefully around all the sticks and dry leaves, make it to the green thicket. You don’t start running until you hear a pleading, beckoning click behind you.

############################################################################

The x’s you carved into the tree trunks have already lost their green hue, drying into a pale brown, blending more and more with the bark. You realize you’ll have to carve them again soon, but then correct yourself, that you won’t need to. Surely someone will find you by then. The search already started, sometime this week, and it’s Wednesday now, so any day now a small plane will cut across the sky, spot you, and take you away.

This time, it’s hard for you to believe.

And what if they find the merman? You can’t stop that question from forming as you make your way to the lagoon. People like hurting freaks of nature. Locking them up in enclosures or aquariums in secret labs, taking skin and DNA samples, poking around in their guts, pumping them full of poison. Would you ever be able to sleep again, knowing that such a beautiful creature is suffering because of you?

No. No, you wouldn’t. Which only makes you hate the ocean more for spitting you out here, on an island inhabited by a mythical being. You think you’d rather be gulping down raw fish.

“Be glad you’re even alive” you mutter under your breath. “So lucky, ending up on an island with fruit and coconuts, and you still complain. You’ve gone soft from city life.”

“But maybe if it weren’t for the damn Cerberus guarding this island, I wouldn’t be guilt-tripping myself over, oh I don’t know, getting home safely? But nooo, had to get lucky there too.” You angrily kick the first branch in your way. “Fuck this goddamn island.”

“Oh perfect, now I’m talking to myself. Brilliant. Wonderful.” you sigh.

You cover the path to the lagoon in complete silence, which honestly unsettles you a little. The merman hasn’t made a sound in a while. He only treated you to a brief summoning song before falling silent, probably realizing that even this time you wouldn’t fall for his sad-puppy call for companionship.

You suspect he’s back to patrolling the island. You expect to see him at the lagoon, but the gnawing pain in your stomach isn’t about to let you search for an alternative. You need those papayas. Only after eating can you even think about searching for any other food source.

Reaching the lagoon, this time you first scan the area to make sure it’s clear but other than the trail of a large body dragged through the sand to the treeline, you spot nothing alarming.

He really wanted to get to me, you think. 

You can’t help but wonder… was it out of hunger or loneliness?

Eyes on the water, disturbed only by a gentle breeze, you slowly make your way to the ruins. But before stepping even a millimeter inside, you thoroughly check all sides for any disgusting eight-legged residents. Only after confirming the area’s clear do you rush in and jump at the tree, trying to reach the papayas. This time, whether from stress or haste, you’re not as efficient but at last, you’re hugging one ripe fruit to your chest again.

Hunger pushes you to fight for a second, which you manage to pluck but just as you do, the sound of splashing reaches you from the lagoon. Then, the slithering of a body across sand. And finally, chirping calls.

Oh, how long it’s been since you heard those. A whole ten minutes.

Wonderful. Perfect. Your sense of timing should be studied by scientists, surely no one could have worse.

Just like the first day, there’s no way out of here without catching the merman’s attention. No matter which direction you go, he’ll see you, and this time, you’re close enough for him to easily reach out and grab you.

You’re not going to avoid this confrontation. You have no intention of waiting in the ruins for another close encounter with a tarantula. No, one was enough.

The merman calls again, always in that same tone, dripping with hope, and for the first time, you’re forced to acknowledge it.

You gently peek your head through the hole that used to be a door, just like you did on the first day but it quickly becomes clear this trick only worked yesterday, back when the merman didn’t yet know you existed.

Now your eyes meet almost instantly.

Instinctively, you duck back behind the wall, but the merman’s soft clicking makes you realize how stupid that was. He knows you’re here. The only thing left to do is run.

So why the hell can’t you move?

Your legs are trembling like jelly, feet nailed to the ground by a hundred thick spikes. And even though you hate yourself for being such a coward, you have to do something if you don’t want to die from hunger or end up inside a merman’s stomach.

So you do what most people do when they’re overwhelmed by stress and have another person nearby.

You peek timidly from behind the wall, eyeing the merman cautiously, for now keeping quiet about the dead fish laid out on the sand, larger and different than yesterday's. You also try not to dwell on how his face suddenly lit up the moment your eyes met, how his mouth dropped open in shock, though his eyes sparkled with something you could only describe as wild, primal joy.

You start to speak.

“Um… listen.”

The merman brightens even more, though you didn’t think that was possible, softening his expression into a smile. A gentle one, just like the one you saw on his face before, when he’d slept while kneading the sand with his paws.

Once again, he ceases to be frightening, luring you in with friendliness, encouraging you to continue with an excited, single chirp.

With little other choice, you let yourself get caught in the trap.

“I don’t know why you have beef with me…” you try, but when he tilts his head slightly, you gather that although he’s clearly happy you’re speaking to him, he has no clue what you’re saying. “Okay, let’s try it a different way.”

You make eye contact with him briefly, but those large, azure, kind eyes gaze at you with such intense enthusiasm and hope that your own buckle under the weight of his emotion.

So you lean out more, revealing half your body.

“I’d like to go back to the beach” you begin, pointing first at yourself, then gesturing towards the beach you know. The merman watches you closely, brows furrowed, not in anger, but in focus, carefully analyzing your gestures. “And eat breakfast” you tap your finger against the papayas, “Without fear that, God, this is so stupid, I’ll be, um… eaten? Crap, how do I even show that, um…”

The merman tilts his head again but gives you time to demonstrate what you mean, and for that, you’re almost grateful. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s the source of your stress and awkwardness in the first place.

“Ugh, alright.”

You point at him, then at yourself, then chomp your teeth twice.

The enormous creature needs exactly one second to understand what you mean. His eyes widen in shock, as if genuinely offended that you’d even think your flesh might be appetizing to him, then he shakes his head, continuing his vocal side of the conversation with a few clicks and chirps, which you understand just as well as he understands your English.

“Um… alright. So we’re cool, yeah?” the merman tilts his head again. Oh. Right.

So you perform the only gesture your stress-cluttered brain can conjure up.

You give him a thumbs up.

Which utterly throws him off.

I’m such an idiot, you think to yourself, clutching the precious papayas tighter. That’s the second strike today.

With nothing more to say, and afraid you’ll blurt out another stupid line you’ll lie awake remembering every night, you summon a pinch of courage to glance at the merman, who is still entirely focused on your face.

Only then does the creature nod. A gesture so human, so intelligent, it stirs a sense of wonder in you so dense in your throat, you can’t even breathe, lips only parting in awe, not inhaling any air.

Which is why you don’t react in fear when he picks up the fish and places it near you, still maintaining a safe distance. Just far enough not to scare you. Not to break the fragile thread of connection.

He clicks a few times, and you manage to hear encouragement in the low tone. As if urging you to accept the gift, once again completely catching you off guard.

“Um… thank you? I guess…”

The merman sends you one last sweet chirp and smiles softly before pushing off the sand with his broad shoulders and fully submerging into the shallow lagoon water. He surfaces his head once more, casting you a final glance, then pulls back toward the pool’s outlet, shocking you with his speed and, more than anything, the silence of such a massive body moving underwater. If not for the gently rippling water brushing the sand, you wouldn’t have heard him swimming at all.

It hits you like a bucket of ice water. Suddenly, you can feel your legs again, finally piece together more complex thoughts. You can breathe, rediscovering the ability with a few quick gasps.

“Wow” you whisper, now that you’ve calmed down.

You just had a full sign-language conversation with an intelligent sea… creature? It suddenly felt weird calling him that. Knowing how clever he is, doesn’t he deserve to be called a person? A merperson?

“I think… I think I need to sit down. Yeah, I definitely need to sit down.”

You walk over to the soft sand, and your butt hits the ground immediately, no longer able to bear the weight of the thoughts swirling in your head.

And that’s when you remember the fish.

You stare at it for a moment, its dead eyes, body covered in sand. It’s larger than the one he’d held in his jaws yesterday, roughly the length of your forearm.

But what hits you the most is the realization that it’s a gift. A gift for you. From a giant, intelligent merman, not only capable of feeling empathy, but also of acting upon it.

And the worst part is, you can’t accept it. You can’t eat it raw, and without a pocketknife or any blade, you can’t start a fire. But if you just leave it here, won’t that betray the merman’s kindness? Maybe that’s all it would take to make him change his mind about using you as a toothpick.

“Well, now you’ve really screwed me over” you sigh.

You have to take the fish. You might not eat it, but you have to, too afraid of the consequences of leaving it behind.

But before you move from your spot on the sand, you glance toward the opposite direction of the familiar beach.

It would be so easy to bolt now. You didn’t owe him anything. You hadn’t made any promises. And above all, it was his fault your stress yesterday had reached cosmic levels, still towering over every other emotion.

You shouldn’t be kind to him, or accept gifts. You even regret igniting that stupid conversation, breaking the first unspoken barrier of untouchability you never should’ve touched.

But now it was too late. You’d made contact with an alien species, and now you had to face the consequences.

You punch the sand.

“Fuck.”

And grab the fish by the gills — slimy, wet, and disgusting — so unpleasant to the touch that you want to chuck it into the lagoon and forget it ever existed. But you can’t. You really don’t want to see what his rage looks like. You don’t want to see those teeth snapping, or that gentle face twisted in fury. You don’t want to end up like that fish.

“Fuck this island” you mutter.

And you head back towards the only beach you know.

[gilbertscurls]

worth it — matt sturniolo

It started with a group chat.

Which, to be fair, is how most chaos in your life did start—specifically when that group chat included the Sturniolo triplets.

[Chaos Goblins 🧨]: Chris: you free friday night? You: depends Nick: she’s free You: wow, thanks nick Matt: what’s happening friday Chris: nothing for you Nick: unless you wanna third-wheel Matt: what

You should’ve known something was up. Chris was way too casual. Nick was way too smug. And Matt? Matt was suspicious in the way a golden retriever gets when you say “walk” but don’t reach for the leash.

Still, you were intrigued. Also slightly bored. Also easily bullied by persuasive texts and too many heart emojis.

So when Friday night rolled around, you showed up at the cute little café Chris had sent you the address to, expecting—at the very least—a decent cup of coffee and a good story to tell.

What you didn’t expect was Matt.

Sitting at a table. Fidgeting with a sugar packet.

Looking equally confused.

“…Matt?” you asked, stopping mid-step.

His head jerked up. “Wait—you’re my blind date?”

You blinked. “You’re mine?”

There was a beat of silence. And then, in perfect unison:

“CHRIS.”

From a corner booth, Chris and Nick peeked over the edge of a menu. Chris waved. Nick looked far too pleased with himself.

“They’re so dramatic,” Nick muttered to Chris, who nodded solemnly.

“They’ve been in love for five years and still haven’t kissed. I’m doing the Lord’s work.”

Matt looked at you. You looked at Matt.

Then—helpless, resigned—you both sat down.

“This is so stupid,” Matt said, but he was smiling.

“Unbelievably stupid,” you agreed. “Want to order dessert first out of spite?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “God, yes. Two slices of cake. And I’m not sharing.”

The “date” was… surprisingly fun.

Partly because you and Matt had always been good together—banter easy, laughter constant, conversations that bounced between chaotic and sincere. And partly because the sheer absurdity of being set up on a blind date with your best friend made everything feel surreal in the best way.

You fed him a bite of your cake at one point just to mess with the boys. Matt immediately retaliated by dramatically wiping frosting off your cheek with a napkin and whispering, “We’re really selling it now.”

Chris choked on his drink.

Nick facepalmed so hard, you heard it.

By the end of the night, you and Matt were walking back to the car, still giggling about the expression on Chris’s face when Matt offered to “accidentally” feed you a french fry.

“I can’t believe they tricked us,” you said, bumping your shoulder against his.

“I can,” Matt said. “We’ve been dancing around each other for so long I’m shocked they didn’t lock us in a closet together.”

You laughed. “Yeah, but a blind date? Really?”

Matt glanced at you, a little softer now. “Maybe they just… wanted us to admit what they already knew.”

You stopped walking.

So did he.

For a second, everything felt still.

The night air, cool and quiet. The streetlamp humming above you. The world holding its breath.

Matt shifted, suddenly nervous. “Okay, don’t laugh, but—”

You kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect—your teeth bumped, and you almost dropped your keys—but it was warm and real and long overdue.

When you pulled back, Matt’s eyes were wide. And a little dazed.

“I was gonna say I’ve been in love with you forever,” he whispered.

You grinned. “Yeah. I got that.”

From across the street, someone yelled, “FINALLY!”

You turned to see Chris doing a little victory dance and Nick filming it with the solemn energy of a documentarian.

Matt groaned. “We’re never living this down.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his.

“Good thing I kinda like the idiot who made it worth it.”

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @shadowthesim237, @courta13, @frankdelreyy, @evansturn, @bamsblooming, @backwardshatnick, @whore4chris

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a speedster and dating Peter Maximoff

Peter Maximoff x reader

warnings: blood/injury

a/n:

prompt:

the world moved in slow motion…

oh, literally

you and peter were usually moving around the same speed. it took a while, but you guys learned to line up with each other when you moved

some said it was annoying, others said it was romantic

you couldn’t find a better way to live life

you initially met in the 70s during a pretty intense plan to break into the pentagon and free magneto from incarceration

you were a ward of professor xavier and peter was the mischievous boy you’d fallen for at first sight

“hey! no” -logan, swatting you on the arm as you zoned out when you’d first met peter

logan, who knew one possible future and might have known whose fates intertwine for better or worse

but the warnings of the man leading you and essentially your family into what could be a massacre didn’t exactly find you well

you quickly sped up and peter followed suit

“whats a place like you doing in a mutant like this?” -peter, jokingly

“yeah, yeah, you heard them” -you, smirking at not only him but the opportunity to do something like this “have you ever…been able to do this?”

“do what? talk to another person while im going fast? no, never had the chance. this is really cool. we should do it again sometime” -peter, rambling

“maybe we can if you listen to the old guys. from what the guy with the weird haircut has told me about you, we’ve got an offer you cant refuse” -you

“oh yeah? how does he know anything about me?” -peter

“from the future or something, still trying to make sense of it—hey, man, can you spare a twinkie?” -you, pointing to the wall of boxes

“take a box…” -peter, falling for you already

you sped to a box and ate while peter ran circles around your crew, the fact you were still pining after him drove charles and hank insane

and all peter wanted to do was impress you

“y/n, everyone in the world and you’re interested in the kleptomaniac. can you maybe reevaluate?” -hank

“no, i don’t think i will” -you

for the boy that agreed to help for free, they sure did want to steer you away

you gave him your number before you went your separate ways, but duty called

“well, i know where to find you” -peter, holding up the business card for the xavier school he lifted off charles when you’d all met

it’s only about 500 miles between you two, takes maybe 10 minutes

it took maybe a week for you to catch his calls, but he knew you were busy

the day you finally called back, he was bouncing off the walls (literally)

“hello?” -ms. maximoff

“hey, ms. maximoff! it’s y/n, we met last week” -you

“PETER, ITS FOR YOU” -ms. maximoff (less than half a second later the phone had vanished from her hand

“y/n! i was expecting your call ever since i saw magneto on the news, how’s it going?” -peter, pacing around the house tangling the phone cord around every single thing he could find

“pretty good, i’m still alive! lunch sometime?” -you

charles was “listening�� btw but both of you were talking in superspeed so all he could hear was “MEEMEEMARNEEHLININAM” or like some other really squeaky nonsense

“how about now?” -peter “i’m down to visit new york”

“works for me!” -you, hanging up and immediately rushing to get ready

you guys got each other like no other

never wore each other out

some people told you to “slow down” but they didn’t see the world from your point of view

speed was a good thing when two people experienced it together

“hey, wait. too fast, i cant understand you” -you when peter got excited and started talking fasted than you were going

sometimes you would slow down, when the moment called for it

and peter got a little restless

ok you both did

“this is so boring, lets shoplift” -peter

“peter!” -you

“pleaaaase?” -peter

“…where are you thinking?” -you

oh yeah charles did not like his influence lol

“y/n, i know you have something in common that very few could have, but him?” -charles

“uh, yes him, do you hate happiness?” -you

“no, i just mean that—really, y/n? it is not because i left moira!” -charles

“don’t read my mind!!” -you

“it was loud, like you wanted me to hear it” -charles

“don’t make excuses” -you

peter looooveessss gossip

especially when the school reopened and you decided to take on a class to teach and become somewhat of an RA

“ohhh, my god. one of the kids called hank ‘blue balls’ and the whole class started screaming laughing and i was trying sooo hard to be professional—how do you say ‘shut the fuck up’ to a fourteen year old in a professional way? i am stumped” -you

“‘shut the fuck up’” -peter

“you’re so right” -you

peter would visit the x mansion pretty often while you were working

brings you food and gifts and such

“did you steal this?” -you

“want to see my receipt?” -peter

“yes.” -you

*patting pockets* “i think it fell out” -peter

he gives lotta kisses

LOVES to dance but only fun fast dances where he can spin you

like if there was a dancing contest you would win

you like the slow dancing tho so you can be close to him

peter cleans your room for you while youre working

“one of the kids set fire to a desk today” -you, exhausted

“but at least you have a clean room!!” -peter

he will get very competitive about arcade games

he will NOT take pity on you

sore loser

big baby

oh, what about you? if you can’t take it then dont dish it out!!!!!!

“hahah, i beat your high score” -you

“NOOOO” -peter, who wont stop playing until he gets the high score again

you guys race

he WILL trip you to get a head start

peter luvs to share his music with you

he sings but just in front of u

when you fight, its over fast (bc you talk fast)

*more fast forward voices sounds*

jubilee once tried to record it and slow it down but it didn’t work

peters mom loved u but she was SOOOO exhausted by speedsters

“at least you clean up after yourself when you’re here” -ms. maximoff after you do the dishes for her

making peter’s sister dizzy by running around her

(she wants to be fast too)

peter fake proposes CONSTANTLYYY

you might kick him over while he’s on one knee if he ever does it for real

when the x mansion blew up, you and him were quick to evac the mansion

“are you okay?” -peter, checking you for injuries

“as okay as you are, what the hell??” -you

you were kidnapped together <3 nothing says romance like being trapped in a cage together

peter’s confession that erik was his father was a surprise to you

“WHAT?! you never told me that!!” -you

“it didn’t seem important” -peter

“oh, it didn’t seem important that your DAD is charles’s best friend who we literally BROKE OUT OF PRISON” -you

“not really” -peter

“you getting any of this?” -raven (you were speed fighting)

“not a thing” -hank

“this happen often?” -raven

“comes with the mutation. they’re lucky they found each other. nice to have someone that gets you like that” -hank, side eyeing raven

regardless of that BIG FUCKING SECRET being casually dropped, you guys took apocalypse head on

and man were you guys a unit on the battlefield

one speedster is a wildcard. two? it’s like they couldn’t keep their heads on straight

“wanna make this a game?” -peter

“what’d you have in mind?” -you

“who can punch the blue guy the most” -peter

“nice try, i’m not punching hank” -you

the jokes were fun and distracting, but you guys took quite a few hits

you were bleeding from your head and peter got really serious really fast

“does it hurt? do i need to get you back to the jet?” -peter

“yes, it hurts. no, i’m not giving up” -you

peter broke his fucking leg <3

“alright, you’re done” -you, lifting him up and taking him to safety

he felt like a pretty princess being lifted bridal style by you

“i love you” -peter

“well, duh. nice if you said it more” -you

“i will. thanks for saving me” -peter

“save it for when we get home” -you

taglist: @locke-writes // @randomawesomeperson102 // @captainshazamerica // @dindjarinsspouse // @summersimmerus // @simp-legend // @nekoannie-chan // @groovy-lady // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[redorquid]

I'd do anything to have her to myself ; p.g

pairing: penelope garcia x fem!reader

(established relationship)

warnings: none! just the cheesiest fluff

a/n: heyy! this is the pt.2 of this fic and is based on this request, sorry it took me so long to write it, I wasn't in a very good mood. but anyways, if something is written incorrectly or maybe it didn't turn out how you wanted I'm sorry and feel free to tell me, hope you enjoy!

after the other night penelope kept thinking about her suggestion to dye your hair as well.

she thought of every color that could match her current orange and finally decided that a light pink would look as good as orange looks on her.

so, when she was getting out of the BAU after an exhausting day she asked you to start bleaching your hair while she bought the hair dye.

when you were about to finish you heard the clicking of the door and your girlfriend's voice "sweetheart I'm home! " she said while taking of her shoes.

"hi baby! I'm in the bathroom" you said while drying your hair.

"what color did you bought pen? " you asked while facing her and the closed bag.

"okay I wanted to surprise you sooooo, here it is sweetness" she said excitedly while taking the dye out of her purse.

"is this why you ask me to bleach my hair? " you said with a knowing smirk.

"of course!!!, I mean it's not like the light hair doesn't suit you but I really need us to be a sunrise" she said while looking at you in the mirror.

"oh my sweet and flirty goddess" you said while cupping her cheeks with your hands "how could I say no to you? " and she kissed your palm.

"okay angel let's get to work" she said excitedly while kissing your nose.

penelope opened the dye and squirted it on a bowl and started mixing it while you sit on the edge of the bathtub.

she was standing between your legs and after the first piece of your hair was covered she gasped just like the last time

"OMG OMG OMG, BABY YOU SHOULD BE IN A HAIR STYLIST PHOTO BOOK" she screamed lovingly while looking at you in pure awe.

"I mean I already knew that it was going to suit you but omg you look soooo good I might stop at each piece of hair just to look at you" she said with her mouth still open because of how surprised she was.

you just blushed and nogged her with your shoulder shyly to tell her to keep going.

after she was finished you helped her clean while you waited for the time to wash the dye.

"how was your day angel? "you asked her as you went to wait on the couch.

"it was good, kinda boring but I couldn't stop thinking about getting home to you" she said while sitting beside you.

you put your legs in her lap "me too, I came home early and I couldn't wait to see you".

you both smiled while looking at each other with so much love in your hearts that no one else could understand.

"do you want to put that episode we didn't finished last night? " she said while nodding to the tv, last night you couldn't finish it because you were both tired and fell asleep in less than a minute.

"sure! I don't remember a thing" you said while grabbing the remote control and put you tv show on.

you watched a few episodes until it was time to wash the dye, penny took you to the bathroom and you suited yourself while she prepared the shampoo and conditioner.

she started massaging your scalp slowly while trying to not stain your face with the dye that was coming off.

in days when you were so tired you really love to have her treat you so softly (like she always does).

it was so relaxing that you were half asleep when she finished so she just caressed your cheek.

"baby I'm done, you can get up now" she whispered to your ear while you opened your eyes.

she helped you stand up and followed you to the mirror.

"look at you pretty lady, you look so beautiful " she smiled at you while putting her arms in your waist.

"baby you did an amazing job omg!! " you said while looking at your now pink hair.

you turned around and kissed her face in admiration, you'd really do anything and everything for her, and you know she would do that for you as well.

[hanfocus]

250118 / © hpyhbok

[moregraceful]

many things i have been keeping under wraps at work, such as pronouns, but also, very critically, age. bc i got that ageless mixed race asian swag where i am very clearly not an undergrad but also??? they just don't know. and it WHIPS and it is so funny to ME because all the managers and shift supervisors are like damn this girl in her mid-twenties is so easy to talk to, it's like talking to a peer. surprise bitch i'm older than you. and maybe this means i'm performing psychological experiments on cis men, but i am ngl if i hand you a two page resume that you don't read, it is simply none of MY business if you think i am in my mid-20s. they are going to be so mad when they find out lmao

[aria0fgold]

Gotta love having a conversation with an OC which is technically a piece of myself while toiling away with the water details of my drawing.

[teaboot]

Yeah Mr. Darcy’s proposal was a complete turd and a half but you gotta understand. You got your life together. A good career, stable income, retirement plan, all that shit together. And you meet this girl. And she’s everything. Clever, outspoken, funny, calls you on your bullshit. Grade A cutie, right? And she doesn’t go out of her way to spend time with you but she’s nice, and sometimes you catch her looking your way in a way that makes you think you might have a shot.

But her family. Holy shit.

First off, it’s p much ALL women, and mostly UNMARRIED women, which at this time means of something happens to her dad then you’re financially responsible for like. Four grown ass adults, potentially forever

Because mom in law is DEFINITELY gonna need someone to take care of her when dad in law kicks it, and they have like. NO money. So already you’re accepting that if all goes well, you’re gonna be one random old bag’s retirement home. That’s expensive and exhausting, yeah? Imagine asking someone on a first date knowing that if they say yes and things go good her high-strung chihuahua mother is gonna move in with you. IMAGINE.

And girly’s other sisters. Well, one is a sweetheart, yeah, so she probably won’t be an issue, but that still leaves three more, and two of those ones are INSUFFERABLE. Never went to school, dumb as rocks, spend cash like it’s toilet paper

And while one of the two is young still and might grow out of it the OTHER one is actively torpedo’ing her entire family’s reputation by wandering off with random dudes and chasing ass. She’s never gonna work, she can’t build connections, she’s a fucking sinkhole, and she’s being led on by the same goddamn con man ass leeching tit who’s been bleeding you dry while telling anyone who’ll listen that your family is full of ratty thieving bastards.

And if he dumps her after a week- WHICH YOU KNOW HIS BITCH ASS IS GONNA- you’ve got a SECOND UNMARRIABLE GROWN ASS ADULT TO PROVIDE FOR. And you KNOW she’s gonna be a tantrum-throwing little shit about it, and it’s not like you can lock her in the basement or something, you’re gonna have to bring her fucking. Everywhere. And give her an allowance and shit while she contributes zero, because again, she NEVER GOT EDUCATED AND HAS NO MARKETABLE SKILLS. She’s not even good to TALK to. FUCK

And you’re looking at this girl’s father like “please for the love of fuck get your spawn under control, marry them off, get them working on their résumé, learning to sew or be nursemaids or manage staff or SOMETHING, yall got no money and one foot in the grave” and that old man just laughs like “haha yeah, what can you do. lol”

So you’re looking to the mom and finally it’s making sense how she got that twitch in her eye and as MUCH as she is you’re starting to realize she’s the SMART one, desperately throwing her armloads of girls at random men like they’re a bunch of fucking lifeboats bobbing around a sinking ship, like yes Jesus Christ sweetly that life boat IS old and ugly and kind of boring but for FUCKS SAKE PICK ONE

And you look back at this girl who is ALSO REFUSING THE LIFE BOATS BY THE WAY and god damn it she’s still the most radiant thing you’ve ever seen so fine, fuck it, Christ alive, you’ll do it. You’ll shoot your shot. She’s everything you’ve ever wanted in anybody abut it’s not even just about that anymore, it’s about being her best fucking shot at a future, and even if she doesn’t like you all that much she’s still gonna say yes and that might break your heart a bit knowing it’s about the money but who knows, maybe it will at least be civil, or companionable, and even if she doesn’t LOVE you at least you’ll know she’s well and cared for

And so you’ll do it. You’ll take on the neurotic stress mess mother in law, the absent father, the broke ass wingnut no brain no money no future airhead sisters, the bad mannered relatives and the embarrassing behaviour and the impending future of sharing your entire shit with a clown parade of freeloaders, you’ll risk it all and accept the absolute certainty of financial ruin and emotional exhaustion for the rest of your whole ass life and you’ll make your own family deal with it too, you’ll do it, you’ll fucking DO IT, you stupid lovesick motherfucker

And so you go to this chick like “look. Your whole family’s a shitshow. You’ve got fucking nothing and you’re gonna die on the street. But for some reason- and I don’t get it either- I’ve fallen in love with you, and I wish I didn’t, but I did, so I’m telling you that whether you like me or not, I’ll give you everything. I’ll give you everything even if it’s the dumbest shit I ever done. Fuck my stupid Baka ass, I’ll marry you.”

And she looks at you- having heard or considered absolutely none of your months-long internal debate and monologue- and goes “The fuck did you just say about my family, you son of a bitch?”

And the shock of that is enough to jolt you back into a reality where you are able to actually hear and process what just came out of your damn mouth And yeah

Yeah, I think I kinda get it

[snobwhimsicalityy]

chrysos heir having a bad hair day call that crisis hair/ANVIL um um hi chat (apologetic) WOE 3 MONTH OLD OFFERING BE UPON THEE

OH ALSO. HELP

[ttsukiimi]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ MILLION DOLLR BABY!

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ for as long as you can remember, you’ve been friends with Satoru Gojo—just friends. Then why is now insisting that you’re the perfect woman to birth the Gojo clan heir?

★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, smut (mdni), implied experienced!gojo x virgin!reader, gojo clan au, breèding k⍣nk, best friends to lovers/f⍣ckers, implied s⍣xual tension, unprotected s⍣x, slight mention of size difference, mentions of passing out, slight cl⍣t play, slight t⍣t play, bigd⍣ck!satoru.

When Satoru had first proposed this..idea of his, you’d almost choked on the succulent dumpling you were chewing on. Your eyes widened and you looked over at the white haired, heaven sent man beside you, and while, yes, yes he was so fucking attractive, you just didn’t want to waste years of friendship for something you were both unsure of.

You knew that the Gojo clan was in dire need of an heir with Satoru’s ability, considering he himself was the clans one and only trump card. But, where you really the one that could carry out this oh, so important task? You simply couldn’t carry that burden on your shoulders.

“‘Toru,” you called out softly, swallowing the last remains of your food before you reached out and cupped his bigger hand in yours. The warmth of his hand alone had you ready to stutter out your whole sentence. “Look, I—“

But could you really continue speaking with the way his azure eyes bored into you as he stared, his free hand taking ahold of yours and holding it tight, practically engulfing your palm in his? You think not.

“Please. I’ve been being bugged all day, you don’t understand.” He pleaded, a pathetic whimper of your name leaving his lips as he pulled you closer to him by the arm. “You’re the only one I wanna do this with.”

“Please.”

And so was the escalation of how you ended up under your best friend of—how many years had you spent with him again? You couldn’t remember with how foggy your brain was as his lips slid across your neck while he peppered hickeys along your skin.

Your hands tangled in his soft hair, urging him to venture further down your neck to the valley of your breasts.

“‘Toru,” you mouthed, looking up to his lust-clouded eyes as you placed his hand on your tit, squirming as he immediately squeezed the flesh. His hands expertly groped at your mounds as his fingers moved around your already firm nipples, swiping at your sensitive nubs.

Satoru chuckled breathlessly, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll give it to you soon, needy girl.”

He then planted a deep, wanton kiss to your lips—a kiss that released all of his pent up feelings and sexual tension into one. Your body shivered as you felt his breath fan past your pulse point.

“Just know you’re leaving this room nice ‘n full, ‘Kay?” And with that he was latching his mouth to your breasts, making quick work of sliding his robe off with a swift pull of the bow holding it together. He sprang up, hard and excited to finally have the woman he’s been head over heels with for years.

Fuck. Your eyes widened at the sight—was he really hiding this from you all this time? Surely, concealing something this size would be a hassle, right?

Satoru’s grin only widened at the expression displayed on your face, feeling pride build up in his chest. He hurriedly grabbed at the base, pressing his tip right up to your aching and pulsing cunt.

“Y’ready?”

“Mhm hm!”

“‘M going in,” as he slowly wedged himself between your folds, watching as you stretched to accommodate his size and groaning at the view.

Was this what heaven felt like? Had Satoru Gojo finally tasted a slice of his own paradise?

He had, and there was no backing down now—no escaping from the seemingly endless ruts of cock into you, the hands harshly planted to your hips, and the feeling of being filled up repeatedly.

He watched you squirm under him, all the while burning with the desire to ruin you, but he knew with how tight you were clamped down around him—that this might’ve been your first time.

The thought made his ego skyrocket.

“You take it so well,” he praised, spreading your thighs further apart to gain a better glance of just how wet you were, gritting his teeth in resistance.

Satoru could, without doubt, have you pass out by the second round—if he wanted you to. But his goal now was simply to get you pregnant—to plant that million dollar baby into you.

However…a little sidetracking could do. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun with you.

“It’s so..deep inside me, ‘Toru. Are you sure it’s s’possed to be—“ your words came to a halt, a particularly hard rut of his hips shutting you up for good; only leaving room for cries of pleasure to leave your lips.

And, maybe, just maybe he should have proposed this idea earlier. Maybe he should have just made it known to you how good he could give dick.

With each movement into you, Satoru let himself go a little, let himself get a little rougher, let the head of his cock graze the just-right spots inside of you; spots you never knew existed.

He already knew your body so well.

His hand journeyed down to your thighs, letting go of its original place on your hips to your pussy, thumb drawing your clit in brain-fuzzying circles.

You mewled, back arching off the bed and your hips moving on their own to meet his thrusts, clawing at the bedsheets for anything that may keep you grounded—because everything your best friend did threatened to transport you to pleasure utopia.

“S’toru, feels like my—“ he cut you off once more, breathing hard against your lips after he finishes kissing you.

“You gonna cum for me?” he asked, smugly of course, knowing he’d be the first man to ever make you cum. You nod and Satoru took this as a queue to drive rougher thrusts into your cunt, reveling in the lewd squelches and the slap of your bodies resonating throughout the room.

You came to a crescendo, and your body fell limp. Your thighs shook around his waist as you climaxed, mouth falling open and face curling into a blissed-out look.

“Fucking pretty even when you cum,”

And while it would’ve taken him—normally—another round to finish, virgin pussy had him on a chokehold. Especially yours.

So, naturally, it wasn’t long—perhaps 3 or 4 more thrusts until Satoru Gojo—your former best friend—came inside you. Fully intent on knocking you up.

No, he didn’t have any intention of pulling out either, wanting to keep his seed deep inside you until he’s sure you’re pregnant.

He lay to your side, still inside you, not showing any signs of getting soft anytime soon. But, no matter what had happened, Satoru was still your best friend.

Just now a best friend that knew how your walls felt around him.

[monstersholygrail]

Something New

A Free Use City Universe Fic

Deer Hybrid x fem!reader— drugs, sex toys, sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aphrodisiac potion, fingering, aftercare

You had found yourself into quite the sticky situation. Having sex with your sexual drug dealer was possibly a new all time low for you. You would’ve said you have officially hit rock bottom but knowing you… there was probably a bit more to fall.

Living in Free Use City has been the dream you always thought it was going to be. No, in fact, it was even better. The sex was endless and you’ve never felt more desired and needed in your entire life.

But the problem with having constant sex is just that. You’re having constant sex and it can get… boring. You were bored with normal sex. You did it everywhere you could. In front of others, with others, watching others, and you did every little dirty and depraved thing you could think of. You tried the roughest of toys and the riskiest most mind blowing positions.

No matter what you did you couldn’t stop the creeping sensation of boredom from clawing its way through your body like a tentacle monster sliding their entire length inside you till they made you their human sex kebab. Literally.

You needed more but you didn’t have a clue what. Even the regular drugs at the clubs you frequent were beginning to bore you. The high always the same, the impact on sex hitting you in the exact same way.

Now tonight you find yourself back into your usual habit. Drink, dance, take drugs, and find someone to fuck. Tonight your club of choice is a favorite of yours, The Hunter’s Harvest, the most popular night club in Free Use City.

The world around you is a blur as you go through the motions. Somehow finding yourself riding an admittedly sexy ass Orc in the back of the club. When suddenly a familiar Naga comes slithering up to you two. Out of all the drug dealers that supply to the club his venom had to be the best. But tonight it just wasn’t working for you.

“How’s that venom treating you, pretty?” He hisses in your ear, reaching out tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. While completely ignoring the Orc beneath you. Honestly you were too.

All you have to do is purse your lips and give a drunken shake of your heads and the Naga understands all. A wicked gleam passes over his expression but he’s leaning back in before you can pick up on it. Not that you would in your current state anyway.

“Want something new? Something stronger,” he rasps into your ear again, causing sparks to zap down your spine.

And that’s how you found yourself in some strange back room of the club having no idea where you really are. You see dancers, waitresses, and monsters in dark scary looking suits pass by the room but no one spares a glance at you as you both lay down on the couch.

In exchange for a new drug they were testing out, a drug to enhance the sexual experience, you were to try it out with him before anyone. Said he wanted to be your first because he can swear you’ve never been fucked like this before. Yeah, you’ll just have to see about that. The challenge in his tone was more the reason why you agreed to this than the actual drug. But hey, if it finally brought some thrill back to sex, you’d take it.

Naga Drug Dealer settles between your hips and you can feel the hard bulges of his cocks rest hotly against you. It was a comforting sensation but nothing new. No, what was really new was the pretty orange vial he slips out of his pocket as he shakes off his clothing. You stare at it in awe, lips already parted, and head tilted back. Wanting so badly to experience something new.

“Enough!” A loud voice booms, breaking the tension like they took a hammer to glass.

You and the Naga jump a part, a bit of the vial splashing out and landing right in your mouth. Though his focus isn’t on you when you see his eyes go wide in terror. The man literally starts shaking before you. And that’s when your eyes catch onto the shadows of the wall behind him. A tall figure stands behind you with two long twisting horns.

It’s him. The Demon Drug Lord of Free Use City.

“S-sir, I’m- I can explain, you see. This is all just a big misunderstanding,” the Naga stammers over his words, sweating bullets.

Drug Lord Deer Hybrid storms into the room, ignoring the Naga’s stuttering words. You feel his touch before you see him as he pinches your chin and with one swift jerk of his hand brings your gaze to his. Your eyes widen as instead of a demon before you it’s a Deer Hybrid. His simmering grey eyes searing into you.

“Tell me, sweetheart, did you drink any of the vial?” His smooth deep voice seeps into ears and courses through your bloodstream, making you shiver into his touch.

All you can do is nod dumbly, caught like a deer in the headlights, too busy getting lost in his eyes. He curses under his breath, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

“Tsk— stupid girl. Come with me,” he orders, giving no room for argument.

And he doesn’t give you room to even consider arguing as before you can even stand he’s picking up your curvy frame with an insane amount of ease. Your lips part, wanting to protest. You’re totally able to walk on your own. But… he’s also so warm. Very comfortable. Something about him feeling strangely safe despite his dangerous aura and the reputation that proves it true.

Without so much as a word to your drug dealer, Drug Lord Deer Hybrid whisks you out of that room and down the darkened hall. You can’t see much of anything in front of you, left completely at this man’s mercy. And you don’t think he has that much. At least not normally.

The weight of your body begins to tip forward and you get the strange feeling he’s walking up stairs. You quickly steady yourself, placing your hands on his back. Not even trying to fight him off. You know who he is, you’re not stupid enough to do that.

But suddenly as he reaches the top, a wave of heat begins to wash over you. The world seems to slow down and grow hazy, everything in your vision blurring. You can faintly see he’s brought you into a lowly lit office— his office, you assume.

With all the gentleness of a falling feather, he carefully places you down on another couch. This one most softer and you assume a lot cleaner too. His thumb brushes along your jaw and a trail of fire is left in its wake. He tilts your head back, forcing your glazed eyes to fall on him.

“How much got in this mouth, baby?” He murmurs low, voice sounding like slow sex on nice Sunday morning.

Light tingles ignite throughout your face as he swipes a finger across your bottom lip. Effectively sucking out all the air from your lungs. You fight off a shiver, trying to preserve a little of your dignity.

“Just a few drops.”

He closes his eyes, the muscle in his jaw twitching. When they open back up they’re about several shades darker, a conflicting storm of emotions passing through them.

“You’re about to get really hot, sweetheart. But it’ll be ok. You’re gonna need to cum. A lot. And I’ll be close by to help you through it,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. If only he knew how much hotter that just made you. But you’d refuse to admit it to him.

With a heavy sigh he pushes up off the couch, his tall and imposing form towering over you. For a second you expect him to pop open his belt and let you go to town on him. But then he’s turning his back to you to open a nearby closet, bringing back with him a box of toys.

“Here, these will help you get through the worst of the heat. It’s better to start sooner rather than later. And even when you cum, just keep going. Don’t let the heat build too much or you won’t be able to move.” His eyes never once leave yours as he speaks, his tone demanding obedience. He then slaps a suction cup dildo on the ground and you practically cum in your already soaked panties.

Everything about him has you caught up in a trance. All you can focus on is him and the raging heat building up from your core that grows stronger the longer you focus on him. But his words manage to register in your mind soon enough that you’re still able to speak.

“But I want you,” you reply stubbornly, a scowl decorating your face.

He raises a brow at you and merely holds out a vibrator for you to take. When you don’t, crossing your arms instead, his face drops. His eyes flicker over your frame in assessment and it has your belly clenching with desire and need. You can barely read a thing on his face but when he crouches down in front of the toys you dare to have hope.

“I’ll stay, okay? But I won’t touch you. That will have to be enough,” he responds, though both of you know it won’t be.

But still, you’ll take what you can get. Your body is so hot you almost wanna crawl out of your skin for some relief. Though shedding your clothes does help. You don’t even have the mind to be shy or embarrassed, needing to cum so bad. There was no room for that here.

Your pussy was dripping down your thighs, you didn’t even need to be prepped. You see his back straighten, eyes intent on your glistening folds. If you weren’t so desperate you’d have put on a little show for him, anything to get him inside you. And as you sink down on the thick dildo you imagine it’s actually his cock and you immediately moan in pleasure. The toy filling you up so perfectly.

Drug Lord Deer Hybrid falls to his knees before you, his expression giving away nothing of the emotions lying underneath. He doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing as he watches you get the dildo all slick with your juices before riding on it like you’ve gone mad.

He talks you through your next dozen orgasms, the time passing in the blink of an eye. He tells you just how to ride his toys, when to roll your hips, and how to touch your clit. And he’s right every time, bringing you to the most intense and existence transcending orgasms of your life. All while never touching you. But it’s his gaze that turns you on more than anyone ever has before. You can’t get enough of it.

You watch him watching you, his eyes nearly swallowed up by his pupils. Every muscle in his body is tense like he’s trying to hold off pouncing on you as much as you are to him. His voice growing more raspy and feral with each orgasm he brings out of you.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself cum for me. Rub your clit, just like that— nuh uh uh— don’t change speed. Do it— yes— do it hard, just like you like,” he demands in a low growl and you are far too weak to deny him.

Following his instructions you’re not surprised anymore as the cord in the belly snaps and you’re gushing liquid onto the deep red carpets. You figure they’re meant to hide something, why not your cum? He knows your body far too well for someone who has only introduced to it a few hours ago. Or has it been days? It’s hard to tell given the room has no windows.

You don’t know how long it’s been but you’ve effectively fucked yourself to exhaustion. The heat all but dissipated out of you with your final climax. Unable to hold your body up any longer, you start toward the floor and you don’t have the strength to stop yourself from the fall.

Right before your face makes contact, his arms are curling underneath your pits and hauling you up. Touching you for the first time since he carried you in here. He gathers you in his arms, laying you down all snug in his lap.

Your mind and body are way too gone to react right now but if you could you’d be seriously freaking out. He leans back enough to look down at you, his eyes somehow even more intense and full of conflict. Like he doesn’t know quite what to do with you. But after a moments hesitation he lifts a hand and pets the back of your head, the action surprisingly soothing.

Before you know it your eyelids are growing heavy and you’re melting into him. Everything in you, even your damn body, screamed that it trusts him. You should believe in your gut. If your guts always right or not is to be debated. But… things felt so good right now you didn’t want to try and open your eyes and insist you get going now.

No, you wanted to stay. Tonight was beyond anything you’ve ever experienced and you’ve done it all. And you have a feeling it had nothing to do with the drug.

Read Version Two here on my Patreon!!

[dadsbongos]

hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor…  general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all. 

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

[pr0cyon-lotor]

AU where chess is a common strategy game in PIDW and SY is a chess master before he gets transmigrated. Like undefeated and well known in the community. He's probably popular even in mainstream social media because he's a pretty boy with a soft demeanor.

Of course he still reads PIDW and is a massive hater, but he now hides it because he sees it as shameful especially with his reputation of being a kind-hearted person.

Anyway he dies and gets thrown into the novel a bit after the Qing generation ascends. He's just a rogue cultivator or maybe even a demon, not really important. What's important is that he gets bored and misses his old hobby.

He finds out chess is a thing in this world and immediately hops into it again. Sadly, he keeps beating people and no one is a real challenge. So to give himself a puzzle, he picks up other strategy games and gets really good at them too. And after a few years, he is well known in PIWD with his skills in a variety of games.

Enter SJ. Fresh off getting LBH into his peak and STRESSED about how much he sees himself in this child and about how much he hates that fact.

He enters the Warm Red Pavilion and finds some guy playing a game with one of the jiejies. One of those little mind games to entertain the guests, and he's playing against the best one.

SJ watches while he waits for his room and to his surprise the man wins. He immediately gets ready to step in-between because whenever guests win against one of the prostitutes they always get handsy and he knows that particular one doesn't like to do sex work (like maybe she specializes in poetry and dancing instead yk).

Instead of the man getting handsy, he asks for another game, which she accepts with a smile. And now SJ is watching them play with much more interest. After a while the madam comes over and asks if he's interested in their regular.

SJ asks about the man and gets his name and finds out that apparently SY comes to the brothel to play against the ladies and listen to music at times.

SJ keeps it in mind and then leaves for his room. The next time he sees SY is during another trip down the mountain (probably dressed down to not draw attention to himself). This time he was in a tea shop playing go against an elderly man. SY wins again and patiently explains what mistakes the old man made.

The old man accepts defeat and asks him for a rematch. SY agrees, and SJ finally approaches out of curiosity. SJ asks if he can play SY after they're done. The old man says something about how he's probably going to lose anyway and says SJ just takes his turn.

SJ accepts it and sits in front of SY. He thinks it's going to be an easy win, something to stroke his bruised ego. Only for him to get completely annihilated like it was an embarrassing lost for him. (It wasn't embarrassing, he almost won, but he didn't win so obviously it was embarrassing)

SJ expects gloating and nearly crushes his fan in his hand. SY tells him that he was a tough opponent and he asks for another rematch. SJ is confused about the sincerity and hesitantly agrees even though his ego tells him to cut his losses now.

They continue to play multiple games in a row, each one getting longer and longer with each mistake SY explains and helps SJ fix (he doesn't even notice he's taking advice from a man). They continue playing and drinking tea until they're kicked out because the shop is closing.

SY laughs sheepishly and says he didn't even notice the time pass. He asks if SJ is free to play again because it's been the first time in years he's had that much fun against someone else. SJ agrees because he refuses to have a losing streak (and he found it a little fun too).

Eventually it becomes a routine, SJ comes down the mountain every week and plays SY in go until the establishment they're in kicks them out. And because his brain is constantly on how to beat SY, he starts neglecting other things (like abusive LBH and other duties).

And because he's neglecting duties, eventually he has to do a information collecting mission with Shang Qinghua. They arrive at the town and they're tasked with collecting information on a lead of a demon hiding within a festival.

Somehow this leads to SY joining their little info gathering group and finding out SQH is Airplane (he's still somehow unaware of SJ being SQQ because of course he is).

Shenanigans ensue and somehow a sting operation is set up with SY being used as bait. He manages to coerce the demon into a game of chess while he waits for SJ and SQH to arrive.

They play chess. He thinks he'll just stall until the two get there, but halfway through he moves his knight and it ends up near the demon's knight. And with a straight face, the demon takes both knights off the board while claiming "And they're both out for horsie marriage."

Right then SJ and SQH arrive to slay the demon, only to bare witness to SY doing the Xianxia equivalent of shooting the demon point blank with a Glock 19 because surprise surprise that bullshit move pissed off the chess master.

SJ says something sarcastic about not needing to save the damsel (they put) in distress. And then SY asks to speak to SQH privately while dragging him out by the ear.

He continues to interrogate the author because what the ACTUAL FUCK was that bullshit move?! And SQH defends himself by saying he never thought a professional chess player would ever read his stuff, much less play the game in-verse. He tells SY he thought it would be funny if that could happen.

Anyway.

SJ has to pry SY off SQH because he almost legitimately strangles him to death. SY is dragged away, screaming things that'd make even a demon blush, and admittedly, SJ is amused.

They end up in some tea shop, SY muttering about the idiocy of it all in English, and SJ ordering for both of them. He asks what got SY so mad since like this guy has had an unshakable pleasant demeanor until now.

SY makes up some story about how his hometown played chess differently and that he's realizing he doesn't know how chess is played anywhere else. He asks SJ for a guide for playing chess because he doesn't want to overreact like he did before.

SJ agrees in exchange for a guide of how his hometown played chess. The deal was made and after they came back to town they both write their manuals. They exchange them in their next meetup, and SY is muttering about how stupid some of the rules are. SJ finds it very funny as he reads the manual SY gave him, finding that he prefers his version since there was less unnecessary traps.

SJ eventually asks to play SY in a chess game once he understands his version. SY happily agrees and they play over and over again until SJ beat him. SY is over the moon and asks for another rematch, which he gets beaten again. They play a few more times wins alternating until SY grabs SJ's hands and tells him he's in love with him and his massive brain.

SJ is caught off guard and flustered, so he hits SY with his fan and calls him shameless as he leaves to preserve as much face as possible. SY whines about him being unfair and follows SJ while apologizing about the comment.

SJ ignores him and leaves SY alone. He thinks he fucked up until the next time they meet, and SJ brings him a book he been meaning to buy but just couldn't find. SY is about to comment on the gift but SJ shuts him up and hides his face behind his fan. He manages to see the smallest hint of a blush and (shockingly) understands.

They both start exchanging gifts each meetup in silent courting. And surprisingly he hasn't abused LBH since he got there (because he forgets to. he has a boyfriend to worry about thank you very much 🤨), so when the Conference comes, SJ doesn't throw LBH into the abyss.

He still ends up in the abyss but only because MF got thrown in when they encountered MBJ, and he jumped after his shixiong. SY is there because of course he wants to stop the evil scum villain from hurting his little lamb, but he's just standing there like

Because how else is he supposed to react to LBH throwing himself into the abyss to go after MF who was thrown in when they encountered MBJ. Was Ming Fan even supposed to be there????

Also why is SJ in such ornate robes. Why is he mourning? Why are they going back to Qing Jing? WHY IS NING YINGYING CALLING SHEN JIU BABA?! WHY IS EVERYONE CALLING HIM SHIZUN?!!!?!???

[dazedantics]

It's that damn sweater.

You don't know what it is or why, but something about that guy wearing it, with that stupid yellow button up underneath, and those dumbass khakis, it does something to you.

And he rarely wears anything different. His closet is probably full of ten times the same outfit like some cartoon character.

It was stupid.

You hardly knew the guy!

But everytime he walked into class, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Thankfully you sat behind him so he couldn't see your ogling. But he could feel it. Always turning his head and looking around but finding no culprit.

You had to make your staring discreet though. From him, yeah. But if anyone else saw you looking at the geek so fascinated-like? You'd be the new laughing stock!

I mean, seriously! The guy has a whole lunch table to himself cause no one wants to be around him! And you know how full every other table gets, random people squeezing in next to each other just for a moment to eat. Even the loners get more acknowledgement than him!

You think he has like, maybe, one friend? William? Though he is pretty well liked despite the company he keeps.

Maybe he feels obligated to stay with him. Some childhood thing, like their moms being too close so it'd be awkward if they didn't talk to each other. That had to be it. No way someone would willing be that guy's friend.

There were other guys who wore similar outfits, but it looked even more ridiculous on them! What made that guy so different?

Maybe it was the specific brand his clothes came from. Or maybe he just picked colors that suited him better. Did he know color theory? A nerd like him, probably. He probably spent a whole afternoon worrying over subtle psychological ways to get people like him, desperate to get away from the loser placard that stuck to him since elementary school. Yeah, he seemed the type to care what people thought of him.

Couldn't be anything deeper like maybe you though he was way cute.

Definitely not that.

Cause you do see him outside of school often. Not cause you hang out or anything, he's not even free during those times you see him. No, it's cause you like to hang around at Burger Mart after school until someone can come pick you up.

He's there working. In his dumb little apron, with his dumb little hat, with a big dumb smile on his face, with that stupid little name tag that reads "Mark." And he has the audacity to be the one bringing you your meal. Calling out your number and handing you your grease stained paper bag. Fingers brushing yours as you take it. Giving you that stupid little nervous smile, trying to make conversation before he has to get through everyone else's orders. Isn't he the garbage boy or something? Why does he have to be the one you see everyday?

You spend a long time avoiding him before you finally crack.

You start sitting down at his table at lunch, chatting more with William and paying hardly any attention to him. You start leaning against his locker, waiting for him to get to school, just offhandedly telling him about how boring classes were the previous day. You start waiting for him to get off his shift so you two could head home (which takes a very long time, sitting back in the creaky old booths). You start helping him with his homework, noticing how he rarely does it on his own, choosing to partner with him on projects of your own volition.

And for whatever reason, he starts getting bullied less. At least, not when you can see him. Maybe people are just shocked. Maybe your presence alone has helped promote him out of the loser bin.

Or maybe you've been demoted to his level. Just on a less damning scale.

People never really ask why you started hanging around him though. Which is good for you, cause you wouldn't know how to answer them.

Eventually, you get close enough to start getting invited to his house. And the first thing you're tempted to do is check his closet to see if he has more of the same dumb sweater laying around. But you don't, cause you know you at least have to try and show you have decent respect for others.

One day though, you crack again.

It's dark, the little light on his desk providing a soft yellow glow. He's standing by his shelf, explaining who knows what about his comic collection with that big dumb smile on his face. You're not really hearing him though, zoning out as you focus on scanning him head to toe, sitting back on his bed with your legs crossed.

Then, you grab him.

Grab him by the stupid little collar on that stupid little sweater and pull him down over you. He's panicked, dropping his book to hold himself above you with both hands braced on either side of your head. You can practically hear the jackrabbiting of his heart.

He says your name quietly, wondering what you're doing.

And you start complaining to him about his damn sweater, brow curled and finger absentmindedly tracing small patterns across his chest.

You don't feel particularly nervous or excited. Oddly calm, though your voice comes out as annoyed.

Then you start going on about who knows what and he asks if you're planning to let go of him any time soon.

You pause.

His warm brown eyes seem softer than ever.

And you half expect one of his parents to walk into the room, mortified by your suggestive position.

But they don't.

You can hear the slow ticking of the clock in the corner.

And you're not sure what overcomes you. But looking up at him, that dumb sweater just so soft beneath your fingers, his big nervous smile suddenly not so dumb anymore ...

You kiss him ...

And, somehow, that guy suddenly isn't just that guy anymore.

[plutoslastwords]

lost and found!

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: baby norris goes missing in a crowded paddock, her father? not happy.

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: first post here.. eek! i hope you guys like my little character of baby norris, i'm hoping to write more for her, so if you have any requests, please send them in!!

~~~

A Formula 1 paddock was a busy place. Mechanics were working hard to get the cars in tip-top shape for the day, reporters were rushing around to the latest ‘big story’ with dozens of cameras following and fans were scrambling around to get a glimpse of their idols. All in all, the paddock was chaotic for even the most oriented of us.

The paddock was not the place for a three year old. 

However, in the Melbourne paddock, tiny baby Norris was giggling like mad, toddling around the zoo of the paddock, elated to be back at daddy’s work after a long, boring winter break.

Though he hates to admit it, Lando had not planned your appearance in his life. You were the result of a drunken one night stand, and nine months later you appeared to him after your mother signed away any parental rights. Despite that, you were the light of his life, he couldn’t imagine a world without his gorgeous baby daughter who managed to bring so much joy into any situation, you were his everything.

Unfortunately, at present he was preoccupied with some media duties before the upcoming free practice session, so the responsibility of you had been placed on some Mclaren assistant, Henry, who had looked away for a second too long and the little girl had been lost in the crowd. The assistant was shitting himself, how had he managed to screw up this bad, it was his first day on the job and he had already lost the boss’ kid!! He was so gonna be fired.

Therefore, he felt it wise to not mention to Lando that his three year old was currently waddling around the crazy busy paddock, filled with heavy machinery and people 5 times her size. Instead, Henry grabbed some other intern and began frantically searching. 

It was not an easy task, looking for a pocket sized three year old in a rampacked motorsports paddock. Henry and intern no.2 checked the obvious places first: Lando’s drivers room? No. Oscar’s side of the garage? No. The Williams garage? (You were very fond of Carlos) No. 

You were nowhere, somehow Lando Norris’ three year old daughter had been gifted the power of invisibility and disappeared off of the face of the Earth. Henry was stressing. To make matters worse, he then got a text he had been dreading.

Lando Norris

hey man, just finished the interview, thank you for watching the baby, you think you could drop her back to me?

Henry cursed aloud, kissing goodbye to his job as he knew that he’d have to show up to Lando empty handed. Him and the other intern he’d coerced into coming trudged slowly back to the Mclaren garage, preparing to face the wrath of a very angry dad. 

As soon as Lando saw Henry enter, his face lit up, finally getting to see his precious girl after a few grueling hours of media commitments. However, his smile dropped immediately when he saw Henry’s guilty look, and the lack of a toddler in his tow. He marched forward.

“Where the fuck is she?” He demanded, no kindness in his voice.

“I- uhm- she- I’m sorry! She’s so small, and so quick! And one minute she was right next to me and the next she was gone!” Henry cried, accepting that this was the last time he’d be working in an F1 paddock.

“You lost my daughter?!?” Lando seethed, completely outraged, his darling girl was missing! “You had one job and you lost my daughter?? How immensely careless can one person be!” He shouted, the only thing holding him back from suckerpunching Henry being the fact that he was the last person to see you, and therefore would be most helpful in finding you.

The commotion, however, alerted the attention of some other people including Zak Brown, Mclaren’s CEO, who was making his rounds of the garage, greeting some high profile guests. He walked over, patting Lando on the shoulder in a very Zak-Brown-manner.

“Ah, Lando! Been looking for you! What’s going on here?”

“The dickhead lost my kid!” Lando exclaimed, more than furiously, whilst Harry just stood there silently, having gone deathly pale. Zak’s normally upbeat mood dropped, seeing the distress his driver was in, he couldn’t be having this! Free practice was only a couple hours away!

“Oh goodness, that’s not… optimal… Have you searched for her at all, boy?” he questioned Henry, who nodded and let out a noise that could’ve been interpreted as a whimper of fear.

“W-we went to look for her, we searched everywhere! B-but she wasn’t there…” he stammered, this was just great now both of his bosses were here to fire him. Not even his bosses! They were like his boss’ boss’ boss’ bosses!

“Of course you couldn’t find her! She’s like 2 feet tall, no one would be able to find her in a crowd like that!” Lando scoffed, he didn’t want to let his worry show in front of the whole garage, so instead his emotions were being projected as anger towards a very scared looking Henry. 

“Well, why don’t we all calm down..” Zak intervened, he did not need one of his drivers having a meltdown at T-Minus 2 hours before the first free practice session of the season. “I’m sure she’ll turn up, the kid can barely go 30 minutes without her daddy, she’ll be running back soon enough.”

“Oh god, she’s probably so scared…” moaned Lando, Zak’s words doing nothing to soothe him, only heightening the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Noticing Lando’s growing anguish, Zak knew he had to act, quickly sending orders to whoever was in shouting distance to go and search the paddock from the bottom up, and not to return until they had a little curly haired girl in their grasp. 

As well as this, he told Henry to go somewhere else and help the search party, he did not think it smart to have Henry and Lando in close proximity, worried about the British driver’s anger getting the best of him. He did not need a fight breaking out only 2 hours before FP1

The next 45 minutes were possibly the worst of Lando’s life, Sochi 2021 was nothing compared to this. His precious, angel, darling girl was missing and there was nothing he could do about as Zak had forbidden him from leaving the garage, claiming he’d draw too much attention if he went out to join the search. What, like 50 Mclaren staff all searching the paddock wasn’t going to draw enough attention itself?

He sat in his driver's room with his face in his hands, distraught at the idea that his baby girl might be hurt, or worse… He couldn’t let himself think about it, his trainer, Jon, was in the room as well trying to soothe his nerves, but nothing was working, all he wanted was his little girl back in his arms.

Suddenly, the door to his driver’s room swung open, revealing Henry, looking extremely tired out, holding a tiny girl who was looking way too proud of herself.

“Daddy!!” You screeched, grinning widely, thrashing around in Henry’s arms to get to him.

“Oh my baby..” About 50 tonnes of weight lifted from Lando’s shoulders as he rushed over to take you from Henry. “My baby, my baby, my baby..” He chanted, rocking you in his arms, holding you close to his chest, never wanting to let go. “You gave daddy such a fright, angel!” He reprimanded, but there was no malice to his tone whatsoever, he was just glad his baby was back. “Where did you run off to, hm?”

“Lollipop, daddy!” You squealed, and then it clicked for Lando, of course that’s where she went. When the two of you arrived in the paddock this morning there was a man selling large lollipops, almost the size of you, near the entrance. You had immediately been struck by this, begging your daddy to pretty please! buy one for you, but Lando had media duties he had to get to, but promised to get one later (he could never say no to you), but of course that wasn’t acceptable to your little head, so you’d had to run away to go get one. 

Surprisingly, you had managed to get her hands on one, though Lando wasn’t sure how, it wasn’t like you had your own money. It was probably because you were just too cute to resist, with your beaming smile, little curly hair and green eyes just like him, you could woo just about anybody. Even the ever serious Oscar Piastri manages to crack some grins whenever you’re around.

“You can’t be running away though my angel… what if you got hurt, hm? And daddy wasn’t there to kiss it better. That was very naughty of you baby.” He tried to be strict with you, he really did, but one look at your little pouting face was enough to make him melt all over again.

“‘M sorry daddy…” You mumbled, you didn’t like it when your daddy tells you off, your daddy never tells you off! “Just wan’ed lollipop…”

“Oh baby, I know… don’t worry, Daddy isn’t angry anymore, he was just scared, okay? And you gotta promise you’re never gonna do that again, otherwise no more lollipops..”

“I pwomise daddy!!” you were fully capable of speaking normally, but even at age 3, you knew exactly the type of voice to use to get your daddy to forgive you. 

“Good girl, angel..” he cooed, still rocking you in his arms. His moment with his daughter was broken, however, when he realised that Henry was still in the room, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You found her?” He questions Henry, his tone slightly guarded.

“Y-yeah, she was by the entrance.. Didn’t seem very fazed about the chaos she caused…” Henry tries to joke, to lighten the tension, but Lando’s expression was unreadable.

After a moment, Lando spoke up. “I’m not going to fire you.” an audible sigh of relief could be heard coming from Henry. “But you’re never looking after her again, you hear me?” Henry just nods quickly, too thankful that he hasn’t lost his job to care. “Good. you can go now.” The intern scrambles out the room.

“Daddy loves you so much, darling. Always remember that, okay? So so much..” He whispers to the small girl in his arms, who was now starting to doze off, after the excitement of the lollipop saga. 

He just smiled, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head, before he laid you down on the sofa in his driver’s room, covering you with a blanket so you could sleep peacefully.

~~~

a/n: hope you enjoyed, send in any requests you have!

[shy9-29]

In Too Deep | 이희승

이희승 x reader

“I don’t know when it stopped being fake… but I don’t think I can pretend anymore.” In a whirlwind of old grudges, fake dating, and unexpected feelings, two sworn enemies find themselves tangled in something that feels a little too real. And once the lines blur, there’s no going back.

genre: enemies to lovers, fake relationship, uni romance

📝 I honestly don’t know what I was thinking while writing this. This is an old ff because I’m stuck on a ff I’m writing on rn but hopefully you’ll like it.

wc. 6.1k · masterlist · rq open

It all started three years ago, the night of the infamous graduation party at Heeseung’s place.

The air had been thick with summer heat, cheap cologne, and the excitement of finally being free from high school. You hadn’t even wanted to go at first, but your friends had dragged you along, promising one last memory before everyone went their separate ways. And you did make a memory—just not the kind you ever wanted.

You drank too much. Way too much. Maybe it was the nerves, or maybe it was the way Heeseung kept flashing that smug smile, acting like the king of the party. You weren’t sure. But by the end of the night, you ended up throwing up in the middle of his parents’ living room. Right in front of everyone. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Jake—Heeseung’s best friend—caught it on video and thought it would be hilarious to post it online.

The video went viral in your town overnight. By morning, your name wasn’t just trending in group chats—it was practically a meme. You were humiliated, and Heeseung? He didn’t even bother taking the video down. In fact, he laughed about it. That was the moment you swore you’d hate him forever.

And so you did.

From the moment you stepped foot on campus, you ignored him. Avoided him. Exchanged icy glares when your paths crossed. You became the girl who bounced back, worked hard, and made a name for herself. And he remained the golden boy, cocky and untouchable.

For three years, you stayed in your own lanes. Until one day, out of nowhere, Heeseung looked you dead in the eye and asked, “Will you pretend to be my girlfriend?”

They were the prettiest pair on campus—and everyone knew it, even if they never stood side by side long enough for the full effect to settle in. The most talked-about students in the most elite university in Seoul. Separately, they turned heads. Together, they could’ve stopped traffic.

You had the kind of beauty that made people pause. Skin that seemed to glow under the sun, shiny hair that, just for today, you’d styled into soft waves. You wore light blue baggy jeans that cinched perfectly at your waist and a simple white summer short-sleeve top that gave off an effortlessly pretty vibe—like you hadn’t tried, but still looked perfect.

Heeseung, on the other hand, stood tall at 6’0, with fair skin and striking maroon hair that somehow looked both bold and natural on him. Today he was in a black zip-up hoodie over a white tee, paired with matching baggy blue jeans that made him look effortlessly cool—as usual. His vibe was more “couldn’t care less,” but the way people looked at him said otherwise.

It didn’t matter that the two of you hated each other. In fact, maybe that made it even more entertaining to watch. Beauty and tension had a way of making sparks fly—and everyone else could feel the fire, even if you both kept pretending there was none.

You blinked at him, thinking you’d heard wrong. “What?”

Heeseung leaned against the wall casually, arms crossed over his chest, like he hadn’t just said the most ridiculous thing you’d heard in your entire life. “Be my fake girlfriend.”

You stared at him. Then laughed. Out loud.

“Are you serious right now?” you scoffed, taking a step back like the words themselves were contagious. “Why would I ever do that?”

He didn’t flinch. Just looked at you with that same unreadable expression he always wore—somewhere between bored and amused. “Because you’re the only one who won’t actually fall for me.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Flattering,” you muttered sarcastically, turning to walk away. “Find someone else, Heeseung. I’m not interested in being part of whatever mess this is.”

But he caught your wrist gently, just enough to make you pause. “Wait. Just listen—”

You yanked your hand back. “I don’t owe you anything. Least of all after what happened three years ago.”

Heeseung’s jaw tensed. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something like guilt—but it disappeared too quickly to name.

“It’s fake,” he said quietly. “No feelings. Just for show. A few weeks, tops.”

You shook your head. “I’d rather kiss a cactus.”

And with that, you walked away, heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit.

You didn’t look back, even though you could feel his eyes on you the entire time you walked down the hallway. Your steps were firm, but your thoughts were anything but.

Be my fake girlfriend.

What kind of audacity did Heeseung even run on?

You tried to shake it off the rest of the day—distracted yourself with lectures, group chats, anything to stop thinking about the nerve he had. But his voice kept echoing in your head. The way he said it so casually, like it made perfect sense. Like you were the only logical option.

By the time your last class ended, the group chat with your friends was already blowing up.

Yuna: Girl. Tell me why Heeseung’s been walking around looking like someone just slapped him?

Jisoo: Wait wasn’t he talking to you earlier? What did he say??

You: Nothing. He’s insane. Pretend I never mentioned it.

Yuna: You didn’t mention it, but now you have to.

You sighed, not replying. The campus buzzed around you as you made your way across the quad, but you felt out of it—half stuck in the present, half stuck in that stupid party from three years ago.

Heeseung had humiliated you. Even if he didn’t film it himself, he let it spread. Never apologized. Never cared. And now he wanted you to play pretend in some weird PR stunt or whatever his problem was?

You walked past the library—and of course, he was there. Sitting on the steps. Waiting.

You froze.

He looked up from his phone, spotted you, and stood slowly, like he knew you wouldn’t run this time.

And maybe… maybe you wouldn’t. Not yet.

Heeseung was still the same old popular jerk.

Cocky smirk? Check. Effortless charm? Still there. Girls trailing behind him like he was the second coming of a K-drama lead? Absolutely. And you? You weren’t much different. You had your own crowd, your own reputation, and enough confidence to walk past him without sparing a second glance—most days, at least.

But today was different.

He was still standing on the library steps when you approached, like he had all the time in the world. His maroon hair caught the sunlight, and that familiar smug expression tugged at the corner of his mouth as soon as he saw you.

“You’re still thinking about it,” he said before you could even open your mouth.

You crossed your arms. “I came here to tell you no. Again.”

“Sure you did.” He grinned. “That’s why you didn’t block me after I asked. You’re curious.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t block you because I have better things to do. Like ignoring your existence.”

He chuckled softly, then rubbed the back of his neck—something surprisingly awkward for someone who was usually all confidence. “Look, I didn’t mean to ambush you. I just… didn’t know who else to ask.”

You raised a brow. “You’re Heeseung. You could literally point at someone and they’d say yes.”

He hesitated. “Yeah, well… that’s kind of the problem.”

You stared at him, waiting for the rest.

He sighed. “My parents. They’re coming to visit next month. And they’ve been on my ass about dating. ‘You’re getting older, when will you settle down?’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “They think I’m some hopeless flirt who can’t take anything seriously.”

You blinked. “They’re not wrong.”

He gave you a look. “Not helping.”

You tilted your head. “So… your big plan is to trick them with a fake girlfriend? And you chose me? The girl who hates your guts?”

Heeseung shrugged. “Exactly. You’re the last person they’d think I’d date. Which makes it more believable. If I can ‘convince’ you to fall for me, maybe they’ll back off.”

You stared at him, lips parted in disbelief.

He just looked at you, calm and confident like always, and said, “So? You in, or do I need to bribe you with something?”

You squinted at him for a long moment, arms still crossed as you weighed the absurdity of the situation. Honestly, part of you wanted to walk away again. Tell him to shove his plan and leave you alone.

But then… an idea started forming. A devilish, slow-burning idea that made your lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile.

“Okay,” you said finally.

Heeseung’s brows lifted. “Okay?”

“I’ll do it.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Wait—seriously?”

You nodded. “But I want a bribe.”

He smirked, stepping forward slightly, voice dropping an octave. “What, you want free coffee every day? Access to my Netflix account? A kiss or two to make it look real—?”

You held up your hand to shut him up. “Relax, Casanova. Not even close.”

Now he looked confused. “Then what?”

You smiled sweetly—too sweetly. The kind of smile that meant trouble. “If I agree to be your fake girlfriend… I get to post something humiliating about you.”

Heeseung blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Just one post. Could be a picture, a video, a story. Something that makes you the joke for once.”

His face twisted in disbelief, like the thought had never even crossed his mind. “You’re serious?”

“As a hangover on grad night,” you replied, your tone sugarcoated and smug. “You humiliated me three years ago. This levels the playing field.”

Heeseung ran a hand through his maroon hair, letting out a breathy laugh like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re insane.”

You grinned wider. “And you’re desperate.”

He stared at you for a second longer… then sighed and held out his hand. “Fine. Deal.”

You took it, shaking once.

The moment your hand left his, you felt it—that shift in the air. Like you had just signed up for something much more dangerous than a fake relationship.

Heeseung gave you a crooked grin, one brow raised. “You’re really going to post something embarrassing of me?”

You nodded, smug. “Absolutely. And it’s going to be good.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was something amused flickering behind his usual cocky front. “Fine. Just remember, you’re my girlfriend now. Even fake ones have reputations to protect.”

You smirked. “Please. I’ve survived worse than being seen with you.”

“You’re not wrong,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, we start tomorrow. My parents are in town for a charity dinner next week, so we have—what?—seven days to look madly in love.”

You blinked. “Wait—tomorrow?”

“What? Gotta build the illusion,” he said, already pulling out his phone. “We’re gonna need a story highlight, at least three posts together, and maybe a casual paparazzi shot. You know, something that screams we’re disgustingly happy.”

You stared at him. “You’re taking this way too seriously.”

He didn’t even look up as he started typing. “If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right.”

You suddenly remembered why you hated him in the first place—he was the kind of person who could make faking a relationship feel like prepping for war. And you were now officially enlisted.

“Fine,” you said. “But don’t forget our deal.”

He glanced up at you, that annoying spark of amusement back in his eyes. “Trust me. I won’t.”

You turned to leave, already planning your revenge post in your head—maybe that one photo of him from freshman year in the dorm hallway wearing a pink bunny headband and mismatched socks. Or that video from the campus talent show where his voice cracked mid high note.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

The next morning, your phone buzzed before your alarm even had the chance to go off. You groaned, rolled over, and saw a notification:

Heeseung [6:38 AM]

Rise and shine, girlfriend. I’ll pick you up in 30. Wear something cute.

You stared at the message for a full five seconds, then typed back:

You [6:39 AM]

Die.

You threw the covers over your face, cursing yourself for ever agreeing to this. But a deal was a deal, and if playing his girlfriend meant finally serving him a slice of his own humiliation, you’d survive.

Barely.

By 7:15, you were waiting outside your building, hair tied up in a lazy ponytail, a cropped hoodie over a black tank, and fitted cargo pants—cute enough, in your opinion. When Heeseung pulled up, he had one hand on the wheel and a smug grin already locked and loaded.

“You clean up nice,” he said, leaning over to push the passenger door open.

You got in without looking at him. “You said ‘fake girlfriend.’ You didn’t say anything about being a morning person.”

He laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “We’re going on a coffee date. Gotta give the people something to talk about.”

“People? What people?” you frowned.

He just held up his phone.

And of course—his Instagram story was already up:

A boomerang of two coffees in a to-go tray with the caption:

“Coffee date with my girl.”

Heart emoji and all.

You stared at it in horror. “You tagged me?!”

He grinned. “Well yeah. Gotta make it official.”

You snatched his phone. “Delete it.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Too late. Already got 23 DMs asking if hell froze over.”

You groaned, sinking lower into the seat. “You’re the worst.”

“No,” he said, shooting you a quick side glance, “I’m the boyfriend.”

You looked at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. This was going to be exhausting. But strangely… it was already kind of entertaining.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But I’m getting my revenge post by the end of the week.”

He smirked. “Can’t wait to see what you dig up.”

You already had three folders.

Let the games begin.

The next few days flew by in a blur of fake smiles, staged moments, and way too many coffee dates. Every time you tried to go somewhere on your own, Heeseung would be there—casually showing up like he had nothing better to do. And each time, he’d pull out his phone and take a picture or video, making it look like the two of you were the perfect couple.

You hated it. But part of you had to admit, you were starting to get into it—just not for the reasons he thought. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how easy it was to annoy him. How easy it was to mess with his perfectly curated world. And that was exactly what you intended to do.

On the fourth day, you had your first official “couple picture” together. The location? A park in the middle of campus, where everyone could see. You wore a cute dress, a bit too much effort for your usual taste, but Heeseung insisted it was “important for the vibe.” He, of course, looked effortlessly cool in a graphic tee and his usual baggy jeans. You both stood side by side, his arm casually slung over your shoulders, looking casually in love. But in reality, you could barely suppress your smirk as you snapped the photo for his Instagram.

He posted it immediately with the caption:

“Mines Only”

You took the opportunity to really ruin it.

That night, after he had sent you his “thank you for the cute post” text, you sent him one back. You didn’t mention the post. You didn’t mention anything. Instead, you simply sent a photo from the same park—an unflattering, grainy shot of him mid-laugh, where he looked like he was choking on a piece of gum.

The caption?

“When he tells you he’s ‘not like other guys’… but then you see this.”

You held your breath as you waited for his response.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed.

Heeseung [11:02 PM]: Are you serious?

You smirked, typing back:

You [11:02 PM]: I said I was getting my revenge post by the end of the week. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it cute next time (maybe)

He didn’t reply immediately, but you could practically feel his annoyance radiating through the phone. That was the beauty of being his “girlfriend”—you could make him squirm without ever touching a thing that mattered to him.

You hadn’t thought much of it when you posted the photo. It was meant to be harmless payback—just a little jab to keep Heeseung on his toes. You figured people would laugh, maybe tease him for a day or two, and that would be it.

But when you stepped onto campus the next morning, something was… off.

People were staring. Whispering. Smiling.

A girl from your communications class stopped you in the hallway with a dreamy sigh. “That post you made last night… oh my God, you two are literally goals.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

She giggled. “It’s just so real, you know? Everyone’s always posting those perfect, filtered couple pictures, but yours was like—raw, and genuine. You didn’t try to make him look perfect, and that somehow made it even cuter.”

You stared at her in disbelief, only managing a nod before she walked off. Then it happened again. And again. People you barely knew were suddenly giving you heart eyes, acting like you and Heeseung were some kind of rom-com come to life.

By the time you reached the student lounge, two professors had walked past whispering, “Did you see that post? The one with Heeseung and yn? It’s adorable!”

You nearly choked.

And of course, right in the center of the attention storm was Heeseung, sitting back in a chair with one leg crossed over the other, sipping on an iced americano like he hadn’t just been unintentionally turned into everyone’s favorite golden retriever boyfriend.

You stormed up to him. “What the hell is happening?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “You mean the part where we accidentally became the most talked-about couple on campus?”

“Yes! Why are people acting like I posted a love letter instead of blackmail?”

He laughed. Actually laughed. “Because you did it wrong.”

“I made you look like you were choking.”

“Exactly,” he said, standing and slinging an arm over your shoulder like it was second nature. “People love that stuff. It makes us look real. Like we’re actually in love and don’t care how we look. It’s disgusting. They’re eating it up.”

You groaned, trying to shake him off, but his grip stayed firm. “This was not the plan.”

“Well,” he said, shrugging, “you made me look human. And apparently, the school’s obsessed with the idea of Lee Heeseung being whipped.”

You scowled. “You are not whipped.”

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “But maybe I’ll start pretending to be. Just to sell it.”

Your breath caught for half a second, which only made his smirk grow.

The worst part? You couldn’t tell if he was still playing the game… or if he was starting to enjoy it.

“I am good at this,” he replied without missing a beat. “Have you seen the comments? People are begging for wedding invites.”

You scoffed. “Gross. Delusional.”

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the post, reading aloud dramatically, “‘If this isn’t love, I don’t want it. OMG the way he looks at her!! UGH, my standards are ruined.’” He looked up with a smug grin. “You ruined them, Y/N. Feel powerful?”

You snatched his phone and scrolled for yourself—and yep, the comments were out of control.

@robertwu: Wait why is this the cutest couple content I’ve seen all year??

@ksy.97: Y/N posting that photo like a tired girlfriend who loves her dumb man. I’m crying.

@x_we1: Heeseung in love??? This era is feeding us well.

You blinked. “They really think this is real?”

Heeseung leaned casually against the wall beside you, watching your reaction with that annoyingly entertained expression. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is,” you snapped. “This was supposed to be harmless. A joke. A fake relationship. And now people are shipping us like we’re some webtoon couple with a tragic backstory and a soft boy redemption arc.”

He grinned. “You’ve been reading fan comments, haven’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, then shut it with a glare.

“I told you,” he said, nudging your arm with his elbow, “people love mess. And this is their favorite kind—the hot, mysterious enemies-to-lovers storyline.”

You nearly choked. “Lovers?! Calm down, Romeo.”

He just laughed, brushing past you to head down the hall. “Come on, fake girlfriend. You’re walking me to class. Public display of affection and all that.”

You stood there for a second, mentally screaming, before dragging your feet to follow him. This whole thing was spiraling out of control. What started as a stupid plan for revenge had turned into a campus-wide fantasy.

But the worst part?

For the first time since that party three years ago…

You weren’t entirely sure you hated being seen with him.

One week later.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, still not believing what you were about to do.

Charity dinner. With his parents.

In heels, a satin slip dress, a necklace Heeseung had casually handed you earlier that morning with a smug, “It’ll make you look expensive.” You’d thrown a pillow at his head for that, but you wore it anyway.

You were supposed to hate him. Still did—technically. But somehow, between the fake Instagram posts, the morning texts, the way he always had an iced latte waiting for you before your 9 a.m. class, and the fact that he now walked you to said class like a real boyfriend… something had shifted.

You didn’t want to think too hard about it.

When you walked out to the front of your building, Heeseung was already waiting by the car, wearing a sleek black suit and the same damn smirk that made your blood boil and your stomach twist at the same time.

He turned when he heard your footsteps—and for once, he didn’t say anything stupid. He just stared.

“You’re staring,” you said flatly.

“You’re hot,” he replied just as flatly. “Don’t make it weird.”

You gave him a glare, but you couldn’t fight the heat rising in your cheeks as he opened the car door for you.

The car ride was quieter than usual—no teasing, no arguing. Just your phone buzzing with new notifications from people commenting on the photo he’d posted twenty minutes ago.

You and Heeseung in front of the car, your hand on his chest, his chin tilted toward you like he was about to kiss you. It wasn’t even a real moment—you’d taken it as a joke—but he posted it anyway.

“Dinner with the girl who’s ruining my peace and I kinda like it.”

Captioned, of course, with a heart and a black tie emoji.

By the time you arrived at the venue, half the university had already liked the post.

Heeseung leaned in close as you both stepped out. “Ready to meet the people who think I’m still twelve and incapable of monogamy?”

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He paused. “Hey.”

You looked up.

He smiled—no smirk this time, just something softer, something that felt… real. “Thanks for doing this.”

You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic—anything—but the words didn’t come.

Because somewhere in the mess of fake posts and planned appearances…

This started feeling less like a lie.

The moment you stepped into the ballroom, arm looped through Heeseung’s, all eyes turned toward you.

You looked around, trying to keep your expression neutral—poised, even. But your heart was doing backflips. This wasn’t some cute café date or a casual run-in on campus. This was a high-end, wine-glass-clinking, string-quartet-playing charity gala… filled with Seoul’s elite. People in suits and gowns. His parents. His actual parents.

“You good?” Heeseung whispered beside you, leaning in slightly, his breath brushing your ear.

You gave him a sharp look. “No. But I’ll survive.”

He smiled. “You’ll do great. Just stay close to me.”

You wanted to snap back with something sassy—maybe “Don’t flatter yourself”—but instead, you nodded. Because truthfully, his steady presence next to you was the only thing keeping your nerves from boiling over.

As you walked through the room, people began coming up to greet him.

“Lee Heeseung! You’ve grown so much. And who’s this lovely young lady?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “My girlfriend, Y/N.”

You felt his fingers gently squeeze yours.

Each time someone approached, he’d introduce you with the same ease, that same little tilt of pride in his voice. And each time, you’d smile, nod, say something polite—like this wasn’t the strangest, most out-of-body experience of your life.

And then came the real challenge.

His parents.

His mother spotted you from across the room first—elegant, graceful, and dressed in a deep navy gown that screamed old money. His father stood beside her, equally intimidating in a crisp tailored suit.

“Oh,” she said with a warm but curious smile as you and Heeseung approached. “So you’re the girl he’s been refusing to shut up about.”

You blinked. “He… what?”

“Mooom,” Heeseung groaned quietly under his breath.

But it was too late.

His mom took your hands and gave you a smile so genuine, it caught you off guard. “Heeseung’s never brought anyone to an event like this before. We were starting to think he’d sworn off love.”

You glanced up at him, expecting his usual cocky comeback, but he was quiet—just watching you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“Thank you for coming,” his father added with a respectful nod. “It’s good to see him with someone who balances him out.”

You swallowed, managing a smile. “It’s… it’s been nice. Unexpected. But nice.”

The conversation shifted as a server passed with champagne, and the moment loosened. Still, you could feel Heeseung watching you—closely, carefully.

Later, as you stood near one of the windows overlooking the city lights, he stepped beside you again, slipping his hand back into yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re killing it,” he said softly.

You looked at him. “You didn’t tell me your parents were actually nice.”

He chuckled. “You looked like you were expecting to be interrogated.”

“I was.”

He shifted to face you, his expression unreadable again. “But you still came.”

You shrugged. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Right,” he said, but his voice was quieter this time. “A deal.”

There was a beat of silence—just the distant music and low voices in the background. Then, before you could overthink it, Heeseung leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You froze.

And not because of the cameras. Not because of the act.

But because it felt… real.

And when you turned to look at him—really look—you realized he wasn’t acting either.

And more like the beginning of something you didn’t know how to fake anymore.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, frozen, staring up at him. Because in that moment—after the temple kiss, after his hand had instinctively tightened around yours, after that soft, unreadable look in his eyes—you knew something had shifted.

This wasn’t for show anymore.

And from the way Heeseung was looking at you, he knew it too.

But neither of you said a word.

Not yet.

You turned your eyes back to the window, heart thudding in your chest as you tried to will the warmth off your cheeks. Heeseung stayed beside you, unusually quiet. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something more careful, more sincere. And it scared you a little, how easy it was to stand next to him like this—like the two of you weren’t faking it. Like this was just… normal.

And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all.

“Wanna get out of here?” he said after a while, voice low, almost hesitant.

You blinked, surprised. “Now?”

He nodded. “We showed face. You survived my parents. I don’t think I can listen to another speech about tax reform and philanthropy.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, nodding. “Let’s go.”

Within ten minutes, you were both in his car again, but this time there was no music playing. Just the sound of the engine humming softly and the occasional flicker of headlights outside. It wasn’t awkward—it was… heavy. Like the air between you was packed with all the things neither of you knew how to say yet.

Heeseung pulled into a quiet overlook on the edge of the city. The view was unreal—Seoul lit up in gold and silver, buildings stretching into the clouds like stars had landed on earth.

Neither of you moved to get out. Instead, you sat there for a second. Breathing.

Then, finally, he broke the silence.

“I was supposed to hate you, you know.”

You glanced over.

“That night at the party… after Jake posted that video… I was pissed at you for months. Not because you threw up. But because I saw how fast people turned on you. And I hated how much I cared.”

Your breath hitched.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t smirking.

He was just honest.

“I didn’t want to care about the girl who glared at me in the halls every day. But I did,” he said. “And then this whole fake thing happened, and somewhere between faking it and fighting you, I stopped pretending I wasn’t completely—”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in quickly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes searched yours. “Why?”

“Because if you say it…” You swallowed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep pretending either.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he reached over slowly, gently, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek for just a second too long.

And then he whispered—

“I stopped pretending a long time ago.”

And for the first time since that deal was made…

You weren’t sure if this was fake anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t want it to be.

The words hung there in the silence between you—“I stopped pretending a long time ago.”

And you didn’t know what scared you more.

The fact that he said it…

Or the fact that you believed him.

Your heart was thudding so loudly you swore it echoed inside the car. You didn’t respond right away. Couldn’t. Because all this time, you thought you had the upper hand—you had the control, the blackmail, the motive. It was just a game. A mess of fake smiles and photo ops and revenge.

But the way Heeseung was looking at you now—like he wasn’t seeing the version of you everyone else did, like he was seeing you—made you realize you’d lost the second you agreed to that stupid fake relationship.

And worse?

You didn’t even care.

You finally tore your eyes away, staring down at your lap. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

“Why not?” he said softly. “It’s not like you’re still pretending either.”

You looked at him then—really looked. His expression was still gentle, still open, but there was something vulnerable in his eyes now, something rare. Something that almost made your chest ache.

You exhaled. “I hate you so much.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re still allowed to. Just… maybe not tonight.”

You gave a small laugh, shaking your head. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but you’re choosing to be here.”

That shut you up.

Because he was right.

You didn’t have to say yes to that dinner. You didn’t have to stand beside him when his mom looked at you like you were the girl who’d changed her son. You didn’t have to come here, to this overlook, to this stupid city view.

But you did.

And somewhere between all the faking and fronting… this had turned into something else.

“I don’t know what this is,” you said quietly, fingers twisting in your lap. “But if you’re not pretending anymore… I don’t want to be either.”

You didn’t look up right away—but you felt the shift. The tension softening. The energy between you changing, quietly but completely.

Heeseung didn’t say anything this time.

He just leaned in slowly, eyes flicking down to your lips, like he was asking a question without speaking.

And you didn’t stop him.

Because when his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fireworks or chaos or something wild and dramatic.

It was soft.

Warm.

Real.

And it felt a hell of a lot better than revenge ever did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested gently against yours, and for the first time since all this started, there was nothing left to fake.

Just you.

And him.

And whatever this was turning into.

Heeseung pulled back just slightly, his forehead still resting against yours, his eyes flicking down to your lips again like he hadn’t quite gotten enough.

And then, with that same cocky little grin he always wore when he was up to no good, he murmured,

��So… do you wanna make out?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, voice low, teasing. “Don’t act surprised. You kissed me first.”

“You literally kissed me,” you said, half-laughing, half-scolding.

He shrugged, still wearing that stupid, infuriatingly attractive smirk. “Doesn’t change the fact you kissed me back.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he leaned in again, barely a breath between you now. “Because I’ve been dying to do that again, and I’m thinking the front seat isn’t cutting it.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are you seriously trying to seduce me in your car right now?”

Heeseung leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Depends. Is it working?”

And yeah, it was. You hated how easily he got under your skin—how that smooth voice, those eyes, that look he gave you made your heart beat like you were seventeen again and still drunk off one dumb party night.

“…You’re the worst,” you muttered.

He smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

You didn’t answer him. You just reached for the door handle, opened it, and slid out without a word—walking around to the back.

Heeseung froze for a second, blinking in disbelief, before a low, amazed laugh escaped his lips. “No way.”

You turned your head, giving him the same smug look he always gave you. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

He was already moving before you finished the sentence.

And when the two of you climbed into the backseat, the space suddenly felt way too small. Too warm. Too charged.

You barely got the door closed before his hands were on your waist, pulling you in like this was something he’d been holding back for a long time.

And for the next little while, the only thing that mattered…

Was the fact that none of this felt fake anymore.

The windows had fogged up within minutes.

You were straddling Heeseung in the cramped backseat, his top bunched up around your fists, your lips tangled with his like the past three years of tension had finally snapped.

Every shove, every glare, every petty comment—this was what it all had been building to. Not the revenge. Not the fake posts. This.

His hands were on your waist, fingers pressing into the curve of your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real, like if he let go, you’d disappear. And you hated how good it felt. How good he felt.

“Still hate me?” he mumbled against your mouth, breath warm and teasing.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen, eyes locked.

“Undecided,” you said, but your voice was softer than it should’ve been.

He grinned, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re really bad at fake-dating.”

You leaned in again, this time slower, letting your lips hover just over his. “Good thing this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

That wiped the smirk off his face. Just for a second. Then his expression shifted—eyes darker, more serious.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, like your name alone could ground him.

And it kind of did.

You looked at him, chest rising and falling, and for the first time since this whole thing started, you let your guard down completely. No sass. No comebacks. Just truth.

“I don’t know when it stopped being fake,” you whispered. “But I don’t think I can pretend anymore.”

He didn’t say anything.

He just pulled you in again—slower this time, deeper. And when he kissed you now, it wasn’t just to tease or shut you up or win a fake game.

It was a promise.

And in the backseat of a car, windows fogged and hearts exposed, that kiss changed everything.