#but I decided that it would be funnier the way it is now

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

What would the dreamscapers equivalent be like in your relativity falls au?. Also who are the Pacifica and Gideon equivalents for the Stans?

OK, first, lets start with who i've already decided swaps with who.

Stan & Dipper, Ford & Mabel, Soos & Melody, Dan & Wendy, Grenada & Emma-May, Fiddleford & Candy, Bill & Jeff.

The background characters swap around with each other in ways i won't actually think about until I get around to writing.

So lets focus on Gideon and Pacifica. The main thing about my relativity au is to swap it in such a way that it makes sense for the characters personalities and interests, so 'Pacifica' has to swap with someone who'd clash with Ford, then move on and sort of get along with Stan. My first thought is Carla, she's the daughter of the towns founders, the McCorckle's, and she beefs with Ford over winning competitions in town. Before he showed up she got gold across the board, but now she has actual competition and she (being a spoiled only child here) hates it. Stan and her would start to get along after she makes some kind of statement about not caring about Fords fingers, as her beef with him far transcends the physical plane and their flesh forms. Which is weird, but Stan finds touching, in his own way.

Now Gideon needs to swap with someone as well, with someone who's in 'love' with Ford and hates Stan about it. Hard to do with the limited cast we have who've interacted with Ford. My first immediate thought is Bill, who've we've already swapped with Jeff. We could go a double route where he starts as a background villain then grows into a larger one as the 'series' goes on, but we can do better than that. We could go Bud and make him obsessed with Ford, but i think its far funnier if adult Gideon has beef with friendly old man Dipper for his 'spurned' advances when they were younger, and his son's just. there. No idea-

Actually i've been struck with inspiration. Gideon swaps with Shandra Jimenez, the news reporter. Gideon is now the news reporter, who's a nice young man except for whenever he's covering news that has to do with the Craft Cabin, which makes him grit his teeth and seethe with rage for reasons no one knows until Dipper saves the town from Shandra, and he admits on camera that he had a crush on Dipper for years and felt slighted by his spurned advances. Dipper, who at this point would have already been impersonating Mabel when they met, is struck silent with the admission, and Gideon moves on, never bringing it up again.

Shandra Jimenez, our new Gideon, is a talented performer of some type or another, maybe future sight like Gideon, or maybe leaning more towards 'reading fortunes'. Maybe something close to a circus, and she's the ring master? Don't know yet, but Ford and Stan go to see her show. Stan spends the time laughing at it, while Ford rolls his eyes and analyzes everything about what she's doing, taking notes (as he does), which catches her eye. Instead of being charmed by his 'whimsy' (like Gideon is with mabel) she admires Fords enthusiasm and drive to look for the truth. She falls in love with him (she's nine), puts him into social situations that confuse him and gets him to date her, as he has no idea what he's agreeing to until its already happened. Stan goes to rescue Ford by impersonating him and breaking them up, but she sees through him (counts the fingers) and calls him out on it. Shenanigans ensue.

Now how would dreamscapers go? Its already been established that Jeff doesnt have dream or possession powers, so when Shandra summons him its like, the full moon, and his astral form is at its most powerful. He still looks like a gnome. (very important that Bill and Jeff still look the same, Bill just has 0 powers, and Jeff has them instead). The arch is still being built in the basement of the Cabin, and Shandra wants the books because they're the ultimate black mail to use on the creatures of the forest (mabye it is a circus, but using blackmailed workers from Scrapbook 2). She needs the deed, but only Dipper has the code (maybe he goes by May here, and Mabel would go by Bell, while Stan goes by Stanley and Ford goes by Sixer. Undecided at this time).

SO instead of Dreamscapers, its..... ! Some witty title that combines the word's fog/illusion/caper or some such. Jeffs filled the Cabin with mystical fog that creates illusions for Dipper to get him to give the code up, and he's wandering around mumbling to himself about it. The Stans (and Melody) have to use high spec goggles (instead of a spell) to see what Dipper sees, and try to disrupt the illusion so he can snap out of it, or find Jeff and figure out how to kick him out. Instead of seeing his memories, they listen to the illusions (who are people from his past) around them and hear Dippers own vague mumbles, and Stan comes to the conclusion that Dipper thinks hes a stupid loser who's got nothing going for him and wanders off to leave Dipper lost in the fog forever. Ford and Melody find Jeff and battle it out, while Dipper stumbles on Stan, and has an actual face to face talk about how Dipper was bullied too and sees himself in Stan, and that the illusions, while looking real, aren't and therefore can't hurt you. Stan uses his new illusion knowledge (and missing the fact that Dippers not mumbling) to go and blaze through Jeffs illusions and.. also Jeff. Because he's not real, so why are they even scared of him in the first place? They could have just tied Dipper up and gagged him and been fine?

Then Shandra comes in with a wrecking ball, stealing the deed and kicking them out.

also, decided just now, Susan & Robbie switch.

[tycheros13]

Just accept it Fitz...

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care

[trickerys-domain]

I was tagged by @contrivedcoincidences6 to make my OCs this picrew!! Thank you for tagging me, I finally got it done lol!!!

Iseya Tabris: A headstrong and compassionate duelist/assassin rogue. Blunt, and sometimes vengeful, to those who show corruption, incompetence, or cross her; but endlessly kind to those in need. Absolutely did not want to get married, but always wore Nelaros's ring to honor his sacrifice and as a reminder (yes, I did full ass sacrifice a whole item spot for this in game the whole game). Iseya thought she would always sacrifice anything for her family and people, including her found family and her lover Alistair. She was prepared to die to stop the blight, and would have if not for Morrigan's offer.

*Hilariously I named my Warden years prior to the release of The Last Flight novel, but it really added a great element to her character.

Marian Hawke: A two-handy Reaver Purple Hawke who loves her family especially her sister. Even Gamlen grows on her after the death of her monther as she finally is worn down enough to see him better. Marian starts off as a confident sassy jokster who tries her best to make a new life, but as the years go on and she loses and lose and loses, her jokes become a coping mechanism. A mean streak also appears. By the end she's so tired and depressed that she doesn't even notice Anders pulling away from her. She spares and stands by him anyway because she needs this one thing to stay in her life.

*I just really like the default Hawke Names, I think they fit Hawke really well.

Shiren'ne Lavellen: A compassionate, kind, yet firm and decisive person, Shiren'ne prepared her whole life to become a worthy Keeper for her clan. Yet after she ends up with a new calling she takes it with stride, understanding her role in the world is now beyond just her people, but she always rebuffs being sent by Andraste and stands by her gods. Shiren'ne's favourite thing about the Inquisition was getting to know everyone and learn so much about other cultures and customs, and was always happy to share and demonstrate her Dalish culture (within reason). And although she had been so ready to be Keeper and she is Dalish to her core, after everything she knew she could never return and instead found a new quiet life with Cullen. Shiren'ne prefers slower ritual and practical magics and leans towards old nature and healing (I wish spirit healer had been a subclass), but is eager to learn about the fade, spirits, and the journey of ones soul after death, showing this by choosing vallaslin for Falon'Din.

*Took some research, but her name essentially means Voice of the Journey. She chose the name herself for her Valleslin ceremony as part of accepting and stepping into her role as First.

No pressure tag to @wolfwhisperertf, @the-nameless-nerd, and anyone else who wants to ❤️

[idissectgermanwords]

Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz (noun, neutral):

Rind (noun, neutral); bovine

Fleisch (noun, neutral); flesh, meat

Etikette (noun, feminine); etiquette

-ung (suffix, feminine); used for the nominalization of verbs

über- (preffix); over

wachen (weak verb); guard, watch

-ung (suffix, feminine); used for the nominalization of verbs

auf- (prefix); on, to

geben (strong verb); give

über- (prefix); over

tragen (strong verb); carry

-ung (suffix, feminine), used for the nominalization of verbs

sitzen (strong verb); sit

[ariestrxsh]

roughdom!stepbro!chris x bratty!stepsis!reader

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, heavy step sibling kink, brutal face fucking, breath play, dacryphilia, degradation, humiliation, light praise

🖤 summary: 🖤 after arguing about whose turn it is to do the dishes, you and your step-brother chris decide to have a breath-holding contest, but there's only one way chris can be sure that you're playing fair

this is not incest!!! the characters are step siblings. i'm aware that it's still morally grey for some people. totally get it. if you don't like the concept, don't read it bc it will literally be impossible for you to forget they're step siblings. 😭 i just need rough dom stepbro chris more than i need air in my lungs. (this joke will be even funnier to you after you read this fic if you do.) and last thing: sorry x100 for writing this lmao. and a super big sorry to anyone who's on my taglist who didn't wanna read this.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

holdyourbreath

chapters: | 1 |

"So, are you going to do the dishes before my dad and your mom get home?" Your eyes darted up at Chris, your disgusting new step brother, from across the room while you were curled up on the living room floor next to the dim lamp with a warm blanket and a good book.

"Are you fuckin' with me, kid? I thought it was your turn to do the dishes," Chris replied smugly, glaring at you from his gaming chair as he sat in front of the TV, mindlessly playing some dumb Modern Warfare whatever number they're on now.

"I did them last night," you responded defensively, your voice becoming shrill. "Yeah, and I did them two nights in a row before that. What's the big deal?" Chris snapped back, rolling his eyes at how whiny you were.

You resented how hard-headed he was, especially because you were hard-headed, and there was only room for one stubborn person in this house.

His mom had met your dad about six months prior and three months into knowing each other, they eloped, and now you were stuck living under someone else's roof with an obnoxious, gross, smug step brother who never carried his weight around the place and made everything everyone else's problem.

You weren't the type of person to use the word hate lightly, but you hated Chris.

"Chris, can you please just do the dishes? I'm busy. I'm right about to reach the climax in this book," you responded in an agitated and slightly desperate tone. "Well, I'm busy, too. I'm about to go climax after this game," Chris chuckled at your word choice.

"Ugh, you're disgusting!" You slammed your book shut, shooting him a look of contempt. "Sorry, princess. Did I ruin your climax?" Chris smirked, motioning towards your book and biting his lip.

You almost got up and just did the dishes yourself, because you knew they needed to be done, and despite how much you didn't want it to be true, Chris was perhaps, even more hard-headed than you, but you had an idea.

"Let's settle this like adults. Breath holding contest. Whoever holds their breath the longest doesn't have to do the dishes tonight," you suggested, and Chris gave you a look like you'd given him an offer he couldn't refuse.

You and Chris were both competitive, and contests were often the only effective way to settle arguments between the two of you. Sometimes it would be rock, paper, scissors. Or a staring contest. Or a one-on-one game of basketball. Anything you guys could turn into a competition really.

"Deal," Chris confidently responded, pausing his game and spinning around in his chair until he was facing you. "Okay, on the count of three," you said, setting a stopwatch on your phone, and the two of you both took in a deep inhale before holding your breath as long as you could.

You and Chris stared directly at each other, giving each other dirty looks and sizing each other up, both trying to gain dominance over the other. You didn't really care to stay true to the game and play fair. When you started running out of air, you slowly exhaled through your nose, cycling your breath and hoping Chris wouldn't catch on.

You couldn't let that smug bastard win. After all, it was his turn to do the dishes, and your book was way more important than his stupid video games.

After the stopwatch hit a minute and a forty-five seconds, Chris' face was turning a bit red. He pinched his eyebrows together and scrunched his nose at you in a look of displeasure, and after about fifteen more seconds of this, Chris let out a long, angry exhale. "Fuck you, you're cheating!" He accused you.

"I am not!" You snarked back, but the way your voice naturally raised an octave or two had even you unconvinced of your own lie. "Bitch, you didn't even breathe out before you said that. And you don't look or sound out of breath at all," Chris replied, narrowing his eyes at you and clenching his jaw.

"I wasn't cheating," you said, avoiding eye contact. "You were, and I can prove it," Chris licked his lips maliciously and grinned at you. "You can prove it?" You said in a skeptical tone, testing him. Chris stood up, slowly sauntered over to you while you were still sitting on the ground.

He peered down at you with a darkness in his eyes as he started unfastening his belt and unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. "What the fuck are you doing?" You asked, glaring up at him, but your eyes fell and widened when he pulled out his big, juicy dick. It was already hard and the tip was swollen and shiny with a layer of precum.

Conveniently for Chris, your jaw dropped as you studied the way his veins webbed out across the backside of his shaft, and he took this opportunity to grab onto the back of your head and shove his throbbing cock into your gaping mouth. He let out a satisfied exhale and his eyes gently rolled back as he relished in the wet warmth you provided for him.

He held your head in place and forced every inch down your throat until you could feel the hem of his shirt tickling your nose. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and he opened the stopwatch function on it. He then placed it into your trembling hand.

"You're gonna hold this for me, you fucking cunt. You're gonna hold it up so I can see it, and we're gonna count together how long you can hold your breath, yeah?" Chris said through gritted teeth before hitting the start button.

Chris' left hand was still tangled in your hair, and with his right hand, he pinched your nose closed between his thumb and pointer finger. "Be a good girl and hold your breath for me," he whispered to you, admiring the way your soft, pretty lips looked keeping his cock warm for him.

"Come on, princess. It's only been fifteen seconds. I know you can keep going since you're so good at holding your breath, right?" He taunted you as he peered down at the tears forming in your eyes.

"Like having your step brother's dick in your mouth? I bet you do. Didn't even put up a fight or nothin', you just let me stick it in," Chris spoke to you in a low, dominant voice that immediately had your pussy drooling for him. "Thirty seconds," Chris relayed, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your pretty little mouth and the stopwatch.

"Fuck, it's so nice to have some peace and quiet around here for once. No bitchin', no complainin', no whinin'. Just the sweet sound of you gagging on me," Chris moaned, gently rocking his hips back and forth and relishing in the soft choking noises that came from you, his belt buckle softly clanking against itself.

"See? Now that's what it looks like when you're actually holding your breath. Forty-five seconds," Chris smirked down at you, noting how red your face was getting from lack of air.

He started to fuck your face a little rougher, still cutting off your oxygen flow, the sound of the metal on his belt getting louder. You could feel his tip grazing that spot at the back of your throat, tickling your gag reflex. You could feel his pretty veins with your tongue as it rested on the backside of his length.

"You like having your mouth used by your step brother? I bet you like when I remind you what I am to you, huh? Does it make you wet? How wrong it is?" Chris teased you, thrusting back and forth, his eyes rolling back into his head as several animalistic moans left his mouth.

You didn't want to admit it, but Chris was right. There was something about it that was so taboo that you couldn't help but soak your panties while Chris used you however he wanted. "One minute. You already look like you need air, princess," Chris taunted you, his jaw slacking as he looked down at the tears rolling down your cheeks. "So pretty when you cry for me," he let out a breathy moan while he threw his head back.

Your heart started pounding in you ears, your palms were sweating, and your eyes felt like they were going to bulge out of your head. You did secretly love choking on your step brother's gorgeous cock, but you really couldn't breathe, and you didn't have the lung capacity for this.

You took your free hand, made a fist with it and started pounding on Chris' thigh to let him know you'd had enough. "Admit you lied and that you like this, and I'll let you breathe," Chris cooed, peering down at you and how desperately you gazed up at him.

You were too prideful. Surely, he'd have to let go of your nose regardless of whether you admitted to it or not, right? You pounded on his thigh again.

"All you have to do, princess, is nod your head when I ask you these next few questions, and I'll let go," Chris said to you slowly as if you were dumb. "Did you cheat during our contest and then lie about it?" He inquired, staring down at your makeup streaking down your cheeks. You couldn't take it any longer. You nodded.

"Good answer. Now does it make you wet? How wrong it is to have your step brother's dick in your pretty little mouth?" He asked in a soft, sweet tone, which didn't match the vile words pouring from his pouty lips. Humiliation welled in you, and you looked up at your step brother in shame as you hesitantly nodded your head.

"That's what I thought," Chris whispered, finally letting go of your nose and pulling his meat out of your throat, eliciting several loud gasping and coughing sounds from you before you started violently panting, desperately trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck, I can't believe you liked that. You're so fucked up," Chris whispered, winking down at you and smiling, knowing he liked it just as much. "You know, while I have you here, I may as well have you finish the job, hmm?" He suggested, searching your face for a reaction.

Desperation filled your eyes while you gazed up at him and slowly nodded. You hated the way he had you submitting to him, and so easily, too, but you couldn't help the way it turned you on to think about your step brother busting all over your tongue.

He grabbed the back of your head again and made his cock vanish behind your lips once more. He gripped onto your hair tightly, controlling your movements and causing your mouth to jounce on his meat. His hips began involuntarily thrusting back and forth while he enjoyed the way you graciously took every inch like you were starving for it.

Your tongue danced around on the underside of his shaft, supplementing the sensations he was already giving into. The way you stared up at him with your lips embracing all his sensitive nerve endings made him melt in your mouth, and his eyes started to glaze over. You could tell he was getting close.

"Fuck, you're such a good step sister. Takin' me so fuckin' well," he whispered in a sultry voice, contemptuously smiling at you. You couldn't believe how much you were looking forward to making Chris finish on your tastebuds, and you felt repulsed with yourself for getting so wet at his words. No matter how much you tried to remind yourself what a disgusting, selfish jerk he was, your pussy was drooling for him.

"What would your daddy think if he knew his little princess were choking on my dick right now while he finishes up at work?" Chris seductictively teased you, feeding your humiliation kink.

You didn't need to use your words to tell Chris how much you liked everything he was saying to you. He could tell by the desperate glint in your eye that lingered as he degraded you.

"Want your step brother to cum on your pretty little tongue?" Chris cooed, his movements becoming more jagged and messy as he fucked your mouth. "You gotta beg for it, princess, or else I won't give it to ya," he snarked back, his lips curling into a devilish grin.

You peered up at him in silence. Of course you wanted to taste his seed as it poured from his tip, but you wanted him to beg you to let him cum, not the other way around.

He roughly pulled you off his cock and leaned down so that his face was only a few inches from yours. "I said beg," he rasped. Fuck, you thought when you realized you'd already lost the power struggle the second you cheated during the breath-holding contest.

Chris wasn't the type to let things go, and he didn't care about cumming if you weren't going to beg him. He'd leave himself unfinished just to spite you. "Please, Chris.." you softly whined while you were on your knees peering up at him, longingly. "Please what?" He inquired, needing to hear you say it.

"Please. I want you to fill up my mouth," you quietly admitted. "Good girl. Say it again. Beg harder," he lustfully stared down at you, hanging onto your every last word, but you thought you'd try one more time to flip the dynamic on him.

"Be a good boy and cum for me," your lips curled into a smug smile, but Chris wasn't the least bit amused. "That's not how this works. You are not domming me right now, fucking bitch," Chris said, taking your hair into his tight grasp again and shaking you around like a doll. "I fucking said beg. And if you misbehave one more time, I'll never let you suck my cock again," he threatened. You hated how effective this was.

"No, no, no. Please. I'm sorry. Please finish on my tongue. Please. I'm dying for it. I need your cum flooding my mouth until it's overflowing. I'd do anything for it," you whined, giving Chris exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck. So easy. Such a good girl for me. How could I not reward such pretty words?" Chris cooed, making his wand disappear behind your pretty lips again like some kind of deranged magic trick.

He rocked his hips back and forth, triggering your gag reflex some more and relishing in the lovely sound of you choking on him. His moans became deeper and more urgent as you took him so well. "Good girl. Get ready for me, princess. I'm so close," Chris breathlessly called out, violently fucking your face while he manipulated the movement of your head, still holding your hair in his tight grip.

His guttural moans echoed throughout the house as his dick throbbed against your lips, emitting a hot, thick, sticky substance onto your eager tongue while he pumped back and forth, savoring every last bit of pleasure. "Good girl. Swallow," he commanded you, smiling down at the way you obediently listened.

"Fuck," he whispered when he was done using your pretty little back-talking mouth. As he tucked his satisfied cock back into his pants, he wiped away a tear that was running down you cheek and softly said, "Now those dishes aren't going to wash themselves, princess."

part two here 🖤

taglist: @weirdratperson @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 1: 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑

title: poker face synopsis: luckily, mr. zero didn't knew you were a mugiwara. luckily, mr. zero fell for your bluffs. unfortunately, you never imagined it would be that hard to not fall for crocodile's charm. [3.1K] cw: mugiwara!fem!reader, strip poker, strip tease, public sex, cock crush, nipple stimulation, size difference, fingering (f!receiving), riding, biting, scratching, finger sucking, p in v, creampie, possessive behavior, mob boss meets a baddie, pussy so good he wonders about marriage.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

With a thick cigar between his teeth, Crocodile forced himself to smile. “Five of a kind”, he dropped his cards on the table. “Seems like the house won. Again.”

Crocodile’s presence in Rain Dinners works to reinforce his reputation as a hero in this wretched island. Unfortunately, it also means Crocodile is tormented by the most boring clientele.

To watch someone gambling everything they own out of delusional hope and losing it all because of sheer mischance is only interesting the first few hundreds of times. Now, all Crocodile feels is disdain.

He curses those vermin that stole the joy of victory.

Murmuring complaints, two bettors left the table. The croupier stretched his arm, reaching for the cards left far away from him. As the cards were shuffled, Crocodile took in the chance to observe the tables nearby. Searching for chaos to be dealt with, such a common occurrence in a casino, an unusual sight stole his attention.

A long, thick, light pelted fur coat. Crocodile inhaled the smoke, holding it in. Admiring you with that coat over your shoulders, no one would’ve imagined this is the middle of a desert. And still, you didn’t break a sweat.

One of the bettors decided it was the right moment to thank Crocodile for his protection over Alabasta. He did his best to sound modest, heroic. To embody the last hope of this dying island. The moment a white blur entered his peripheral vision, Crocodile simply ignored the man’s existence.

With a hand over the chair’s top rail, you stared directly at the croupier. “May I?”, you asked, voice sultry as the desert.

Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, releasing the smoke in the direction opposite from you. “Made just in time”, he moved his hand towards the croupier ready to start. “Do you know how to play, hon’?”

You took a sip from your glass, not bothering to answer him. Placing your coat over the chair’s rail, you reached inside its pocket and took the poker chip’s box. You left it open on the table, emerald dress moving on your body as you sat down and crossed your legs.

The box was filled to the brim.

Your lack of interest on him ignited something within Crocodile. Curiosity. Something far more interesting than gambling against weak bluffs. “New to poker?”, Crocodile smiled devilish. The sort of smile that make pretty women like you forget about decency.

If only you had looked at him.

“New to this island”, you answered, sounding as bored as Crocodile was before you got there. The way you danced around his question was enough for him to know you didn’t want the others to think of you as an easy target. Usually, Crocodile would simply profit on it. This time, with you staring straight into his eyes, he couldn’t care less about this game. “Is it worth?”

“It will be.”

A promise Crocodile intended to fulfill.

Feeling his gaze burning your skull, to not smile was never so difficult. If you were weaker, you would’ve laugh until your cheeks fell apart from your face. How funny. How alluring. Ah, Luffy really told you the truth.

Your life will be funnier around me, Luffy gave you the brightest smile you ever saw. Stroking your cheek, he cleaned the trace of tears. I will never let you get bored.

A Shichibukai stands before you, unable to see you as part of the threat he is so interest in dealing with. The man that sent thousands of bounty hunters after your crew, that forced Vivi to witness as unnecessary violence tore her nation in pieces, doesn’t even know that you’re part of the group he wants to exterminate.

Good. That means the plan of distracting Crocodile has a chance of working.

Each bettor made an initial contribution for the deal to start. At every round, you raised the amount of chips. It didn’t matter if others were dropping out of the deal or if Crocodile doubled the bet with no hesitance. You simply continued to bet more.

That was alluring. It told more about you than your pretty lips could. You’re not here to make money. You’re not here to waste it. You’re here for amusement. And that Crocodile can give you any time.

“Showdown”, the croupier called. “Please, bettors, show your hands.”

The woman sitting beside you sighed, showing two pairs. Two bettors had dropped out, choosing to wait until the next deal. You placed your cards on the table. 4, 3, K, 10, 10. One pair. “Does that mean anything?”

The first man to drop out chuckled. “Only that you lost.”

Lost in the way your smile spread across your face, the croupier had to remind Crocodile it was his time to show the cards. “Three of a kind”, he murmured. This time, he put no effort into acting as if he cared that he won. Crocodile just wanted to learn more about you. “Do you know the rules?”

“Does it really matter?”, your bright smile was enough to enlighten the whole place. As the croupier changed the card sets, you gave him your solely attention. “The best liar wins at the end.”

“No surprise you haven’t won yet”, Crocodile smirked. He spread his legs, cigar between his fingers. His golden hook glistened, reminding you of the threat he represented simply by breathing. “It’s so easy to see right through you.”

But not to see how I stole all those chips from you, was what you thought. “Seems like a failure of mine”, was what you said out loud.

With a movement of his hand, a waiter approached. Crocodile whispered into his ear; eyes still fixated on you. Intoxicated on his presence, you forgot to look away. What a tempting man. From then on, your glass never remained empty.

Deal after deal, you continued to lose just as Crocodile continued to win. Deal after deal, you continued to answer just as Crocodile continued to ask.

Until there were only you two left at the casino. You let go of your glass and closed the poker chip’s box, raising from the chair. “Should have expected a pirate to be a good gambler.” You took your coat, walking away from the table. “Have a good night, Crocodile.”

“One last deal?” Crocodile was quick to offer. Desperately, you would add. “And then we call it.”

You raised the empty box. “I have nothing left to bet.”

And at that, Crocodile saw his last chance of amusing you. “Then let’s bet everything we have.”

Sat down again, chin supported by your palm, you frowned. The wine had started to affect you both. “And by that you mean…”

“Everything”, Crocodile spread his legs, resting his hook on his thick thigh. You told yourself he was begging for you to stare, but you weren’t that sure of it. “Every chip on this table. Everything on our bodies.”

As he closed his mouth, a part of Crocodile feared his proposition would offend you. It doesn’t happen often, but there is a chance he misread your signals.

“I’ve been eyeing your rings since I sat here”, you wondered out loud. “Just as you been eyeing my dress.”

But to be so straight to the point… Crocodile wasn’t quite expecting that. It was what he wanted, but to see how you two were connected made harder for him to breath.

Then you sighed.

“As tempting as it is,” and you were standing again. Crocodile hated to see that. He would hate even more to see you leaving. “It is also getting late. Like I said, I’m new to this island.”

“You have nothing to fear”, Crocodile bargained. “Not when I’m around.”

“But you won’t be around on my way back to the hotel.”

“Then stay here”, he offered. You arched an eyebrow. “I don’t intent on letting you walk away that easily. I’m a pirate. I’m used to taking what I want for myself.”

For an eternity, you both stared into each other’s eyes. A silent negotiation. His final offering, your final chance of doing the right thing and walking away from danger. You could see his very soul. How it burned just beneath the surface. Crocodile felt the same heat coming from you.

The croupier forced a cough, remind you of his presence. It took much of his strength for Crocodile to not kill him right then and there.

“Shuffle the cards and leave”, you ordered.

He obeyed. Quickly. You both took a look at your cards sets. A smile died within you. A smirk grew on Crocodile’s face. The moment the croupier closed the exit door, Crocodile showed his hand.

Crocodile looked even bigger than he already was, filled with the confidence of a winner. “Four of a kind.”

Dropping your hand on the table, you were the winner he believed to be. “Royal flush”, you smiled. “Pretty sure that’s the highest since we’re not using any wild cards.”

Shock was a good look on Crocodile. After analyzing your cards, his gaze returned to you. “You said you didn’t know how to play.”

“Oh”, you drank the last sip from your glass. “Did I?”

And at your answer, all he could do was laugh. Crocodile ran his hand through his black hair. “You hustle me”, he whispered. Crocodile wasn’t able to get rid of this genuine smile.

Your laugh was real too. It made Crocodile breath in your scent, get drunk on the sweet sound coming from you. Not a bluff, not an act. It was real, and it only made you more beautiful. “And now you have a debt to pay.”

His face darkened, reminding you of who he is. You hustled Crocodile. You hustled Crocodile. You never thought of yourself as a stupid woman, but here you are. For fucks sake. Luffy really is rubbing on you.

Crocodile bended over the table, his broad shoulders creating a shadow over you. His hand grabbed your chair’s arm, his hook moving your chin upwards. A strand of hair fell in front of his orange eyes, and looking into them you felt like a powerless prey about to be ravished.

Face lurking inches above yours, Crocodile smiled devilish. A smile that made you forget about decency, focusing only on the promise of more of him. More of the man that wants to kill you. “Enjoy the show”, Crocodile whispered.

His blue scarf was the first to be throw away, and neither of you cared about where it would land. His long fingers worked on the buttons of the rumpled black-striped vest, so slowly you almost took it off of Crocodile by yourself.

The peach shirt beneath showed a portion of his wide chest and instead of finally getting rid of it, Crocodile held the leather belt around his waist.

He had so much fun teasing you, admiring how you couldn’t look away. A man as handsome must feel entitled to the silent praise. He really thought he was the one in charge, didn’t he? And for long enough, Crocodile was.

You’re a lot of things, but you’re not patient.

Leaning against the chair, you raised your leg. The silver heel brushed against his pants, from down on his ankle until the insides of his thigh. And when your painted nails shined right in front of his crotch, you forced your feet against it.

“Stop playing around.” Cocking your head, eyes explored his still covered up body. “Don’t make me wait.”

Crocodile grabbed your ankles, calloused hand stroking softly your skin. It wasn’t a rough touch, but not less possessive because of it. You put more pressure, making him groan. “You are insane.”

“And why is that?”

“Anyone else would fear me”, Crocodile’s voice reminded you of velvet and sharp knives. It lingered on your ears. “And here you are. Demanding more.”

You sighed, fingers brushing against your lips. That voice… it was your last straw. Fighting his hold, you put your foot down on the ground. You grabbed his shirt, pushing him back until Crocodile sat down on his chair again.

He opened his mouth as you sat down on his lap, but you gave him no time to do anything. “You talk too much.”

Holding the chair’s top rail as leverage, you dive into him. Tooth biting his lower lip, tongue forcing a passage into his warm mouth. Your free hand found a spot on his large neck, bringing Crocodile closer to you. Instead of waiting, you took what you wanted for yourself.

Just like a pirate would.

She isn’t fragile, Crocodile thought. She won’t break.

Sinking into you, Crocodile forgot about self-control. He simply ravished you, just like you demanded of him. A wild animal and nothing more. Exploring your mouth as if it was his to control, hand grabbing your soft skin without a care about finesse or decorum. Crocodile pressed his hook against your chest, enjoying how it didn’t stop you from moving as you wanted to.

You got him out of that stupidly tight shirt, hands scratching his chest as your hips moved on top of his crotch. He forced you down, putting your whole weight upon himself, and ripped your emerald dress into pieces with his hook.

“You’ll pay for this one.”

It was a complain, but your fingers working to unbutton his pants made clear you couldn’t care less. His kisses travelled to your neck, tongue leaving a trail of drool on your shoulder, mouth closing against your nipples. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, encouraging Crocodile to continue.

“I will get you anything you want”, he said, voice muffled. He couldn’t get away from your body to speak. “You burn hotter than the fuckin desert.”

No shame, no hesitation. Freed from his pants, you licked your palm before grabbing his cock. You pumped him with zero delicacy, thumb pressing against the dark, sensitive head. Just like everything in Crocodile, it was big enough to make you wonder.

As if he could read you mind, Crocodile slid his hand into your panties. Long fingers explored your lips, precise with every movement. Thumb pressing against your clit, two fingers against your wet slit. His hook brushed against your thigh, arm locking around you to press you down on his fingers.

Your loud moan embarrassed your very soul, but all Crocodile did was laugh. His teeth closed around your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. That’ll mark you for sure. “Ride me, hon’.”

With your nails deep into his back, you stretched yourself on Crocodile’s fingers. You bit his earlobe, brushing your face against his as you speed up your movements. In your hand, his cock throbbed. Crocodile was leaking, burning in the same way you do.

“Take what you want”, you whispered against his ear. “Fuck me already.”

It happened so quickly, you barely understood how he moved. A second before you were on his lap, two fingers deep into your hungry cunt, lips around his ear. Then you were sat on the table, poker chips falling on the floor, Crocodile standing between your legs.

A fucking monster.

Crocodile took his drenched fingers from you, and wasted no time before sucking them clean. He grabbed your thighs, exposing yourself from him. “She’s delicious”, Crocodile stared at your pussy. His fingers pulled your lips apart. “Will get me addicted to her.”

Using your legs, you got him even closer to you. Crocodile grabbed your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss. Fighting against your tongue, he fit the head of his cock into you. You moaned into his mouth.

Moving your heels against his thighs, you forced him inside of you. A stupid decision. Your head collapsed against his shoulder, the entirety of his length touching all the right places. So good, so right, so… much.

Crocodile wasn’t in that much of a better situation. Eyes closes tightly, lips hanging open as a deep cry escaped. So wet, so warm. Moving slowly, Crocodile chortled. He had no control over his mind anymore.

“Don’t you dare stopping”, you manage to say. “Just… fu-fuck, just like that.”

Deep thrusts as his fingers worked on your clit: Crocodile wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than you wanted. He could feel your drool gathering on his shoulder. How your fingers were deep into his forearms, or how the hold of your legs around his waist weakened.

All Crocodile wanted was to make you as addicted to him as he already was to you. To get you to scream his name, begging for more and more. He wanted you to take from him. To get what you wanted. And Crocodile wanted everything you could give him.

Feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, mind empty as a white canvas, you tilted your head back. Eyes half-open, you admired him. His raw lips, face covered in sweat. Marks of lipstick all over his chest, just as deep nail marks and surface scratched. You looked down, watching as he entered you.

“You are worth way more than eighty million.”

Crocodiled bended, tongue playing with your aching nipple. “After my head, hon’?”, he sucked on them. You stroked his hair, enjoying how primal Crocodile looked.

“Do I look insane?”, you moaned.

Crocodile looked into your eyes, face near yours. You placed your arms around his shoulders, but he held you in place. Crocodile simply looked at you. As if there was something new, something he never saw before.

“You do”, Crocodile whispered. It felt so intimate. For a moment, you weren’t being fucked in an empty casino. For a moment, you two were sharing a secret. “You’re perfect.”

You melted against him. Lost on your orgasm, you unlearned how to breath. The fact you couldn’t think didn’t stop Crocodile from kissing you. As you closed around him, Crocodile reached his limit. Tooth deep into your throat, he marked you again.

Tears formed behind your eyes, throat aching as you finally breathed again. You laid your head on his chest, feeling it rising with his unregulated breathes. A firm hand held your waist, his nose stopped in the union of your shoulder and neck. His biting hurt so good, just like your scratches on his skin.

When Crocodile opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand holding onto the table. He looked at the fours rings you said caught your attention. And he saw how there was only one finger lacking a ring.

Insane, Crocodile thought. She’s making me insane.

As his hips moved away, a cry left your throat as he emptied your pussy, your legs finally stopped working. Crocodile took his cigar from the ashtray, smoking it for a few seconds. When he released the smoke, you grabbed his chin and made him face you. Inhaling it, you closed your eyes.

Not a second after you let it go, his hand and hook slid beneath your thighs. Effortlessly, Crocodile took you from the table. Your shaken legs closed around his waist as he carried you. “What you doing?”

Crocodile finally looked into your eyes again. He smiled, and it was genuinely. “Taking what I want for myself.”

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© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

[eternalsams]

Call Me Daddy ⇴ J.Seresin

pairing: Jake Seresin x single mom!reader

warning/content: fluff, kids shenanigans, Jake being so good with a kid, Jake being Jake, tiny innuendos (blink and you miss it), reader's daughter's name is Lila

summary: When your daughter mistaken Jake for her father, you're more than embarrassed. That until she tells you why she called him that.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration.

masterlist

What would be better for his quiet alone night in his little apartment? Canned green beans or canned lenses? Why not take both and choose back at home? Jake sighed and dropped the two cans in his shopping cart. The earbuds in his ears blasting music to shut off the noise around him and his fingertips drumming the rhythm against his thigh. He could hear people walking behind him and sometimes complaining about how much space he was taking in the aisle. But he really couldn't care less. He went back to the main aisle and walked past the cookie section, stopping in his tracks and eying the sweet aisle. He grimaced and looked down at his shopping cart, he's been forcing himself to keep a healthier diet when he noticed he gained a few extra pounds the last few months. He softly groaned as he let his inner thoughts win and walk in the cookie aisle.

He tried to ignore the full chocolate ones and kept walking to the more 'healthy' ones. He picked a box and tried not to stare at the numerous calories at the back. "Come on, baby. We already have those cookies at home." A feminine voice came from the other side of the aisle. Jake turned to the voice and completely forgot about his cookies when he noticed something way sweeter. He could tell you were exhausted by the small bags under your eyes but other than that, you took great care of yourself, probably to hide the real fatigue from the others. You were trying to reason with a little girl, not older than 6 from what he knew of kids, and Jake could tell she was your daughter. She was practically your clone with how much she looked like you. Jake mindlessly dropped the cookie box into his cart and the little girl's attention was on him in a second. But all could Jake see was the pleading look in your eyes as you tried to convince your daughter she didn't need the dinosaur shaped cookies. His eyes staring at you might have discouraged your daughter because she put the box back onto the aisle and grabbed your hand silently.

Jake blinked a few times as you left the cookie section to keep going with your shopping and only then he noticed the little girl's eyes staring at him. He softly waved at her with a smile and her rosy lips stretched with a grin. Jake scoffed and decided it was enough cookies for now and looked a last time to his hand-written shopping list. He didn't see you again for the rest of his errands, that until he felt a light tap on his arm. He turned around and looked down at the little girl he saw earlier. He paused the music in his earbuds and smiled at the girl. "Hey, where's your mom? Did you get lost?" He asked as knelt down, starting to look around them. "Are you my daddy?" She asked him and he felt his neck crack as he abruptly looked back at her. "What? No-" He laughed nervously, not knowing where this was coming from. "Lila? Lila!" Your voice called and jake could see you running to them, crouching down to take your daughter in your arms. "What did I tell you? Keep your hands on the cart and stay around me." You said sternly and Jake stood back on his feet, rubbing his neck. You took the little girl's hand in yours and looked up at Jake with an apologetic and yet suspicious look. "I'm sorry, she usually don't wander about when shopping." You said and Jake nodded with a smile. "No harms done."

"Is that my daddy?" Lila asked, looking between you and the tall stranger. Your eyes widened and you glared at your daughter as Jake scoffed, finding the situation way funnier than he should. "Lila! He's not- I'm sorry, sir." You apologized once more and Jake chuckled. "It's alright, really. She's a cute kid." He desperately tried to make conversation but he knew nothing about you. Except for your daughter. "She is, usually. But she's never done that to any man, that's weird." You said more to yourself than to him. "Well, I'm flattered." Jake smiled and you nervously chuckled. "I'm Jake." he introduced himself, freeing one of his hands to shake yours. You told him your name with a shy smile and looked down at your daughter. "Well, Jake. It was nice meeting you but I've got a dinner to get." You started to walk back and Jake felt the need to stay close to you but didn't do anything. He so wanted to ask for your number or something but he didn't even know if you were single. He knew Lila's dad wasn't in the picture, because why else would she have called him 'daddy'? But maybe you had a husband waiting for you at home, Lila's step-dad. He sighed when you went out of sight and grumbled something under his breath before opening his music app and clicking on the play button.

When you parked your car in your alley, Lila unbuckled her seatbelt but you stayed in your seat. "Mum we're home." She leaned over to your seat, waiting for you to get out and open her door. "I know, baby. I know." You blinked a few times, thinking about your meeting with Jake. That was new. It had been years since a man caught your attention. Jake had been really nice to Lila from what you saw and really nice to you too. You kicked yourself mentally for not asking for his number. You really lost all your flirting techniques.

A few hours later, you called Lila for dinner and she came running to the kitchen, already dressed in her pj's. You kissed her head when you put her plate in front of her and took your seat in front of her. "Baby, why did you think the man from the store was your daddy?" You asked between two bites. Lila didn't even wait to swallow her food and started answering. "Not with your mouth full please, baby." You leaned over the table and wiped her mouth with a napkin. She loudly swallowed her vegetables and clumsily put down her fork. "It's because of Ethan." She said and you frowned. You knew of Ethan, he was one of Lila's friend from school. "What did Ethan said?" You got curious. "He said his parents look at each other like we look at jewels. He said that one time his daddy watched his mom like she was a princess." Lila smiled and you started to realize what she meant. "So when you asked Jake if he was your daddy-" You started before she cut you off with a grin on her face. "He was watching you like you were a princess." She giggled, putting her little hands in front of her mouth.

You huffed and leaned back into your chair, not believing your ears. When Lila finished her dinner, you sent her to brush her teeth and go to bed, not without a complain from her. And when you were sure she was asleep, you grabbed your laptop and opened the few social medias you had. Jake. You tried looking through possible mutual friends, but nothing. From the local companies accounts, still nothing. You stayed up way later than you'd ever admit looking for this man but it was like he never existed. At least on the internet. Than you remembered the kind of supplies he had in his cart. You also noticed how firm his whole body looked and you looked up the local gym. You looked through the different posts, videos, photos, anything. And then you found him. His back was facing the camera and he was wearing a black tank top and a backward cap, but you could recognize those shoulders anywhere now. You hoped for a linked account in the caption but it seemed he didn't have one. Though you had his name and function. Lieutenant Jake Seresin.

A few days passed without having any sign from Jake. You almost went to the groceries when Lila was at school, hoping to meet him again but you decided against it. You had no idea how to get in contact with this man. Hell, you didn't even know if he was single, but you needed to know. You looked at your watch and noticed you still had a few hours before leaving to pick up Lila from school. You changed into some comfortable sweats and a lose shirt before grabbing your keys and leaving for a quick jogging. You tried your best to suppress any thought concerning Jake and focused on your breathing before you could get a side ache. Your eyes even started tricking you as you started seeing Jake's face to every blond, tall men you saw. You shook your head to the first one and ignored the next ones. Then someone called your name.

You turned to the voice and your eyes widened when you recognized Jake. The real Jake. "Oh, hi, Jake right?" You tried to play innocent, not like you tried to stalk him. He smiled at you and caught his breath, him too seemingly on his run day. "Yeah, from the grocery store, you remember me!" You chuckled at that, if he only knew. "Yeah, yeah I remember you. Hard to forget your daughter's dad." What the shit? You smacked yourself internally and giggled nervously when he laughed. "I never thought I'd see a kid walking to me and ask if I'm their daddy." He smiled even more, how was that even possible? "It's nice to see you again." You said, trying not to look at his bulging biceps peeking out from his shirt. "It's nice to see you too. I um... I wanted to ask for your number the other ay but I didn't know if that was appropriate." He said, taking his phone out of his pocket, hoping dearly he wasn't reading this wrong. "That's really not inappropriate." You chuckled and took his phone when he gave it to you, entering your phone number into his contacts. "So... No step-dad for Lila?" He dared ask and you looked up at him with a shy smile. "No, no step-dad. It's been a rough few years for mom so, no time for meeting step-dad." You playfully said as you gave him his phone back.

"I hope mommy won't be too hard on me then." He boldly said with a cocky smile. Your breath got caught in your throat and you felt yourself blushing at his words. "I'm sure she'll be great if you don't misbehave." A boldness you didn't know took over your body and had you say those words, getting you to blush even more. Jake didn't seem to mind one bit as he laughed and looked down at his feet for a moment. "Do you think I could ask you out for dinner?" He then asked, looking back at you. "I'd love to, but I don't really like leaving Lila with a babysitter, I'm a bit of a mother hen." You said. You were a bit sad that could discourage Jake but your daughter would always come first. "No problem! I can come over and cook you two dinner, what do you say?" He smiled at you and you felt your heart flutter with affection. "I'm sure Lila would love that." You told him. "And what about you? Would you like that?" He took a step closer to you, now standing in your personal space. "I would love that." You smiled at him.

taglist: @senawashere @hardballoonlove @blue-aconite @iliketopgun @callsign-hummingbird @roosterforme @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @hangmansgbaby @callsigns-haze

@els-marvelvsp @averagewriter-inthedark @theglenaissance @hangmanforever @goldenseresinretriever @djs8891 @callsign-magnolia

[dreamdragonkadia]

Do I know where I was going with this? No. Did I black out halfway through writing it? Probably. But listen… Percy Jackson absolutely gives “gets way too hyped when his girl wears something related to him” energy. Man would be feral over a $5 necklace from a street vendor if it had his initial on it. I don’t make the rules. p.jackson x reader

It was supposed to be a dumb little joke.

A fleeting moment of amusement while browsing a street vendor’s stand with your coffee in one hand and absolutely no intention to buy anything in the other.

But then you saw it—cheap gold, slightly tacky, in the shape of a dainty little “P.” And your brain short-circuited with the thought: Percy would either laugh his ass off or get unreasonably smug about this.

You snorted out loud before you even picked it up.

It was so not your style. Not really. But the mental image of Percy’s reaction? Worth every cent. Your mother had glanced at the gaudy thing when you showed her later and rolled her eyes, smiling into her mug of tea.

“Just don’t let your father see that,” she warned, and you both burst out laughing.

At first, it was meant to be ironic. Just a little inside joke between you and your seaweed-brained boyfriend. Something you wore around friends who knew him—friends who would shoot each other knowing looks and bite back laughs when they spotted the necklace resting at your collarbone.

“He knows about that thing?” one of them had asked once, and you’d blinked.

“Nope.”

And that had only made it funnier.

Because over the last few weeks, it had become...weirdly normal. You’d worn it every day, mostly tucked beneath layers of sweaters and scarves, hidden from view thanks to the brutal cold snap that had refused to leave all winter. You’d almost forgotten you were even wearing it. Like it had become just another piece of you.

Still, Percy hadn’t seen it.

Not in your last few weekend visits. Not over Iris messages or during quick calls between work and class. Not even when he crashed at your place and stole all your blankets, mumbling into your shoulder that you were “the heater now.”

It wasn’t on purpose. He just hadn’t seen it.

Not until today.

The heatwave came in suddenly—last week of spring, everything sticky and warm, like the gods had finally realized “oh, right, summer exists.” You’d peeled off your cardigan without much thought. It was a lazy afternoon at Percy’s place. You were curled up in his room, legs tangled with his, controllers in hand, the muffled music of Mario Kart drifting from the TV.

You leaned forward, shifting your body to readjust the blanket twisted under your knee. The little golden “P” slipped into view, glinting in the sun streaming through his window.

And Percy Jackson, savior of Olympus, part-time college student and full-time walking trainwreck, paused mid-race. His character crashed into a banana peel.

You didn’t notice at first—too focused on beating his ass at Rainbow Road. But when you finally glanced over, his eyes were locked on your chest, wide and blinking and very clearly not because he was admiring your stellar gaming skills.

“…Babe?” you asked, shifting slightly. The necklace shifted with you.

Percy blinked again. “Is that… is that a P?”

You glanced down, following his gaze. “Oh. Yeah.”

“…Like. For me P?”

You grinned. “No, it’s for Poseidon. Duh.”

His jaw dropped. “I knew it! You’re into older men—”

You burst out laughing and shoved him with your shoulder. “Yes, Percy. It’s for you. I bought it like… a month ago?”

“And you’ve just been wearing it? All the time?”

You shrugged, cheeks heating slightly. “Kinda forgot it was there.”

He was still staring. Eyes flicking between your face and the little pendant, like he couldn’t decide if he was supposed to be flattered or teasing. Knowing him, probably both.

“That’s... really cute,” he said finally, voice low and weirdly sincere. “Like. Really cute.”

You squinted at him. “You okay, Perce?”

He shook his head a little, like trying to shake off a daze. “No, it’s just—wow. You wear my initial around your neck like a statement and didn’t even tell me. I feel like I should be paying rent for living in your heart like that.”

You snorted. “Shut up.”

But he was grinning now, like you’d just handed him the world on a string. He leaned over and gently tugged the chain to get a better look, brushing his fingers along your collarbone in a way that sent butterflies straight to your stomach.

“I mean,” he added, eyebrows wiggling, “you are branded now. No take-backs.”

“You’re…something,” you mumbled, trying not to smile as you turned back to the game.

But he didn’t go back to his controller. Didn’t even try. He just kept watching you with that stupid fond look on his face, one hand still brushing over the little “P” that had started this whole thing.

And even though you were still technically winning the race, you couldn’t focus for the life of you.

Not with Percy Jackson looking at you like that.

[xiaq]

I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.

[lazycats-stuff]

How about Batfam x male reader, where reader is Russian and has a slight accent, unless someone really pissed him off, that's when it really shows. Reader is always eloquent and kind, and you don't notice his accent unless you are really paying attention to the way he says certain words, but after a few galas where a fat businessman keeps insulting him somehow, and Damian or Jason are trying to defend Reader, but Reader just tells them no. When the fat businessman insults his brothers, Reader finally snaps and just goes full blown Michael Blackson Teacher style roast on him and his entire family in front of everyone, even his Russian accent comes out (I just think it would be funnier with the accent). After the gala is done, Bruce tries to scold the reader, but everyone is constantly trying to contain their laughter except Jason, as Reader finally snapping is the funniest thing that ever happened at a gala. Even Alfred can't bring himself to scold Reader for what he has done because he was there.

I know you are probably busy, so whenever you have the time for this one-shot. Thank you.

Oh hell yeah. Also, I couldn't find a GIF. I'm sorry...

Summary: (Y/N) is Russian and takes no disrespect.

Warnings: fat shaming? Only when (Y/N) was insulted.

Bruce would say that all of his children are nice, but (Y/N) is an exception to a certain degree. He is nice, eloquent, kind and loves to help others. He's Russian, can speak Russian fluently and his accent is rather hidden. You can hear it come out in certain words, but other than that, it is rather hidden. And Bruce loves to listen to it. Especially when he is frustrated about something, or simply can't remember a word in English.

That's when the Russian actually comes out. Of course everyone will revert to their native language when frustrated, mad and everything else. It was something that was rather endearing. Cute even. Just some grumbling underneath his breath about something in Russian. (Y/N)'s brothers found it cute. And they started to pick up a few phrases of their own.

But not curse words, because Alfred doesn't want to hear any cursing in the manor. None. Not in English, Russian, Arabic or any other language. It doesn't matter if it's a dead language or a live one, because Alfred is going to lay down the law.

Even now, while there was a gala going on in the Manor, Bruce watched his sons carefully. Jason was evading it with everything in him, Tim was getting some food, Damian was his usual grouchy self, Dick was conversing with some people and so was (Y/N), using his eloquence to get his points across. Bruce smiled as he brought a glass up to his lips, sipping some champagne.

All was well.

For once.

Bruce was surprised, but wasn't going to complain or actually question why the universe has decided to bring peace upon the Wayne Manor. Peace was seemingly a rare thing in this Manor and Bruce was going to cherish it for the rest of the night. Actually, for as long as it lasts, Bruce will cherish it.

Oh, that peace wasn't going to last long.

At all.

As (Y/N) was talking to a woman about some charities, a big, fat businessman approached. Sure, it's not nice to call someone fat, but, if someone's stomach is spilling over the pants, then it's just a fair game. Bruce watched from afar, just observing the room.

He raised his brow when he saw (Y/N) frowning, clearly mad about something. Bruce could make out a few words and one of them struck a nerve. Commie, or short for communist. (Y/N) never liked that. Never. Just because Russia was a communist country, that doesn't make him bad. And how the hell is that an insult?

(Y/N) shot right back, calling him a capitalist for not caring about his workers, which were the more prevalent rumors in the high society. Bruce watched, wondering how it will unfold. But then it hit him. This was the man that (Y/N) had problems with for the last few galas. (Y/N) always remained polite, but Bruce knew that it would rile him up and upset him.

Damian and Jason noticed and both have jumped to his defense, defending him with polite and tense smiles. But the businessman wasn't letting up. At all. Being this relentless in insulting was rather... Weird. Bruce kept watching, ready to step in the moment it gets too tense or it escalates.

And (Y/N) had a rule. It was, insult him all you want, but insult his brothers? He will retaliate. Tenfold.

And that's where the fat man opened the door for him to retaliate. The moment that the man insulted Damian's Arabic heritage and Jason's life on the streets before adoption, (Y/N) was absolutely fuming and has decided to go onto the offensive.

He hurled insults onto the man, but one that made Bruce nearly lose his mind was, and he quotes this, " You are one sandwich away from a heart attack. " And (Y/N) wasn't done, far from done. Firstly, the Russian accent came out during all of this and he wasn't letting up. Since the family of the fat businessman joined, (Y/N) was not battling on two different fronts.

And he wasn't holding back.

At all.

Jason and Damian were trying to keep straight faces but it's not easy.

Bruce had no doubt that Jason would later say that the insults are a work of art.

The gala was now over and everyone was sitting in the kitchen, munching on the leftover food. Alfred was standing there, watching (Y/N), knowing what had went down in the ballroom. Bruce was supposed to scold him. Maybe ground him, perhaps. Take away certain things?

But then again, he was defending himself. The man insulted him first so... Well...

So Bruce was going to try to scold (Y/N). He has to. And that was difficult when everyone around them was trying not to laugh so hard. Even Alfred. Seeing (Y/N) snap, when he was normally kind and calm. And with a Russian accent too. It was all too much for Jason who was laughing his ass off the entire time whole Bruce was trying to scold the reader.

" You know what, I won't scold you, " Bruce declared, making Jason cry from laughter.

" (Y/N) snapping is the best thing that has ever happened at a gala. Ever. EVER, " Jason wheezed out, slapping his knee.

Alfred tried not to break, because he was supposed to be a serious one, but Alfred couldn't even hold it together. He was about to break. Should (Y/N) be scolded? Yes. However, he didn't start the insulting, the man did... Alfred tried to keep it together. He did.

And he was going to keep it together.

So, to conclude the evening, in the history of galas, (Y/N) has put his mark in it.

[itendtothinkalot]

old habits die hard

summary: you've been dating yeonjun for about three days now, and your friends still have no clue. you'd prefer to keep it that way, but your old habits with your best friends make it tough for your boyfriend not to get jealous

genre: fluff | secret romance trope

characters: bf!yeonjun x f!reader x best friends!txt

words: 4.2k

warnings: implied sex! no smut!

beomgyu version

Dating Choi Yeonjun wasn’t easy. The man was too friendly for his own good. He could flirt his way into getting extra nuggets, make strangers laugh like they’d known him for years, and somehow, somehow, even the grumpiest of people liked him.

Which made dating him both a blessing and a curse.

“But baaaaby,” Yeonjun whined, hot on your heels as you moved around the kitchen. “Why are we hiding this? Shouldn’t we want to share our love with the world?”

You snorted. “Yeah, no thanks. Beomgyu’s gonna be insufferable, Soobin doesn’t care, and Huening and Taehyun would probably grill us like a couple of suspects involved in a home invasion.”

“We can handle it!” he insisted, hands on his hips.

You sighed, finally turning to face him. “I know we can but…look, we’ve been friends for too long. I just… I don’t know how things will change if we tell them.” You chewed your lip, voice softer now. “What if it gets weird? What if they start treating us differently? I don’t want to mess up the dynamics of our group just because we decided to, y’know… fall in love or whatever.”

Yeonjun’s teasing smirk faltered for a moment before he stepped closer, resting his hands on your waist. “Hey,” he said gently. “I get it. Really. But if things change, it won’t be in a bad way. They love us. They’ll be happy for us.”

You exhaled, letting your forehead drop against his chest for a second. “I know…Still. I like us like this, just for now.”

He hummed, swaying you a little. “Fine. But if they happen to walk in on us making out on the couch—”

“That won’t happen because we won’t be making out on the couch,” you said, smirking.

Yeonjun pulled back, scandalized. “What? That’s—that’s inhumane.”

“Oh, it’s so fair.”

He groaned dramatically, flopping against you. “This is cruel.”

“And yet, you love me.”

“Ugh. Unfortunately.”

You laughed as he pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. Maybe keeping your relationship a secret wasn’t so bad—at least, not when it meant you could have little moments like this.

"Hey, you." Beomgyu called out, pointing at you like he was summoning a pet. "Come sit next to me."

You glared at him. "Don’t be an asshat."

"Woah, woah, slow down, horse girl," he said, holding his hands up like he was warding off an attack. "Just trying to lighten the mood with some friendly banter."

"What mood? Yeonjun and I literally just got here." You said, placing your bag down next to Beomgyu.

"Yeah, exactly." Beomgyu smirked. "With that frown on your face? The whole vibe crashed the second you stepped in."

You narrowed your eyes. "I’ll give you five seconds to apologize."

"I don’t apologize to—"

"One… two—"

"Okay, damn! I’m sorry—SORRY—OW!"

Too late. You had already grabbed the strings of his hoodie and yanked, cinching it tight until only his nose was visible. Beomgyu flailed dramatically, blindly reaching out like a lost child while Yeonjun bent over laughing.

"You—! I can’t see!" Beomgyu whined, wildly smacking the air and nearly hitting Yeonjun.

"Serves you right," you said smugly, arms crossed as Beomgyu struggled like a turtle stuck in its shell.

"You do kinda have a resting-angry-face though," Yeonjun added, still chuckling.

You turned to glare at him. "Excuse me?"

He just grinned, casually throwing an arm around you. "But I love it. It’s cute. Makes it even funnier when you’re actually soft inside."

Beomgyu finally managed to free himself, his hair a complete mess. He looked at Yeonjun, then at you, then back at Yeonjun.

"Did you just call her cute?"

Yeonjun barely blinked. "Uh, yeah. So what?"

Beomgyu squinted at him, then at you. "Since when do you call her cute?"

You felt your stomach drop, but before you could panic, Yeonjun shrugged. "Since always? It’s hilarious when she tries to act all tough."

Beomgyu studied you for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you’re right!"

"NO, HE’S NOT!" you snapped, but Beomgyu was already cackling like a gremlin.

"Nah, nah, I see it now," he wheezed, turning to Yeonjun. "She’s all like ‘I’ll give you five seconds to apologize’—" He mimicked your tone, crossing his arms dramatically.

Yeonjun grinned. "And then she’s like ‘I’m so scary and mean rawr’—"

"I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT!"

Beomgyu gasped. "Oh my god. She’s extra cute when she’s defensive!"

Yeonjun nodded solemnly. "You’re finally seeing the vision."

You groaned, face burning as both of them high-fived over your suffering.

This was not how you wanted this to go.

–

The six of you had gathered at a cozy little café near your apartments, your usual spot for impromptu hangouts. Drinks cluttered the table, half-eaten pastries sat untouched, and everyone was talking over each other like always. It felt normal. Mostly.

You were wedged between two absolute towers (Soobin and Huening Kai) while your boyfriend sat directly across from you.

Your very new boyfriend.

As in, you and Yeonjun had been dating for three days. And while that technically shouldn’t have changed much, everything suddenly felt different.

Like right now.

Without thinking, you leaned against Soobin’s shoulder, something you had always done. His stupidly broad frame had been your go-to headrest for years. He never minded, and you never thought twice about it.

But then you glanced up—and Yeonjun was watching you.

You froze.

Was this still okay now? Could you still do this, or was this some kind of secret relationship violation you hadn’t thought about yet?

The panic made you instantly sit up, awkwardly turning your head away.

Soobin frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said way too fast.

He studied you for a second, then tilted his head. “Are my shoulders too high for you? I told you to sit on the higher chair.”

You let out a forced laugh, brain scrambling for an excuse. “N-No, I just…” You glanced at Yeonjun—who, to your growing horror, was still watching this unfold with barely concealed amusement. “Uh, you’ve been working out so much, it’s not comfy anymore.”

The table went silent.

“Wait… I have?” Soobin’s entire face lit up as he immediately flexed his arm. 

Taehyun, unimpressed, sipped his drink. “It’s probably just his posture.”

Meanwhile, Beomgyu suddenly leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Wait. Wait.” His entire face shifted into an exaggerated smirk. “You’ve never complained before.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You love using Soobin as a pillow.” He gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “Oh my god. You’re replacing him.”

Huening Kai let out an audible gasp. “No way.”

“Wait, wait,” Beomgyu grinned, fully entertained. “Lemme guess—” he tapped his chin, “you found somewhere better to rest your head, huh?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Maybe someone a little…” He wiggled his eyebrows. “…shorter?”

Huening and Taehyun burst out laughing.

Yeonjun, meanwhile, just leaned back in his chair, pressing his fist against his mouth as his shoulders shook from silent laughter.

You gawked at Beomgyu. “Don’t–I’m—”

“Oh my god,” Beomgyu was grinning so hard. “Guys, this is it. She’s moved on.”

Soobin—completely lost—looked between all of you. “…Am I missing something?”

Yeonjun completely lost it at that, tipping his head back in laughter.

Meanwhile, you groaned, dropping your head onto the table.

Dating him was going to be chaos.

—

Like they say, old habits die hard.

You couldn’t help but be your usual self around your friends. It was almost ridiculous, finding yourself sprawled across Soobin’s lap while your legs dangled over Beomgyu’s. Soobin was absentmindedly playing with your hair, only to suddenly yell in your ear when he lost a round, making you flinch and swat at him. Beomgyu, meanwhile, was using your knee as an armrest, completely unbothered.

It was all… normal.

And yet, here your boyfriend was, still trying to find a middle ground between your friendships and your very secret relationship.

“Ahem.”

From across the room, Yeonjun cleared his throat—loudly.

You barely glanced up. “Hey,.” Then you turned back to the screen, fully focused on the game.

“GO LEFT!” you suddenly shrieked at Soobin, who was absolutely playing the game wrong.

“AHEM.”

Yeonjun did it again.

Beomgyu, without even looking away from the screen, muttered, “Dude, you good? Your throat acting up?”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said, now purposefully standing in front of the TV. “Just wondering how I’m supposed to sit when you’re lying across Soobin and Beomgyu like you own the place?”

An alarm went off in your head.

Was he— Was he jealous?

Your body tensed as you immediately sat up, instinctively scooting over to make space for him.

“Since when do you care?” Soobin blinked, still frantically trying to peek around Yeonjun’s entire body to see the screen. “You always sit in that armchair anyway.”

“Yeah, also—” Beomgyu finally snapped his head up, expression horrified. “Get out of the fucking way!”

Yeonjun just grinned. And yet, despite the playful expression, something about the way he plopped down beside you—so close his thigh was pressed to yours—told you that maybe… just maybe… you were in trouble later.

A moment passed before you felt Yeonjun’s hand subtly inch toward yours, and instinctively, you shifted your hand away. His eyes flickered toward yours, but you pretended to focus on the game, your heart doing little flips in your chest. He raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to read you, but didn’t press further—yet.

—

The kitchen was quiet, Yeonjun walked in just as you were finishing, and the air between the two of you immediately felt warmer. You glanced up to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with that gentle, teasing smile of his.

"Hey Princess," he said softly, his voice quiet but filled with something unspoken.

"Hey," you replied, trying to focus on the glass in your hand, but his presence was just so distracting.

You finished pouring your drink, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he shifted closer, close enough that your shoulders brushed lightly. He smiled at you, a little bit mischievous, but his eyes were soft.

"Do you want some?" you asked, holding the glass up to him.

Yeonjun shook his head, still smiling. "I’m good. Just here to, you know, be with my beautiful–"

Before he could finish, you gently placed your hand over his mouth. "Not too loud, baby," you whispered, your voice soft and playful.

His hands slowly moved to yours, gently brushing your fingers. His gaze never wavered from yours as he softly kissed the hand covering his mouth, then slowly lifted it to his lips.

“Girlfriend...” he whispered, his voice low and tender, a hint of awe in his words.

There was a brief silence, and you couldn’t ignore how close he was now. You looked up at him, your heart fluttering, and before you knew it, he leaned in, his lips just inches from yours.

You froze for a moment, feeling the heat of his breath on your face, but then—creak. You both froze, hearing the noise from the hallway.

You panicked. "Someone’s coming," you whispered, eyes wide as you pushed him lightly away.

Yeonjun blinked, then laughed softly, his face lighting up with amusement. "You’re a little too quick to push me away," he teased, his voice gentle but with a playful edge.

You looked over your shoulder, relieved when the sound seemed to fade away. "Sorry, I just—didn't want to get caught," you explained, your cheeks flushed.

Yeonjun smiled softly, stepping closer to you. He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin with a tender touch. "I just hope you don’t push me away at night," he said, his voice low..

Then, he leaned in just slightly, planting a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his lips brushing against your skin as he pulled away.

“See you later,” he said, his grin mischievous as he turned to walk away, leaving you standing there, heart racing, feeling both shy and completely fluttered.

—-

You usually waited until about 3 AM to slip into Yeonjun’s room, knowing your friends were all asleep by then except maybe Beomgyu. Clutching your pillow close, you tiptoed into his room, trying to be as quiet as possible.

You crawled into bed next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and showering him with soft, lingering kisses. “Hi, baby,” you whispered, the warmth of his embrace making you feel safe and comfortable.

“Mmm,” Yeonjun hummed as he stirred, pulling you close and nuzzling into your neck. But then, suddenly, he froze. He pulled away from you gently, his eyes wide.

“Wait… I’m kinda mad at you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why? You seemed fine in the kitchen—”

He pouted, crossing his arms, his gaze serious. “That’s because I’m good at acting.”

You chuckled lightly at his expression. “What did I do, then?”

“You–you’ve been all… touchy-feely with everyone else today. You’ve been sitting in Soobin’s lap, leaning all over Beomgyu, and just… acting like it’s normal. But when it comes to me, you’re acting like you’re afraid to even hold my hand in front of the others.”

Your heart sank as the words hit you. You opened your mouth to speak, but he held up a hand, cutting you off.

“Look, I get it. I know you’ve always been like this with our friends,” Yeonjun continued, his voice softening but still holding a hint of frustration. “I’m not dumb. I’ve seen you all comfortable with them, and I know you’ve always been that way with me too. But now…” He paused, his gaze shifting. “Now that we’re together, you’re acting like you can’t even touch me in front of them. What happened to the girl who used to cuddle with me without a second thought?”

You froze. His words stung a little more than you expected, but you understood what he meant. You’d been so adamant about not wanting anyone to catch on to your new relationship that you were unintentionally pushing him away.

“I’m sorry, Yeonjun,” you whispered, your fingers nervously tugging at the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I’ve always been so open with everyone, and now it feels different. I don’t want them to find out yet. I don’t want to ruin things for us by acting all lovey-dovey in front of them.”

Yeonjun let out a soft sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Baby, I get you, really. I do. We’re still figuring this out, and I know it’s hard. But you don’t need to avoid me like I’m some dirty little secret.”

You winced, the weight of his words sinking in. He was right. You’d been trying so hard to avoid drawing attention to the fact that you and Yeonjun were now more than just friends that you hadn’t realized how much it was affecting him.

“Please,” he added, his tone soft but earnest. “I get that we have to be careful, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be affectionate with me. We’re still the same, and I don’t want to feel like I’m being pushed away just because you’re afraid someone might notice.”

You looked at him, the feeling of guilt sitting at the pit of your stomach. Slowly, you reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry. I’ll work on it. I just didn’t want things to change too fast, and I didn’t know how to balance it.”

Yeonjun softened, his lips curling into a small smile. “It’s okay. But just remember, I’m your boyfriend now, not just some friend in the group. So when we’re together, I need to know you’re not afraid to show it.”

You nodded, leaning forward to give him a soft, lingering kiss. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “How?”

You got up, your movements slow and deliberate. As you gathered your hair into your hands, you could feel Yeonjun’s gaze on you, his eyes darkening with every little shift. You pulled your hair into a loose ponytail, the slight tug of the elastic band around your wrist causing your shirt to shift, revealing a bit more skin.

As you finished, you turned to face him, your hair cascading over your shoulders in a messy yet purposeful way. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Where do you want me?”

Yeonjun’s grin widened, his eyes darkening with playful intent as he caught your drift. “Fuck, I love you.” He said, pulling you down into a kiss, both of you giggling against each other’s lips.

—

“Petition to stop bringing girls over to our dorm at crack timings,” Kai yelled out, making his voice carry through the apartment.

“Huh?” You groggily stirred awake, your eyes blinking open to see the familiar room. You were in Yeonjun’s bed, as usual, but he’d gently carried you back after you’d fallen asleep in his room. The thought made you smile despite the sudden chaos of Kai’s complaints from downstairs.

You slowly made your way to the top of the stairs, still half-dazed, hearing the boys’ loud voices as you tried to adjust to being awake.

“Which one of you brought a WOMAN back last night?” Kai shouted, aiming finger guns at every guy in the room.

You yawned, stretching and letting your messy hair fall across your face as you stumbled down the stairs. “What’s going on?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep as you walked into the living room, blinking in confusion.

“One of these monsters brought home a DAMSEL last night and bedded her!” Kai said, his arms flailing dramatically.

You turned your head toward Yeonjun, who gave you a playful side-eye. Both of you instantly recognized what was going on. You tried to keep a straight face, but your lips betrayed you as you fought to hold back your laughter.

“Couldn’t be me, I was up all night playing games,” Beomgyu said, casually eating his cereal like he wasn’t just being accused of having a woman over.

“You were up, and you couldn’t hear those pornographic moans?” Kai shot back, the sarcasm in his voice dripping like honey. “God, Beomgyu, sometimes I feel like you’re just slipping through life—”

“Get a grip, I was using headphones,” Beomgyu said, rolling his eyes dramatically before diving back into his breakfast.

You glanced back at Yeonjun, still trying to suppress a laugh. 

With your best poker face, you spoke up, “Couldn’t be me.”

Kai narrowed his eyes at you. “Did I say it was you?” He seethed, clearly still groggy. “I’m just annoyed I couldn’t get my eight hours of sleep.”

“Well... it must be Yeonjun,” Soobin chimed in, looking entirely too casual about it.

You perked up, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, he’s the only one of us who can pull this off. Remember last year?”

Your gaze involuntarily turned to Yeonjun, who seemed to stiffen, but you were too curious to stop now. “What happened last year?”

At that point, you hadn’t moved in with them yet, still stuck in your shoebox apartment, far removed from their wild dynamics. So, of course, you hadn’t heard this story.

“Oh, he was a menace,” Soobin continued, an impish grin spreading across his face.

“No, she doesn’t need to know any of that,” Yeonjun suddenly appeared beside you, sliding a hand over your ears to block out the impending gossip.

“But I wanna know!” you protested, swatting his hand away.

“Alright, fine,” Beomgyu piped up, looking far too excited. “He brought home some girl, and they went… crazy. I swear, it was like 2 a.m. when they started, and it ended at like 6.”

“Wait, four hours?” You blinked, unable to hold back the shock in your voice. “What happened?”

You froze. Last year. Four hours. That was you and Yeonjun. You two were drunk, dumb, and had the worst timing for a secret crush.

“Oh,” you muttered, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. Your mind raced back to that night, and now you were seeing it in an entirely new light.

“God, Yeonjun was so hung up on that girl,” Soobin continued, oblivious to how your brain was rewiring the whole story. “He groaned and moaned every time he talked about her—”

You turned to Yeonjun, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, really now?”

Yeonjun immediately stiffened, his attempts to play it cool clearly failing as his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Okay, okay. We’re not going there, alright?” He shot a glance at the others, who were clearly enjoying every second of this.

You were grinning, thoroughly entertained by the turn of events. “I guess that girl was just too good, huh?”

“She was alright,” Yeonjun muttered, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading.

“Alright? Dude, you talked about how good that shit was for weeks!” Taehyun exclaimed, leaning back into the couch as if he were the star of the show.

“No one needs a tattletale, Taehyun,” Yeonjun retorted, his face reddening by the second. “And for the record, it wasn’t me last night. So it’s probably you. Maybe those pornographic moans came from you,” he shot an accusing finger at you, his tone sharp.

“No, it wasn’t,” you snapped, swatting his finger away. “I wasn’t being loud.”

“Yes, you were,” he shot back, his voice rising, clearly getting annoyed. “You were louder than me, and you kept saying things like, ‘Baby, does this feel good?’ Seriously, it’s like you were trying to make sure everyone heard you.”

“Excuse me?” You stood up straighter, your own irritation starting to build. “I was just being considerate! I didn’t want to—”

“Considerate?” Yeonjun interrupted, throwing his hands up in the air. “You were practically broadcasting it to the whole dorm, acting like you were in a freaking soap opera! I was trying to keep it quiet!”

“I wasn’t the one who—!” You cut yourself off, narrowing your eyes. “Well, maybe someone was too busy getting into it to notice how loud they were being!”

Yeonjun’s expression shifted to frustration as he leaned forward, his jaw clenched. “I wasn’t being loud on purpose, okay? And you were definitely the one who made sure everyone could hear! I tried to keep it low-key!”

“Low-key?” you barked. “You were practically yelling my name!”

“Only because you kept saying things that made me—!” He stopped himself, clearly trying to rein it in before things went any further.

“Made you what? What was it that made you so ‘loud,’ huh?” you challenged, your tone growing sharper with every word.

“You think I’m the loud one?” he hissed. “You’re the one who kept going, ‘Does this feel good?’ Like, seriously, do you think that’s not going to get a reaction?”

“Ugh, fine!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, your annoyance now matching his. “Maybe I was a little louder than usual, but I wasn’t the only one yelling.”

The room grew tense, both of you staring each other down, too stubborn to let it go. Your friends watched in stunned silence as the two of you had this escalating back-and-forth, both of you too worked up to back down.

Until–

“Um,” Soobin interrupted, raising an eyebrow, looking thoroughly confused yet amused by the escalating argument.

You stopped mid-sentence, the full weight of the conversation hitting you. Your eyes widened as you turned to look at your friends. You had unintentionally—and very loudly—exposed your relationship to them, and from the looks on their faces, they were piecing it all together. Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun, Kai... they were all exchanging knowing glances, and it was obvious that they were starting to connect the dots.

Yeonjun, realizing what just happened, immediately went silent, his hand rubbing his face in embarrassment.

Taehyun raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, so you guys are–”

“So, wait… are you two...?” Kai started, his voice trailing off as he looked from you to Yeonjun, as if waiting for confirmation.

You felt your face turn a few shades darker, and Yeonjun, equally flustered, cleared his throat. “We—uh—we’ve been dating for a bit. But... y’know, we weren’t really planning to—”

“Fine, we’re dating.” The two of you admitted.

“Damn, is that why you called her cute last time?” Beomgyu’s eyes widened like he had just cracked an unsolved mystery.

Yeonjun shrugged nonchalantly.

“I was tricked into calling this fiend cute?!” Beomgyu clutched his chest dramatically before stumbling backward against the wall, pretending to gag. “I feel betrayed—I need a moment.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes and flicked his forehead. “She is cute.”

Beomgyu gasped as if Yeonjun had just personally offended his ancestors. “It keeps getting worse! Someone stop him! He’s lost all sense of judgment!”

“Well, now that everyone knows, what’d I say before?” You turned to Beomgyu, crossing your arms.

Beomgyu groaned, already knowing what was coming.

“Insufferable,” you said smugly.

Yeonjun sighed, shaking his head. “You were right.”

Beomgyu gasped again, dramatically dropping to his knees. “No… this is my villain origin story.”

"Honestly, I’m just glad it wasn’t one of us last night," Soobin finally said, shaking his head with a grin. "Though, I do have to admit, I wish I didn’t have the image of you two going at it in my head. It’s making my breakfast come up."

Kai shook his head, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “I think I might need therapy after finding out what I heard… were you two going at it.”

Beomgyu let out an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever it is, just don’t make out in front of me. I don’t think I can handle the fact that both of you found each other while I—the best looking of us all—still have no one.”

“Shut up, Beomgyu,” the two of you said in unison.

[sqgeism]

Hey girl, I LOVED YOUR HEADCANONS. Specifically abt Ken x Reader. If you can write about headcanons abt maybe when he's jealous? You covered literally almost everything in your headcanons, so I have nothing to request except this 😭

❥﹒kenji sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — part 2 of the kenji sato headcanons because i am totally normal <3

✦. love mail — i swear i promise ill post hsr guys 😞 just let me have my moment w sato i beg. i’ve decided to just do this req + add some more hehe. thank you sm requester for enabling my brain rot! (pls more ppl do so)

✦. tags — NO SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, non-intimate/sexual kissing, kenji sato x reader, i wrote this w my brain off again ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ;; pls

Jealousy was not fun for the Kenji Sato. Before Emi came along and changed him, I can see him being the type to get jealous easily. Why would you need to talk to other people anyway? You had him, he was the best. He’d make it real obvious too, suddenly wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close, or the following days he has you wear his iconic jacket while you’re out with him so everyone knows exactly who and what you two are. If it gets to the better of him, he’ll get all pouty about it. He wants all your attention, your eyes all over him and him only. Maybe even hands but that’s a different thing. But I think after Emi’s influence, it’s less possessive and he’s grown to trust you with others instead of letting his feelings get in the way. Of course he’s not immune to jealousy, but you notice it a lot less. It’s less suffocating for you and you’re grateful he’s grown. You did love the pouty face he’d make though, it was cute.

Now if you were jealous, which is really no surprise.. Kenji had thousands of admirers, he had gifts on his doorstep like every other day. He’ll do everything to prove and reassure you that you’re the only one who has his heart. He’ll post you on his social media, take you out on dates, all those things to wash your worries away. Lastly, he’ll hold you in his arms at night and whisper everything he loves about you. Everything you were silently insecure about, he loved. Every date you thought he forgot, he remembered. And to meet a guy like that? How lucky can you be? (He tells you he’s luckier of course. <3)

I think he’s a messy kisser for the most part 🧐. (Forgive me in advance for this part. I am not very good at these things.) When he can take his time, he’s slow and gentle. Genuinely just trying to show you that yeah, he loves you, so damn much. And he’s going to show that through his passion by taking things slow so you can really feel his devotion. Other times, because he’s always in a rush, he’ll do a messy but clearly desperate kiss. He doesn’t like leaving without one, and you can describe him kissing you like it’s his last, (because it’s really not a far-fetched guess considering his line of work) his hand behind your head and pressing your lips against his in an almost ravenous manner. He does give you a very quick kiss on the forehead and runs off after finishing, leaving you a little dazed.

He LOVES to take you out on night rides. If ever you get a little nervous/have a fear of motorcycles, he’ll talk you all the way through via the cardo he put into your helmet. He’ll take you to some nice cafes or restaurants around Tokyo, other time’s he’ll bring you to some favourite childhood spot of his. When you arrive, he’ll tell you about his mother and the memories he’s made in this very special spot. It warms your heart to see his expression be so fond when he talks about his childhood – he truly misses it.

Before you knew of Kenji’s identity, I think it would be funny if you hated Ultraman. You just LOATHED the guy, Kenji asked your thoughts on Ultraman on the first date and you went on a rant about how he threw your car at a Kaiju only to miss. (He felt so embarrassed). It would be funnier if afterwards, he began to actually do his job as Ultraman properly.. and avoided cars on your street and avenue. He wanted to make sure you didn’t utterly hate Ultraman before revealing that he was him.

It would be cute if you and him knew each other like, much earlier. And you called him Ken. And then he made that his alias while he was becoming an All-Star baseball player. :) He’ll brag about it all the time in interviews too, that you’re the reason he uses it. <3

He’s the typa guy to have a picture of you in his room, behind his phone case, in his wallet, in his car and literally anywhere he can get his hands on. He bought a polaroid camera just to take pictures of you, he could care less about the price of film or the camera itself.. he just wanted to have as many pictures of you as possible. He’ll brag about it to his baseball teammates too, considering he also keeps one in his pockets for good luck. :)

You're his goodluck charm. <3

[quarterlifekitty]

Read buttermilk today and now @ceilidho got me on that babysitter grindset… but what if I freaked it up a little.

cw: age gap (reader is around 21 and Soap is like 29ish), something sorta flirting with/on the edge of fauxcest due to a sibling-like bond, so I’m gonna tag it as such just in case.

Before Johnny enlisted, he’d only ever had one paying job.

Taking care of you.

About eight years your senior, your mom decided to go back to working when you were around 4 and he was on the cusp of 13. And for 5 years (an eternity to a kid like you) he was your best friend in the world. Would get out of school, walk to the elementary school to get you, bring you home, and hang out until whenever your parents got off of work.

And the boy was devoted. Didn’t mind that he had to put off hanging with his friends till the weekend. Didn’t mind making your snacks or watching silly kids movies. Didn’t mind when you asked him to play pretend veterinarian with you, and he had to lay down and act like a really sick horse. And you loved him.

The first time your parents took you on a vacation and you realized he wouldn’t be there? You were so mad. As mad as a 4 year old can be.

You’re embarrassed when you cry at the news that he’s enlisting— at age 10 you’re not supposed to cry anymore, you’re a big girl. He hugs you so tight, early in the morning before he has to go.

His folks move during his first tour. There isn’t an anchor to bring him back to you for a very long time. Over a decade, as it turns out.

He’s getting ready to go on leave when he gets a call— his mum buzzing with some kind of gossip as usual.

“You’ll never guess who I saw down at Sainsbury’s—“

Your university happens to be in the town his family moved to. He has his own place now of course, but he likes to keep close to them.

His first night back and his mum is beside herself— trying to get the place nice, because you’re joining them for dinner. Johnny never even considers that when you come to the door, you’re not the little girl he left tearing up on her parents porch.

He has to remember to close his mouth at the sight of you. His dad offers you a beer for fuck’s sake. He’s amazed at how much has changed— but also, how much is the same. The curve of your nose, and bubble of your laughter, the way your eyes widen with interest.

You happen to be on break right now. So of course, he ends up unwittingly spending all of his leave with you. You were always a funny kid— you’re a lot funnier now that you can swear. And you were always cute but now you’re so… pretty.

And he is not a fucking fan of the kind of attention it gets you. The way guys look at you when you’re sitting alone, waiting for him at a coffee shop. How your phone goes off at least once every 20 minutes, and it’s almost always ‘this guy from your class’. He tells himself that it’s just because he was responsible for you for so long— that he’s just having trouble shaking that off. He just remembers when you were so innocent— he doesn’t wanna see you get chewed up and spit out by college boys.

And he keeps finding himself falling into old patterns. Making you stay still so he can wipe your mouth after having a bit of a messy danish. Holding your hand tight when you’re in a busy place, crossing any streets. Having you tell him what you want so he can order things for you. Picking you up so he can hear you giggle and tell him to put you down.

He tells himself that when he touches himself later that it’s just because being away for work has left him touch starved and sensitive. It’s only natural to get turned on by a pretty girl who leans into him��� especially when you get along so famously.

(Even though he remembers playing I spy while he held your hand and walked you home from school, your little backpack slung over his shoulder, even though he had his own to carry. )

Before he knows it, it’s his last night at home, ending it off with another of his mum’s dinners. At the table you casually mention the graduate schools you’re thinking of going to— some close by, some not. He almost chokes when you mention that there’s a really nice school in Canada you were considering.

That’s when he knows he’s fucked. Because he doesn’t think of that as you getting on with your life. Of a girl getting her education. He thinks of that as losing you, and after the bliss of the past couple of weeks he’s had with you, he’s not sure he’ll take being separated from you nearly as long as he did the last time. Not to mention all of the guys at your school trying to get their hands on you.

So he’s gonna have to find a way to get you too invested to travel far. And figure out how to protect you from those assholes when he’s not around.

Making you a part of his family and putting his ring on your finger should be enough, right?

[theonottsbxtch]

99 PROBLEMS | MV1

an: this is literally a crack fic, i had the idea when i was listening to 99 problems by jay-z and i was talking to @iamred-iamyellow please enjoy

summary: max never expected to one day have a 17 year old son. he didn't know he was a father. but now he's got to try and figure out how this nerd is his son. and also teach him how to live a little.

wc: 3.3k

Max never thought he’d be a single dad to a teenage boy, but shit happens.

One minute, he was in Monaco celebrating another podium win, champagne-soaked and grinning for the cameras. The next, there was a seventeen-year-old with his eyes and an attitude to match standing on his doorstep with a duffel bag. His name was Noah—“not ‘Dad,’ just Max”—and he wasn’t here to bond. No, Noah was here because apparently the universe thought karma would be funnier this way.

Max was on the balcony of his Monaco apartment replying to a few emails, the city’s lights flickering like a postcard behind him. He could hear Noah inside, rifling through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of “real food.”

“Hey, don’t knock the caviar!” Max called over his shoulder. “It’s got protein!”

“Caviar’s not dinner!” Noah fired back, slamming the fridge door.

Max smirked, chuckling a bit. The kid had a point. The life of a Formula One champion didn’t exactly prepare him for raising a teenager. Most days, it was all jet-setting, high-end sponsorships, and a new girl on his arm by sundown. It was messy, but it was his kind of messy. Now? Now, he had to figure out how to squeeze fatherhood in between the chaos.

“You seriously live like this?” Noah asked, stepping onto the balcony, holding up one of Max’s custom helmets. His tone wasn’t admiration—it was judgement.

“Like what?” Max said, not looking up from his phone.

“You know, like...this. Cars, women, parties. I mean, isn’t it exhausting?”

Max chuckled low, pocketing his phone. “Don’t have time to be tired.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “Right. So, uh...where do I fit in this circus?”

Max turned, his smirk fading just enough to let a flicker of honesty show. “Haven’t figured that out yet. But we’ll make it work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Max glanced back at the city below. “Now, go grab a drink or something. Just...not the champagne.”

And that’s how it started: the driver, his kid, and a life moving faster than either of them could control.

Max hadn’t had a conventional childhood and he could tell this kid did, well as conventional as it was to be dropped off at your dad who you’ve never met’s house a few weeks before your 18th birthday.

He thought that maybe while he was here he could teach him a few things, take him to a few races or something. 

Max didn’t really know what to do.

The private gym was tucked into the corner of Max’s penthouse, all sleek machines and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. It was rarely used. Most of Max’s training happened at the Headquarters. or with his team, but Noah had been dragging his feet around the apartment all week, so Max figured a little sweat might do them both some good.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, tossing a pair of dumbbells onto the mat. “Let’s see if you’ve got anything in the tank. Ever lifted before?”

“Sure,” Noah replied, unimpressed. He sat down on the bench press, giving the machine a once-over like he was deciding whether or not to trust it.

Max crossed his arms, watching as Noah pushed through a few hesitant reps. “Not bad. But if that’s your warm-up, we’re in trouble.”

Noah glared, setting the weights down with a clink. “Not all of us need muscles for a living.”

Max laughed. “Touché. So, what do you do for fun then?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah, fun. You know, like hobbies, friends, maybe a girlfriend?”

Noah shrugged, grabbing a water bottle. “Not much. I play some video games, read, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

“Read?” Max frowned. “What, no parties? No sneaking out? You don’t go out?”

“Go out where?” Noah’s voice had that dry teenage edge to it. “I’m seventeen. I lived in America my whole life. You can’t even get into a bar without a fake ID there.”

Max froze mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me you’ve never had a drink?”

Noah gave him a look like he’d just asked if the sky was blue. “No?”

Max stared at him, dumbfounded. “God. If only you knew what I was doing at your age when my dad had his back turned.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “Oh, let me guess. Clubbing in Paris. Drinking champagne with supermodels. Living the dream?”

“Belgium, but close,” Max said, leaning against the bench press. “Keg parties in the back of some guy’s trailer in Hasselt. Terrible beer, worse decisions, and my trainer yelling at me the next morning. Still, though. I can’t believe you’re seventeen and haven’t even had a sip.”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Noah muttered.

“Not a big deal?” Max barked out a laugh. “Mate, by seventeen, I’d already figured out my go-to drink order. Vodka tonic. Not classy, but it got the job done.” He leaned in, his grin borderline mischievous. “We’ve got some work to do.”

Noah held up his hands, shaking his head. “Oh no. You’re not turning this into some wild ‘how to live’ project.”

Max raised his eyebrows, mock-innocent. “Hey, I’m just saying. Gotta live a little.”

“Maybe I don’t want to end up like you,” Noah shot back.

Max laughed again, but this time it came quieter, almost thoughtful. “Trust me, buddy. Nobody ends up like me. Now, come on. Two more sets, and then I’ll show you how to make a proper protein shake. Don’t worry—I won’t spike it.”

Noah snorted, shaking his head as he got back to work. It was just another morning, another disagreement, but Max couldn’t help feeling like they were inching closer to something real. Something like family.

By the end of the week, Noah was starting to think his dad was running some kind of unofficial competition.

On Monday, it was Marie. She was Monegasque, blonde, and talked like she was auditioning for a perfume ad. “Bonjour, mon cher,” she’d purred at Noah, ruffling his hair like he was ten. Max had barely noticed her leave, too busy scrolling his phone for his next big sponsorship deal.

Tuesday brought Yasmin, a Brazilian model who walked around the apartment in Max’s oversized shirt, pretending not to notice Noah glaring at her from the couch. She’d tried to make conversation, something about school and books, but Noah had just shrugged until she gave up.

By Wednesday, it was Clara, who had an annoying laugh and kept calling Max “babe” like they’d been married for years.

Thursday was a whirlwind—two girls, both of whom Max forgot to introduce. One of them waved awkwardly at Noah as they left, heels clicking on the tile floor.

By Friday, Noah wasn’t even fazed. He sat at the kitchen counter, eating cereal while Max brewed coffee, shirtless and looking entirely too smug for a guy running on five hours of sleep.

“How?” Noah finally said, his spoon clinking against the bowl.

Max glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. “How what?”

“You know.” Noah waved vaguely toward the hallway where yet another pair of heels had disappeared moments ago. “Them. How do you...?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he poured his coffee. “Not that complicated.” He took a sip, leaning against the counter like he was about to deliver some ancient wisdom. “They like fast cars and big dreams. I’ve got both.”

Noah squinted at him. “Yeah, but don’t they know what they’re getting into? Like...you’re not exactly giving ‘dad of the year’ vibes.”

Max laughed, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “Oh, they know. Trust me, they all think they’re the one who’s gonna ‘change me.’” He set his mug down, smirking. “Spoiler alert: they’re not.”

Noah frowned, stirring his cereal. “Doesn’t it get old?”

“What?”

“The whole thing. Girls coming and going. Don’t you ever want...I don’t know, something normal?”

Max tilted his head, studying him for a second. “Normal’s overrated. Besides, why are you so interested? You got someone back in the States?”

Noah snorted. “No. Not unless you count my English teacher who used to give me extra credit just to stop talking in class.”

Max grinned, pushing off the counter. “Smart kid. Learn from me, though—don’t waste your charm on teachers. Save it for someone who can actually keep up.”

Noah rolled his eyes, standing up to put his bowl in the sink. “You’re insane.”

“And yet,” Max said, raising his coffee in a mock toast, “I’m still your dad. Crazy how that works.”

Noah shook his head, walking out of the kitchen. But as he headed toward his room, he caught himself smirking. Max was a mess—there was no denying that. But, annoyingly, there was something kind of fascinating about watching him pull it off.

He had to give him some respect. Three time world champion but he lived his life like an unbothered bachelor that didn’t have a multi-million contract under his belt.

Two days later, Max was standing in front of his wardrobe, trying to decide between a black shirt and a white graphic tee. He ended up tossing the black top onto the bed, shrugging into the white tee. His phone buzzed on the nightstand—a message from the group chat reminding him that their table was already reserved at Jimmy’s.

Max grabbed his watch and headed toward the living room, adjusting it as he walked. Noah was sprawled on the couch, scrolling his phone with the kind of disinterested focus only teenagers could pull off.

“You wanna come?” Max asked casually, pulling his car keys from the counter.

Noah didn’t even look up. “I’m seventeen.”

Max leaned against the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I’m Max Verstappen.”

Noah gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, that’s not how laws work.”

Max stepped into the room, tossing his keys in the air and catching them with one hand. “Relax, kid. You’re with me. No one’s checking your ID.” He raised an eyebrow, adding, “Unless you want to stay here and eat more cereal while I’m out having the time of my life.”

Noah hesitated, sitting up slightly. “What, and hang out with you and your harem of club girls? Hard pass.”

Max grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s not just girls. My friends will be there. Good music, good drinks, a little chaos. You could use some chaos.”

Noah snorted. “I don’t think I fit your ‘chaos’ aesthetic.”

Max walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to fit. You just show up, keep your head up, and let the good times come to you. Trust me, kid—it’s not rocket science.”

Noah looked at him, torn between scepticism and curiosity. “And if I hate it?”

“Then you call it a night, and we’ll come back. No harm, no foul.” Max shrugged. “But at least you’ll know what you’re missing.”

Noah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if anyone tries to buy me a drink, I’m out.”

“Deal.” Max grinned, slapping him on the back. “Now, go change. You’re not wearing that.” He gestured vaguely at Noah’s hoodie and sweatpants.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s not wrong; it’s tragic. Go put on something that says, ‘I’m seventeen, but I could still be cooler than you.’”

Noah rolled his eyes but got up and headed toward his room. Max leaned back against the couch, chuckling to himself. This was either going to be a disaster or the most fun he’d had in weeks.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah emerged in dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt. It wasn’t flashy, but it worked.

Max whistled. “There you go. Almost looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t push it,” Noah muttered, grabbing his jacket.

“Alright, kid,” Max said, swinging an arm around his shoulders as they headed for the elevator. “Welcome to the good life. Try to keep up.”

Jimmy’z was everything Noah expected and nothing he was prepared for. The place was loud, packed, and drenched in neon lights that pulsed to the bass of some remix he didn’t recognise. Max walked in like he owned it, breezing past the bouncers and slapping hands with a few familiar faces on his way to their table.

The VIP section was cordoned off with velvet ropes and framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. A couple of Max’s friends were already there, leaning back with drinks in hand, laughing at some story one of them was telling.

Max clapped a hand on Lando's shoulder, said something about ordering another round, and then turned to Noah with a grin. “Alright, kid. First drink’s on me.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to drink?” Noah muttered, looking around nervously.

“You’re not supposed to get caught drinking,” Max corrected, flagging down a waitress. “Two rum and cokes. Easy on the rum for him,” he added with a wink.

Noah sat awkwardly, trying to ignore the curious glances from Max’s friends. When the drinks came, Max slid one across the table. “Here. Cheers.”

Noah picked up the glass and took a cautious sip, immediately grimacing. “This tastes like gasoline.”

Max burst out laughing, nearly spilling his own drink. “Yeah, it’s not exactly a milkshake, but you’ll get used to it.”

Noah frowned but kept sipping, each drink slightly less terrible than the last. By the time the glass was empty, he didn’t hate it—but he definitely wasn’t in a hurry for another.

“Alright,” Max said, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Time for your next lesson.”

“Lesson?”

“Yeah.” Max grinned, nodding toward the dance floor where a group of girls was laughing and swaying to the music. “How to get a girl.”

Noah blinked at him. “I’m seventeen.”

“And you’re eighteen in three weeks,” Max shot back, smirking.

Noah raised an eyebrow. “How do you even know that?”

Max sipped his drink, looking almost offended. “I pay attention. I’m not that bad of a father, you know.”

Noah snorted. “Debatable.”

“Hey, come on,” Max said, leaning forward and pointing at him with his glass. “I’ve got three weeks to turn you into someone who doesn’t spend prom night sitting in the corner playing Angry Birds. Let me work my magic.”

“I didn’t go to prom,” Noah mumbled.

“Exactly my point.” Max gestured to the dance floor. “Now, watch and learn.”

Noah shook his head, but he couldn’t help smirking. Watching Max in his element was like watching a lion stalk the savanna. Ridiculous, over-the-top, and somehow annoyingly effective.

Noah leaned back in the plush booth, his gaze flicking nervously between the drink in his hand and the dance floor. “This feels illegal,” he muttered under his breath.

Max, already halfway through his second rum and coke, let out a loud laugh that turned a few heads. “Illegal? We’re in Monaco.” He gestured broadly at the glittering club around them, as if the name alone erased all laws. “The girls here don’t care how old you are, as long as you’re pretty enough.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “And what if I’m not?”

Max leaned forward, smirking. “You’re my son, so of course you are. Trust me, kid, you’ve got the genes. Now, you just need the confidence to back it up.”

Noah rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, sure. Because confidence is something you can just magically summon.”

“Exactly,” Max said, snapping his fingers like it was that simple. “It’s all in the attitude. Look, you don’t need to be the smartest or the funniest guy in the room. You just need to act like you know something they don’t. Makes them curious. Curiosity’s half the battle.”

Noah stared at him, unimpressed. “That’s the dumbest advice I’ve ever heard.”

Max grinned, sitting back and gesturing to the waitress for another round. “And yet, here I am. Multi-millionaire. World champion. Living proof it works.”

“Yeah, but you’re—” Noah hesitated, then gestured vaguely at Max’s whole presence. “You.”

“Exactly. And you’re half me. Which means you’ve already got a head start.” Max leaned in, lowering his voice like he was letting Noah in on a secret. “Here’s the trick: don’t overthink it. If you go out there looking like you’ve got something to prove, you’ll scare ‘em off. Just...be cool.”

“Cool,” Noah repeated, deadpan. “Got it. Thanks for the groundbreaking advice.”

Max smirked, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Fine. Don’t believe me. But if I come back with two numbers before you even finish that drink, you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow.”

Noah shook his head as Max strolled off toward the dance floor, impossibly confident and infuriatingly charismatic. It was hard not to admire it, even if it made him feel like an awkward kid in comparison.

He stared down at his empty glass, debating whether to order another drink or just leave, when a girl about his age walked past and glanced his way. She gave him a small smile, and Noah froze, his heart racing.

Max’s words echoed in his head. “Just act like you know something they don’t.”

Noah took a deep breath, set his empty glass on the table, and stood up. His palms felt clammy, and every nerve in his body screamed at him to sit back down. But then he caught Max watching from the floor with an infuriating smirk before turning to whichever woman he was talking to this time.

Don’t overthink it, Noah reminded himself. Just be cool.

The girl was standing near the edge of the dance floor with a friend, laughing at something on her phone. She looked up as he approached, her eyes flicking over him in curiosity.

“Hey,” Noah said, trying to sound casual. “You looked like you needed saving from a bad joke.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And you’re the knight in shining armour?”

“Something like that,” Noah said, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Or at least I’m not the guy who made you laugh like that.”

Her smile widened, and her friend nudged her playfully before disappearing toward the bar. “Smooth,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you use that line often?”

“First time, actually,” Noah admitted, his lips twitching into a nervous grin.

The honesty seemed to win her over. They started talking—light, easy banter—and before Noah knew it, she was laughing at something he’d said about his dad being a “professional bad influence.”

From the booth, Max had a clear view of the whole thing. He nudged Lando, grinning like a proud idiot. “Lan, look!” He pointed toward the dance floor. “The son of a bitch did it!”

Lando squinted, then let out a low whistle. “Damn. Didn’t think he had it in him.”

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “He’s my kid. Of course he’s got it in him.”

Noah returned to the table a while later, looking flushed and slightly dishevelled. His lips were swollen, and there was a faint lipstick smudge on his cheek.

Max raised his glass in a mock toast. “Atta boy!”

Noah slid into the booth, trying to suppress a grin. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s already a thing,” Max said, slapping him on the back. “You’re officially part of the club now.”

Lando smirked. “Better keep an eye on him, Max. He’s almost got more potential than you.”

“Potential? He’s a damn prodigy,” Max joked, laughing. “First drink, first girl, all in one night. Kid’s got a better batting average than I did at his age.”

Noah rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. As much as his dad’s teasing drove him crazy, there was something undeniably cool about seeing Max so proud.

“Alright,” Max said, clapping his hands together. “Now that you’ve got your feet wet, let’s see if you can do it again.”

Noah shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. One’s enough for tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Max said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “But just so you know—you’ve officially graduated from boring.”

For once, Noah didn’t argue.

the end.

[erwinsvow]

introducing... bitchy reader!

rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.

so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.

you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.

“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”

“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”

“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.

“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth. 

you nearly sound like rafe.

“that is so rude-”

“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”

“what truth?” his sister questions.

“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”

rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter. 

“hey! i’m not bored-”

“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”

“he has other hobbies! like-”

“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”

“shut up.”

“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing. 

“i’m not gonna change my mind-”

“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.

“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”

“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”

“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.

“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.

“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.

“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”

blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.

“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.

“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”

“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.

“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.

“no. no, i-”

“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”

“hey, kid, i-”

“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.

“so have you?” you pause, turning again.

“have i what?” “made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”

“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.

“that’s not an answer.”

“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.

“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.

rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.